The village called Ogon lie between the ancient Feytale Forest to the east and the Wyrmtail Swamp to the west. Both swamp and forest have been crawling with monsters and vicious animals ever since the olden times. How does a village of bards survive with such dangerous neighbors one might wonder then? Any villager of Ogon will answer the same thing; Our people have sung praise and paid respect to the nature spirits guarding our surroundings. Any bard of Ogon will travel far and wide when they reach adulthood to collect stories, and when they return home, either because of nostalgia or homesickness, they will tell the forest and swamp of the wonders they've seen and heard of. Spirits are curious beings who live for many lifetimes more than mortals. A good story makes eternity just as enjoyable as fickle tricks and feuds sprung from spite.

The old ones yearn for entertainment, and a bard makes his living from providing it.

So after years of telling tales from far off lands and only the same old stories born near their home to repeat, what happens when an event worthy to be made a widespread tale occurs in their own forest, with a villager from Ogon as the center?

Absolute mayhem breaks lose. The heir of the Ebonquill household has been kidnapped by bandits.The mayor's son has been claimed by a forest spirit. A spirit of the forest, possibly the guardian itself, openly called Ogon theirs to protect and took Mikvel Ebonquill to wed them as proof.

Those where the many rumors that spread through the village when the kidnapped women returned. Just before sunset, a boy had returned with the stolen women in tow. He had sworn and hissed about the bandit leader abandoning him just to please some forest monster.

"Someone has to lead the women back he said. Take the horses and don't return he said. Just cause some horned forest bitch said-"

The villagers had immediately silenced the boy, afraid that he'd offend the spirits. The women had been led to the mayor's house for questioning and soon descriptions of the event flew through the streets like wildfire.

"A woman as white as death, with antlers and hooves."

"A man with a hundred burning eyes."

"A beast with the body of a man and the voice of a woman."

These were just a few of the many descriptions, none confirmed by more than one person. The women had only gotten glimpses from inside the tents they were kept in. Some had seen more than others. Some talked about the trembling bandits and the (for once) wise leader who knew what to do. The bandits had listened to the spirit and obeyed, appeasing it.

"It wanted the mayor's son as its groom."

"Some say that spirits eat elves. Was it the boy's mixed blood that interested the spirit?"

"Poor boy..."

The mayor himself had locked himself away in his home. His little boy stolen from him by the forest, he didn't dare guess why. His people assured him that the forest would treat him well, that the spirit wanted him to tell it stories, that it wanted the boy alive. Jonte Ebonquill could only nod and hope that they were right. His one and only son, the only thing left behind by his beloved wife.

The bandit boy had been imprisoned and questioned by the guards. Where was the camp? How many are the bandits? Are there any more raids planned? The boy had refused to tell them anything at all. He just swore and spat at them.

After days of wild speculations and the mayor's grieving calmed down, the village came to an agreement. If the spirit claimed Ogon as their own then they would show gratitude towards the spirit. They would build a small shrine in the forest and leave offerings there as thanks for the forest's protection. Many were still unsure if the spirit that took Mikvel really was the guardian, but the pros of having the favor of a minor spirit outweighed the cons.

A small pavilion made out of stone and clay and fallen branches soon got build about a hundred meters into the forest. No trees or plants could be taken from the forest for this sort of building, only fallen, discarded twigs and branches were allowed. Stone and clay were transported from the swamp. The construction would take a couple of weeks at least to finish.

New stories were told in Ogon during this time. Tales of a spirit who fell in love with the heir of the village and how the two ran away into the woods. Tales of how a spirit's loved one got kidnapped by bandits and how it declared its love by saving him and granting his village its protection.

Meanwhile in a certain dungeon.

"So this is my cave. It's not much... There's dirt and stones... Maker closed up the rodent tunnels awhile ago but they just dug new ones..."

"How fancy. You've really moved up in the world, Fanv."

Fanv were currently showing Mikvel around. Mikvel did not seem very impressed by her cave. Pohc took it upon himself to change that. The human clearly needed some details to see why the Great one's cave was so impressive.

'It is the biggest cave near the entrance, except the lake cave.'

"I still can't believe the rabbit talks..."

Unfortunately, the human seemed more interested in the cave's residents than the cave itself so Pohc's comment didn't really help.

'It's rather strange hearing him for the first time right? Doesn't look like much is going on in their heads, but they're surprisingly talkative those rodents.'

"Or the spider."

"His name is Samuel, Sam for short."

'Miss Fanv named me! She's very good at naming things.' Sam added in a cheerful tone.

"And the hare is named Pohc."

If you are going to be completely exact then he is a Dread hare. A better version of normal hares!

Maker's melodic voice echoed through the cave and nearby tunnels.

"Why does the cave talk again? Where did the snake-wing-hair-lady go?"

"Maker is both the cave and the snake-hair-wing-lady. The snakey one is her body, the core she calls it."

"Isn't the core the thing adventurers crush to kill the dungeon?"

Mikvel nearly fell over as everyone snarled and hissed in unison. He quickly corrected himself.

"Only adventurers kill dungeons, and not every one of them does it at all. Some just-... Ah, never mind."

Telling them that some towns keep dungeons under control to farm their resources would probably not help. They'd probably see it as slavery...

So Mikvel, now that I have a completely human human in my caves, mind if I ask you a question? It has been bugging me for awhile now.

"Uh, sure, go ahead?"

When do humans start bree-

"NOPE! I told you already, we are NOT talking about that. Change the subject, someone!"

'Mikvel is a very pretty human.'

"What?"

"What?"

Everyone stopped again at Sam's try of changing the subject. He looked back at them in confusion.

'Uh, was that the wrong word?'

'I think the word was sexy.'

"No Pohc that's not the word. Definitely not... right Sam?"

'I, uh... I was pretty sure 'pretty' was the word... Like you don't have the, uh fleshy stuff or the weird hair... Am I making this awkward? Help me out, what do you call it??'

You mean he does not look like the adventurers, right? The burly unshaven ones.

'Yes, that.'

The spider let out a nervous sigh and silently thanked Maker.

"I didn't know spiders could have a thing for humans..." Fanv mumbled to herself.

"What?"

"Nothing! How did you guys even learn the word sexy?"

We know all the words you knew when I claimed you. Some are harder to understand though, at least for some of us. 'Sexy' is a word to describe someone you would like to mate with, right?

'What?! Really?! That's not what I meant, I'm sorry but I like living.'

Sam waved his front legs frantically, only now realizing what the misunderstanding was about.

"What are ye babbling about?"

'Oh, Dessi, you're still here? Don't bother the Great one, ok?'

The satyr responded by spitting just in front of the hare. Pohc flew back a bit, just barely managing to avoid getting hit by the spit.

Male spiders get eaten once they have mated right? I have not seen it often as I do not keep many insects in my dungeon.

"They what?!"

"Uh, I dunno if it'll help but I won't eat Sam, ok? Wait why do you look disappointed?!"

Mikvel said in a try to reassure the spider.

'What?! I'm not! You misunderstand!'

"That looks more like the face you made when I told you a dress shouldn't be hard enough to whack someone dead with."

'Are you sure, Great one? His mandibles are clicking much more than that time are they not?'

"Could ye stop calling wolfie 'Great one'? It's getting pretty damn annoying! And why are there so many rodents here all of a sudden?! At least they are quiet!"

'You are such a rude creature...'

The satyr and hare both stared daggers at each other.

'Please don't touch my mandibles like that, it tickles.'

"I've always envied how 'ok' you are with bugs..."

"What do you mean? It's not like he's that... buggy?"

Mikvel patted Sam's head to make a point.

'You are touching my eyes... Please stop petting my head...'

"Ah, sorry. Just making a point to Fanv."

"Point taken, you have not a shred of fear for spiders."

"You completely missed the point..."

The odd group of creatures and one human kept on chatting for a long while. At some point, Mikvel's stomach grumbled and surprisingly it was Dessi who solved the problem by having her flock bring a dead Glowshell into the cave. A wild debate broke out about getting sick from eating a cadaver and sicknesses and the naturally resistant carnivores who were all present. It ended with Mikvel gathering a bunch of twigs and moss he found around the tunnels, everyone else watched curiously before he demanded they help. The rodents made a big pile of dead wood and plants rather quickly and then the majority of the group witnessed non-magical fire for the first time. The rodents panicked for awhile before they noticed that the fire wasn't bright white or yellow like the spells a certain mage had used a while back, but normal orange/red flames which only ate the gathered firewood.

They then proceeded with scooping out the meat inside the shell and putting it on longer sticks to grill the meat with. Fanv transformed to use her longer sharper finger-claws and Mikvel fainted at least once. Maker giggled like a maniac during the entire process.