Two creatures moved through the dark, their many eyes making out most of the details of this place, but unable to pierce the darkest shadows. They were careful to stay on the main strands of the webway, and not dart too near to the edges of the tunnel. Some of the predators in this area could run up the walls quickly and snatch prey easily, retreating to the floor of the tunnel to feast. Neither of the messengers felt like risking their lives more than they already had. Becoming a meal for some hungry ten-legged lizard would be both messy, and depressing.

They observed the dark opening on the wall above them. In times past, some ancient race had carved the likeness of an orcish general. A scar ran down one side of the face and huge, broken tusks jutted up from his open mouth. Belong them was the remains of an ancient city where feral goblins prowled. It was a forgotten place. A dead place. No one who counted lived here except for the exile they had come to talk to.

They had no intention of entering the exile's lair. Going inside would surely mean their deaths, and possibly failure to deliver their message. The first was just a fact of life. Messengers were expendable. Sometimes death took you and you waited to be reborn from the next egg, hoping for high-status in your bloodline. But failure? Failure meant being reborn as a spiderling and beginning the long fight to regain even modest status.

M'klixnick, the wiser of the two suggested an alternative plan to entering the exile's lair. A fresh silk line was stretched between two rock spikes and the webbing drawn back. G'nixclicknick was sent to procure several small mammals. They returned with web-wrapped bundles of immature digger-moles. The first small mammal launched at the opening went too high, hitting the ceiling and making it squeal in pain before it fell to its death. Far below a long-tailed landshark leaped and caught the smushed mole in its jaws.

The second was two low, and tumbled down a slope until it was grabbed by a cave lurker and eaten. The lurker took its time, torturing the digger-mole. The little prey made amusing sounds! Encouraged, they worked to aim the final one correctly. The last shot was just right, and sailed into the opening. Not wanting to waste the last small mammal, even if it wasn't moving anymore, they tossed it through the opening as well. And then they waited.

Time went by, the faint sounds of small bones snapping coming out of the entrance to the lair. Finally, a large form moved in the darkness. The messengers trembled. "That's it? Two squishy moles, one already dead, and that's it? Is the Matriarch breeding for pretty thorax stripes again instead of intelligence? I mean, really? You thought this was an offering? No books, no interesting food, no strange fungus?"

The two spiders looked at each other, confused. "We are sorry, great ancient one. We were told to make an offering to you and then deliver the message. Nothing was said of books or fungus."

The voice from the darkness sighed. "Tell me the message, and if I like the message, I will count to 8 before starting to hunt you."

M'klixnick said "Go on, tell him, the glory is yours!"

G'nixclicknick took a half step forward, and said, "Gilad has been found, we go to war." As soon as he did, M'klixnick struck, crippling his partners rear two legs before running away as fast as he could. From the opening came a moment of silence and then a roar. A large spider with noble markings leaped to the web in front of the crippled G'nixclicknick. Two of the nobles’ legs were whole. The six others were reinforced with metal parts. Armor replaced broken chitin, gears and pistons moved crippled legs. The abused mechanisms made noises that showed they were in need of maintenance and lubrication.

G'nixclicknick found itself hoisted high by a robotic limb. "WHAT HOLLOW? Where!"

"This one doesn't know, great one, only the message was given."

Iron-Legs was annoyed. "Typical. She plans to use my hatred to her advantage. But I accept. Oh, and next time? Use plumper small mammals as offerings. Leaving me hungry was a bad strategy."

G'nixclicknick's screams were short, as were their former partners when they failed to out run the enraged old one. The sounds of metal grinding on metal was heard for hours in the caverns as the crippled Noble made his way to the nest of the Matriarch.

"I tell you, from what I've heard, this raid will really put us on the map. No one else has the info, and it not even known to be a raid zone! We could have a world first!" Mickey was sure the others would be happy with his information. He'd been trying to gain some respect from the guild officers. Respect meant better loot when it was distributed on a raid. He wasn't happy when they didn't instantly pat him on the back and thank him. This was great info!

"And if no one knows yet Mickey, how is it you got the info." Branigan and the rest of the guild were relaxing in a bar after a 16-man event in the Stone Lurker dungeon. They'd done half of it before the wipe. Two people picked up decent magical items, but the rest were just tired after five hours of killing the little lurkers and then being crushed by a mini-boss. No one was really surprised at the outcome; they just didn't have the levels or the gear to do the whole dungon. It would have helped if Mickey had been there. The gnome assassin would have increased their dps. Showing up after the raid with some suspicious information wasn't gaining him any smiles.

Mickey tried to keep his voice down, but he was getting more and more excited. "It's supposed to be a starter area. My brother in-law is playing a Ratkin character down there. And he has some friends with him. The four of them found out everything. The place is a hot-bed of politics, back-stabbing, and competition for control of the treasure. One of the faction leaders wants to bring in outside muscle to to clear out the others and take over. This starts a whole series of cool quests in the subterranean Ratkin empire. We could be the first!"

Branigan looked around the table. Leo rolled his eyes, but Taryn looked interested, and Sassy was giving him the thumbs up. Sassy just liked big fights. But it was Tequila Jane who actually seemed to believe Mickey.

"I think it might be real, Bran. Look at all the stuff going on in this city. At first, it's just some smuggling and thieving quests as people get started. Most people got a few levels, figured it was a starting area, then took off. The the gang wars started up. Lots of experience, a chance to earn the assassin class, lots of loot. It was hard to do, no walk through at all. But there are several players high up in Squint's organization now. More stuff is opening up to them. Pretty strange quest lines."

"Then the World Boss fight that a player triggered. I've heard of playrs getting into Mining Guilds, and maybe even a way to join the Engineers. Now, the Slaver Wars that are going on, and the Stone lurker dungeon opens up. If you go do the research, there are tons of connections. Even rumors that Ratkin have been running around town in disguise for months. Stuff is weird in this town; it pops up in odd ways. Like that Boss Hydra? Hardly even a warning before the event, and now we have female pirate dwarves all over the place building ships for some secret mission. Crazy assed game. Got to love it."

Everyone laughed at that. All it took was buying a scavenger three beers and you got told the whole 'secret plan' about raising up some huge ship from the ocean and using it to go after a massive treasure. Everyone wanted in on that event and was trying to get into either of the dwarf factions involved in the event.

Branigan shrugged. What was the worst that could happen? They'd already lost their gear a half-dozen times and started over. What was one more? "So, what are we fighting then, Mickey?"

Mickey leaned in close. "Ratkin, lots and lots of them. Most are going to be pretty low level. The raid needs to be done in a couple of parts. The Ratkin faction inside will take out certain people before hand, and poison others. Then our guild hits from the front, and a second guild, called 'The Spiders' hits from the rear. Once the ratkin surrender, we actually get to run the place until the next part of the quest starts, and then we get to go conquer another ratkin fortress."

Taryn leaned forward. "What sort of rewards? Sounds like a lot of experience, but is there any magic?"

Mickey nodded. "There's an old mage tower full of magic items, and a huge horde of treasure in the middle of the place, where most of them will make their last stand. Plus, we'll have the whole Hollow working for us. Free potions, armor, weapons, you name it."

After a quick talk, Branigan summed up the group's attitude. "Sure, looks like we're in. It sounds interesting at least, and rats are a lot easier to kill than lurkers. Let's give it a shot."

Gangrene was inspecting the caravan. If you were going to conquer another Hollow, you had to do it right the first time. Supply lines were long, and retreat meant a huge loss of respect and probably getting conquered yourself. He much preferred a more devious method. Merchant caravans were known to travel from Hollow to Hollow, bringing different cheeses and goods to new places. Caravans packed lots of food, needed guards, and were essentially an army on the move. You might even be invited into the Hollow you wanted to conquer, making things much easier.

His agent in Limburger thought he was bringing two dozen warriors to take over Limburger Hollow. Gangrene felt better with twice that number and two Fiends in battle armor. There was no reason not to go for overkill. There was also every reason to bring extra warriors. He didn't put it past 'Sneaky-Guy' trying to double-cross him. It was a small chance, but stranger things had happened. Gangrene had few friends, even inside his own Hollow. So 'Be suspicious and take extra troops' was his motto. Hopefully his lieutenants didn't get ideas while he was gone. He'd made sure that each had something to fear if he didn't return, and most of the cheese was locked up and guarded by his fiends. If Gangrene didn't return, they were never getting it. The fiends wouldn't leave the room, and no one sane opened a vault full of cheese around hungry fiends.

The colorful caravan started on its long journey. They would be traveling through two other Hollows along the way, scouting them out for later, and turning a profit along the way. But not much of a profit. He wanted news of the good deals he offered to travel ahead of him. Limburger was sure to hear of the traveling caravan on its way to them, and rather than be surprised and wary, they'd be welcomed with open arms.

He looked at his brave warriors and saluted them as they began to move out. They answered him with their traditional battle cry: "Time to cut the Cheese!"