"Priests are often well-meaning people who haven't yet looked too thoroughly into comparative religion." ~ Robert Genn

Throg and her companions had, of course, had a similar discussion to that of Norfoth. The banner of Daekar, once unfurled, had calmed any immediate concerns, and they had settled on the likeliest answer being an official of the Daekar kingdom, presumably a dungeon inspector. It would have been nice to get an update on the dungeon, but it seemed that was not to be. The Temple of the God of All Dungeons had long since come to a working understanding with the Adventurer's Guild and most of the local governments, but that didn't mean there weren't occasional disputes about proper procedures, and particularly tensions over the occasional destruction of a dungeon. As initial reports had already shown this particular dungeon to be both sapient and possessed of a divine mission, Throg was unconcerned on that front.

"Likely enough that they simply completed the inspection and saw no need to wait on unannounced visitors. I'm sure the crew of their ship was eager to remove themselves from the presumed territory of a dragon," said the Captain.

Throg snorted, amusedly. "Is that your way of delicately suggesting we don't dawdle too long? The dragon, if there is one, presumably is aware of our comings and goings. Should one appear in the skies while we are here, you have my permission to remove yourselves from danger."

The captain also snorted. "You thought I'd need permission? The only thing that would keep me from making a run for it is the futility of trying to outrun a dragon in this tiny ship. Nay, if we encounter a dragon, we'll all do our best to follow your lead and hope that it'll simply alert us to its desires, rather than destroying us out of hand. They're territorial, aye, and relentlessly violent when crossed, but hardly mindless beasts."

Throg cocked her head, curious. "That sounds suspiciously like the voice of experience. Have you actually encountered a dragon?"

"Aye, long ago and far from here. An exercise in foolishness, I generally prefer not to talk about, as it didn't end well for some of my more adventurous companions. I'll just say that dragons are terrifying creatures. But at least the one we encountered simply put paid to a remarkably stupid plan and didn't seek out further vengeance – though I admit it took some years for me to see it so."

Throg nodded, somberly. The foolhardiness of youth was a phenomenon she was all too familiar with, both from personal experience and from years of professional experience with dungeons and their delvers. "A story as old as the world itself, I'm afraid. Yet still, somehow, a lesson that everyone has to work out on their own. Some of us survive the learning, and some don't. As the gods will it, I suppose."

The Captain shook his shaggy head, staring out at the clouds collecting about the peak of the sky island. "Not going to blame it on the gods, particularly – though I suppose there's plenty of blame to parcel out." He scratched at his patchy beard and shook himself free of old memories. "Ah, still, I think we should be fine, or I'd not have volunteered to come. If we don't look to be taking up residence, and we don't start scaling the peak, I doubt the dragon will bother with us. Or so I hope."

"Agreed," offered Throg. "If there is a dragon here, it almost assuredly noticed the birth of a dungeon this close to its lair. There's an obvious mana spike associated, and dragons, by all accounts, are quite sensitive to such things. It's entirely possible that the dungeon has already been assessed by the dragon, as well as the prior dungeon inspectors."

The Captain shrugged and turned back to the rudder. "Well, you can ask the dungeon yourself in just a few minutes. We're coming in to the established docking point now. Afraid I'll need to concentrate on matching vectors here for a bit."

Throg returned to her designated companions and began marshaling her forces, such as they were. There was no real hurry, of course, but discussing a visit to a potential dragon's home range prompted as little dallying as possible.

**********************************

Well, it seemed as though after weeks between visitors, the pace was beginning to pick up. The ground squirrels passed "word" almost immediately after Norfoth's departure that another skyship was vectoring in. You'd think that one of my flying creatures would have spotted it first, but the squirrels were constantly watching the sky for predators and the hawk-eagle was still off scouting. That left me mostly with owls and wyverns, neither of which were particularly active in the mid-afternoon.

The ship was flying an interesting banner, and I was able to cross-reference the heraldry to publishers' marks on a couple of the volumes Norfoth had presented me. The insignia was that of the God of All Dungeons – a glowing, golden dungeon core cupped in a pair of uplifted hands. I assumed I was about to get my first visit from the religious authorities – as opposed to the secular ones. I wasn't entirely sure how that was likely to go, but it certainly didn't sound as though they'd hold any ill will towards me, at the least.

The small ship moored in the same location as my previous visitors; I guessed I should likely establish some formal facility for them before much longer. A sturdy pier and perhaps some formal shelter and even a latrine might be positively received. I hadn't taken possession of the landing spot, and I wasn't entirely clear what the etiquette would be; I suspect new visitors would prefer not to land directly in the dungeon, regardless of the reputation I might develop.

In any event, there was an obvious division in my new visitors; three were clearly sailors, though their uniforms indicated that they worked directly for the church. I couldn't really assess rank, though I assumed the one with the most braid was the captain. The other three were presumably the formal delegation, though they lacked any obvious indicators of rank – each wearing a simple surplice in black and gold, with a voluminous hood. The weather being currently sunny and fairly warm, two of my visitors had the hoods back, demonstrating that elves, dwarves, humans, and gnomes weren't the only humanoid races. It wasn't really a surprise at this point, but I was still interested to observe a humanoid slime, with its bubbling blue interior constrained by some thick, clear membrane, and some kind of ravenfolk, seeming like a shorter, but well-built man with the head of an enormous raven complete with glittering black eyes and massive dark bill. If it possessed wings, they were currently concealed by its robes. The group seemed rather informal with each other, but these two deferred to their third member – a towering being at least 3 m tall, powerfully built, but with a full hood pulled forward and possibly enchanted to provide concealment or at least obscuring their features as a side effect. I was currently restricted to the senses of my adjacent creatures; I'd likely get more details once they entered my direct sensory range.

The crew, as with prior expeditions, remained with the ship but seemed less concerned about either my creatures or the dragon, settling in on deck rather casually, though the Captain did seem to maintain at least a cursory watch over the surrounding skies. The clerical party paused long enough to efficiently erect some simple tents and set up a campfire with the practiced ease of long familiarity before forming up and turning in my direction.

They walked steadily and incautiously towards the boundary of my territory, and on a direct line approach towards my main entrance; I assumed one, if not all of them, had a strong mana sense that showed them the way. That said, they paused politely at my boundary to introduce themselves and their mission.

The tall one led the way and was the first to speak, "Greetings to you, Dungeon. We are formal representatives of the Church of the God of All Dungeons, and we have come to offer any assistance we may lawfully provide and to simply answer any questions we can. I am Throg, a senior priestess in the Church's regional cathedral in the Coldspires; these are my associates, Kraal and Blorg", gesturing towards the ravenfolk and the slime, respectively.

Her deep, gravelly voice was nevertheless distinctly feminine in timbre, and I'd have sworn I saw a yellow glow coming from the depths of her hood, at least for a moment, before she continued. "We make a point of contacting all sapient dungeons as directly as possible. We recognize that divinely placed dungeons may not be directly affiliated with our own Lord, but we generally have more resources available for their support than many gods, at least early on. As a senior priestess, I am able to converse with most dungeons via telepathy, and my associates have also learned this skill. If it's acceptable to you, we would speak with you more directly in that manner?"

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Well, I wasn't really surprised, but it was certainly pleasant to not be restricted to simple "yes, no, maybe" answers.

*** That would be wonderful. I appreciate any help you can provide, Throg. You may call me Sylvanus, or Vay, for short. But please, come inside and we can chat in more comfortable surroundings - you seem like you might be sensitive to the light. And I do have a temporary resident I should introduce you to as well.***

Throg's posture indicated mild surprise and a positive response, but she started forward again, gesturing to her companions to follow.

***Forgive me. It's not common for even the divinely placed dungeons to be quite so perceptive and welcoming. As a mountain troll, I am, indeed, sensitive to daylight.***

*** Fascinating. I suppose that I should admit that I'm quite new to this world, and I'm still figuring out a lot about how it functions, what it contains, and what exactly I'm supposed to be doing, myself.***

Throg started a bit in surprise. ***I'm sorry. The phrasing there suggests that you are originally from some other world? That isn't exactly unprecedented, but it's quite rare – and I can't think, off hand, of a dungeon transplanted from another world. Outworlders, from what I've heard, seem to be almost exclusively humanoids of some sort – either summoned by powerful wizards, divinely chosen and placed as young adults, or occasionally reincarnated souls whose memories are retained or restored in a new body. ***

I paused for a moment to digest that information. ***Ah. Well, I suppose I kind of fit into that set of scenarios. In my original world, I was a humanoid – specifically a human – and other races I've seen here were simply a subject of stories and legends. It was a world of magicless humans. Some of my memories have clearly been redacted, but I do know that I was divinely placed here for a specific reason, yet that reason is hidden from me. I'm assuming there is a need here that only a sapient dungeon with a specific set of skills and training can help with, but it's unclear to me what that would be. I have been hoping you, or anybody, really, could help me figure that out. Ahh, but pardon me, am I excluding your associates somehow – I've never had the chance to practice telepathy with more than a single being at a time***

Throg's smile, while not visible, was clear in her mental voice. ***You keep raising questions for me, and I'll happily continue to work with you on answers. You're very polite for a dungeon, and frankly humans haven't always had the best relations with other races. I suppose without other humanoid species your world doesn't suffer from the same kinds of racism. But to answer your question, to include my associates, you need only decide in your own mind to include them. Generally speaking, as long as your intended conversation partner has the needed skill and is willing to converse with you, nothing else is required. The etiquette of telepathy is a tricky thing, but critical. It's considered bad form to use it when it isn't necessary or when those incapable of doing so are present. Should you become more powerful, you may be able to communicate with those without the skill, at least to project your words to them. That's likely a ways off for you, though.***

I shrugged mentally, then wondered if that would come through. ***Well, I'll try to adjust my thinking then to include your comrades. I would like to be able to have direct conversations with my varied visitors, but I've been making do. As for racism, we were hardly immune to that – it was mostly just applied to other humans based on whatever visible differences were convenient. It would be nice to have escaped that, but people being people in whatever form, I wasn't really expecting it. I've lost a lot of my personal memories, but I do recall travelling a good bit and working in academic settings, so I've tried to train myself to be a bit more open-minded."

Kraal joined the active conversation first, simply offering his own greeting and chuckling ***An open-minded dungeon! How wonderful! Many of them want nothing more than to devour everything that comes near, at least in their early days.*** His mental voice was still a bit raspy, but not nearly the croaking voice he'd used in speaking aloud.

Blorg followed his lead; its mental voice being somehow rather fluid and neutral, if a bit more upbeat and bubbly. ***You were a human? This must be quite the change for you. How are you dealing with that?***

I was a bit taken aback at the question. Frankly, I think I'd been deliberately not considering my current situation from the lens of my past life. I assumed that was at least partially the point of my redacted memories, and I conveyed that thought.

***Well, as I was telling Throg, many of those more personal memories were removed or blocked when my soul was removed to this world. I'm guessing that is helping with the shift somewhat, as I'm not entirely sure what I left behind. On some level, I know that I agreed to this, and I'm trusting that I had a sense of what was coming when I did. Still, it did make for a rough start; I'm pretty sure I smothered to death in a collapsing pit in my old world, so waking up buried in the soil as a dungeon core was a shock to the system.***

Kraal recoiled visibly. I'd guess that as a raven-kin (or whatever they call themselves) dying buried alive might be low on their list of preferred deaths. It certainly wasn't high on my list of experiences to repeat.

*** Yes, I can see how that would be both an unpleasant way to end and an unpleasant way to begin again*** Kraal's mental voice suited him, somehow, and conveyed sincere concern with an undertone of horror.

I like to think that my response was reassuring. ***It was a shock, as I said, but I'm over it, mostly. The lack of memories is helping with that, but I also think the goddess removed some of the emotional trauma that came with dying. I'd hope that's standard practice, in so far as divine translocation goes..."

Throg interceded smoothly. ***Well, I don't think any of us can speak to that directly, but we seem to be getting a bit off topic. If you don't mind, I would like to get under cover – having a touch of agoraphobia made the trip here less pleasant than our usual excursions.***

***Of course. My apologies, Throg. I get the impression you know the way to the main entrance, but it's about 100 paces straight ahead. For your colleagues, at least. I've put safeties on the traps and sent my denizens to sleep for a bit, so no worries on that account. I'm afraid the ceiling may be a bit low for you in places, but while you might have to bend your neck a bit, you won't need to crawl. ***

I had set the ceilings in most rooms at about 3 meters, so she was a bit too tall for them to be comfortable. I started raising the ceiling in my core room by a meter to make space, but otherwise, really only the bear cave and the paddock had ceilings tall enough for her to feel comfortable.

She sighed, but it clearly wasn't the first time she'd had this issue, waving one hand dismissively. ***Not to worry. I think half the stereotypes about trolls as knuckle-dragging barbarians come from us being forced to slouch in most common meeting places.***

I chuckled ruefully. ***Ah, well, I was a bit short, myself, in my old world, so my issues were all the reverse. Still, I'll do what I can to accommodate you. I'm raising the ceiling in my core room as we speak, so if you'd like to take the quick tour, it should be ready to host you by the time you get there. I should notify you that I have a guest you are likely to encounter along the way; she just arrived with the last dungeon inspector and is settling into a guest room, currently.***

*** From Daekar, then? I'm guessing a dwarf, judging from her companions we saw flying away?***

I confirmed her assessment with a mental nod. ***From what I understand, a budding skymage researcher by the name of Hakdrilda Stormbrew. I take it she's been looking to do some experiments involving a dungeon with an air affinity.***

Throg nodded in comprehension. ***Ah, makes sense. Those are rare and typically inaccessible for the more subterranean species. A friendly, sentient dungeon with that affinity would be a particularly big ask. Well, do me a favor, if you can, and alert her that we're coming. Dwarves and trolls have a long history of conflict over resources and living space, so there may be some animosity on her part. She may be fine, but I'd like to avoid any unpleasantness, if possible.***

I pondered that momentarily, then gave a mental shrug. I can try my new logbook skill; it's not exactly set up for that, but it might work. The old mana light system just doesn't have the flexibility to convey "friendly troll coming". Maybe just have your colleagues lead the way in case she doesn't spot it in time?*** She nodded thoughtfully. ***Yes, I suppose that's for the best. Kraal might be the best person to take the lead; his folk tend towards mountains, so they have contact with dwarves, but not much history of conflict.***

I sent off a quick one line note to Hakdrilda before I got distracted, dropping the logbook (looking like a leather bound notepad) on the table in her living space.

Logbook: Priests of the Dungeon God have arrived. One is a troll, to alert you.

I started to ask about Kraal's backstory, being curious about what led a ravenfolk to follow the God of All Dungeons but cut off as another presence entered my range.

***Ah, pardon me, but there aren't any other bird-folk among your party are there? I just had another feathered sapient enter my surface territory. Alone, this time, apparently.***

All three shook their heads in denial. "Not with us", Blorg burbled bemusedly.

***Well, then, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I should probably go see what their intentions are.***

"Of course. We'll wait here for the return of your attention." Throg nodded patiently.

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