Bummer! How was I to know that? I wished she'd have swiped me with her claws, then I'd have gotten some physical damage immunity instead. That way I'd have been a true monster killer. What. A. Shame. Never mind, we'd simply have to work with what we had. I glanced back at the Hound who was studying the effect the news had had on me. I smiled, shaking my head.

"Sorry, babe. That's not how we're going to talk."

She shrunk and dropped to her ass, dumbstruck, jerking her bad paw with an involuntary yelp.

"I'm afraid you don't seem to know who you're trying to manipulate," I said. "I am this Temple's First Priest and the God's personal friend. If you need something from me, then we'll have to discuss it on equal terms, no mind games. Let's try it again."

The hound shook her head in disbelief. She gave me an unsure look and repeated haltingly,

"We need... a new home. This area abounds with game. My pack could regain its old powers soon; potentially, if we could find a way to stay here for long enough, we could become the strongest clan in the Rocky Wastelands. What we need is an official permission from the landlord. Somehow my gut feeling tells me it's you. Do let us stay. At least until our pups shed their baby armor."

All that unclaimed power sitting there doing nothing, waiting for my decision. No idea why they'd mistook me for the landlord but something in her words struck a chord besides the usual kind of compassion that we feel for homeless pups. Did she say a clan? We could try, I suppose...

"I've heard your request," I said. "Still, you are a force too threatening to remain a wild independent pack living in the shade of the First Temple," seeing the hound stand up about to say something, I raised my hand, gesturing for her to let me finish. "As the First Priest and clan leader, I am responsible for lives other than my own. It is possible that soon this place will be crowded with people, some of them my own. So what do you suggest I do when you start slaughtering each other? Wait! I'm not finished! So I suggest an alternative solution. You and your clan will swear me your oaths of allegiance. That will automatically change your status to allied which will allow us to join forces against our mutual enemies. That's the only proposition you're getting. Here, catch!"

I clicked on the contract template that I'd thrown together earlier on, securing their junior-partner position in my freshly-baked alliance, and pressed Send. I'd wanted it to cover all the relevant rights and liabilities that marginally resembled a liege oath. The contract wasn't meant for NPCs, of course—only for existing clans of real human players. Then again, no one had ever tried to argue with a Hell Hound before, let alone negotiate.

The Infernal creature stared at me trying to second-guess the weird human's motives. For the first time, someone offered her friendship and protection instead of demanding gold or services. I could almost hear the game's gears crunch as it adapted itself to accommodate another piece of their newborn world puzzle that was forced into its mechanics. It must have, because the Hound had accepted my proposal.

Congratulations! The NPC Clan Hell's Fire has joined your Alliance of The Guards of the First Temple as a junior partner.

You can now summon the Clan's warriors to your service and claim your share of their taxes.

"Excellent!" I gave her a wink as the Hound concentrated on her own feelings, surprised. "Now try to add the Alliance tag."

Answering her bewildered stare, I decided to give her a demonstration. "Watch the name," I poked the imaginary halo over my name where with a minimum amount of willpower a player could conjure up some basic information about the person.

Laith

I ticked the menu,

Laith, Level 72.

More clicks:

Laith, Level 72, Death Knight <Children of the Night>, <Guards of the First Temple>.

I unticked the extra information. "Your adversary doesn't need to know your particulars," I nodded to the Hound. "See now?"

The Hound wrinkled the only line on her forehead, all her muscles trembling with the exertion. Once again I could hear celestial gears crunch. Finally, another piece of the world puzzle fell into place.

Hell's Hound. Level 151. <Guards of the First Temple>.

I glanced at the mini map and smiled. The red dots that had marked the hounds as dangerous and aggressive were now glowing blue: the color of regular NPCs like the guards that used to patrol the Vets' castle walls.

Throwing caution to the wind, I approached the battered animal and patted her armored neck level with my chest. The pup must have been hanging on by the skin of her teeth. Only now had I noticed that her life was deep in the orange zone and virtually not regenerating. Was she so hungry? I studied the pack again—this time not as a victim but as a proprietor. Fugitives any way you looked at them. Deadly dangerous, still seething with the heat of the battle and the agony of their loss. Their puppies were their only salvaged possessions. Time to bring the pooches under control: this was not the right moment to breed anarchy.

I rummaged through my ever-lengthening ability list for the God's gift. Help of the Fallen One. I selected the pack's leader as target and activated it. In a flash of special effects, the Hound sprung back on all four feet. Tilting her head this way and that, she studied herself, disbelieving. Then she turned her massive head to me, slouching in a grateful bow.

I nodded and shrugged her gratitude off: don't mention it. I'd better double-check my control of the pack, outline a few tasks and try to solve a few pressing problems in the bargain.

"Think you could use the Temple cellars for your quarters?"

The Hound glanced at the altar. A greedy spark flashed in her eyes. Looked like I wasn't the only one profiting from my close relationship with an artifact of this caliber. It had plenty of goodies to go round.

"Very well," I said. "Now listen here. Make a quick check of the cellars. Purge any insentient creatures. Leave the sentient ones for me, I'll sort them out later. Find yourself a good place to make a den, preferably in the furthest reaches. If it needs a bit of work, just let me know. The whole place needs quite a refurbishment so it won't be a problem digging a couple extra rooms or exits."

The Hound stomped and shifted her feet, impatient to dash off in search of fresh food, experience and a new home. I hurried to finish,

"One last thing I want to ask of you. If you find any big lumps of metal like this one," I reached into my bag for a handful of the purple fragments, "bring it to me here, will you? You can leave it... say, over there," I pointed at a far corner, gesturing in the air to show them the size of the anticipated pile of wonders.

The Hound leaned forward, sniffing the fragment, and recoiled. "The true silver! The cursed metal. Very well, my Dark brother. We'll keep our eyes open."

Turning her armored muzzle toward her pack, she barked a short command. The females looked relieved as they laid their puppies on the floor, shepherding them expertly together. Three of the more battered ones stayed on to supervise the nursery while the rest followed their leader who had already dashed off, disappearing into the depths of the Temple.

Quest completion alert: Hell's Temptation II. Quest completed!

I dismissed the rather useless message and wiped the sweat from my brow. Phew. Looked like I'd just settled a potentially stinking situation and even emerged with some decent prospectives. I glanced at the tired hounds sprawled on the cold floor watching the puppies crawl about, their blue tongues hanging out.