by Dakota Krout
After all the reworking of the pattern, I began producing the Dungeon Goblin as an actual creature. The body formed easier than the original would have, the kinks and inefficient meridians replaced or smoothed. Essence would flow through his body at least as easily as it did through humans’ bodies. The mindless Mob in front of me sat down, drooling a bit. Well then. I almost called Bob before remembering that I wanted to boost them, not just fix the wreck of their bodies.
How to begin though? Goblins had as much affinity for Essence as the other intelligent races, but what would be the right one for… right, they should have an open affinity channel. I checked his open meridians, and found that he had the makings of a powerful warrior. His body had open channels for earth and fire Essence, whereas those were blocked in the original. If I infused his body with Earth corruption subtly, his overall density and defense would be naturally higher. Thick skin and what not. I also allowed a bit more fire into his blood, which should allow for a short temper and plenty of battle rage. I only added a little, these guys would be armed, armored, and intelligent. They didn’t need the same influx of corruption to make them into viable fighters as my Bashers did.
I put a simple set of clothes on him, and directed Bob to the room with the memory stone. He came willingly, but stopped in the entryway as he looked at the being in front of him with shock. “What is that?” He whispered. Well, what he meant to whisper anyway.
He now stood half again as tall as Bob, who was admittedly a shorter specimen. At five feet tall, my new warrior Mob would easily be the tallest of the new Dungeon Goblin race. They made their way to the remaining goblins, who reacted in a much different manner than Bob had. The females looked at the Goblin warrior with heat in their eyes, while the males looked at him with something akin to hero worship. He walked over to his progenitor, examining him from the outside. He didn’t have nice things to say. Ah well, when you are suddenly far stronger, taller, more powerful, and have a greater capacity for intelligence than you used to, you may look back on your old self as a pathetic version. A bit harsh though.
I asked the others to undergo the same process, and soon they were lined up so I could perfectly memorize their individual patterns. I made a memory stone for each of them and got to work. This time the creation went faster, as I had a template to work from. There were deviations to consider — such as gender — but overall the bodies ended up fairly similar to each other. Then it was Bob’s turn. The differences in his pattern were obvious as soon as I began examining him deeply. His cranium had more room in it, allowing his brain to develop more fully than the others had to this point. The new goblins would be his current intellectual equivalent eventually, but he would have a head start in nearly every aspect but muscle density. I could fix that.
I increased his body mass, making him significantly larger and tougher than the others. He had a powerful connection to his wind affinity, and his new form also opened the way for a near-equally strong infernal affinity. What would that combination create? I was looking forward to finding out as he developed it! Bob walked up to his new form, pressing his memory stone against the newly formed flesh. The stone dulled for a moment, but just like the others, it retained a copy of the memories. I had them place the stones into a specially designed chest, which I then sank into the ground. I would keep it safe, just in case they all died simultaneously.
This was just the beginning for the group. Each of the half-hexagon areas would be a home for a copy of the group, as I planned to recreate the group multiple times. It may be strange for them to see themselves running around, but that was just too dang bad. I waited until this group had full control of their muscles, letting them get used to their new and improved bodies for a few days. Then I had them re-store their memories in a new stone. With this set of stones, I filled this floor of the dungeon with a dozen groups of a dozen, one hundred forty-four new goblins, to be precise.
There were still the originals, but I decided to keep them out of combat if possible, so I didn’t count them toward the dungeon Mob total for the floor. I would let them live out their lives in as much peace and luxury as possible, and add those memories to the stones so that I was never asked for vacation time. Next up, I wanted a Boss for this floor, but none of them had the necessary build or willpower to be a strong Boss. I turned to ask Dani her opinion, when it struck me. Dani. She had been getting more vicious and bloodthirsty through her training with the Mobs in here, why not see if she could pilot a meat puppet that had no will of its own?
Dani looked at me with a critical eye, “Hmm. You only use that tone when you are about to do something I don’t like… What is it this time?”
I ‘grinned’,
“It sounds… interesting? Explain?”
I told her my plan, and she agreed on the condition that she got to help me design its body, weapons, and armor. Of course I agreed. Why not? We started on the project, working out the kinks and having minor arguments. I wanted an agile fighter that could weave around attacks and counter easily, whereas she was adamant that that type of Boss already existed with Snowball on the third floor.
She wanted a huge, musclebound, heavily armored female Goblin that used enchanted weapons. I argued for cursed items, because the adventurers would be warier of using them if they took them from her. She agreed, albeit reluctantly. She seemed to think that the item would trap her in the body, or attempt to draw her into the weapon. I assured her that at the first sign of trouble, I would turn the item to goop.
The new Boss was placed in the final half-hex — as I was now calling the goblin encampments — on a throne. It was mindless, so it just sat there unmoving until Dani flew in and took control.
“Oh. Wow, this is so much easier than sharing a body!” Dani spoke with the Boss’s mouth, the first time that she had not communicated with me mind-to-mind while inhabiting a Mob. She tested that functionality, and we found that we could still speak that way, which would make fighting easier. “Hmm. I want minions.”
I snorted a quick chuckle.
“Yup.”
“Well then, make the fourth floor harder!” She demanded with a laugh. “You did design it as the third floor after all.”
Thinking about the situation carefully, I decided that she was correct.
“Perfect.” Dani put me straight to work.
~Dale~
“You’re look
ing good, Dale.” Hans was looking at his friend and team leader with a critical eye. “I know you haven’t been getting enough sleep, and you’ve been training like you think assassins are after you. What’s different?”
Dale shrugged at him with a grin. “Hey. It isn’t paranoia if they are actually out to get you. Nah, I guess the voices in my head just haven’t been bothering me this week.” Hans laughed and they walked toward the training ground. They were out today to see If Dale had learned anything from the Dark Elves, since Hans was not just going to accept Dale’s word on it.
They got to the arena and did a few warm-ups, stretching and preparing themselves in the pre-dawn light. “I hear there is a lady after you these days.” Hans coyly said. “You sly dog!”
“Ugh, I have no wish to see her again. She seems to deify the dungeon, and has been making all sorts of wild claims.” Dale shook his head and faced Hans. “You ready?”
Hans pondered a moment, “I don’t think you should dismiss her so easily. She is known as the foremost expert of dungeon lore in the known world. Not only that, but she went for years without an influx of Essence. She has had to develop techniques and ways to be ultra-efficient with her Essence and Mana use. I bet she could teach you a thing or two.” He ruined the seriousness of his words by waggling his eyebrows at the last words.
“You know that I thought she was a prostitute?” Dale asked his lecherous buddy.
Hans shrugged, “Happens to the best of us. Sometimes they seem far too amazing to be real, so you make a false assumption. At least you didn’t tell her that you… you did, didn’t you?” Dale nodded. Hans started laughing, “You had better go fix that relationship before she murders you.”
“I’m not going to-” Dale leaned to the side, missing Hans's punch only by a scant inch. “Apparently, we’re fighting now.”
Hans didn’t answer with more than a grin. He began attacking faster, slowly ramping up the difficulty until Dale actually broke out into a sweat. Dale tried to find an opening to attack, but Hans moved with a precision and economy of movement that left no noticeable opportunities. Soon, Dale was dodging with less and less space between his body and Hans's fists. Finally, it was all he could do not to cry out with pain as Hans pounded him into the dirt with well-placed blows.
“You are certainly learning, and frankly you are doing well.” Hans nodded and offered his hand to Dale, “You just need another decade of fighting experience or so. Also,” he had pulled Dale halfway up, and now he left him fall to the ground with an *oomph*, “you are too trusting. We are fighting, remember?”
“Rude.” Dale rocked his body until he had enough momentum to stand. He was trying to learn a faster movement to regain his feet, since his Dark Elf trainer beat him mercilessly with a stout staff whenever he was on the ground. “You about ready to head to the dungeon? Laying on the snow really isn’t my favorite way to start the day. I could really go for some movement to warm me up.”
Winter had arrived, at least the leading edge. A thin layer of snow was all that covered the ground, though not from lack of snowing. No, the wind had simply risen to new strength, blasting the snow off the mountain unless something blocked it. Less people were living here now, more and more were paying the fee to use the portal and live somewhere less intolerant of life. People said they hated it, it felt haunted, or it was the worst climate in the world. For Dale, it just felt like home.
“I’m ready, but do you think everyone will be there?” Hans gave Dale a significant look. “I’m not going to force her out into the cold again. That’s your problem now, oh great team leader.” Rose had been rather resistant to venturing out into the cold air. To be fair, they had to be careful about how many layers they wore.
There was a person that had been too bundled up in loose robes and layers, to the point that the wind had caught on him like a sail and blown him off the mountain. They still hadn’t found his body. Now, people were trying to see how few clothes they could wear, and how tightly fit they could be before they started to succumb to the cold. Businessmen no longer hawked their wares, if you needed something you came to them through their triple-layered tents.
“Hans, you’re the one that is trying to win her over, if you can’t deal with her at her coldest, you shouldn’t get her at her-” They came upon their meeting point just then, and the other members had obviously been there a few minutes.
“Oh, thank goodness, let’s go!” A shivering Rose ran off toward the dungeon entrance. Adam was shivering so hard in his robes that he couldn’t speak, while Tom wore his sparse armor and looked completely normal. His nipples were unpleasantly puckered though, and Hans pretended he had to dodge them like a knife whenever Tom turned.
Tom grinned at Dale, “I see that you would do well in the Wolf Kingdom! This is a nice, warm day back home.”
Dale replied in kind, “It’s about time the temperature gets back to normal! I’ve been melting for months! Look at me, the heat reduced me to skin and bones! With this temperature, I’m finally able to start getting some muscle back!” The others, not invited to the bragging, groaned good naturedly. The two laughing men had been having the same conversation every time they met up since the first snowfall.
“Hans,” Rose was squinting at Tom against the wind, “can you teach me a good assassination technique?”
Tom had a small look of panic on his face, “Let us not be hasty! We will soon warm ourselves in the fiery blood of our foes!”
Adam ground out through his chattering teeth, “Maybe you stop bathing in blood and just take a normal bath?” Winter had started to impact the hygiene of most people that stayed here full-time.
They got to the entrance of the dungeon and stepped inside, happy to be out of the worst of the wind. Dale looked around, “Any new jobs?”
Hans grunted. “Eh. More requests for fur. No real surprise there. The others sighed. While fur was moderately lucrative, it was smelly, messy, tedious work. It slowed them down to skin each animal they felled, and so had taken to tossing the entire animal into their dimensional bags. This had the distinct disadvantage of weighing them down more, but added a small benefit of being able to export meat easily. Basher was now considered a delicacy in the kingdoms, as it retained quite a bit of Essence in the meat. If you had the correct meridian open, eating Basher meat allowed you to almost passively gain Essence. It was a great training aid.
“Anyone else? Please?” Dale had just a touch of desperation in his voice.
Adam spoke up, “Healing potions and herbs are on the rise again, there have been more attacks recently. From what I hear, entire villages in the south are vanishing overnight, while the same is happening in the north, just with the bodies being left where they fall.”
Dale nodded, the gossip had been growing as more Nobles began appearing, coming to live semi-permanently. No longer was it just the second or third son of a branch family, now firstborn and mainline Nobles had been arriving. Mountaindale — as his rapidly growing town had been laughingly dubbed — was the only place that was out of the way and remote while still being a viable training ground.
“So, let’s start. I’ll take point position, I want Tom on my left, Rose on my right. Adam, you are right behind me. Hans, take rear-guard, watch our backs. They proceeded into the dungeon, doing their best to silently kill as many Bashers as they could. Recently, if they had been able to sneak up on them, they didn’t swarm. People were taking that to mean they were getting stealthier, but Dale had a different idea. He was still hearing mutterings and words from Cal that meant nothing to him, like ‘ossification’.
Dale knew that the dungeon was just distracted, and he assumed that without the dungeon guiding them, the Bashers were just less likely to attack people. He was fine with this; hopefully it meant that he would have a more normal experience while fighting. They snuck up on a group of Bashers and began beating them quickly. Dale had found that grabbing one with his off hand and hitting it with his cursed battle gauntlet would almost alw
ays kill it.
He also didn’t hurt himself when he did this, as apparently the Essence released into the gauntlet would just flow back into his Center if he struck his arm or hand. Luckily for him, since he had found this out by accidentally scratching himself in a sensitive area when he had been startled by a sneak attack from a Basher. The activated knuckles had left a scrape where he had moved his hand too quickly, but the blood hadn’t been blasted away from that point.
“What the-” Hans had turned a corner and was shaking his head, half in disgust and half in laughter. “Someone has a sick sense of humor.” They took a look, there appeared to be a High-Elf made of stone on a marble altar, surrounded by statues of bunnies playing in flowers.
Dale choked on a laugh, “Wow, I mean, yeah she was insane, but it is still sad that she just let herself die for no reason.”
Hans glared at Dale, “If I die in here, and you find a statue of me, you’d better smash that shit. Especially if it is surrounded by bunnies and flowers.”
“I’d rather take it to the capital and have it immortalized in their history museum.” Dale started walking deeper into the dungeon as Hans let out a squawk of rage.
Rose looked back at the statue as they passed it, “I wonder who would do something like that?”
“Pay attention Rose, there is a roving squad ahead.” Dale quietly admonished her. Roving squads were groups of regular or advanced Bashers that didn’t stay in a certain territory. They weren’t usually too dangerous, but they sometimes came up behind groups as they were focused on killing a group ahead of them. Dale jumped forward, backhanding a Basher as it squeaked the alert.
