by Demi Harper
After just a day, the melee fighters’ sparring was already much less chaotic than before, and the slingers seemed thankfully more inclined to aim at the practice targets than each other. Even the militia looked almost capable of dealing as much damage to their opponents as they did to their allies, thanks to Granny’s efforts.
As long as we have Granny, we can make it through anything.
Despite this rapid improvement, I couldn’t help but feel a constant undercurrent of anxiety. It was like the buzzing of the bees I sometimes heard from up on the surface, except I was ‘hearing’ it through what would have been my stomach if I’d had a corporeal body. The source of this anxiety? The distinct absence of any sign of the humans.
I tried to reassure myself that barely a week had passed since Tiri and the others’ accidental incursion into my Sphere of Influence. Chances were they hadn’t even found their way back to the Guild yet, let alone had time to prepare for their return here. But with each day that brought me closer to Grimrock’s deadline, I experienced a growing sense of urgency, like a physical weight upon my soul.
I had three weeks at most before I had to make a choice: stand my ground and resist Grimrock – and undoubtedly perish along with my gnomes in the attempt – or yield to his offer of an ‘alliance’.
The latter would involve the unthinkable act of allowing the dark god to abduct a monthly tithe of gnomes, with the intention of sacrificing their lives for his own power. The former would likely entail the immediate eradication of the entire tribe – an even worse outcome. Without the humans, those would be my only two options.
I yearned to use my Observe skill to learn whether Grimrock was planning to betray me. Alas, without any of my denizens in his Sphere of Influence, I was incapable of using the ability. I had no way of knowing whether or not the evil core was using this time to rebuild his own forces in preparation for one final assault.
I struggled to remain focused on life in the Grotto; there was no point worrying about things that were out of my control. Still, it was difficult not to obsess over what my enemy might be planning.
The idea of spying on the other god preoccupied me to the point where I contemplated revisiting the Sinkhole. In my God’s Eye form, I could dive down into that black abyss – where mine and Grimrock’s Spheres now overlapped – and see what manner of creature had so easily devoured my fearsome boulderskin olm.
Eventually, though, I decided I’d rather not know. If we ever reached the point where his Sphere overlapped the Grotto, there’d be nothing either my denizens or my god-born could do to save us, foreknowledge or not.
A familiar ding from my Augmentary intruded upon my gloomy musings. With a great effort, I turned my mind away from such bleak thoughts, and concentrated instead on what was in front of me.
The armory was complete. It was a simple building; a half-covered collection of workbenches and tables, all made of shroomtree lumber and planks. A set of improvised tools hung from one wall, carved from a mixture of wood and stone: hammers, chisels, knives of varying sizes, and sharpened stone awls, which some instinctive part of my mind knew were for punching holes in leather.
It was time to assign someone to make armor for my new warrior gnomes – and, gods forbid, provide them with proper weapons. Hopefully they wouldn’t poke each other’s eyes out within the first few seconds of handling them.
Mentally rubbing my hands together, I selected one of my eight sawyers for re-vocationing as an armorer. The tiny saw symbol beside her name blinked out of existence, replaced instantly by a hammer and anvil.
Bit fanciful, given that the armory doesn’t have an anvil – or any metal at all, for that matter – but I appreciate the symbolism.
The sawyer-turned-armorer immediately headed over from the lumberyard, past the barracks with its constant clacking of practice weapons, and into the armory. She ran her hand appraisingly over the new work surfaces – some of which she’d probably sawed herself, I realized – then gave a nod, as if to say, ‘It will do.’ Then she clapped her hands together and marched back to the lumberyard to gather materials.
Filled with anticipation – and more than a little trepidation – as to what she would craft first, I forced myself to be patient, and moved off to see what else I could do.
I found myself instead gazing at the barracks. If only there were a way for me to assign the warrior vocation to more of my gnomes. As it was, the barracks’ restrictions meant I could only have forty warriors at any one time. I could build another barracks, but that would take almost a week, leaving us with barely a fortnight to prepare for Grimrock’s deadline.
As I focused on the barracks, pondering, the building’s blueprint and information summary shimmered into view – yet another of the Augmentary’s helpful features.
Barracks I
Tier 2 building
Houses up to 40 gnomes. Unlocks military vocations, and facilitates basic combat training.
Materials required: Boards x 60, Bricks x 1850
Yes, even if I did devote the resources to build another, it would be something of a waste, since we didn’t even have enough gnomes to fill it completely.
Then I frowned again at the Augmentary entry. ‘Barracks I.’ Did that mean there was a ‘Barracks II’ somewhere?
I blinked away the information and opened up the Augmentary’s construction page. There, among the constellations of white and gray building options, was a new symbol, sprouting off from the original barracks option.
Barracks II
Tier 2 building (extension)
Increases barracks capacity by 10.
Materials required: Boards x 15
This was perfect! A barracks extension was exactly what we needed. Even if the militia turned out to be competent fighters in their current formation, there were a handful of Faithful workers I planned to eventually reassign as warriors. This extension would allow me to do just that.
Even better, it didn’t require bricks – just as well, because I’d drafted all of my brickmakers into military training. And best of all? The extension would be completed in less than a day.
I immediately set my four builders to work on the extension, then searched the Grotto for any other denizens I could draft into useful work.
Down in the training yard, Granny was running herself ragged trying to train her hapless militia. I narrowed my eyes when I realised her two protegees were once again absent.
It didn’t take me long to find them. Swift and Cheer were kneeling on the cleared ground behind the barracks’ back wall. It took me a moment to comprehend what they were looking at, but when I did, I could only stare in astonishment.
The two gnomes had moulded the dirt into a series of straight, parallel lanes. Small mounds of dirt formed raised barriers between each lane, the better to contain the creatures within.
They were beetles.
And they were racing.
Swift and Cheer leaned over the makeshift track, yelling encouragement at the ‘competitors’. Of the five beetles, only two appeared to be listening. They were halfway down the track, practically neck and neck (or rather, antenna and antenna). One of the other beetles was attempting to scale the barrier and escape its lane; another had apparently tried this and failed, and was now lying on its back, multi-jointed legs waving feebly in the air.
The fifth beetle was just standing there, cleaning its antennae.
While I tried to wrap my mind around the fact that beetle racing was a thing that existed now, the current race reached its exciting conclusion. One of the two beetles that were actually in the running (well, scuttling) drew ahead of the other, but just as it reached the finish line, the second beetle spread its wing casings and took to the air. Both insects crossed the finish line at the same time.
Swift and Cheer fell about laughing, and I almost smiled myself. Their levity was refreshing. Then I recalled Granny’s struggles with the militia, and her numerous unsuccessful attempts to instill some discipline into these two fe
males. Moreover, my anxiety about the upcoming deadline would permit no gnome to remain idle.
Shirk your duties, will you? I thought sternly. If you aren’t going to train, or contribute mana or Faith, you can at least contribute something – even if it’s only dead flowers, or decomposing mice for Binky to eat.
I focused on Swift and Cheer – now high-fiving each other with dirt-encrusted hands – and activated the Scout ability. My mana drained by several globes, and the two gnomes pushed themselves heavily to their feet, scowling.
To my surprise, they did not head toward the Passage. Instead, they made for the hole in the opposite wall – the one through which Bruce and the other badgers had arrived. It was twice their height, but after a few attempts, Swift managed to give Cheer a leg-up, and Cheer in turn was then able to reach down and pull her companion into the hole. After a few minutes spent resting after this apparently exhausting endeavor, the two scouts continued up the badger tunnel, presumably past the nest and toward the surface.
I was glad my Sphere of Influence caused dead organic matter to disintegrate so quickly. I wouldn’t have put it past those two to return in just a few minutes’ time dragging the corpse of Bruce’s mother.
Speaking of the badgers… I was still a little bit crestfallen that the gnome warriors hadn’t yet taken to my idea of using badger mounts in combat, but it was understandable that they’d want to train their basic skills first before moving on to something so advanced.
That said… I wonder how my fighters would feel about fighting alongside allies?
When I’d first started life as a God Core, Ket had cautioned me against having my denizens and my god-born creatures interact with each other – with the exception of my avatar, of course, whose very purpose was to spend time with and inspire the gnomes. I felt another pang of sadness at the loss of both Ket and Ris’kin, but forced myself not to dwell on it.
Essentially, the sprite had said my gnomes would find the god-borns’ presence too distracting, and would be unable to complete even the most basic of tasks while in their company. Certainly that had been the case when I’d first tried to use Creation while in the Grotto, but still…
Let’s put it to the test.
I summoned a whipfish from the Lake. After several minutes, it came scurrying along the Passage ceiling and into the Grotto. At my command, it dropped to the ground with a slight squelch, then scuttled over to the barracks.
A little larger than most gnomes – who were on average around a foot in height – the whipfish crawled up the side of the barracks and over the roof, to peer down into the training yard at the center. Because why use doors when you can climb walls?
Unfortunately, the warriors were less than impressed with the whipfish’s presence – or simply too impressed, in some cases. Those who didn’t scatter from the yard shrieking in terror simply dropped their practice weapons and stared helplessly up at the creature.
Their reactions didn’t change even after several minutes of the whipfish’s presence. A shame; the creature’s paralyzing venom would make the gnomes’ chances of survival in the event of an attack much more likely.
Resigned, I sent it away, and brought in a forrel instead. The gnomes demonstrated the same reaction as before, though those who were awed rather than frightened by its appearance – including Hammer – became obsessed with trying to stroke its fur. The creature bared its teeth but tolerated their attention at my command. However, it soon became clear that this wasn’t going to work either.
When I sent the forrel back to the tunnels, the warriors shook themselves, looking as though they were emerging from a dream. Hammer looked surprisingly sad at the forrel’s absence; the enamored warrior watched it leave with a downcast expression on her face. I felt guilty for sending it away, but it was clear the creature’s presence would only hinder the warriors’ efforts.
Once again, it seemed my former sprite was right. The god-born existed to protect my denizens from a distance; to allow the gnomes to live their lives, not to be a part of them. Binky the spider was a strange anomaly, a happy exception to the rule that even Ket hadn’t been able to explain.
But this latest experiment showed conclusively that while my gnomes were accustomed to Binky, who kept to himself up in his ceiling hole and watched over them like a benevolent eight-legged guardian, they were far too skittish and unpredictable around my other god-born for them to ever make effective shoulder-to-shoulder allies.
It was a real shame, because in the weeks to come, the gnomes would need all the allies they could get.
Fifty
Rookie Error
My spirits were cheered later that day when the barracks extension was completed, meaning the maximum number of warriors the Grotto could hold had just increased from forty to fifty.
Excellent. Time to make a few more changes.
In trying to meet the new demand for warriors, I’d already reduced my number of active builders from ten to four. Now that general construction had slowed down in favor of a new focus on defense, it also made sense to have some of my other construction-based workers swap tools for weapons, lest we end up with idle hands and a surplus of perishable resources.
I still had seven sawyers; I reassigned three of those as warriors. In order to keep the ratio of woodcutters to sawyers evenly balanced, I also switched two of my four lumberjacks to warriors as well, keeping only Jack and Elwood – the most experienced – at work in the shroomtree patch. The five new warriors jogged over to the barracks to join the existing forty for training – and, probably, matching bruises.
That gave me forty-three warriors, not counting Swift and Cheer, who were away scouting. But would it be enough to make a difference?
Luckily, there was still the possibility that our population would increase further very soon.
Ket had said the creche would accelerate the gestation period – in other words, how long the gnomes remained pregnant for – as well as the new denizens’ early growth period. Small creatures such as gnomes matured very quickly anyway, the sprite had informed me, but the creche would make them grow to adulthood at an even more accelerated rate – perhaps a matter of weeks, or even days.
However, the process had been delayed. It took me a week of wondering why none of my gnomes were showing any signs of pregnancy before I realized I had yet to assign the requisite nurses to the creche. The Augmentary confirmed my error.
Creche
Construction Tier 1
Accelerates surrounding denizens’ fertility cycle. Houses up to 40 juveniles (max) and 4 nurses. (1 nurse required for every 10 juveniles.)
Yield: 1-2 Faithful denizens per breeder.
Materials required: Boards x 190; Bricks x 730.
I needed nurses. Fine. But where to take them from?
In the end, I decided to reassign the remaining two non-Faithful warriors, bringing my warrior count back down to forty-one. While observing their training, I’d noted they were displaying far less skill and enthusiasm than their Faithful counterparts, and could potentially prove to be more of a hazard than an asset. Unlike the militia, who were all equally inept, having the non-Faithful warriors training with the Faithful ones looked to be frustrating for all involved.
Besides, if this plan worked, I’d have replacements – Faithful replacements, no less – for the lost warriors in time for Grimrock’s ultimatum.
I used Vocation to change the two non-Faithful warriors into nurses. They simply dropped their weapons and ambled away, taking a circuitous route through the practice yard and disrupting an impressive number of sparring gnomes. The warriors looked glad to be rid of the pair; Hammer even punched the air with her fist as they left the yard and headed for the creche across the stream.
Two nurses would allow for up to twenty potential baby gnomes. If they reached maturity on time, that could bring our fighting forces – including both warriors and militia – up to a total of eighty-one. Last time Grimrock attacked, he had sent forces numbering around a hu
ndred, and my god-born had managed to eliminate them all – though only just. Even if he somehow managed to send even more kobolds this time, my evolved god-born would surely be able to take care of the majority, leaving the weakened remnants at the mercy of my armed and armored gnomes, who would surely outnumber them by that point.
But what about Snagga? a nagging voice in my mind asked.
I really didn’t want to think about Grimrock’s vile avatar. I had no idea how we’d defeat it if it accompanied the next attack. All I could do was hope he was sincere in his offer of alliance, so that most of my gnomes would be spared his brutalities until I could find a way to nullify his avatar and fight back.
In the meantime, I tried to think ahead. If I were to soon gain up to twenty new denizens, they’d need somewhere to live. Though the creche could house up to forty juveniles, I presumed those juveniles would be counted as adults the moment I assigned them a vocation. The barracks’ new extension meant that there were still seven places remaining; the creche had room for two more nurses, while the four gnomehomes could house another nine denizens. Even if I filled the barracks with my hypothetical new gnomes and assigned the rest to the militia, there would still not be enough accommodation for twenty.
The solution was simple: I selected a blueprint from the Augmentary, and moments later, the four builders were clearing space for a fifth gnomehome at the base of my hillock.
Problem solved… for now.
A couple of days later, I encountered another hiccup in my plans.
I’d assumed the new armorer would split her time between making weapons and armor, but so far she’d devoted all of her efforts to the former. I’d been surprised when she hadn’t repurposed the kobolds’ weapons – which I’d had the lone forrel retrieve from the tunnels – but it quickly became apparent that this was because they were simply too large, and the obsidian too brittle to be practical.
