The Gate of the Feral Gods

by Matt Dinniman

  I let Mordecai deal with that while I stepped out of the Toe. The “sun” was out, though it was threatening to sink below the western edge of the tomb’s lip. I had to hurry.

  All up and down the street, the prostitutes standing out front of the other bars suddenly turned into human women. A few of them gave themselves ridiculous proportions, like Odette-sized breasts. They turned a rainbow of colors. I noted about half of them were male before the change.

  There didn’t appear to be any other customers about. I shook my head and moved one street closer to the wall. “I can be anything you want, honey,” one of them called after me as I walked away. “I have the biggest library in town.”

  I found the house I was looking for and knocked on the tall door.

  I was expecting a lanky dromedarian, but the door was answered by a small, gray, featureless humanoid. Surprised, I took a step back. It was like a person wearing one of those body socks. No nose, no eyes, just a blank mannequin. The thing stood only about five feet tall. It reached forward and touched my hand. I took another step back. If it didn’t have the white dot of an NPC, I would’ve clobbered it. I read the description and was glad I’d stopped myself.

  Skarn. Level-3 Changeling Juvenile.

  As I watched, he changed, features lumping together and clumsily forming into that of an eight-year-old boy. Unlike Katia’s early attempts at changing, by the time he was done, he was indistinguishable from a regular human. He wore heart-covered boxers and clothes identical to my own for about ten seconds until it changed to a dromedarian-like robe. The tag over his head even changed. The kid looked up at me, wide-eyed, not saying anything.

  “Uh, hey kid,” I said. “Is your mom or dad home?”

  “My parents were killed in the bombings. Flint is out on patrol and won’t be home until after the darkness. He takes care of me now. He says I should always take the form of new people I meet so they feel more comfortable.” The kid delivered it in a robotic, completely unnatural voice, like he was talking for the first time in his life.

  “Yeah, good idea,” I said, completely freaked out. It hadn’t been a thing before, but I now had a new phobia: creepy-ass little kids.

  What the kid had said finally registered. Shit. “I see you have that cool telescope on the roof of your house, and I wanted to use it to look at the gnome castle.”

  The kid, whose name was Skarn, brightened, suddenly becoming animated. The more he talked, the more personality he formed. “The Wasteland? I can show you that!” He paused. “Flint says I’m supposed to ask for a gold coin. He says orphans can only get by if they use their talents to take money from people dumber than them.”

  “I take it Flint is a dromedarian?” I asked as I followed the kid into the house. It was a wide, open room with a straw bed, a tall table, and a whole wall of herbs and vegetables hanging from it. A ladder led to the hatch in the ceiling. The kid scurried up it, much too quickly.

  “We had a village, but the gnomes bombed it,” Skarn said. “Most of us died, but the dromedarians took us in. Not many kids lived. Ruby lived, but Flint says she’s destined to spend her life in Weird Shit Alley.”

  “Why did the gnomes bomb you?”

  “Flint says it’s because gnomes are short little assholes who deserve nothing but to be trampled to death and to be ripped apart by the feral geese.”

  “Ah,” I said, coming onto the roof.

  From here, I had a panoramic view of the city. Most of the buildings, including the Desperado Club one street over, were only a single floor. The city hall was nearby, rising about four stories not including the massive fabric swirl atop it, which was another two. With the air clear, I could see the entirety of the “bowl.” It was almost, but not quite, a circle, maybe a little more than three miles from edge to edge. I could see the other city in the distance, a mirror of this one on the opposite wall. Sand dunes and cave entrances dotted the dune-swept badlands between the two towns. Metallic wrecks dotted the landscape. Hulking shapes patrolled the desert, too far to see what they were. The area appeared much smaller than it had seemed now that I could see it all.

  This is all we have to work with.

  Skarn moved to the telescope, which was pointed toward the desert. “I like to watch the patrol to make sure they’re okay. Flint says if I grow up big and strong, maybe they’ll let me stay, and I can join the patrol one day.”

  I thought of the mass of desperate prostitutes one street over. It still didn’t make sense to me, but the story was becoming a little more clear. Skarn moved the telescope, searching. The telescope was a white tube covered in pipes and gears. The material of the body was odd, maybe ceramic. I examined it.

  Enchanted Gnome FarSeerer.

  Used to sight long-range targets for their bomb runs, the FarSeerer is credited as one of the key inventions that allowed the Dirigible Gnomes to obtain air superiority. When properly installed on a Gnomish Dreadnaught, this device increases the accuracy of gravity-based bombs by 75%. Allows for inspection and information on objects at a distance. It’s pretty good for spying on your neighbors, too. You don’t need porn when you got this thing hanging off the edge of your airship.

  Warning: All gnomes targeted with this device are given a notice that they are being watched.

  “Where did you get this?” I asked.

  “Flint found it in the dunes. There’s lots of crashed stuff from the last war out there. There! There it is! Okay, you can look now. Hurry ‘cause it moves. But you gotta pay.”

  I flipped a gold coin to the kid, who let it fall to the roof. He picked it up with two hands and did a little jump. “Thanks, mister! Use the turny thing on the right to zoom in and out.”

  “Sure, kid,” I said, leaning into the eyepiece. I was expecting the image to appear upside-down like with the telescope we had on the cutter, but the gnomish castle came into view, big and clear.

  “Whoa,” I muttered, surprised at the telescope’s clarity. “It’s huge. It looks like a goddamned floating junkyard.”

  “It used to be bigger, but some of it broke off and fell in the water.”

  The Wasteland Castle appeared to be a jagged-edged, almost-rectangular island ripped straight from the ground. There was so much going on with the thing, it was difficult to focus on the whole. From this angle, I could only see the top, shingled roof of what appeared to be a house sitting on the center of the landmass, but dozens of other smaller structures dotted the edges, most of which were made with what appeared to be corrugated metal, similar to the walls of Hump Town. A group of absolutely colossal balloons kept the island aloft. Three brown, blimp-shaped balloons were flanked by a pair of even-bigger, round monstrosities. The five balloons were individually attached to the island by glowing ropes, and the whole group was held together with a net. The distinctive glimmer of a magical shield surrounded the balloons, causing the whole top section to shimmer in the dying light of the day.

  If the scale was correct in my head, the island itself was approximately the width of three football fields. Like a goddamned floating aircraft carrier, but wider. Several of the small buildings dotting the exterior were actually weapons, I realized. I could see ballista and trebuchets and all sorts of weird odds and ends.

  Hundreds of ropes and chains and other strange items hung from the bottom of the flying island, twinkling in the light. This included what appeared to be small, round huts. Some of the items only hung a few dozen feet, but other chains and ropes and oddities dangled past the telescope’s display.

  Also attached to the side of the floating island were dozens of different flying machines of various sizes, from tiny, single-person hot-air balloons, to bus-sized, floating boats that appeared to be held aloft by magic. Most were moored to the far side of the island. All of the devices seemed to be mismatched, rusting hulks that shouldn’t be aloft, like the cars in a Mad Max movie. As I watched, one hovering vehicle, the size of a rowboat, floated into view. The driver was clearly a gnome, similar in size and shape to the B
opca Protectors, but maybe a little smaller and with even more bulbous noses. It wore the stereotypical red, pointy hat. In fact, I realized, the whole damn island was covered with the little, red hats bouncing around.

  The small airship was held aloft like a drone, with a set of four propellors spread out under the vehicle. The distinctive shape of a refrigerator-sized bomb dangled precariously underneath the small airship. I zoomed in further, and to my surprise, all the information appeared like I was examining it up close.

  Gnomish Knock-Knock

  Type: Fuel-air bomb.

  Effect: Thermobaric Explosion.

  Status: 40. Barely stable. I wouldn’t be tapping on the thing.

  Ever seen a hundred Dromedarians die because their lungs imploded, followed by their skin getting melted off their body just before they all shatter into mist? Well now’s your chance! Fun for the whole family, this was the main weapon of the Gnomish Bombardier Squads. There are only a few of these things left, and they’re usually strapped to the failing air force’s most reliable patrol ships.

  The fuel-air Knock-Knocks were once used to devastating effect in the early days of the last conflict. The remaining munitions are instead used as a mutual-standoff weapon. These are simple, crude, but highly-effective bombs. They are detonated using an adjustable, pressure-based fuse that can allow the bombardier to fine-tune the height at which they explode. Requires the bomber to know the altitude of their target to obtain maximum efficacy.

  Famously unstable. But god-damn do they put on a show.

  “Yikes,” I muttered, pulling back. I looked down at the kid. “Did they drop one of those knock-knock bombs on your old village?”

  “Yep,” he said. “It was a long time ago, though. I don’t remember it. Flint says the gnomes are bomb-dropping cowards. He says anybody who uses a bomb is a pussy.”

  “Flint sounds like a real peach. Why don’t the gnomes drop bombs here?”

  Skarn shrugged. “Flint says it’s because of what they have in the town hall. The Bactrians have the same deal. That’s why there’s peace.”

  “What is it?”

  “Flint says they don’t know what the Bactrians have. But here in Hump Town we have something that makes it so the gnomes don’t bomb us. The gnomes have a leader guy who’s really mean, but we have something he wants to keep safe, so he doesn’t bomb our town. They still attack anything outside the walls. That’s why Flint and the others only go out right after the storm, when the Wasteland is over the water.”

  “But do you know what they have hidden in town hall?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not allowed to go over there. I know it eats mushrooms.”

  3

  “Okay, here’s what we gotta do,” I said after I finished my training. “Step one is to find the other crawlers and make sure we’re all on the same page. Step two is to figure out who they have locked up in the town hall. It’s probably the gnome leader guy’s kid or something.”

  “Maybe it’s his pet,” Donut said. “Nobody wants to bomb their pet. What eats mushrooms?”

  “Lots of things,” Mordecai said.

  “So, we go out in there, and if it turns out it’s this gnome guy’s kid or something, what’s the next move?” Katia asked. She was doing her best dromedarian impersonation. It was almost flawless. The system pegged it at 95%.

  “It’s going to depend on what it is, but after we find out, we’ll have to go over to that other town and do the same thing again, I think. It sounds like they also have something to keep themselves safe. So far we only know a little kid’s version of the story. We need to understand as much as possible before we move on.”

  “Okay, but before you go out there, let’s do a quick tour of the new upgrades,” Mordecai said, indicating the new kitchen renovation, which was nothing more than three cabinets sitting in a row against the blank wall of the kitchen. “We’ll be able to upgrade this into something much better once we get to the tier-two upgrades. I’m looking forward to that, mostly because of the magic room. But we’ll talk about that later. These are food synthesizers, bought with Katia’s coupon. You can only use one a day, but this upgrade came with three different cabinets, so it’s breakfast, lunch, and dinner or whatever. I know from experience these things can be a little buggy. I suggest not picking the same item twice in a row, or suddenly you’ll find yourself with that as your only choice. Otherwise the selection changes every day and is customized to you. It’ll learn your tastes.”

  I walked up to the first cabinet, put my hand on the door, and a menu popped up. There were about twenty choices listed, all of them breakfast items, from cornflakes to bacon to hominy grits. I clicked on Sausage Bagel Sandwich, opened the door, and the kinda-hot sandwich was sitting there, like the wooden cabinet was a microwave.

  “Hey, cool,” I said.

  “Don’t get too excited,” Katia said. “Wait until you try it.”

  I took a bite. It tasted like a microwave biscuit sandwich, which I’d probably eaten a thousand of over the years.

  “It’s not bad,” I said, chewing. “It’s not great, either. Bopca food is better.”

  A new buff notification appeared.

  You are full! Your warm tummy increases your healing speed by 5%. It decreases debuff times by 5%. It lowers all indirect damage by 5%.

  “The food buff lasts all day, so you don’t have to eat all three meals here,” Mordecai said.

  “Thank god,” Katia said. “I had it give me skyr and jam, and it tasted like bad sour cream mixed with Jolly Ranchers.”

  “What the hell is skyr?” I asked.

  “The second upgrade is just as important,” Mordecai said, interrupting. “It is the marketplace interface.”

  “Marketplace?” I asked. “So we can buy stuff?”

  “Yes and no,” he said. “We bought the marketplace upgrade early, and it doesn’t really open up until the next floor. For now it’s like having a virtual general store interface. The second-tier version is the same thing but twice as expensive, so we had to buy it now. You can purchase basic potions and scrolls, and random items will also pop up for sale. You can sell things. Carl, this was your coupon, but we gave it to Donut to use, so she got credit for it. It is her account. We did this because her Charisma bonus is automatically added to the prices.”

  Donut had actually told me they were doing this as they did it, and I had said it was okay. If she died or we separated parties, I’d lose the upgrade. But at this point, our shit was so intertwined, losing this particular upgrade would be the least of my worries.

  “How does it work?” I asked. I already knew the answer to this question, but I wanted Mordecai to state it.

  He pointed with his wing over at a screen sitting against the wall next to his door. I hadn’t noticed it until now.

  “It’s a simple interface. It’s like buying and selling on Ebay. There will even be bid auctions available next floor. If you want to sell anything magical, like those low-tier clothing items you keep receiving, I’d wait until then. For regular junk, just toss it to the AI storekeeper, and you’ll get a good price thanks to Donut.”

  “I don’t like it,” Donut said. “It doesn’t let you haggle. Also, it’s broken. It says my hats are only worth one gold piece each. We need to get it fixed.”

  “Bid auctions?” I asked. “The customer base gets smaller and smaller each floor. How many of us have this thing? Do people actually use it?”

  “Oh, yes. The tourists and the factions will be able to start trading using the system once the sixth floor opens. You’ll see. The marketplace will be flooded. Some of the factions will be snatching up anything magical that appears, so you’ll make some good money selling your loot. Much more than you would get selling it to a store.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Are we going to have to fight the guys we’re selling this gear to?”

  “Yes,” he said. “This is how they outfit their armies. But if you don’t sell your gear, somebody else will.”

&n
bsp; “So Prince Stalwart has one of these interface things, too?”

  “Actually, no,” Mordecai said. “The factions on the ninth floor don’t get the interface. The funnel city of Larracos has actual stores with NPC proprietors, and the faction leaders have to physically go to the store and buy or bid on the items. Once you crawlers get there, everybody gets kicked out of Larracos and the fighting begins. So you make the most money selling your gear on the sixth through eighth floor. Once the ninth floor opens, the factions are no longer able to buy new gear and can only take it from the other armies. I’ll explain all of that when you get there.”

  “I don’t like the idea of selling shit to people who’ll use it against us.”

  Mordecai grunted. “They’ll mostly be using it on each other. Now go over there and check out the interface.”

  “I will in a bit,” I said. “We got work to do.”

  I actually really wanted to go over there and take a look at the interface, mostly because it would finally give me a definitive gold value for most of the items in my inventory. However, I’d been warned by The Dungeon Anarchist’s Cookbook against using the marketplace interface while I had the book on me. Currently, the book showed itself as having almost no value. Certain things, like that unexploded nuke also showed themselves as having no value in my inventory. However, the cookbook included this warning:

 

  Be careful with the marketplace interface. It uses a different system to value items than whatever you might have installed into your UI. It tags this tome as a unique, heirloom item, giving it a ridiculous value, something like 50 million gold. Nothing has happened yet, but I am afraid of giving a third party access to my inventory like that.