I hope there’s some food in those boxes; we can’t eat swords, after all. The boxes didn’t appear large enough to fit swords, at least, unless they were short swords; if that were the case, Furbrea was worried that the Warbands wouldn’t appreciate them.
They all stood in silence as the stone platform approached slowly, floating approximately 5 feet off the ground, and gently rising and falling as it passed over the landscape. Within a minute, Echo and her unusual conveyance arrived, and the Elf nodded at her and the others but didn’t say anything. There was no sight of the boy Kelerim there to help them translate, so she wasn’t sure exactly how they were supposed to communicate.
The platform gently fell to the ground where it settled, before the short sides somehow folded down, presenting a completely flat piece of stone now. Furbrea shook her head a few times, amazed at the strange platform; she knew the Elves could manipulate the elemental energy – that everyone possessed – outside of their bodies to perform unusual effects, but this was something else entirely. All that Furbrea could do was utilize the Holy energy she had inside to heal herself from minor injuries; it wasn’t all that great on anything more than a scrape or shallow cut, and did nothing against the ravages of old age.
“I see you have returned. I’m sorry to say that we don’t have any Warbands looking to take you up on your deal quite yet,” Furbrea stepped forward to say distractedly, after she finally got a chance to see what the metal-looking things were standing up. They were so still that they looked like statues; they appeared to be some sort of monkey or ape creatures that she had heard about over the years that were seen around Orcrim. Other than the fact that they were made completely out of metal, of course. None of the “normal” monkeys she’d heard of held weapons like these metal hammers, either.
Suddenly, she realized that what she had said might not have been understood and she moved to try again another way – perhaps I can use hand movements or something – but the Elf beat her to it. Echo just nodded and pointed to her ear, and then shook her head and pointed to her mouth; Furbrea understood immediately that the Elf was conveying that she could understand what the Orc was saying, but not actually speak it herself.
Furbrea was waved forward onto the platform, and the Orc warily approached and stepped up on top of it; at first she thought she might feel something from the platform because of its strange ability to float, but it just felt like regular, ordinary stone under her feet. She was quickly distracted from that by what she was being called over to look at, though.
Food – crates and crates of food. There appeared to be enough inside of the crates to last months, if not a year for all their villagers – even the ones that were out finding Warbands. It was entirely too much, though; 90% of it would spoil before they could even hope to eat it. However, that didn’t prevent her mouth from watering as she spotted what appeared to be fresh-baked bread loaves instead of the flatbread she was used to eating, another crate full of what appeared to be potatoes which she hadn’t had in years, a crate full of cut-up chunks of raw meat, and – impossibly – two crates full of different kinds of fruit. She remembered eating a nearly dried-up apple that she had found on the street when she was a young Orcling living with her parents, but not another single fruit had passed her lips since then. What fruit was grown and cultivated in Orcrim was reserved for Warchiefs and important members of Warbands, so it was unlikely that any of the others in the village had even seen fruit before, let alone tasted it.
“I-I don’t know what to say,” Furbrea said after a moment, her amazement and shock causing her to be speechless for a few moments. “Don’t get me wrong, we appreciate the food – and we really need it – but this is all going to spoil before we can eat it; unless multiple Warbands start to arrive within the next few days or so, I’m worried a lot of this will spoil. I can have a lot of it placed in my supply hut cellar, but even there it might go to waste before it will be consumed.”
The Elf seemed to understand because she nodded and held up a hand. Echo reached into one of the crates to pull out a loaf of delicious-looking bread, and she held it up with one hand; with the other, she caused two fingers to shrink down indicating something small. When she put it back in the wooden crate, she held her fingers again and expanded them, using both hands to indicate something large or…lengthy? She wasn’t exactly sure what that was supposed to mean, at least until she was prompted to reach into the crate herself.
A slight tingle met her hand as she reached her hand toward one of the loaves and suddenly she understood; if Elves could make a stone platform fly, then why couldn’t they do some sort of elemental spell that could preserve food inside of a box? She had no idea what exactly it was, or how it worked, but she wasn’t going to question their good fortune.
“I…think I see. There’s some sort of…something…on this crate that preserves food?” Furbrea asked. Echo nodded a couple of times, confirming her guess, before the Elf pointed to something else.
She had been so distracted by the bounty of food that she didn’t even notice the large pile of steel swords and another of what appeared to be some sort of leather chest armor. Aha! This is what the Warbands will be getting in exchange for “volunteering” their least-wanted members. Furbrea wasn’t exactly sure that the Elf understood that the mercenaries she would be getting were likely individuals that were at the bottom of the importance ranking. Not that they would be useless, because no Orcs were accepted into a Warband without being at least marginally useful, but there were differing levels of usefulness.
The old Orc bent down and picked up one of the steel longswords; she didn’t have the most discerning eye, but she recognized high quality when she saw it. The edges were extremely sharp, the metal was shining so much she could practically see her reflection in it, and it felt extremely well-balanced in her hands. Again, she wasn’t an expert, but she could tell that this one steel sword was worth 100 of the iron swords that their old Blacksmith used to make (the one that arrived after Kelerim was chased out), and would last at least 50 times longer – if not more. She put it back down and looked at the other swords, seeing that all of them appeared to be of a similar quality, even if a few weren’t quite as polished…and then she noticed a handful that were exceptionally well-made – master-craft quality, if she had to guess.
Furbrea picked it out of the pile and was surprised at how light it was in comparison to the others; instead of seeming weaker because of the weight difference, something told her it was equally as strong, if not stronger. “What is this? Is this steel?”
The Elf shook her head and opened her mouth to say something, but closed it after likely remembering that she couldn’t speak the language. Echo strangely froze for a second before she started to gesture with her hands. Through a series of hand movements encompassing the heavier steel swords and the one Furbrea was holding, as well as indications of short people and tall people, the Orc thought she understood.
“The steel swords are for the regular members of a Warband and these…other…ones are for Warband Leaders?” Another nod confirmed her guess again. “Good thinking there, because those in charge tend to like feeling a bit special.” They were some of the worst sometimes, because they were so demanding, but they were also in their positions because they were good at what they did.
Lots of nods accompanied her statement, and Furbrea then checked out the chest armor. In her experience, Warband members tended to prefer better movement over better protection, so she wasn’t sure if they would like the armor – especially when it was a bit heavier and bulkier than she was expecting. Another question and more hand-waving, accompanied by a few weak punches at the front of the leather gave her the idea that there was something inside the thick sides of the chest armor. A few rough punches of her own revealed that there was indeed something inside that appeared to be extremely durable and would protect the Warbands over and above anything she had seen them wear before, as well as the overall quality of them being unlike the norm a
s well – as in, it didn’t look like it would fall apart when someone looked at it funny.
Whether or not they would wear something like that was unknown, but Furbrea knew that if she were in a Warband, she would appreciate the extra protection. “Again, smart; you obviously knew that they wouldn’t wear anything over the rest of their bodies, though I’m not sure if the weight and thickness of these will be too much for them. We’ll just have to see.”
Echo just shrugged and that simple gesture indicated to the old Orc that it was of no consequence; the most important part of the delivery – at least as far as their deal was concerned – were the weapons, and she had a hard time believing that any Orc would find fault with them. If they chose not to wear the armor, which was worlds above in quality to what they were likely wearing, then that would be on them.
“This looks like it will work perfectly. Thank you so much for the food; I fear we were running dangerously low,” Furbrea said, before she hesitated. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to carry those stone boxes full of meat; Perchunk and Gorbal are fairly strong, but that might be a struggle.”
As soon as she asked, the two monkey statues suddenly came to life, dropping their large hammers and turning to start picking up the crates with ease – even the stone one that must’ve weighed a few hundred pounds by itself. Furbrea stepped back in shock but swallowed her scream before it could emerge; she managed to recover fast enough to make her surprise seem temporary, though she was still reeling inside her mind.
“Uh…this way,” she said after a few moments of the monkeys freezing in place and facing towards her. She led the way to the supply hut and led them inside, where they brought the crates they were carrying down into the cellar. Perchunk and Gorbal came in next with the much lighter crate of bread and one of fruit between them, where they brought them down the staircase as well. Fortunately, there was more than enough room down below for all of the food crates, as well as the bundles of swords that were quickly carried in by the other villagers. Furbrea just stood in the cellar and directed where everything needed to be stored, and within 10 minutes the entire contents of the stone platform were inside the supply hut.
Including, as it turned out, the two metal monkey statues now wielding their large hammers again. A questioning look at them standing inside of the supply hut and over the trap door was answered – again by hand-gestures by Echo, which Furbrea proudly was getting quite adept at interpreting.
“So…they are here to help guard all the supplies, and only us villagers are allowed inside of here? And, if I’m understanding correctly, they will attack anyone that comes within range of them that aren’t us?” More nods.
That was actually quite useful, because there was every possibility that a Warband could swoop in and try to take everything without agreeing to the deal. She wasn’t sure how powerful these metal monkeys were, but she had seen them carry a few hundred pounds of stone like it was nothing; accompanied by their hammers, which had a spike on one end, she could only imagine the carnage they could inflict on a Warband if they were to swing those around. It wasn’t a foolproof defense, but would be quite the deterrent.
As the Elf made ready to leave, Furbrea had one more question. “If—When the Warbands come and make this deal, where do I send the…payment?” That was basically what the voluntold mercenaries were, as strange as it seemed.
More gesture interpretations indicated that Echo would send the platform for them, and that she would somehow know when they were there and ready to be picked up. Furbrea didn’t bother to ask exactly how she would know, because it was probably something that couldn’t be explained through hand-waving.
Soon enough, the Elf was on her platform and moving off into the wastelands again, heading in a south-southwesterly direction towards the Elven lands. She turned to the others, who were looking stunned – but happy.
“Tonight…we feast!” The others looked ecstatic, and started talking animatedly about what they would eat first.
She, for one, was looking forward to eating something that wasn’t stale or dried; fresh meat sounded the best of all. Oh, and she didn’t forget the fruit, either. She had spotted some apples that appeared freshly picked off a tree, and she was excited to try one that wasn’t half-rotten by the time she got to it.
They were going to eat like Warchiefs tonight!
Chapter 24
The delivery of supplies to the Orc village had gone better than expected. The older Orc woman, Furbrea, had been remarkably intuitive and figured out the meaning behind the hand gestures that Sandra had performed via her Echo-copy. It wasn’t a foolproof method of communication, because while she couldn’t explain specifics – like what material the Titanium swords were made from – but the point was gotten across well enough. It felt good to Sandra that she was able to provide supplies to the near-starving Orcs, and now she just hoped that their plans came to fruition relatively soon.
The rest of the day and into the evening, the Dungeon Core spent her time creating more Brewing and Distilling crafting stations for Teving and Glencha. Each one required approximately 18,000 Mana to create; between the Energy Orbs used to regulate the temperature, the traps placed inside, and what was used to create the materials for the crafting stations themselves, the Mana really added up. She was also consuming a lot of Raw Materials – so much, in fact, that her condensed Sphere was nearly gone.
Each one took a little less than an hour to complete because the large copper walls of the containers had to be shaped into position by some of her constructs, where she was able to seal them completely using her Mana; then the traps and enchantments had to be placed carefully inside and outside, and then the Energy Orbs had to be created and enchanted precisely themselves. It was worth the effort and concentration, however, because by the time she had finished 5 more Breweries and 2 more Distilleries (Glencha said she didn’t need quite as many as Teving did, which made sense), night had fallen.
She hadn’t been idle with the rest of her Mana during that time; only half of it was being consumed by the creation of the two crafting stations. The rest of her incoming Mana she split up between creating more small constructs for her Net (she was hoping to soon get to 1,000,000 Mana absorption every day); making more Elemental Orbs and enchanting them into Energy Orbs; creating more Apes with Titanium warhammers, Dire Wolves, Jaguar Queens, and a single Titanium Anaconda for the Dwarven Shieldmen, and more of the Wyvines for the Elves. She also included a pair of Fire and Nether Energy Orbs with each of the Shadow Beasts she sent out, so that they could get their elemental energy regenerated when needed. Chryla had helpfully met up with a few of the other Rangers and showed off her new beast companion, so it made it much easier for Sandra to get the rest of the Elves hunting through the forest up to speed on how to successfully use their new assistants.
When the Shieldmen came back, leaving their constructs out roaming the forests, they brought back with them a bounty of Monster Seeds.
“What are you doing with all of these, by the way?” Delarthe asked as soon as he and the others dumped a large pile of various Seeds inside of the Workshop. None of it was unique or new, but it was all valuable to the Dungeon Core. The Shieldmen looked exhausted, sweaty, and in dire need of sleep – and a bath; all of which reminded Sandra that she was going to make another bath room down below where the Dwarves could use it. It would have to be larger to accommodate their larger population, but that wasn’t too hard now that she had access to more Mana.
* I’ve been absorbing them for their Mana mostly, or otherwise reusing them to create more constructs for you. I appreciate you bringing them. *
“So…the more of this dungeon loot we bring, the more help we’ll have?”
* Essentially, yes. It’s not a fully equal exchange, because I only receive about half of the Mana from absorbing the Seeds—loot—that was used to create it, and the Mana that was used to create the Dungeon Monster is lost; nevertheless, it greatly contributes to how much I can produce myself.
*
“I’m glad we brought them, then; we had so many this time from two days of constant culling that we almost left some behind. It’s good to know that these are being used to help us directly, almost like a…” Delarthe seemed to be searching for the word to use.
* Like…an exchange system? *
The thought hadn’t really occurred to her before then that she could set up some sort of monetary/bartering system that could act as a way to exchange Monster Seeds—loot—for…constructs and Dungeon Monsters? Crafted items? Enchantments? Food? The list wasn’t quite endless, because it was limited by what she could create inside of her dungeon, but the merchant in Sandra became excited at the prospect. When she was still Human and selling merchandise with her Father, they had been consumed with making more copper, silver, and gold coins that were used as currency; none of that helped her now, of course – unless it was in the shape of Copper, Silver, or Gold Orbs. While she couldn’t use coins, she could certainly use Mana!
“Yes, sort of like that. Everything you’ve provided us has helped us take back control of our lives, even with the danger facing us – and you’ve done it without asking for much in return. Well, other than wanting help to cull the nearby monsters, but we would’ve done that already. Now, I’m not saying you should start charging us for more of your constructs—” Delarthe said while chuckling nervously, as if afraid he had said something that could bite him in the butt later— “because I have a feeling we’ll need them just to survive, but I could see others (when they learn of what you can do) trying to take unfair advantage of you. From what you’ve told us, you have a finite amount of this ‘mana’ energy to use, and if you’re using it on everything that people want without asking for anything in exchange, then you won’t have anything left to do what needs to be done.”
The Crafter's Darkness: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 4) Page 26
