We smile, and approach the small caravan of 3 wagons. All three of them were nearly identical, and there were only a small group of 5 guards, most around D, or C ranked. Alistair quickly greeted them, they thanked him, and even offered to pay him some coin, but he didn't want it. Alistair animated all the orcs, and had them walk behind their wagons. They had rough but effective weapons, one of them even had something akin to a giant meat hook, on the end of a stick.
We continued on our journey to Brindle arriving a couple days later. Eli was unimpressed. The streets were filled with shit, and beggars. Poverty was abundant, the cobble of the streets were torn, and patchy, and every person they chance upon recoiled in disgust as the patchy, unpreserved corpses strode by, their every footfall leaving small sheets of decomposing skin sloughing off.
Eli liked it anyway. Alistair on the other hand. “I forgot how badly this shitty city smells. If they understood anything about how diseases were spread they'd invest far more into keeping it clean.”
Eli nods along, and jogs to keep up with Alistair.
Alistair sighs, and turns right leading them in between to buildings with dangerous looking overhangs barely holding out above them. It looked as if people reached out the two windows they could have climbed into the building across the way. In an almost cartoonish way.
Alistair takes another sharp right leading to a small wooden door, and next to it heavy wooden doors that look impossible to open with human strength. The large wooden doors have chains attached to them, and attached to the end of the large chains are vicious looking steel hooks. There is also a heavy lock in the center to stop people from trying to break in.
Alistair quickly cracks open the lock. In a routine state Alistair takes the Oxen, detaches them from the cart, and hooks them to the heavy doors with the chains. He quickly says a word, and the Oxen strain heavily to pull open the door, their muscles rippling beneath their hides. The doors creak open revealing a large warehouse that occupied far more space than Eli realized.
Alistair quickly commands the Orc undead to pull the wagon into the warehouse. He points off to the side where a metal stairway leads up to a walkway connected to a private room, with windows overlooking the warehouse. Underneath the warehouse there's an empty space for the wagon to park. Where the Orcs pull the wagon into.
Eli quickly turns, and starts exploring. The warehouse has a variety of wagons, but also an entire shelf with weapons, and metals. There are also barrels which, after asking Alistair, are apparently filled with corpses that are pickling, or being preserved in chemicals. The whole Warehouse. Strangely… Is filled with a fragrant aroma of flowers.
Upon looking at the ceiling Eli realized that Alistair had attached arms to the ceiling in pairs; one holds a lamp, and the other holds a flint and steel to light the lantern. The whole building has a warm dank feeling about it.
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Alistair smiles, and wipes his forehead. “Home sweet home.” He walks into the open space off to the left side of the warehouse, and lights a fire in an industrial hearth lighting up the entire empty space. He also climbs the stairs leading up the platform, and pulls away the tarp covering the window, filling the warehouse with cool rays of light, illuminating the dust floating throughout.
Alistair smiles. “We will be moving almost all of this back to the dungeon area. Excited?”
DC
The dungeon would be smiling ear to ear if he had a body. But… Well… He doesn't. The evolution floor of his frozen tundra has produced some good mobs so he can finally start opening them into the floor for adventurers to use. I filled it with mice, wolves, opossums, dear, and even a bear that Gairy brought me. It's going to be pretty much useless as It doesn't have a mating partner, nor do I know how to produce a female bear.
The Mice turned into the cutest little fluff balls that could blend into the snow, and would just spend hours chilling in the snow, while their fur kept them warm. The wolves actually thrived, with minimum evolution, and will probably be the main enemy for this floor, the deer on the other hand struggled a little bit, at first. A combination of the freezing temperatures, the high wolf population, and low food quantities made it very difficult for them to do much of anything, but after a while, they eventually started mutating to actually shrink in size to be more calorie efficient, but they also grew suspiciously sharp horns on their heads, just to little jabbers of horn, and they got much faster, having a strong affinity to wind. This actually helped them quite a bit so I took copies of a handful of wolves, and deer, and released them into the floor.
I am going to sort of let the animals fight, but I'm not going to let them evolve, and I'm going to keep their numbers roughly even no matter how many die.
For the boss I took 3 wolves, and stitched them together, while adding the horns from the smaller deer, all over their body. To be honest it wasn't very effective, and they just kept screaming, and tearing themselves apart so I brought in a squad of goblins to take them out.
The Goblins stepped into the room, through the stone passageway from their village. At the center of the room sits the 3 wolves. It's honestly a nightmare as they tear each other apart, the stitches are rough, and made from pure mana, but the places where the stitches are at are simply torn, patchy, and rough. All 3 of the wolves are howling up a storm, one of the wolves is even trying to gnaw through its torso to release it from the amalgam.
The leader of the goblin party steps forward, A C ranked Goblin holding two jagged swords in each hand. Standing roughly 5 feet tall, his body ripples with impressive muscle. The other 3 in the group are all D-ranked, still working the walls on the top floor. The Leader steps forward, and tries to rush at the beast, he quickly jabs one of his swords into the side of one of the wolves, causing it to howl, and swing its head. Its horns swing, and tear a gash through the C-rankers arm. He howls, and tears open the wolves guts, and its intestines paint the floor a deep red. The second wolf screams, lunges against the body, causing the whole thing to shift, and he bites the overconfident goblin, and tears his throat out.
Two more of the D-ranked goblins step forward, grim, but compelled by their God. The D-ranker at the back quickly lifts his crude longbow, and fires an arrow with a hiss into the wolf who killed their leader, but not before it leaves a long curling gash over one of his friends faces. The last wolf is quickly shot to death again.