Chapter 13
ROLL CALL
Too worried to turn his back to the dungeon, Igmail sat on the floor and watched the dungeon entrance while working on his spear. The stone from the dungeon really helped him out in this area, it made a great catalyst for refining the durability and sharpness of his main weapon. However, such work was simply a distraction while Igmail’s golems made their way to him. Igmail had his first guests within thirty minutes of his call, both gorillas different from how he had originally made them.
The one on the left had a refined aura, he looked almost bookish if you ignore that his biceps were still the size of a small child. The one on the right hung slightly behind the one on the left and seemed very relaxed. It was shaped like a workhorse, his expansive muscles and broad shoulders indicating that dexterity secondary to power and speed. Partially entering his meditative state, the two gorillas halted in front of the sliding door as Igmail activated that strange method of soul to soul communication that Toto had taught him so long ago.
‘I’ve called you here for a debrief,’ Igmail sent through the pipes of his soul space in a clear and direct manner. ‘I’ve been attacked by a goblin shaman with access to soul magic, and I wish to know just how angry you’ve made this dungeon.’ Being in constant danger themselves, the gorillas hardly reacted to the news, though they did seem mildly surprised.
‘Greetings Master, this one is called Scholar, I’m in charge of organizing our suppression,’ sent the posh looking gorilla. He pointed to the thick golem next to himself and said, ‘This one is Messenger, he relays my orders and the bodies of slain monsters. As for the answer to your inquiry: Messenger, what is the status of the forward parties.’
Messenger started to answer but was interrupted by Igmail. ‘Wait, Forward parties?’ he asked.
‘Indeed,’ answered Scholar. ‘The rookies started being too weak to keep up with the main forward party, so we sent them to train in other dungeons. They work in groups for safety.’
‘Ah, ok,’ nodded Igmail. Interruption concluded, Messenger started to speak again.
‘So, we got 4 parties running right now: Home, North, South, and West. Home is on their thirty first floor, North is on their twentieth, South is on their seventeenth, and West is on their seventh. West is a bunch of newbies led by a veteran from North, so they haven’t had much of a chance to catch up. You’ve got twenty one troops total, four tier twos, ten tier threes, and seven tier fours like Scholar here,’ reported Messenger.
“Hmm,” hummed Igmail. ‘I had not honestly expected so much progress in a mere four and a half months. It can take much longer for even professional adventurers to get that far, and, no offense, but I pulled you out of the walls.’
‘No offense taken,’ assured Scholar, ‘The dungeon underestimates us too. Thinking that taking you out would forestall its destruction is rather optimistic. We are far past the point where we can be stopped, given the proper caution and time that is.’
‘With that said, maybe we shouldn’t be discussing all this within the theoretical earshot of the being we hope to kill,’ Igmail sagely added. The group moved into the main room of the bunker to continue their discussion. With little left to discuss on the logistics side, Igmail started to assuage his curiosity about what else his creations had been up to. Eventually, the conversation led to the topic of loot.
‘Wait,’ realized Igmail. ‘If you have four parties running four dungeons, and every corpse is collected from every dungeon, then just how many monster bodies are being tossed through that transport hoop each day?’
‘Dozens, at a conservative estimate,’ replied Scholar, master of the transport ring.
“I’m rich!” shouted Igmail out loud as he threw his hands in the air. Then, to the gorillas; ‘Do you know what this means? This means tons of money! Literal tons, if they were to pay in copper coins. Did you know that, on the way here, I watched a patrol group eight people strong kill six low tier monsters, and they probably got an extra half a day’s pay apiece? I’m passively making a months worth of pay each day! This is amazing!’ With this excited pronouncement, Igmail threw his arms around the befuddled Scholar as he started to dream of all the ways to spend his wealth.
He could buy an apartment in the inner city for his parents, one for himself too. He could buy the whole roof top plot, have a garden even bigger than the one in the bunker. He could rent the use of tier five mana concentration chambers, get his parents over the hurdle to tier four, lengthening their lifespan. Before, however, his mind could delve past the surface possibilities presented by possessing preposterous prosperity, Igmail heard the door to the dungeon entrance open once more and saw a party of four golems walk through.
These ones were rather more standard looking than Scholar and Messenger, still rather typically built for Igmail’s golems. They had long arms and short legs, broad shoulders and thick necks, the spitting image of a gorilla. The one in the middle left of this regular appearing group was obviously its leader, as seen from how he positioned himself in front of the rest of his team. It was this gorilla, Igmail could feel, that initiated communication.
‘West Advance Party reporting for duty,’ intoned the gorilla with a deep spiritual voice. ‘My name is Grappler, and I command this outfit.’
‘Cool,’ said Igmail. ‘Do you have anything to tell me that Messenger couldn’t?’
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‘Not at this time Master,’ responded the gorilla. With this admittance, the four golem team sat down and began to refine themselves, as was the usual procedure for all gorillas who weren’t doing anything else. Some time passed, and in that time two more groups returned. They both possessed gorillas with more individualistic qualities, such as one light grey gorilla with some cracks that had been filled in with darker stone from one of Igmail’s prior repair jobs.
Igmail continued to discuss things with Scholar and Messenger, with Grappler and Pummel occasionally chiming in with a leader’s perspective. It was weird to Igmail, hearing so much accomplished in his name with so little effort on his part. He was a tier four for fear of the Beast! He wasn’t supposed to be single handedly conquering multiple dungeons at once! This absurd amount of success’s only reinforced Igmail’s belief in the necessity of military personnel assignment advocates like Deborah. Deborah’s insistence that he was the right tool for the job was proving truer than Igmail could’ve ever expected.
It took several hours for the last of the gorillas to arrive, though when they did so it was starting to feel rather cramped. There was plenty of space in the main room for Igmail to live by himself, too much, actually, and adequate space for a five man team, but shoving twenty one massive gorillas and a taller man into it was starting to stretch the limits of comfort.
Anyways, these thoughts were at the back of Igmail’s mind when the Home dungeon forward party walked though his doors. Instead, the primary portion of his focus was on the lead gorilla. He stood more upright than the others, with more nimble fingers, seeming almost human in stature. He stood tall, not because of his five foot six height, but because his posture was full of pride. He practically radiated confidence.
Looking at the unknown gorilla gave Igmail a curious feeling, like there was something to him that he should be able to recognize. Suddenly, as the door was being closed but before introductions could be made, an epiphany came to Igmail.
‘First. That's you, you’re the one I made first,’ Igmail correctly surmised.
‘Indeed Master, that is me. My name is Champion, Emissary of Destruction. I lead the home dungeon forward party, though Scholar probably already told you that.’
‘Huh. I’m honestly surprised you’ve lived this long, and I hear I have you to thank for all the success this endeavor has had. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so startled, you seem like you can handle yourself.’ Igmail said all this with an evaluating eye, like Champion was the award winning pumpkin at the state fair. Champion looked at Igmail in a similar manner most akin to a bloodstraw witnessing a man-eating mosquito. Champion latched onto Igmail’s statement, an expression of eagerness taking form on his stoney visage.
‘Would you like to test that?’ Champion responded quickly.
Taking a moment to consider, Igmail decided that having the true measure of his golems’ strength would allow him to understand his situation better, and thus agreed. It wouldn’t do for his creations to be much weaker than himself, as how would they protect him otherwise?
‘To the fifth meaningful strike?’ asked Igmail, referring to the standard conventions of dueling in Flourish, an offer Champion immediately understood and assented to. The rest of the gorilla golems piled into the extra rooms to give the two some space and watched with anticipation from the doors.
Igmail and Champion drew their spears, both of them having them on their person at the moment. Champion elected to use the blunt side of his spear, as Igmail was a lot more fragile than himself. Nevertheless, they both fell into nearly mirrored stances, though Champion’s shorter stature meant that his form was a little more awkward looking. The first clash came suddenly, both sides moving at the same time. Champion went with a low stab, as befitting his height and close range superiority, but Igmail sidestepped it with a smooth motion and went instead for a high sweep aimed at Champion’s head.
Champion transitioned his stab into a front roll, narrowly managing to avoid the horizontal attack, and action which left the combatants with their backs facing each other. Igmail had the speed advantage and a head start on the rotational movement, so he was the first to turn around to face his opponent, bringing a center mass slice with him as he did.
Champion tried to dodge forward, but, having just killed his forward momentum from his roll, instead felt as his pelt was split by Igmail’s spear on just below his armpit. Igmail, having scored the first hit, returned to his starting position for the next round.
The second round went a bit differently. Champion performed a measured retreat to start with, and his practice allowed him to keep his Master at bay for a time. Their spears clashed again and again, each time producing a sharp clack, until Champion caught Igmail off guard with a sudden burst of aggression and scored a hit across Igmail’s left shoulder.
The rules of Flourish counted that as a significant blow, given that it would impede his ability to fight further, so to Champion the second round went. The third round started with a continuation of the tactics of the second, with spearwork taking the focus, but Igmail increased his aggression to counteract Champion's own, winning him the third round as he knocked Champion’s spear away to stab the air beside the golem’s neck.
In the fourth round Champion decided to switch things up and immediately threw his spear at Igmail while rushing in for a grapple. Igmail was better with the spear, the first three rounds had proved it, but Champion was willing to bet that the relatively human was worse than him at wrestling. This gamble succeeded, earning him the fourth round when he took Igmail to the ground and pinned him.
The fifth round did not go so well for Champion, however, as a better informed Igmail dodged Champion’s opening tackle and mimed stabbing him in the back, ending the battle right as it started.
This meant that Igmail earned the overall victory, though by a closer margin than he had expected. Afterwards, everybody huddled back into the now mildly damaged main room to discuss their next moves.
‘Ok, first, I want protection,’ commanded Igmail. ‘Forward Parties North and South are going to take turns sitting above the dungeon entrance while standing guard over me. Second, I want “home dungeon,”’ Igmail sent with air quotes, ‘dead, destroyed, or otherwise incapable of scheming against me. You all can probably figure out how to do that best amongst yourselves.’
‘Acknowledged, Master,’ reported Champion. ‘That dungeon has been dead since I ever stepped foot into it. It just hasn't gotten the message yet.’
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Champion was wrong about Samurthabec. She had realized she was dead, the knowledge coming to her the very moment her shaman assassin failed. ‘Crap crap crap crap crap!’ she screamed to herself, other, more vulgar profanities mixed throughout. ‘I’m sooo dead,’ she lamented loudly. She would have been crying if her biology permitted, but the unfortunate dungeon owner was rather less mammalian than that.
‘What am I going to do?’ she asked herself in misery. Her hopelessness would abate in the next few hours, but not by much. However, another emotion would find its way onto her emotional palate in heaping piles to somewhat counter act it. Spite is a great motivator they say, and on this day Samurthabec the dwarf wyvern agreed.