Chapter 14 - Sticky-Flicky Slingers
After my brief jaunt, I headed over to Sally to see how her team had co with the parts I’d given her to oversee.
The majority of it was garbage. It’s not that the goblins weren’t diligent, especially under Sally’s constant percussive encouragent. They just struggled to understand the engineering schematics as thoroughly as I’d have liked. They’d managed to produce gears and levers and cranks, but many of them had irregular teeth or oblong shapes. The first place I saw them employed naturally was on the cooking spit so that the chefs no longer had to leap into the air to turn the spit. Instead, they’d grasped the idea of angular transference and now had a system wherein two of them could turn the spit like sailors working a capstan. While they weren’t great inventors, they were seemingly very clever at implenting applications for the technology I unlocked for them in ways that greatly complented goblin physiology.
I had to sort through the parts in order to find what I needed. Sally watched curiously, even as she continued her unique brand of leadership on anyone she thought might be slacking. But, by mixing pieces and parts, I was able to connect a pair of laths to a long body with a runnel going down the length, and a hooked bit of wood through a slot to make a lever. After that, I secured a string across the lathe and fed it through a sort of sledge that fit along the top rail. Finally, I fit one of the crank levers to the top and used it to push back the sled until it locked. Yes, since I know you’re wondering, I made a crossbow. But not one for shooting stone arrowheads.
All eyes were on
now, including Sally, who had paused mid-blow. I kicked around on the ground until I uncovered a smooth rock, about the size of my little blue fist. I fit it to the sledge, aid it at a nearby tree, and pulled the release.
The entire thing exploded in my hands. The body snapped in two, and the laths shattered practically into sawdust. It knocked
back on my ass, and the rock and the sledge bounced off my forehead.
Luckily, it hadn’t been lethal damage, because I didn’t get the system ssage that another goblin had died in my place. I set the wreckage aside, ignored all the laughing goblins making explosion noises to each other, and went back to the parts pile while so of my tribe laughed so hard I thought I might lose a goblin from asphyxiation.
Prototype, test, iterate.
That was the na of the ga. I went to work assembling the second prototype. This ti I chose parts that were a little heavier, but sturdier. I couldn’t shoulder the crossbow, I had to pinch the back end between my elbow and side as I lined up the shot.
The release took more effort than I was expecting, but once it slipped, that sledge rocketed forward like sothing to co out of the JPL. The laths straightened in an instant, and the stone shot out of the sledge, whipping forward to impact the tree with a serious thud. Bark sprayed from the impact.
Every goblin in the village dropped what they were doing and ca to marvel at this new invention.
That seed an apt description. I spotted Sally among the onlookers and handed the crossbow and crank over to her. “This is what you’ve achieved today,” I said. “A shot to the noggin on one of those cliffords and they won’t be looking to munch on any goblins until they stop seeing double.”
She looked down at the bow, then back up at .
“You want to build more inventions, Chief Engineer Sally?”
Sally swallowed, and then opened her mouth and uttered one word, so softly I wasn’t even sure she had said it.
“—yes—”
Good. Good. I grinned and watched as Sally cranked the sledge back and loaded it with a stone. The bow held, and the rock flashed out, sailing past the tree that I had aid for and over the edge. I had thought about, and subsequently dismissed, the idea of simple bows and arrows for the goblins. The fact is, they simply weren’t strong enough to draw sothing with enough weight to pierce the hide of anything larger than a Clifford, and probably weren’t patient enough for the hours upon hours it took to get good with a traditional bow. But crossbows use force-multiplying levers to reset them and you can aim them sowhat accurately, even with just a little practice.
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Well, you know how goblins are. The technology spread across the village, and suddenly every furry Jones had to have a sticky-flicky slinger of their own to hang above the fireplace. Over the next hour, the village beca a hailstorm of stones as goblins lined up at the impromptu firing range for practice. Small stones actually started to beco scarce on the hilltop, which gave a few goblins an excuse to fling themselves off into the forest below to collect more.
There were a few more critical failures. The worst of them resulted in an amputated leg, but the other goblins were quick to cap his stump with a sticky stilt, amazingly staunching the bleeding entirely. Amazingly, that goblin went right back to tinkering as soon as he was able to stand. He ca and stood next to , showing off his new leg as if to demonstrate for the rest of the tribe that he had more in common with
than they did. More than a few jealous glares made
worried that there might be a few more ‘accidents’, but it appeared that even goblins weren’t crazy enough to deliberately maim themselves for a bit of perceived status (however inclined they were to accidentally maim themselves, notwithstanding).
The target practice continued into the afternoon eclipse. Individual goblins weren’t accurate with the things. But they didn’t have to be. We had numbers on our side. And by the next day, we’d have even more. I had one more plan to try and get that clay without a fight. But if it ca down to it, these crossbows could really tip the odds toward the tribe in the battle with their stone-hide rival.
I watched the practice a bit more before ordering everyone back to their assigned tasks.
Buzz waved
over so that I could check the progress of the palisade on the shallower side of the bluff. It looked good, but it was burning through rope faster than the craftsn could make more. We were going to need a more reliable source of cordage. I added it to the to be worried about later pile. But it was clear the wall would take several days to complete, just on the one side. And when an early afternoon rainstorm sent the tribe scurrying for their shelters to work on smaller parts and projects, I had to wonder if one side would be enough.
One other thing that bothered
was the predator taking goblins in the night. The way goblins surrendered to an involuntary lethargy after eating ant we were easy pickings overnight. I had tried to explain the concept of a watch. Even with trying to loop Buzz in as a diator, he hadn’t understood.
Shut it, System! Even if I could go back and choose again, I’d take taskmasters ten tis out of ten.
Still, the System had a point. I’d have to consider the next ti I hit a milestone that granted a new goblin variant for my tribe. Which would have greater benefit to the tribe in the long run? A variant that increased work efficiency? Or a variant that reduced attrition through security?
In the short term, I decided to double the number of goblins assigned to the wall project. But goblins apparently didn’t work in the rain. Not that I blad them, the sensation of wet fur was distinctly unpleasant. And the sll. Woof.
It didn’t stop until almost nightfall, and shortly after the hunting party returned with fish and small ga, including a few more fat birds.
Buzz ca over to my fire while the catch of the day was strung up above the fire to smoke. He looked agitated, fidgeting and twitchy. “The lads in the wood spotted tracks of javeline rutters.”
“That so sort of pig?” I asked.
Buzz settled down and poked at the fire. “Half-pig, half dwarf.”
I tried to picture it. “Like Rufus?”
“Wrong half, boss.”
Ah. So, like a pig version of a centaur, then. What would you call that? A boar-a-taur? A jaballero? Well, I suppose calling it a javeline rutter was good enough. “Bad news, I take it?”
“When ain’t it?”
Fair. Wild pigs had a hell of a temperant. If their dwarven half inherited it at all, then I could see how that would be problematic for sothing like a goblin. Back ho they’d invaded Texas, where NuEarth was located. The CEO took weekend trips to hunt them in his personal helicopter, according to the company-wide emails he blasted out Monday mornings. Not that I was jealous of his helicopter. Real aircraft have wings.
“Alright. We’ll put more hands on the wall project. That north slope is our biggest weak point if soone wants to attack the village.”
I thought Buzz would return to his workers, but he just laid down in place and went to sleep. Exhausted from the construction, probably. He might have been the first, but the dogpile was quick to form and I swear it gave off almost as much heat as the fire. That must be how they managed to survive winters in this world.
Luckily, it stayed dry enough in the shelters for small fires, and we only managed to burn one of them down. That was alright. I’d soon have the shelters built to a higher standard. But the priority was still the clay and the wall. We had to get a hold of it.
I looked at the stone-sloth hide, still intact and curing. Hostile night-ti predators, resource-bogarting carnivorous sloths, and now a race of intelligent boar-dwarves. I didn’t think I’d get lucky enough for them to have Rufus’ open mind toward a goblin king, either. I needed to move quickly. Tomorrow, I was either going to get that clay, or lose a heap of tribesn.
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