Exodus of Gnomes (God Core #2) - A Dungeon Core LitRPG

by Demi Harper

  The tribe’s warriors, eighteen in all, stood on and behind the outer wagons, facing outward. The spear-gnomes had weapons and shields at the ready; the slingers had stones waiting in the cradles of their slingshots.

  The skynet had even been raised above it all, though the glinting threads were skewed at an angle as one of the supports had been knocked awry—most likely by one of the creatures currently circling the camp.

  Dire Badger

  Mammal

  Status effect: Fury

  The spawn of a dire badger queen.

  So far, no one seemed to have been hurt on either side. The gnomish warriors were focused on defending the civilians, and so were maintaining their disciplined position, rather than sallying out to attack the black-and-white creatures.

  Like the one Longshank had shot back at the burrow, these appeared to be nothing more than normal badgers. They were not twisted and deformed by muscle mass like the queen I’d just encountered. Apart from their slightly larger size, the only thing that distinguished them from our own tribe’s badgers was their bloodshot eyes and foaming mouths.

  And the fact that they looked about to embark on a murderous rampage, of course.

  “Ket? Bekkit? Coll?”

  Where in the hells is everyone?

  “Benin?” I even asked reluctantly.

  I spotted Binky, at least. The fluffy arachnid had flattened himself against the roof of a tent and appeared to be waiting for the right moment to strike. Bruce was also visible within the circle. I was relieved to see both creatures unharmed, though the others’ absence was still extremely worrying. Ket and Bekkit should be physically unable to leave my Sphere of Influence, and Coll and Benin shouldn’t have had any reason to. And where were the rest of the tribe’s own badgers?

  Two more badgers emerged from the undergrowth and joined the three already circling. They drew closer each time, as though testing what would happen. When nothing did, they came in even closer, snuffling at the wagons.

  Seems we’re on our own.

  I focused on Hammer, and an instant later a list of options popped up beside her. Since she was an officer, I could influence the commands she gave to the warriors, determining how aggressive our strategy would be. Having long since accepted that I myself was no tactical genius, I usually left the officers to themselves, only intervening to provide the most general of directions.

  I could have her give the order for a ranged attack right now. A hail of stone bullets would surely cause heavy injuries to our besiegers, and maybe even deter them from attacking all together. Why hadn’t Hammer already done so?

  I looked again at the animals’ bloodshot eyes; watched them mindlessly pacing and panting, more like enraged bulls than cute woodland mammals. I thought I understood why she was holding back.

  These so-called dire badgers were behaving differently to normal badgers. They weren’t acting on any natural instinct. A normal badger would probably flee from the slingers’ assault. But there was no predicting how these creatures might react. It might even trigger them to attack.

  There was something distantly familiar about their behavior. As I took stock of our options, I racked my brains for what the badgers’ behavior reminded me of.

  As one, the five badgers paused, tilting their heads as though listening to a distant sound.

  Then it hit me.

  Their behavior… it’s almost like Snagga.

  My mind flashed back to a fight in a dark tunnel where Ris’kin had faced off against my enemy’s monstrous avatar Snagga. The foul creature had clearly been eager to continue tormenting her, but had been forcibly compelled to abandon its prey and return to its master after receiving some sort of silent signal.

  Unfortunately for us, whatever these badgers were hearing, it was not orders to retreat.

  The sounds of growling rose from all around. Then the badgers charged.

  They moved in unison, making me even more certain that they were getting their orders from someplace else. But it was hard to focus on that as I watched them thundering toward the flimsy barricade that stood between them and my denizens.

  Hoppit shouted what sounded like an order, aiming at the nearest badger as she prepared to launch her first bullet. At her cry, the other slingers did the same.

  Hammer, on the other hand, jumped down from her wagon, bellowing an order for others to follow suit. Half the melee fighters accompanied Hammer in bracing themselves against the wagons to help weather the coming impact. I noticed that sacks of the heavier supplies had also been lodged behind the wagons’ wheels to make the barricade sturdier, while several layers of spidersilk girdled the outward-facing side. Binky’s thread would not only ensure the wagons held together for longer, it would also potentially hamper and maybe even hurt any creature unfortunate enough to brush up against its sticky surface.

  The slingers launched their missiles just before the first badger crashed into Hoppit’s wagon. It had looked about to hit it head first, but at the last moment it twisted to the side, barreling into the wood with its muscular gray-furred shoulder instead.

  Hoppit had seen it coming, of course, and the instant she released her bullet, she dropped down behind the wagon’s high side, stretching out her legs to brace herself against the opposite side. The wooden vehicle shuddered, and one of the wheels even lifted from the ground a little, but the badger’s attack was not enough to damage the wagon nor dislodge its armed passengers.

  Successive crashes rocked the barricade as four more badger bodies impacted it. The wagons heaved violently, forcing the slingers on top to lurch to the side and grip the sides for balance, but gnomes and vehicles alike remained upright.

  Dire Badger x 5 marked as hostile.

  Red auras appeared around each of the enemy badgers, just like had happened with the tiger owl. It seemed the Augmentary only recognized new creatures as hostile once they’d actively tried to cause harm to my denizens or damage to their property.

  There’s probably a way to alter that somehow. But not now.

  They flung themselves at the barricade again. Though the wagons rocked and creaked, it seemed the badgers lacked the individual strength to tip them over fully.

  Unfortunately, it seemed the badgers had realized that too. This time, two of them lined themselves up to charge at the same wagon. The sound of cracking wood rang out as they hit; the warriors bracing the wagon were pushed back, feet sliding on the leafy ground as the makeshift barrier tipped violently. The badgers retreated, one of them shaking its head as though dazed. Then, they regrouped and headed for the same wagon.

  With a cry, Hoppit rallied the warriors from the other side of the circle to join the others in bracing the wagon on which the two badgers had placed a bullseye.

  This time when they collided with it, the extra gnomes behind it meant it didn’t budge an inch. The warriors cheered as the badgers retreated once more, though it was likely they would try again. And again.

  The cheers were cut short by a shout from the opposite side of the circle. The other three badgers, who up till now had been circling the barricade and making ineffectual attempts to break through on their own, had suddenly launched themselves at a different wagon. Like a fierce race to the finish, their claws dug into the ground as they pushed themselves forward, pink eyes fixed on their shared target with unnatural intensity.

  Binky—Spit!

  The spider had an excellent vantage point atop the tent, and didn’t even have to move in order to aim his goopy missile at the nearest enemy. The opaque ball of spider-spit splashed across the badger’s face with a sizzle, then erupted with tendrils that covered the creature’s eyes and entangled its legs.

  Nice shot!

  A quick use of Insight showed that it now held the ‘Slowed’ status in addition to ‘Fury.’

  The other two were still coming. I ordered Binky to Web Shoot, but as soon as the first badger was hit with the spit, the others had started to zig-zag, and the sticky projectile sailed past them both
harmlessly.

  I cursed my lack of mana more vehemently than ever before. If I’d interpreted the Augmentary correctly, under normal circumstances Adjure would allow me to expend mana in order for Binky to use his abilities as often as I wanted him to. Without that option, both Spit and Web Shoot were on cooldown for the next minute or so.

  I was out of options.

  The slingers on the targeted wagon yelled in alarm, but to their credit they held their position, loosing bullets at the rapidly oncoming juggernauts. But while the slung stones embedded themselves in flesh and decorated the silvery hides with splashes of red, the badgers barely flinched, and a moment later both of them crashed into the wagon’s side.

  Wood splintered, fragments flying like shrapnel from a grenade. The non-combatants who’d been herded to one side screamed and flinched, those on the outside using their bodies to shield the children from the sharp debris that whipped through the air. Sling-wielding warriors were flung from their positions as the very wood beneath their feet was shattered.

  The badgers burst through the wreckage, snarling. The one that came through first seemed to have taken the brunt of the impact; blood streamed down its face from a plethora of cuts, staining the white stripes of its cheeks crimson. Shards of shroomwood still protruded from some of the wounds, but the creature seemed not to notice.

  Already warriors were forming a shield wall between the badgers and the civilians. The latter were grouped in a large huddle as far away from the intruders as possible, but they were cornered. If the shield-gnomes couldn’t hold…

  If only we’d had enough stonebows for the warriors as well as the scouts. A few point-blank shots from those weapons would have taken care of the creatures by now, as Longshank had already proved. Instead, the enemy was too close for the slingers to be effective; the risk of hitting an ally with their deadly bullets was too great. Everything now depended on our melee forces until Ris’kin and the scouts returned.

  I reached out to my avatar to see if she was almost here, and was dismayed when all I received were impressions of combat, pain and frustration. The dire badger queen was not going down without a fight, it seemed. How is that thing still alive? It was on its last legs when I left, surely!

  I recalled the massive creature. True, it had been gravely injured, but it had also seemed uncowed. And things fight most fiercely when they’re closest to death. When they have nothing to lose.

  Well, we could fight just as fiercely.

  As I well knew by now, gnomes were a primarily defensive race. Unless specifically ordered to, they would not seek to cause harm—even to enemies—until their lives or the lives of those under their protection were threatened.

  But when they were threatened…

  The pair of badgers that had breached our barricade hesitated at the sight of the bristling spears and line of interlocking shields. Pride washed over me as the gnomes stood their ground in the face of the enemy, cloistered behind their trusty wall of redcaps. Teeth bared, the dire badgers threw back their heads and growled their distress, pacing in tiny circles as though they wanted to retreat but were unable to. Behind the shield-wielding gnomes, Bruce growled back.

  I was deliberating whether to interfere when a familiar large figure emerged from the trees.

  “You’re back! Where have you been? Where are the others? What’s going on?” I yelled.

  Coll pointed at the camp, mouth falling open in shock. “Badgers!” he shouted.

  “Yes, I see them. Thanks. Where’s Ket?”

  Something sparkled on his shoulder and then zipped into the air.

  “Corey!”

  “Ket!” I never thought I’d be so relieved to hear her voice. “Where were you? Did you… did you leave the Sphere?!”

  “I’ll explain later! What’s with all the badgers?”

  “I think the tracks we found were a trick,” I explained hastily. “When we caught up with the one that made them, we found more tracks leading back to the camp. Then Ris’kin and the scouts were attacked by the badgers’ queen.”

  “Their queen? Wait, what? The badgers tricked us?”

  Ket sounded incredulous. I couldn’t blame her. It sounded insane. Coll, however, was nodding slowly, as though it all made sense.

  “It’s a classic deception tactic. Aleksandre the Almighty used it to defeat The Bonetaker at the Battle of Carsten Keep.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what inspired them.”

  “Well, at least they seem to have calmed down somewhat. The ones inside definitely don’t like the look of that shieldwall.”

  “Don’t jinx it—”

  Too late.

  Eyes rolling in panic, the two badgers inside the barricade threw themselves upon the shieldwall. This time it was obvious there was something strange going on. They were not doing this of their own volition. No animal would, no matter how territorial.

  Despite their obvious unwillingness, the raging creatures still vastly outbulked the gnomes, and their shield line bowed alarmingly before the first charge. The badgers recoiled from the waiting spears as they pricked their faces and jabbed their chests, before turning to charge again, eyes rolling in an unholy mixture of fury and terror.

  A third badger appeared in the wreckage made by the first two. Its chest was singed, the skin beneath its blackened fur pink and bubbling. But it was no longer slowed; the stuff that had encumbered it had dissipated, and now it was preparing to join the next attack on the shieldwall.

  Not so fast.

  Binky’s next Spit missile arced down to splash the dire badger, this time splattering across its back. The tendrils caught one of its legs; it stumbled and veered off to the side.

  Coll was just standing there with his hammer out, looking helpless. From where he was standing he couldn’t see the other two badgers on the far side of the circle, and was clearly at a loss for how he could intervene without risking friendly fire.

  “Coll, go and find Ris’kin and the scouts! They were fighting about half a mile to the north-east.”

  “You’re sure you don’t need me here?”

  I was sure I didn’t want him stomping around and accidentally smashing his hammer into friend and foe alike.

  “We’ll be okay,” I said. “Just go. Hurry!”

  His armor jangled as he ran off into the trees.

  Inside the barricade circle, the shield wall suddenly parted. Bruce burst out to intercept the two charging enemies. The big badger rammed the left-most creature in the flank, driving it sideways and away from the shieldwall, but its momentum sent it crashing into the chariot instead.

  No!

  Thankfully, the chariot was as solidly built as the strongest wagon, and though it rocked slightly with the impact, it did not break or tip. The acolytes atop it held the ark steady, and Gneil even managed to jab the enemy badger below with his spear. But my high cleric’s triumphant shout died in his throat when he saw one of the hoot-hoots—which had hopped from its nest over to the chariot’s edge to see what was going on—had been knocked to the ground.

  It hooted indignantly as it landed in a pile of leaf mulch, rolling in a fluffy ball before coming to a halt. It swayed a little as it rose to its spindly feet, shaking bits of leaves from its feathers and clacking its beak. It turned to look back up at the horrified acolytes on the chariot and raised its wings pathetically, as though asking to be picked up.

  Gneil thrust his weapon into the hands of the nearest acolyte. Then my high cleric vaulted over the chariot’s side.

  He stumbled a little as he landed, performing his own equally graceless version of the owlet’s roll. He rose to his feet, pink-faced, tugged his toga straight, then bent to lift the baby owl into his arms—just as a fourth dire badger burst through the breach in the barricade.

  Its trajectory was already taking it straight past my high cleric, but it twisted its head to snap at him as it passed. Gneil just stood there, clutching his hoot-hoot protectively, and I realized that his selfless but fooli
sh act of saving it might be the last thing my high cleric ever did.

  There was a blur of movement off to the side. A bullet shot between the badger’s gaping jaws and smacked into the roof of its mouth. It squealed and twisted off in a different direction, colliding with the one still hampered by Binky’s Spit. The two of them went down in a pile of thrashing limbs and snapping teeth.

  Gneil turned, his mouth agape, eyes as wide as the baby owl’s. Hoppit grinned at him, then sprinted off in pursuit of another target.

  My high cleric climbed back up onto the ark, gently depositing the troublesome hoot-hoot back among its brothers and sisters. He took in the four badgers harassing the wall of shield-gnomes, still resolutely protecting the civilians pressed against the barricade. I frowned. Is it me, or is that group getting smaller?

  For some reason, the chaos seemed to please Gneil. He nodded, then brought his fingers to his mouth.

  His whistle pierced the air. Almost immediately three more badgers came running out of trees. My dismay quickly turned to relief when I recognized them as Helga, Clyde and Flea.

  The trio of allied badgers made straight for the breach in the barricade. They drew to a halt and stood, shoulder to shoulder, teeth bared at the enemy badgers. Bruce remained in the center, defending the chariot and its contingent of armed acolytes, who refused to leave my gem. I considered using Divine Inspiration to persuade Gneil to lead them over to the civilian area, but decided against it. The chariot was as safe a place as anywhere else, for the moment at least.

  The four dire badgers didn’t seem to notice the new arrivals; they were too focused on alternately attacking the shield wall and pacing in crazed circles, as if fighting against whatever was compelling them to attack. Like the dire badger queen, their pupils were strangely clouded. I wondered what they were seeing, if anything.

  Whatever the reason, their increasing lack of coordination meant the melee gnomes were able to withstand their sporadic attacks, allowing the civilians to safely make their escape.

  I hadn’t been imagining it; the group of non-combatants had been growing smaller. As I watched, another handful ducked beneath the back-wall flap, emerging on the other side of the portahut. Thankfully the dire badgers had so far avoided both huts. Though they were obvious weak points in the barricade, the creatures seemed suspicious of the octagonal structures, perhaps deterred by the scent of its animal-hide walls.