"So help me here, is this pig tail or cave wheat?"
"...It's a rat weed, sir."
"Oh, is it now? And the fark is a rat weed doing in the fargin' underground farm?!"
The farmer foreman just pointed up, at the sunlamps. "I told you already sir. Council's orders. It's imported plants for this field."
"Right. I see now. You think I'm daft, Foreman Feb? Look at me! You think I'm daft?"
"No, sir inspector, I don't."
"I know you got the fargin' orders. I'm asking, why of all crops, rat weed? Next year it's Idodur's 50 years since founded, and the mayor's holding a banquet. Are you saying he gotta treat his guests to sewer brew? Why?"
"Because..." the foreman's voice trailed off as he mumbled something about high drainage.
"Speak up! I can't hear you!"
"Because it's the only crop that doesn't die in this soil!"
The farms below Idodur were indeed struggling. The local plump helmets had long since gone by the nickname "poop helmets" for their sickly brown color instead of the healthy purple. And Feb wasn't lying: the only surface plant to thrive in the polluted soil was rat weed. It was the Ratlings who introduced the hardy plant here, and though it wasn't exactly gourmet's choice, the cooks were slowly adapting Idodur's common cuisine towards its use as the new staple food.
Feb signed the inspection papers and shrugged when the inspector said he shouldn't expect a subsidy this year. Truth be told, he and his work crew were all considering moving to the upper west caves. With the current state of affairs, Dr. Endokineth's farm enterprise had made the scientist both famous and rich, and there was money to be made working for him. And yet, Feb wasn't sure, he could swear something was off about the recruiters who came yearly into Idodur's central hub. Perhaps instead he'd be able to land a clerk job in the New Tursong area? How hard could it be?
***
Dr. Endokineth glanced at the blackboard full of equations and diagrams. No, this would not do. He needed a simpler way to present things.
"Let me get this straight, doc." Mayor Tirist looked just as irritable; he didn't like things he couldn't understand. "You built a machine... powered by electricity, that helps us do... what?"
"It's not made for a specific task, Mayor. It can move and manipulate things. It's just as strong as a dwarf, and I've been working on improving its endurance..."
"How do you control it?"
"It understands simple orders. It doesn't have much of a mind, but you can order it to till soil or haul loads, and suddenly one dwarf with two of these can work seven fields instead of one. Any they can also cut stone, chop wood, stand at the bellows..."
"Doctor Endokineth", Mayor Tirist said with a sigh. "We have dozens of unemployed dwarves eager to work. We don't need these... how'd you say they were called?"
"Automatons."
"Automatons. And I thought you were working with plants. To improve harvests."
"I was working with plants. You see, the bottleneck in my research was not having efficient generators and capacitors. Automatons are true marvels of engineering, but they do require a lot of power. I tried many solutions and it is the plant studies that gave me a breakthrough."
"Uh-huh?"
"I won't bore you with the details, Mayor, suffice to say it involves natural-grown plant matter with strong piesoelectric properties. As for improving harvests... I sincerely believe that working seven fields instead of one might, in fact, produce a larger yield."
"Our field hands will not be happy about machines stealing their jobs."
"Oh, about that? Let them know I am hiring."
***
The newborn Republic jumped at the chance to trade with the Hive. The insect people brought exotic honeys, natural rubber, cleaning oils, high-quality ceramic goods and sturdy silk fiber not unlike that of a giant cave spider; apparently it was made by some kind of colossal larva for its own cocoon, or so the traders said. In exchange, they took steel picks, construction tools, bucklers, blades and nails. Evidently, producing quality steel wasn't one of the Hive's strong sides: even their weaponry seemed to be an exotic mix of nonmetal stuff, from primitive slings to advanced spear-throwers utilizing compressed air, to some kind of acid-spitting baton weapon and a very compact yet powerful explosive.
The humans were much interested in acquiring its formula, or at least buying a stock of the explosive itself—for mining purposes—but Antling traders would not sell. However, it saw use once when an Antling caravan was ambushed in the mountains by a rogue band of Giants. Although the tribe denied responsibility, some of the stolen goods later surfaced on the sparse Human-Giant market whereas Giant artisans were rumored to work on a new cannon that loaded a new kind of explosive shell. Whether they actually analyzed the substance, or somehow extracted the formula from a captive Antling, was anyone's guess. (Antlings, though capable of independent thought, are hive creatures and literally unable to betray the collective.)
The dwarves, conversely, were uninterested in the Antling goods. Foodstuffs remained their sole import, though efforts were made to diversify the sources and create large stockpiles such as the new dry goods vault built in New Tursong. Due to increasing pollution, their own ability to produce food was mediocre at best, allowing Sodel's corporation to gradually monopolize the entire agrarian sector of the economy. Allowing that to happen was the council's most grave mistake, as Sodel realized he had them pinned to make almost any demand he cared to.
Over the years, lured by the promise of good pay and quality accommodations, dozens of Dwarves, Ratlings and especially Theliiri flocked under the corporate banner as the company expanded its product lines until its self-sufficiency rivaled that of the state. It even had its own armed force, independent of Idodur's rule in all but name.
But it was not enough for Sodel Endokineth. He was going to rule the Oldlands himself.
(As there is no unclaimed land left, I'm doing away with displaying spheres of influence and instead show possible border split between factions.)
The Age of Strife is nigh! The playing board is set, but only some of the players are ready. Choose two belligerents to make their move:- Giants. Their new mortar weapon might bring the Republic to its knees in a blitz conquest!
- Eco-faction. The anti-pollution movement takes up arms to topple the industrial elite!
- Antlings. They want disproportionate retribution for their destroyed caravan!
- Dwarves. Idodur's army marches on the upper west cave to put this upstart Sodel in his place!
- Sodel. The automaton army was only the beginning...
- Goblins. A vile force of darkness has arrived! They have guns. Lots of guns.
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Topic: Oldlands: Age of Dwarves (Read 31653 times)