Cat Core, Chapter 13.

Chapter 13.

“Let ‘em loose in their new home, Doug,” Florence announced when she was done. The goblins followed her kitten apprentice though the dungeon to the new room. Just after the hallway, the door that normally led to the kitchen had been changed. Because of some crazy core shenanigans, she was able to place what was called a variable portal here. Anyone approaching would see a normal door, but once opened, Florence could choose one of several room to link with it. When the goblins opened the door, it would always lead them to the Home for Unwanted Goblins. At the far end of the goblin room was a door that would lead back to the actual kitchen, but she left that area off limits to the goblins except for emergencies. She didn’t want no filthy goblins rooting around in her kitchen and eating up all her cookies.

Goblins tromped through her home from the dungeon entry, leaving a dirty trail through her pristine home. When they entered their new home, the entire lot of them crowded in the entrance area, taking in their new digs. Florence was a bit worried; did they expect something better? While she was no fan of the goblins, they were going to live in her home, and she didn’t want them unhappy. The goblins pushed their boss forward, who looked up to the ceiling and spoke.

“Great dungeon core, is this our new home?” The boss asked.

“Sure is, I hope you like it. Oh, and don’t call me no dungeon core, my name is Florence,” she replied.

“Yes, great and mightyiest Flowreecne, we like lotses,” the boss said before the whole mess of gobs started shouting and carrying on. The ran about the room, whooping with joy while the fought over who got what bunk. It seemed they all wanted the bottom one, which caused a fight. Then they all wanted the top bunk, which caused another fight. There was lots of punching, kicking, biting, and one shanking, but thankfully, none of them died from the process. The fountain was a particular treat for them, and they seemed to enjoy splashing around. Hopefully, it would help to wash off some of the filth. As they made themselves at home, Florence went to complete her next room.

While she had never had a library at home, she had always wanted one, choosing that design for her next room. Tall bookshelves were created and filled with various scrolls and novels. She was shocked to see that the books were real, and most were ones she had never read. A study table with lantern was placed in the center of the room, and the light in here was kept low to build up the ambiance. In addition to the tall shelves and desk, she had a decorative suit of armor made. That should create quite the excitement for her adventurers, she could just see them trying to take the armor, only to have it disappear as it left the dungeon. Her focus on the last of the finishing touches was broken as she heard Doug shouting.

“No, what is your name, you simpleton, Boss is a designation or title, not a name,” Doug said in exasperation.

“Yes, angry kitty advisorses, me boss goblin!” The goblin boss announced.

“Uggh, my dear Florence, why don’t you take a crack here. I know it’s only a trifling thing, but I would like to know the chap’s name as I have no intention of ever calling him boss. Let me know what you find, I’m leaving to a less odiferous locale,” Doug asked as he stormed out of the goblin room. It was a bit funny to watch a tiny kitten argue with a goblin, but she was now also curious about the bosses’ name. After all, that one goblin was named Gasbug, or Grumble, or something like that, so the other one should have an actual name as well.

“Fine, Doug, I’ll take care of it. Okay boss goblin, tell me your name and I’m not going to put up with any nonsense,” Florence said sternly.

“Yes great Florenceses, I tells if I’se could, but I’se never been given name, always be boss since I’se the biggest and the strongest,” the boss replied. This was simple enough to fix.

“Okay, that not a problem, from now on, you’re Chuck,” Florence announced. The goblin did kind of remind her of Chuck Clemshaw over at the gas and lube. He was always lurking down in that pit where they changed the oil, and he couldn’t speak much better than the goblin Chuck could. Not that he couldn’t speak, he just didn’t like talking to people, a stance she could support. He never made a conversation when a grunt would suffice.

“Hooray, now I am the great and mighty Boss Chuck. All goblins will bow down before me and despair!” Chuck exclaimed. The goblins followed his order, giving him a bow before going back to whatever they were doing.

“Thank you, kind Florence, for this great honor, my tribe is most definitely at your service,” Chuck said with a bow.

“See Doug, that was easy. Hey, how come Chuck is talking all good now?” Florence asked.

“Strange, it appears that by naming him, you’ve helped him unlock goblin boss as an actual class, at least while he is in our dungeon,” Doug said. Florence looked and could see that Chuck was indeed not just seen as a goblin boss in her interface, now he was Chuck, level two elite goblin boss, while all the others were still showing as level one goblins.

“His new elite status must have improved his intellect, which will make communicating a bit easier, I believe,” Doug said, watching as Chuck shoved a finger up his nose, rooting around for a good one. “Well, improved intellect or not, he is still a goblin,” Doug lamented.

“If they’re going to help defend us, I think we should make them some weapons and whatnot,” Florence said.

“Yes, a wise investment, though don’t expect too much given our level and limited connection to these creatures. I believe anything we create would be fairly primitive, but you can start by creating weapons and armor racks. The basic items we can create for the goblin will require an initial investment and do place a slight drain on our defender expense. Other than having them leave our home to make or find new gear, this is the only way they can get equipment,” Doug suggested.

“I think what they have now is a bit worse than primitive,” Florence said. Currently, the goblins were armed with sharpened sticks used as spears and some had flat stones they had chipped into knives. Doug nodded his little kitten head in agreement. Florence looked in her interface thingy, found a tab for what they called Inhabitants.

Inhabitants. You can create the following support constructs for any inhabitants in your dungeon to use. The cost of these constructs will be added to your defender expense.

1. Weapons Rack: This rack will hold an array of weapons appropriate to your inhabitant’s preference. A single rack can supply up to 50 inhabitants. The weapons rack requires an initial investment of $10. and takes up $2 of your defender expense. Weapons provided by this rack will improve in quality as you level.

2. Armor Rack: This rack provides armor and defensive gear for your inhabitants. A single rack can supply up to 50 inhabitants. The armor rack requires an initial investment of $10 and takes up $2 of your defender expense. Items provided by this rack will improve in quality as you level.

Florence could see there were other options, but they wouldn’t display when she tried to select them, a prompt was telling her she had to attain a higher level to access more advanced constructs. While it would cost the equivalent of one of her precious babies, Florence could see the benefit of arming her allies. She pushed the required cash into the goblin room, watching as along one wall, two wooden racks appeared, stocked with appropriate gear.

The goblins whooped in glee, throwing down their old gear for the new upgrades. While the weapons they received were not up to par with what the adventurers were carrying, the goblins were more than happy with them. Each of them now sported a sturdy spear appropriate to their size, tipped with a sharp stone point. In addition, they armor rack provided them with a small round shield made of wood. It wasn’t much, but the little buggers should put up a bit more of a fight if she needed them.

After making the new rooms and creating the gear for the goblins, she was down to $32.78. Florence watched as the cash trickled in, surprised that the goblins were also giving off a few coins now and then. It wasn’t much, but at least they were contributing to the cause whether they knew it or not. It was time for the best part of her new life, it was time to make more kitties.

“Doug, I’m going to make a few more defenders, I assume you’re going to want to make some dumb name for one of them,” Florence advised.

“If by a dumb name, you mean one steeped in lore and having deep meaning, then yes, I do wish to participate,” Doug replied.

“Fine, you get the first one,” Florence said as she created a new defender. The ball of light coalesced into another sleek black cat, this time with luxurious long fur. She was a beautiful little bundle of love.

“Hmm, I think this is Shadow,” Doug said.

“That’s it? Shadow? Kind of going against your usual grain there aren’t you, Doug?” Florence asked.

“Fine, I thought I would throw you a bone and create a name you wouldn’t need to butcher in order to understand it, poor Obiluxnerance,” Doug said. The new baby rubbed on her and Doug, purring her welcome. They needed another defender on the lawn and porch to help Obi, so she sent Shadow off on her task. Once she arrived, both her and Obi had a grand time, stalking and playing together.

The next cat was created and this one was a short haired white cat with an odd black stipe down his side, kind of like a lightning bolt. There was also something different about this cat. The other defenders had averaged around forty pounds, large balls of furry destruction. This one was more along the lines of a normal, largish housecat.

“Hey, is this one a dud?” Florence asked.

“No, take a closer look, I believe this one is imbued with magical ability. That is typically offset by a reduced capacity to engage in physical combat,” Doug advised. She looked deeper at the link to her kitty and did see a spark of magic in the little guy. In fact, she could tell this one had a preference for spells using electricity as their main component. She thought about what to call him, deciding to counter Doug’s naming of Shadow with something more highfalutin. She did remember something about Greek mythology from way back in her school days. Wasn’t that there lightning chucking guy called Zeke or something. No, it was Zeus, that was it.

“This cat shall be named Zeus!” Florence proclaimed with as much flourish as she could.

“Hmm, that, for once, seems appropriate, if not a bit outside of your normal naming convention. Well done Florence,” Doug said with approval.

Florence was smug as she began work on her last cat, pausing only to assign Zeus to the new library, he would need some backup since he was scrawny and all so the next cat she made would be assigned to help him. She couldn’t wait to see how the lightning attacks worked.

“Hey Doug, do ya think the adventurers will be shocked to fight our new Zeus?” Florence said, laughing at her own joke.

“Oh dear, how droll. Can you get along with the final defender, I want to create a trap with the last of our funds,” Doug said. She would have just $2 left over after the last cat, enough for another simple trap.

The ball of cash and light she created for her last defender revealed a biggen this time. Only, unlike the cute and cuddly Chubbs, this one was a mess. The fat cat had mottled hair of different colors on his body and sickly-looking skin poked through the bare patches. The cat was missing several teeth and was the first one that didn’t want to curl up on her pillow or give a kitty hug to her rocking chair. The big creep didn’t look like he was a happy fellow, and unlike her other cats, this one sauntered down the hall, bold as you please, without waiting for his room assignment.

The cat reminded her of that old stray that skulked around her neighborhood when she was a child. That cat would yowl and wake her up, knocking over trashcans and fighting all the nice kitties in the area. It was the one cat she didn’t get along with, the only one that ever scratched her in anger. Yep, she would name this delinquent after that old cat.

“This one will be Spud. Hey, why can’t I assign him to a room?” Florence asked, concerned she was losing her mojo.

“Oh, this one is a bit of rebel, it happens sometimes. He’ll be loyal to our home and is a defender, but he will have a bit more autonomy than our others. It’s a downside the individuality trait you insisted on choosing. Of course, a simple conversation with your assistant before making major decisions would have negated any confusion,” Doug said, getting another sarcastic jab in.

“Bah, just go make your trap and stop being such a grumpy kitten,” Florence said, watching as Spud made its way into the goblin room, ignoring all the greetings from his fellow kitty defenders on the way. When he entered the goblin room, one of the goblins was foolish enough to try and pet the beast. He got a clawed-up hand for his efforts. After laughing at the misfortune of the bleeding goblin, the others promptly ignored Spud, being careful to stay a good distance from him.

“I thought you were going to let me make a trap, what did you spend the funds on this time?” Doug said angrily.

“Huh, you’re talking crazy, I didn’t spend anything after making old Spud,” Florence replied.

“Well it shows we have another trap placed, where did it go?” Doug asked. They both began to scan around the home, looking for any new defenses.

“Oh, that’s it very disgusting,” Doug said, gesturing toward the goblin room. Florence looked at the room just in time to see Spud using the sand pit as a litter box. Weren’t her kitties not supposed to have bodily functions?

“How did that happen?” Florence asked.

“It appears our foul feline has created a trap in the goblin room. A most unpleasant trap at that,” Doug said. Florence could see the trap icon now showing on the sand box and a new notification popped up.

New trap discovered. Through the ingenuity of one of your defenders, you have unlocked a new trap that will be named The Box of Despair. Any intruder approaching the box will forced to deal with an incapacitating foul odor with a chance of contracting a debilitating disease.

Old Spud looked happy as he settled down into the sand, not at all concerned at the stench around him. Even the goblins seemed to avoid that corner of the room. Everyone except for the goblin that had been scratched, that is. The goblin, who she thought might be that Gasbug one, sat down next to Spud and, despite his previous experience, tried again to pet the mangy thing. This time, Spud didn’t seem to mind and was purring up a contented storm. Despite their earlier disagreement, she was happy that her delinquent had found a friend.