Chapter One-Hundred Sixty-Seven

I go through a fair few design iterations for the spearheads before I’m satisfied.  While the concept itself should work fine in theory, it takes a bit more practical time to put that theory to paper, and then a bit more to put it to paper so people can actually build it.  Legion are the genius, sleek designs that have to be taken back to step zero because the real world can’t no-clip the tools into the tight spaces to turn the screws that keep it together.

While the spear heads aren’t that complex, I do need to not only show how everything goes together, but also how each piece is shaped.  I have some concerns about the number of moving parts (seven, not counting parts that bend for the locking mechanism), but I don’t think I can pull anything else out.  I’m certain I’ll need to add a few more as testing happens and unexpected needs arise, but if I can keep the entire head assembly to fifteen or fewer parts, I’ll be pleasantly surprised.

I’m a lot less confident in my design for the compound bow, mostly because I know there’s going to need to be a lot of tuning required for the limbs and the cams.  Ideally, I’d like to use some fairly mild steel for the limbs.  Steel is great at the kind of constant flexing and relaxing a bow sees.  We’ll just have to get the thickness right.  I can run numbers for how thick to make them in theory, but this feels like the kind of thing that really will need to be hashed out with tons of variations in the lab and in the field.

Same with the pulley-wheels, or cams.  The cam size will have to be proportional to the draw length, since I want the cam to stop at the same point every time it’s at full draw, and the shape of the cam will be important too.  If you basically squish the typical circular shape into more of a weird oval, that’s how you really get to leverage mechanical advantage to make it easy to hold a full draw for longer.

I get some preliminary designs set and let the ratlings carve the shapes from wood, but it’ll be a bit on the backburner for now as far as actual testing goes.  Thing and Queen are more preoccupied with the traps in the lava labyrinth, and Coda is ramping up production of the cinderblocks and concrete mix, so I’m kinda out of scions that are into this sort of thing.

It’s probably good to come up for air on that anyway.  Teemo’s about at the Southwood now, so I should probably give that my attention instead.  Teemo and Honey are both on Leo’s back as he crosses the distance from the last outpost, and it’s only a few minutes later that they enter the Southwood’s territory.

I’m a bit relieved when Envoy pops up over Teemo, and my scions get comfortable to wait for the White Stag to show up.  I take the chance to look around at what I can through their eyes.  While outside was pretty solidly winter, inside it feels a bit more like early autumn, and I’m seeing a lot more trees with leaves than with needles.  There’s also plenty of underbrush around, and Leo can scent a lot of various prey animals in the vicinity.

I’m pretty sure Tarl mentioned something about animal and herbalism nodes, and Rezlar mentioned lumber and hides and stuff, so it’s not too shocking.  I wonder if he has beavers?  Their pelts used to be high-end stuff back home.  Magical beavers would probably be amazing.

I don’t get to muse on the possibilities for long before the stag shows up to the tinkling of bells and glow of lights.  He imperiously looks at my scions for a few long seconds before speaking.

“I was under the impression you were the Warden, not the Voice, wolf.”

Leo wuffs in confusion before Teemo speaks up.

“He is.  I’m the Voice.  Teemo.”  My rat hops up on Leo’s head to make it more clear who’s the one that will be doing my talking for me.

The stag glares at my Voice.  “This is a poor jest.  Drop the illusion or bring out the true Voice.  My Lord has no time for frivolities.”

Teemo just sits up and folds his arms at the other Voice.  “I’m the only Voice Thedeim has.  If you don’t have time to waste, then stop wasting it and get to the point.”

The stag’s nostrils flare in anger, the gentle chiming of bells starting to sound like they’re caught in a windstorm.  He opens his mouth as he rears on his hind legs, before his ear flicks and he lets his forehooves impact the ground without much force.

“But my Lord!  He insults you with this farce!  Yes, but…!  Please, at least let me challenge his claim to be the Voice of a dungeon strong enough to offer you even paltry aid!”  My scions all exchange glances at that, and I’m wondering if I should just leave Southwood to its fate.  I mean… I won’t.  It still asked for my help, and if something subsumes it, I’ll probably be next on the menu.  Still, not a great first impression.

The stag’s pleading look shifts to a wide smile.  “Thank you, my Lord!  I will give you proof of the mettle of this so-called Voice!”

With that, I get a notification.

The Stag of the Southwood challenges your Voice to a duel!

Accept/Deny?

Uh… do you see this, Teemo?

“Yeah, I see it, Boss.  I got this.”

You sure?  I don’t want you to get hurt.

Teemo smiles at that and nods.  “Yeah, I’m sure.  I’ve been getting to flex one of my affinities on the way out here, but I haven’t been neglecting the other.  I’ve been wanting to try something for a while now, and I think this guy will be a great test for it.”

Confident, Teemo does a few stretches while still standing on Leo, before hopping off to land on a stump.  “Alright bucko, I accept.  My Boss is probably going to want a bit more for helping you now, too.”

The stag snorts.  “Drop the charade, rodent.  My Lord will overcome this insignificant problem before you finish respawning.  Now, have at you!”

Teemo grins and picks up a pebble from atop the stump and throws it as the stag charges.  Teemo smiles and mutters to himself before he slips through a shortcut, giving the stag a wave as he does.  The stag swats the pebble aside with contemptible ease, then slashes his antlers through the space Teemo vacated.

My Voice pops out of the shortcut next to a nearby bush, neither looking nor sounding very impressed.  “Oh, you almost got me.  Wanna try again?”

With a snort, a forehoof darts forward to catch Teemo, but my slippery scion whispers and vanishes through another shortcut and appears from the roots of a nearby tree.  His tone mocks as he speaks up again.

“Are we dueling or dancing?” he asks with a grin.  The stag charges and tries to trample him as he shouts.

“You’re the one fleeing like a coward!  Stand and face me!”

Teemo is doing a great impression of a game of whack-a-mole as he vanishes and appears in rapid succession, dodging hooves as he continues to taunt.

“Me?  You’re the one who can’t land a hit on a little ol’ rat, oh great White Stag!  Butterfly Effect,” he adds almost as an afterthought as he continues to lead the stag stomping around the tree, the ground shaking from the force.  After almost a minute, the stag finally seems to realize he’s getting nowhere, so he dashes a short distance away, leaving Teemo smirking as he leans a hand against the trunk.

The stag glares at him.  “Fine, I admit you’re a more wily foe than I expected, but you are far from victorious yet!”  The tinkling of bells gives way to a deep gong, and lightning crackles around the stag’s horns as he charges an attack.

Teemo looks like he’s only half-paying attention to the stag, which only seems to further enrage the scion.  My Voice holds a long stick up in triumph, then jabs it under the roots of the tree.  He glances up, adjusts the position slightly, then turns another smirk on the White Stag.

“Butterfly Effect.”

“Sun Lance!” shrieks the stag as he launches a thick beam of light at Teemo.  I can see the flight path, so I know it can’t be actual light, but that still doesn’t mean my Voice wants to be hit by it.

He darts through a shortcut, and the trajectory of the beam causes it to follow him.  A moment later, the beam blasts upward into the sky as Teemo tumbles across the floor of leaves, twigs, and dirt.  He coughs as he finds his feet, looking a little singed and roughed up, but not beaten.

“Butterfly Effect.  You actually almost got me that time.  You got another in you, or do you want to see if I’m slowed down from that?”

“I will grind you into fertilizer for my Lord’s flowers with my bare hooves!” screams the stag, looking more than a little unhinged at how ineffective his attacks have been, and charges Teemo once more.

My Voice grins as the stag bears down on him.  “Sucker.  Butterfly Effect!”  As if on command, a goose or maybe a swan plummets from the sky and lands on the twig wedged in the roots.  A bit of spatial magic, combined with how unstable the stag’s stomping made the ground, easily makes a long enough lever to uproot the aged oak and fell it directly in the stag’s path.

He doesn’t realize what’s wrong before it’s too late, and his eyes can only widen as his horns bite deep into the wood of the tree, leaving him well and truly stuck.  Teemo hops through one last shortcut to pop out of a knot hole in the trunk, and simply bounces onto the stag’s snout.

“Now then… are you ready to talk, or should we just go home?”