“YEAAAAAAAH!” Aeshma roared as she flung the vital bit of Mimic at the storeroom wall. “See, Roland? I told you I’d have your back!” She shook her head and snorted. “I can’t believe you were standing right next to it that whole time. You’ve gotta be more careful, dude.”
“I’ve got to be more careful?” I repeated, trying my best to sound indignant. My clothes were moist with Mimic spit, and my body hurt all over from getting thrown across the room… but I was alive. I couldn’t help but feel relieved. “You’re the one who opened that door in the first place! You touched the Mimic on the way in! Why couldn’t you tell what it was, were you not checking?”
Aeshma huffed. “I didn’t see the tail. Must’ve missed it.”
“I… what?”
“They can’t hide their tails. It’s the only way to tell if you’re dealing with a Mimic. Here, check this out.” She motioned for me to come look at the heap of shattered wood and meat that was once the Mimic and starting digging around in its remains. “Huh. Well… okay,” she said as she flopped the creature around, narrowly avoiding spattering me with droplets of ichor. “Maybe this one doesn’t have a tail. But I’m telling you, that’s how you tell if something’s a Mimic.”
I didn’t have the courage to argue with her, but I was pretty sure that none of the Mimics I saw today had a tail. Or, now that I thought about it, any other visible indication of their true nature.
Which meant that anything in the cellar – scratch that, anything in this world – could be a Mimic.
Hopefully most things weren’t, though.
GRICK-GRAK, NOOOOO! MY BROTHER IN SPIRIT!
Greebo’s tiny voice rang out from the inner room. The Gremlins! I’d almost forgotten about them in my post-battle haze.
“We should probably go help him, right?” I said.
“Yeah, help him bring us to the king, so that we can wrap this little adventure up,” Aeshma replied gruffly. Nonetheless she stood up and started walking towards the battlefield, back through the now-vacant doorway.
Inside, the shards of Aeshma’s Mimic-victims lay mingled with the bodies of the fallen gremlins. Most of the Gremlin platoon were dead, their bodies torn apart by the door-Mimic, but a few lucky stragglers were brushing themselves off and slowly making their way over to comfort our new friend, who was on his knees and cradling the broken body of Vice Lieutenant Grick-Grak.
“Greebo,” the dying Grick-Grak coughed. “You were always… my truest friend… hrk! Go, Greebo… leave me…”
“Grick-Grak, brother,” Greebo wailed, “You musn’t talk like that! You can be saved yet – the Messengers, they–”
“They are – hrk! – only Messengers, Greebo…” Grick-Grak wheezed. His voice was growing weak and quiet. “None but… the Stocker himself… could save me now.”
Greebo hung his head and sobbed, “I understand, brother. Rest easy, and know that your children will never go without. I cannot replace you, but I will care for them in your stead. I will be there… if you cannot.”
Grick-Grak let out a deep sigh. “T-thank you, Greebo… I t-take solace in the fact that the war nears its close… that the Messengers… will ensure… no more Gremlins die in vain...” He coughed, his eyes beginning to gloss over and lose their focus. “I can die… in peace, knowing we held the line for th-their passage to the King. F-fin-finish… this… for me. BLEGH!” he said, before dying dramatically in Greebo’s arms.
Greebo threw his head back in an ear-piercing wail. Then he turned his attention back to us. “Grick-Grak has fled that mortal vessel. We must continue to the King, posthaste.”
“Okay, hurry up then! Let's go!” Aeshma said impatiently, waving Greebo and the remaining platoon members to the door.
“To the King!” Greebo shouted, the tears already clearing from his beady little eyes. He unceremoniously dumped Grick-Grack’s body on the floor as he stood up and raced for the door.
“To the King!” the remaining platoon members cheered, racing after him.
Aeshma and I jogged through the door, following the pitter-patter of gremlin feet to make our way through the cellar. “Greebo, uh, moved on pretty quick, didn’t he?” I said.
“That’s Gremlins for you, dude. I’m telling you, they don’t have much room in those walnut-sized brains of theirs. They can only focus on one thing at a time.”
“Do you think Greebo will really take care of Grick-Grak’s family?”
“I dunno, maybe,” she replied.
We continued our journey, making our way through the enormous cellar. I figured the place must have formerly been a bank or something similar, because as we jogged deeper and deeper in, the wooden shelves gave way to metal hatches that looked almost like safety-deposit boxes. The hallways grew wider and taller, with heavy-looking vault doors every few meters. It seemed notably older back here, too; the magical torches that lined the walls were bulkier, and there was a thick coat of dust on the walls.
I wondered if the merchant even knew that his cellar extended this far back. It was no wonder he was having infestation problems – most of the place seemed completely untended to. Untended to by Humans, at least; the Gremlins had obviously been having a field day. As we progressed deeper into the cellar, their makeshift forts became more and more elaborate, sturdily constructed from thick wooden crates, burlap sacks, and pieces of armor. Crudely painted banners flew from spear hafts jammed into the floor, decorated with images of what had to be the Gremlin King. We passed mountains of rations, arrows, bowls, and assorted other trinkets, clearly pilfered from various storehouses and sorted by type. To what purpose, only the Gremlins could have said.
After a few more minutes we crossed into an enormous lobby. Its vaulted ceiling was painted with a faded mural, depicting… well, it was so chipped and bleached out, it was hard to tell for sure. But right in its center, I could definitely make out a gray, old man shaking hands with a hooded figure.
“Not long now messengers!” came Greebo’s voice from the far end of the vault. “We approach the inner sanctum!”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Aeshma and I picked up the pace to catch up with him, reaching a vault door that had been heavily decorated in the gremlins’ signature style. Knick-knacks were stacked high to either side, and over the top, forming a precarious-looking arch over the door.
“How do you think they managed that?” I whispered to Aeshma. “Think they used ladders? Or did they stand on each others’ shoulders in a gremlin tower?”
“If I had to bet, I’d put money on the tower. The real question is whether any of this stuff is actually a Mimic.” She squinted at the archway, which must have been made of hundreds if not thousands of individual items. “I don’t see any tails, though, so we’re probably good.”
My stomach twisted, but Greebo was excitedly leading us to the door and I didn’t want to look like a coward in front of Aeshma. I walked right under the archway, waiting nervously to be chomped by a falling book or lashed at by a purple tendril.
When that didn’t happen I considered the doors themselves – split down the middle, each half made up of a single, solid piece of wood larger than anything I’d ever seen on Earth. Even the wood grain looked weird, twisting and whorling in mesmerizing patterns. Was it a Mimic too? Was the entire cellar some giant Mimic, growing and growing under the city?
No, I was getting paranoid. I was in Zone One, which meant there wasn’t anything too dangerous around. I was just doing a fun, basic side-quest to get me my starter gear. Aeshma would’ve stopped us if we were getting in over our heads.
“Through here!” Greebo announced. The double-doors were open just a crack, but it was more than big enough for the Gremlins to file through. For me, it was a tight fit – and Aeshma practically had to squeeze and shimmy her way through. On the other side, we were met with a torch-lined hallway that led to an open vault door.
“This place is huge,” I muttered to Aeshma. “I mean, the shopkeeper seemed like he was doing well enough, but not enough to own a full-on fortress underneath the city.”
Aeshma shrugged. “He probably didn’t know this was all here when he bought the place. It’s… well all the Zones have some weirdness to them you know? Like, Zone One has some super old buildings and cities. Even compared to the other Zones, there’s stuff here that’s proper ancient. I bet this was just all walled off at some point. The geezer upstairs probably knocked a wall out to make a bigger storeroom and – oh!”
“Didn’t he say he’s had this problem since he ‘renovated’ the place?” I said.
“Yeah, so that’s probably why he’s got this infestation. And why the Gremlins all think he’s a God. They live here for ages then out of nowhere a wall opens up and bam! All of the sudden they’ve got an endless supply of food and trinkets to play with!”
It made sense to me – except for the fact that Greebo said that his people had been here for generations.
“How long do Gremlins live, exactly?” I asked.
“I dunno, like a week? They’re like little buggies.”
Greebo led us through the open vault door into what, by all appearances, was a well equipped war-room. It was dominated by an enormous war-table covered by an equally enormous map, pinned down in each corner by a tiny dagger. A dozen stern-faced Gremlins were standing around it, engaged in what sounded like a heated argument.
“They’ve been sighted within Quadrant Seventeen. It’s unprecedented, Grimgram. The worst encroachment within living memory,” one of them said. By her gray muzzle and frayed and tattered ears, she must have been ancient by Gremlin standards.
“Quadrant Seventeen be damned, Bimbool!” Grimgram shouted back, pounding the table with his little fist. “We need to secure Stocker’s pass!”
Greebo raised his hands up to stop the bickering and yelled, “Generals! Messengers have arrived! Messengers from Stocker's Rise!” All eyes fell on us, then. The generals stared up at us with expressions ranging from fear, to wonder, to bliss.
“They’re here! By the Stocker, the prophecies were true – they’re finally here!” Bimbool shouted, standing up so fast she knocked over her tiny chair. She inspected the remnants of the platoon. “Wait. Greebo… where is Grick-Grak? Why did he send his platoon with you instead of leading them himself?”
Greebo lowered his head. “Grick-Grak is dead, Madam General. Killed in a skirmish against the Mimics. Most of the platoon was killed along with him.” A tear rolled down his fluffy cheek. “I… I swore my duty to him.”
Bimbool nodded seriously. “I’m sorry, Vice Lieutenant.” Her expression softened. “I know the two of you were close. Perhaps his sacrifice was the price we had to pay, to earn the Messenger’s presence among us. To end this war, once and for all.”
“I hope so, General.” Greebo wiped away the tears from his eyes. “Permission to–?”
“Yes, dismissed,” Bimbool said. “Bring them to the King at once.”
Greebo gave her a polite bow before leading us through the war-room, past a mountain of pilfered goods so tall I couldn’t even see over the top. And on the other side was what had to be the Gremlins’ version of a throne room. A tiny figure was seated in a rocking chair in the middle of the room, its brow adorned with some sort of crown – more like a wreath, really, made from braided necklace chains. Guards lined the walls, each bearing a comically oversized pike. They glared impassively at us as we approached the throne.
“Hail, King! I have brought you the Messengers of the Stocker!” Greebo shrieked, falling to his knees in supplication.
For a second I wondered if we were expected to do the same. I looked at Aeshma, but she just rolled her eyes. That was probably the right attitude to take, anyway. We were basically divine figures here, so I didn’t think we had to worry about offending the little guys. Besides, I couldn’t say I was really into the whole ‘reverence’ thing. I wanted to save the Gremlins, sure. But I wasn’t going to get on my knees for one, even if it had a crown on.
The king's eyes went wide. “Messengers? Here?” His voice was even squeakier than Greebo’s. “So it is time, then. You have done well to bring them here, my loyal Greebo. But now I would speak with the Messengers alone. Return to the generals; tell them to prepare for the Yazata scenario.”
“Yazata? You mean–”
“Yes. Go now. I will tend to our guests.”
“Yes, m’lord,” Greebo said. He gave the king a final bow before scurrying off.
The King hopped off his throne and took a few tiny steps towards us. “I know your journey here must have been treacherous; and to be so far from the Stocker’s divine realm must pain you greatly. From the bottom of my heart I thank you, Messengers, for blessing us with your presence.” The King dropped into a deep bow, so low that his chest nearly touched the floor.
Aeshma let out a loud snort and shook her head. “I can’t believe these guys.”
“Oh. Uh, hey, sir, there’s no need for that,” I stammered. But the king remained stubbornly in place. “Um, you can stand up now, sir.”
The King lingered a moment longer before straightening to his feet. He smoothed out the front of his burlap robes. “For so long, we have prepared for the worst… for the possibility that the Stocker abandoned our people for good. But all the while, we kept our faith! And now, that faith has finally been rewarded! Come, Messengers. It’s time for celebration. Please share in my feast,” he said, gesturing to a table beside the throne with a rusty goblet and a tray of what looked to be cold, dry rations.
I took a cube of dehydrated bread off the tray and popped it into my mouth. It was disgusting, but I gritted my teeth into a smile and gave the king an enthusiastic thumbs-up between chews. The King looked positively elated. He even gave me a thumbs-up back, although I was pretty sure he didn’t understand what it meant.
“Dude, I am not eating that,” Aeshma muttered to me out of the corner of her mouth. “But this is your chance I guess. Convince this idiot to keep his friends away from the shopkeeper’s part of the cellar, or else we’re gonna have to start squashing the lot of ‘em.”
NOTABLE MONSTERS
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Goobalooby LV2
Ancestry: Monster
Class: Cellar Gremlin King
Notable Perks:
Decree: All party members are compelled to obey your next command. Unwilling creatures may attempt to resist.
Eat Anything: Your potent stomach acid can extract nutrients from virtually any material.
