LA:35l-J upgrade activated processing valid host found valid score found executing upgrade

It had been some time since the kobolds last entered the mind warping space that allowed them to access the Tribal Decision Tree. In those days they had been mere hours removed from both bloody combat and mongrel-hood, and the transition from the zone that had been their entire world to a place beyond space and time was understandably jarring.

Now, however, the pack was considerably better heeled. They had homes. They bathed. They very rarely peed on things that were not expressly designed to be peed on. And so while their first visit to the place inside the System had seen them deposited onto a mere empty space within the churning madness hidden behind the thin veil of reality, their second visit was a much more dignified affair.

Shin jolted upright in the stiff-backed chair he materialized in, staring in momentary shock at the fourteen other faces peering around the circular table provided for them by…well. By whomever. Their mysterious benefactor had even gone so far as to decorate their meeting space, a small vase with a single monochromatic flower arranged in the table’s dead center. Shin had to admit, this was certainly a lot more orderly than their last visit.

Of course, just beyond their chairs the Inside Place was exactly as geometrically agnostic as it had been before. All the more reason to not gawk and just get on with things, right?

Momo was the first to break the silence, the High Priestess scanning their gathered compatriots. “I suppose there are far too many of us for a full-pack vote, now.”

True. Shin spotted the usual suspects, Gero and Hilde seated to his right. Shita was there as well; she had always been the leader of Shinki Itten’s crafters, so that made sense. Dyu and Hanbun also held positions of importance within their respective circles, so it stood to reason that the three hobgoblins Shin wasn’t immediately familiar with must have as well. Higen was like some sort of crazed battle king to his pack of feral dogs, so Shin supposed his presence was likewise unavoidable. And the Schemer was deeply gratified that the System had seen fit to summon Moots, too; the old man's experience with the ways of the world would undoubtedly prove invaluable.

“Before we get started,” Shin began, rising from his chair, “I think we should take a moment to acknowledge the exemplary efforts of our craftsmen and their leaders in general, and over the last several days in particular. It is no exaggeration to say that, without your tireless efforts and unflagging dedication, we would not be here today. And if we weren’t here, today?” Shin shook his head. “I don’t doubt for a moment that we would have paid a terrible price to make it here tomorrow. I hope I speak for everyone when I say that Shinki Itten thanks you.”

A dozen chairs scraped backwards as the pack members rose as one, dipping into grateful bows towards Shita and her hobgoblin counterpart. Besides Moots, of course, who’s gnarled back only permitted a sort of pronounced nod. And Higen, who was as always a real piece of work. Still, the gesture was clearly appreciated. The hob, who’s name Shin seemed to recall was Holz, grinned sheepishly at the outpouring of sincere thanks, but Shita played things a bit closer to the vest. “I’m still mad at you, Shin,” the blacksmith offered, “But maybe only eighty percent as mad. We’ll see.”

“I understand.” The Schemer straightened. “On that note, we have another group to thank. Our introduction to the Oaken Elves was…less than optimal.”

Higen interjected with a short bark of a laugh.

Ugh, just keep moving things along, Shin. “But all the same, their aid has proven both timely and vital. I hope that it will be these recent days, and not the days that came before, that define our relationship going forward.”

Once the chorus of agreement from the others gathered around the table began to die down, Bittercup cleared her throat. “Um, sure. I hope so, too. I will definitely pass that along. But hey, quick question: Why am I here?”

Shin had to admit that was a good question. “Well…I don’t know? Did someone invite you to the Tribe when no one else was looking?”

“Yeah, no. I definitely would have remembered that. That’s not even on the table, is it?”

Momo laced her fingers together, propping her chin thoughtfully on them as she regarded the elven noble. “Well, why not? Do you want to?”

“What, really?” Bittercup shrank back in her seat, looking rather like a cat with one too many people staring at it. “I…don’t think so. No, definitely not.”

Shin nodded, having expected as much. Bittercup’s own people had treated her as a disposable resource; it was going to take a lot more than some smiling faces and a few favors to rebuild her trust in any group. “Understandable. Still, some of the other elves might be interested. Right? We know all too well that King Glandem doesn’t want them back, so if they had an inkling to make their home here…?”

Shin glanced around the table, noting nods all around. Except for Higen who, naturally, spat, his globule of phlegm flying out into the maelstrom of insane nothingness without any indication that it would ever slow down or stop. Shin was gripped by the thought that Higen’s loogie was going to splat onto the brow of some unknowable chaos being somewhere deep within the Inside Place, and that insane god was going to briefly be very confused.

The Schemer shook himself out of his reverie. “So, yeah. The offer’s on the table.”

Bittercup drummed her fingers across the table, nodding reluctantly. “Okay, I’ll let them know. I still don’t fully get why I’m here, though.”

Gero shrugged. “It makes sense to me. We’ve got a lot of elves in Shinki Itten, and they aren’t technically prisoners. So someone needs to speak for them.”

“And that person is me?” Bittercup scoffed. “Why not General Wren?”

“Yeah, I don’t see that working.” Hilde shook her head. “Don’t you think this would be way too close to ‘working with the enemy’ for the General? I’m pretty sure his sense of military honor is stretched as far as it will go already; a stronger tug would snap him all together.”

“Well…blah, yes. You’re right.” Bittercup let out a reluctant huff. “Okay fine; I’ll do it. At least until you convince one of the other elves to join up; then it can be their job. Deal?”

Shin nodded. “Deal.” He glanced around the table, noting with curiosity something he’d missed. “Huh. Where’s Mimasu?”

Dyu straightened up. “Oh! I saw him talking to that elf Player? They seemed pretty deep into whatever they were talking about.”

Oh, right. Shin had asked Mimi to distract Galwenlas; it had seemed a safe bet that getting the Grand Elf to talk about himself for a while was a surefire method to keep him busy. How unfortunate; the little scribe was missing out on an excellent note-taking opportunity. His sacrifice would not be forgotten. “Well, was there anything else?”

Gero lifted a finger. “I had a thought. You’d mentioned creating a Council for the Alliance’s government, right? Well, couldn’t we just say this is it?”

Huh. Shin hadn’t considered it, but this was already a perfect cross section of the pack’s population, wasn’t it? Soldiers and farmers, craftsmen and clerics, viscous barbarians and old hermits. Why shouldn’t this be the Council? “Well, how about it? We don’t have a King, obviously, and unless we’re willing to submit to Momo’s tyrannical rule we aren’t a Theocracy either.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Momo piped up. “I would be very tyrannical.”

“See?” Shin swept his arm out to indicate the assembled individuals. “So why don’t we govern ourselves?”

“Nope, I’m out.” Higen immediately stood up. “I have no time for this shit.”

Hanbun folded her ears in annoyance. “So the Wild Children are turning down the opportunity to have a say in pack matters? Fine by me.”

“Yeah, fat chance of that.” Higen snapped his fingers, and stone-faced Wild Son appeared beside him. “You.” The wild kobold shoved his freshly summoned underling into his resented abdicated chair. “You’re our envoy to the house dogs now. You’ll stay in the village until I replace you with someone else.”

The feral kobold whined. “That’s fucking too cruel; can’t you just bite my ear off instead?”

“Tough shit. Do your stretch, and don’t ever fall asleep on watch again.”

“What am I supposed to do though?”

Higen shrugged. “Don’t care. Just try not to get too soft.” He quirked an ear, seeming to reconsider. “Actually, one bit of advice.” He jerked a thumb towards Shin. “Vote against whatever he votes for.”

Shin forced his hackles to stay down. “I was thinking that I wouldn’t actually have a–”

“Oh fuck you you weren’t going to have a vote, Shh.” Higen rolled his eyes. “That just means you were gonna talk everyone into voting your way every single fucking time. You not getting a vote would mean you just had every vote.”

Screw this shit. “Fine, whatever.” Shin craned his neck forward, catching Higen’s flinty gaze and not letting go. “But you and I are gonna have a chat soon. So finish up whatever atrocity you’re currently waist deep in and get back to the village as soon as possible.”

Higen sneered. “Well well, Is that an order? Oh High and Mighty Schemer?”

Shin raised his eyebrows meaningfully at the others at the table. “How does the Council vote?” Every hand immediately rose, baring the dutifully silent Wild Son. The Schemer cocked an eyebrow at Higen, unable to keep his tail from wagging as the wild kobold seethed. “Yes, that is an order.”

Higen only lingered long enough to offer Shin an incredibly rude gesture before vanishing. Goddess, what an asshole.

“Is that that, then?” Shita raised her voice, cutting through the awkwardness of Higen’s exit. “Can we get down to business? Or does anyone else have a speech or tantrum?”

Ol’ Moots scratched at his bald pate thoughtfully. “Well, I was buildin’ up to a right doozy of a tantrum mesself, but I s’pose that can wait until Ol’ Moots is on his own time, eh?”

When no one else spoke up, Shita nodded. “Alright, I’m gonna start it up then. Define Tribe!”

A prompt window immediately rose from the table, the web of decisions that outlined Shinki Itten and their Tribe spinning out above their heads. Huh, it had changed rather significantly since the last time Shin saw it. Before, Shinki Itten had just been a small bubble in a sea of grayed out options, a seedling that might grow in any direction. Now, however, all of those twisting options had collapsed into the bubble itself, a tangled web of possibilities that existed within the framework they had already built.

The outline of the circle that was Shinki Itten glowed, signaling a choice to be made. The Tribe was already Welcoming, but how open would that welcome be? On the one hand, they could be a Secure Tribe, opting for–

“Secure!”

Shin’s ears flattened in embarrassment as everyone stared at him, the Schemer unable to fight back his impulse to interrupt. “Er, sorry. I just really, really like the idea of Secure.”

Hanbun tilted her head. “I mean, what was the other option even going to be?”

Holz flipped through the prompt. “Open-Handed? It looks like the main difference is that we get fewer boosts if we choose Secure, but Players have more leeway within our borders if we’re Open-Handed.”

Bittercup immediately leaned forward. “Take it from me: You should pick Secure.”

Shin rolled with the elf's momentum, hoping to settle the issue with her warning fresh on everyone’s minds. “Do we vote on it, then?”

It took a few moments before everyone had hesitantly nodded their agreements, but baring the pouting Wild Son the vote was unanimous. The prompt pulsed as the Council’s decision settled into being, the tangle of decisions nestled within Shinki Itten growing clearer.

“Huh. Status?” Hilde quickly glanced over her sheet, her brow furrowed. “Okay, well, there’s one change right away. I used to be a Guardian, but I’m some sort of hybrid Villager Class now. Banken?”

Watch Dog. That sounded promising.

“Hm.” Shita flipped her way over to another screen, peering at what seemed to be a roster of the pack’s Villagers. “A few other Villager-Classes got merged with combat specialists, too. And it looks like all of us Farmers and Crafters were boosted to the abilities of a standard City Guard.”

So the Villagers of Shinki Itten were as capable as the standard village patrol, and the actual guard were a full on combat Class with all the bells and whistles? Shin did not give one single shit what Open-Handed offered, because he would not trade his pack’s newfound security for anything.

“Um, there’s more?” Holz kept flipping through the prompt. “The System seems sort of pissed that we interrupted its whole spiel, I think, because it’s just spitting out everything we need to choose in a wad of text. It says we still need to pick a Specialization.”

Shin tilted his head towards Bittercup. “Does that mean anything to you?”

The elf shrugged. “Sure. It’s supposed to be what makes Players want to come to your village. At first, at least; it’ll usually change or expand when you do. Quercus was originally a Rest Hub, I think.”

Momo tapped her chin. “So really, this is about what sort of Players we want to attract. Right? So we should probably pass on anything explicitly combat related, right?”

“Well, what about this?” Gero pointed to an option. “Bounties? That would bring us Players who wanted to stop crime and do good deeds, right?”

Moots offered Gero a wry grin. “S’true, but there’d have t’be a whole mess o’ crime fer them Players to see to, right? Ol’ Moots’d probably end up gettin’ murdered ten times a day, jus’ so some Player could swoop in and bring his killer t’justice.”

Gero sheepishly flipped past that option. “Oh. Right. So if we picked Hunts, the zone would be menaced by giant monsters, too. This is harder than I thought it might be.”

“Oh! How about this?” Dyu highlighted another choice. “Gathering! Moots won’t get murdered by people wanting to pick mushrooms or whatever, right?”

The old hermit shook his head. “Can’t recommend that one, neither. Basic Gatherin’s fine, but if we Specialize then you pups’ll be the proud hosts t’some Rare Materials. Rock, wood, fur, some magic flower; whatever. The Players’ll find out them spawn points right quick, and then they’ll fight tooth an’ claw t’keep them all within their own clutches. Shinki Itten’ll get burned to the ground by Players fightin’ a Holy War over who gets to scoop up the most sacred bird poop fer their potions or what have ye.”

Shin had already thought it once, but at this point he needed to say it aloud. “Moots, I have no idea what we’d do without you.”

Moots chuckled, waving off the compliment. “Aw shush; y’all pups would’ve figgered it straight even without this ol’ chunk o’ coal. Ol' Moots's jus’ happy t’save y’all a bit o’ time, is all.”

“It seems to be,”–Hilde prodded her finger down into the table for emphasis–”That we need to find some option that forces any Player drawn to us to play within our rules. That means some sort of peaceful activity, inside city borders, all under the eyes of me and the other Banken. Ultimately, our only true defense is the threat of being made a Red Player. What fits those criteria?”

Shita pulled up one of the options. “Maybe this will seem a bit self-serving, but how about this? Crafting?”

Hm. That did have a certain appeal. If a Player came to Shinki Itten with the intent of learning Crafting skills, they’d be dealing directly with the Profession Trainers themselves. That would all by necessity take place under the village’s Sanctuary shield. And those same Players would also be incentivized to keep other Players from running amok within Shinki Itten. Plus, even setting the Players aside all together, they’d all benefit from the presence of highly skilled professionals living within their midst.

The more he thought about it, the more Shin liked this angle. He pulled up the entry himself, noting that further options expanded out. “We’d need to make a further choice if we picked that?”

Shita nodded. “Yeah. We’d get Novice to Expert-Level trainers for the main professions and a selection of the weirder ones, then a handful of Masters for a few of them. But for a Tribe of our size and choices, we’d then get a Grandmaster in a specific Profession.”

“Grandmaster is…what, two ranks below the highest possible?”

“Yeah. And while I’m being selfish, I’m absolutely voting for Blacksmithing.” Shita perked her ears forward. “I might be as much as twenty percent less mad at anyone who also voted for Blacksmithing.”

Well. Shin supposed he was probably voting for Blacksmithing, then. Bittercup, however, had other thoughts. “Everyone’s got Grandmaster Blacksmiths, and they all teach the same stuff. Why would anyone come all the way here just to learn stuff they can probably pick up in Magica City?”

“Maybe that’s a plus, though.” Hilde leaned back in her chair. “A smaller stream of Players would be a good thing, right?”

“Very much no.” Shin didn’t want to horrify everyone with the full scope of what had been revealed to him, but he certainly needed to make this point clear. “We’ve gotten by so far because we’ve been too small to notice. But we can’t rely on that anymore, and the fundamental truth about our world is that it exists to entertain these Players. We can be anything we want, except for boring. If we’re boring, we will be gone.”

“Then you definitely should pick something that offers unique patterns or recipes.” Bittercup seemed a little surprised at how forthcoming she was being, yet continued to offer her advice all the same. “Alchemy Grandmasters always get a few unique potions, but it’s impossible to tell if they’ll be good or not. Quercus’s has a potion that can turn your hair a slightly different green than the one everyone else’s potion makes. Not great.”

Moots piped up. “What about Cookin’, then?”

Shin tilted his head. “Cooking counts as a Crafting Profession?”

“Oh sure! An’ each race gets their own unique cookin’ style, yeah? Aren’t y’all pups th’ only kobolds what exist?”

Gero raised her eyebrows. “Yeah. We’d be the only place where someone could learn Kobold-Style Cooking.”

“Not just that.” Hilde nodded towards her fellow hobgoblins. “There isn’t another civilized Hobgoblin Tribe in Magica, we’re pretty sure. So we’d have the only Hobgoblin-Style Cooking, too.”

Shin quickly selected the option for Cooking, confirming Hilde’s speculation. They’d get two Grandmasters for the price of one, both with Styles that couldn’t be learned anywhere else in the world. “What use do Players get out of Cooking? Besides the obvious?”

Bittercup shrugged. “Besides just getting to eat nice things, you mean?” Shin nodded, and she shrugged again. “I’m pretty sure they get stat buffs from crafted food. They always need them when they’re about to go on Raids or whatever.”

Was that a fact. Shin’s mind was made up. “Should we put it to a vote, then?”

When everyone agreed, Momo began to read her way down the list of options. There were no votes for Alchemy or Animal Husbandry, so she continued right along. “...Are there any votes for Blacksmithing?”

Shita reluctantly kept her hand down, though she couldn’t hold back a small grin when Shin’s hand went up. “Alright, alright; I’m less than fifty-percent mad at you. Can we just skip to the end? We’ve all got a village to run, right?”

Momo nodded, skipping ahead. “Alright then. Cooking?”

Every other hand raised, even the Wild Son. It probably helped that he was technically voting against Shin. With that settled, Momo carefully clicked the chosen entry. The prompt immediately descended back into the table, Shin feeling himself already being pulled away from the Inside Place.

He quickly called out, a bit miffed that this first meeting of the Shinki Itten Council wasn’t ending with some sort of ceremonial something or other. “Okay great meeting guys next time let’s bring snaaaacks~!”

LA:35l-J refined searching database appropriating culture merging zones opening passage finalizing city design