Chương 217: Chapter 448: Beer-Knocking

If the Collective had understood the complete ramifications of 'Sharing Knowledge' and signing treaties with Cracked Rock, Limburger Hollow, and the Deep Rock Engineers, they would have taken much longer to agree and ask many more questions. Beings from other races who visited their city for trade were quite few, and the mushroom caverns were mostly considered a small backwater that was conveniently located near the Deep Roads that led to Bloth and other large areas of commerce.

The Collective was a powerful mind, with the knowledge of thousands of their people connected to them through the mycelium, but they didn't know what they didn't know. Meat creatures were still a mystery to them, and if truth be told, their towering stature in comparison to the smaller creatures gave them a sense of security.

They would spend the next century trying to understand the exact point in time when everything changed, but all of them would agree it was when the strange Ratkin named Tallsqueak/Milo came to town. They were surprised and curious when a dozen Engineers descended from above and began the construction of the base of the great elevator, and a fortified trading post that would surround it.

The Myconians worked slowly and methodically at everything they did, with time meaning far less to them than to the shorter-lived meat creatures who lived life at a hectic pace. They had assumed the dwarves and ratkin from above would be similar to the traders in their work habits. The Collective's thinking on this subject was quickly shown to be in error.

Their Speaker was dispatched to gain clarity and further understanding as they saw the construction appearing at frightening speed and strange noises filled the cavern. Grothmar could feel the Collective's interest, fear, and confusion. Feelings he experienced himself as he approached the shining metal pillar that started at ground level and went straight up into the fissure far above them. The structure was a latticework of metal beams surrounding multiple cables.

As he watched, a large steel box was being lowered and six dwarves in mechanical suits walked out of it, followed by a wheeled contrivance for moving cargo. It was quickly unloaded, and then different cargo was loaded for the next trip up. The boxes that were being loaded, he recognized as mushrooms and mushroom powders produced in the Collective's cavern. The dwarves had sent two of their number and a ratkin from the place called the hollow to purchase large quantities of their goods.

Now those goods were traveling to the cities above them. Trade was good. It brought many things to the Collective that they could not make themselves. Chief among the imports that they valued were mulch flavorings, chemical solutions that increased the yield of their mushroom crops, and metallic items. Grothmar was frankly amazed at the amount of metal used in the construction the dwarves called an elevator.

Its function was simple and obvious, the method of constructing it a total mystery, and he could feel one of the Collective quivering as they tried to imagine how much metal would be needed to reach the city of Cracked Rock. That the dwarves had constructed it so quickly was also a matter of concern. Things the Collective didn't understand made them nervous. They were also quite nervous about the Wandering Sage. They had once again increased both his threat level and his value as someone to share knowledge with.

They had been astounded when he explained the basics of warfare and applied force. Understanding slowly came of the inferiority of the tactic of a simple line of troops when faced with the wedge of armored snails, supported by artillery and fast assault troops. His description of Gargantua's abilities had left them very nervous. The method he used to kill the monstrous creature caused even more terror. Discussions between the Collective about his destruction of Kronk and the Ancient had raged for days.

There was a pattern to how the Sage causes such destruction, but they were unable to grasp it. For the next week, warforms had surrounded the base of the massive stems of the Collective as they came to grips with how much they had underestimated the Wandering Sage. It was only after much sharing of new knowledge and again observing his quiet manner that they calmed themselves. The Sage had suggested that Grothmar and other Myconians begin learning a series of games that he claimed would enhance their minds.

The first one, called Tictactoe, had become so popular that an enterprising merchant had opened up a Mulchery where, for a modest fee, one could enjoy a flavorful tea and use small tokens to play the new game on a tabletop. After a week, the Sage had given a lesson on the game, followed by the introduction of a far more complex game called Checkers. More Mulcheries opened to accommodate the excited gamers, some of whom sat so long in one spot that they rooted themselves and had to be pulled free.

The Sage had originally told Grothmar that he had other games to share with the Collective and the citizens of the mushroom city, but had revised his schedule of sharing. This disappointed Grothmar, who had looked forward to more of the new and strangely named games he had discussed with the Sage, such as 'CandyLand' and 'Chutes and Ladders.' But he recognized that the common myconian needed time to assimilate this new way of thinking.

The Collective had felt the thoughts of the game players and was gaining a better understanding of the things the Sage was trying to share with them. They argued about accepting the new ways of thinking. They always did. New could be dangerous. But at the same time, they had learned a lesson in how doing things the same way could be dangerous.

As the smaller Myconians began to master the strategy behind simple board games, the Collective pondered their path forward and re-evaluated their past, especially their dealings with the Ur-Khemysts of Bloth. The battle between the Sage and his Dwarven allies and the formerly peaceful-but-annoying Khemysts had been the source of much debate. One outcome was that dwarves now had three different designations to sort them by type: 'Probably Mulch, 'Rum-Flavored, ' and 'Explosively Dangerous.'

The two breeding pairs representing the new designations had overwhelmed the Collective with as much new information as the Sage himself had brought. They would be debating things for many spawning cycles. They had erred in thinking that these new dwarven types were as useless as the others they had met. Likewise, they were trying to revise the old lore about the ratkin race, in light of the individuals they were meeting. The meat races were changing. You could be reading stolen content.

Head to the original site for the genuine story. Grothmar was enjoying being so far from the city, where the thoughts of the Collective grew thinner. He could have strengthened the connection by linking to the mycelium beneath him, but did not. He felt that a different perspective was needed now, with his mind unhindered by the ever-present whispering in his head. Daringly, without any guards, he slowly approached one of the 'Explosively Dangerous' dwarves that the Sage referred to as Engineers.

That the Sage himself was an Engineer had led Grothmar to the conclusion that the word carried more meaning than the Collective expected.

"To greet a member of our new allies." The dwarf looked up and used a facial expression that Grothmar knew meant 'I am friendly to you at this point in time, but reserve the right to change my mind.'

"Well, greetings to you too. What can I do for you?"

"This one is Grothmar, new-friend of the Sage-Engineer Professor Tallsqueak. To observe. To greet. To share knowledge."

"Nice to meet you, Grothmar. I'm Senior Engineer Two-Screws. Let me guess? You'd like an explanation of what we are doing here?"

"To congratulate you on your assumption of my needs."

"Well then, just follow along behind me, and I'll give you the grand tour of this work in progress. I was just about to take a bit of a break and knock back a couple of beers. Is that something you are interested in? If not, I can catch up with the guys later, and we can get started."

"To confirm: Beer is a liquid containing rotted vegetable matter that has been left to sit in liquid containers to improve its flavor? We have enjoyed it once before. It made our roots tingle and was not unpleasant. To accompany you to 'knocking back a couple of beers' sounds theoretically enjoyable." The dwarf used a much better facial expression. Grothmar was happy that he had guessed correctly.

"Well then, come this way. You're in for a real treat. The lads just sent down a new barrel that's been well-rotted." Grothmar followed the dwarf into an enclosure where four more dwarves were already doing their beer-knocking. Each of them took a large flagon of the thick, dark concoction and drank down half of their mug, each making various noises to show their appreciation. His own mug smelled delicious. He carefully poured it on his roots, tasting the interesting flavors.

They looked at him questioningly, and he realized he'd failed to make the appropriate noises of appreciation. He approximated their mouth noises as best he could and then said, "Ah, that was a proper 1420, that was." At this pronouncement, all of the dwarves raised their mugs and drank, followed by all mugs being refilled. Normally, Grothmar would only irrigate his roots once, but he was here to learn customs, share knowledge, and evaluate this much more dangerous variety of dwarves for the Collective.

Based on that sound logic, he accepted a second mug of beer and irrigated himself again, his thirsty roots sucking up the tasty vegetable water. The dwarves began talking about their work, and Grothmar simply sat and tried to memorize everything they said, noting things that should be said in response to other things. He would have to ask the sage about many of them.

The talk became increasingly complex, often referencing the work they were doing to complete the elevator project, making it safer and capable of lifting more. Another round of irrigation was distributed, and once again, he accepted it. Things were making more sense to him now, unless he thought about them hard. He found himself nodding at the highly technical talk and mouthing appropriate noises. His mug was conveniently full whenever he looked.

His roots were tingling nicely, and it was easy to ignore whichever member of the Collective was yelling in his mind. After another irrigation, he didn't even hear them. Then he didn't hear anything at all, and that was nice too.

"Well, back to work."

"Our guest is looking a little odd."

"He's asleep and rooted to the ground. Milo said they usually root themselves in mulch; I guess beer-mud works just as well."

"Well, with as much beer as he soaked up, he'll be asleep for a few days. Never thought I'd get to drink with a mushroom man. Pretty good company, even if you never know what they're mumbling. I swear he almost sounded like he understood the new pulley system we came up with." Two-Screws wave the others on.

"I invited him in, I'll watch over him."

"Ha, and watch over the beer."

"Well, what can I say? I take all my responsibilities seriously. But pass a message up top to send down half a dozen casks of this stuff. We may have found something else that the Collective will value. I wonder how much it takes to get a six-story tall mushroom man drunk?"