The dungeon core, newly named Green, watched as Red experimented with his new body. In the interest of what Red called “poetic justice” he had taken over the body of the goblin who had died against the boss monster. The process had been difficult for Green. At first, the system had insisted no changes could be implemented during an event. It had taken significant mental effort to convince the system that replacing one sentience with another didn’t count as “making changes” according to system logic.

Then there had been pain. Red had experienced very little of that, being ensconced safely within a body that was designed for the kind of sensory input it received. Green, on the other hand, had been unprepared for the constant stream of information; data that was coded in a way completely foreign to his systems. Even now there were occasional fits of agony as his patchwork of homemade “sensory receiver programs” encountered glitches. Unfortunately, there was nothing else he could do. He and Red were too intrinsically bound for there to be any degree of separation between Green, and his newfound inputs.

Red laughed, flopping down onto the ground joyously; cradling his head in his hands. “You ok in there boss?”

Green sighed. “The discomfort has faded again. Is the body serviceable?”

“It’s perfect! You have no idea how great it is to be so mobile. I’m going to go smash some heads in with a big rock, so let me know if you need anything.” Red grinned a toothy, malicious grin.

Green telepathically shook his head. “I am going to start working on creating Blue, so you likely won’t hear from me for a while.”

Red’s grin widened. “That’s fine with me. The less distractions the better.”

Green set to work. The only interruption came when Red gained a skill increase; due to their shared nature, Green received it as well. He filed that information away for future consideration.

-----------------------------

Erin frowned at the seeds in his hand. Almera had told him he could grow crops with his divinity, but now that he was faced with actually doing it, he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. Erin turned his head to see the goblins looking on expectantly. Shrugging, Erin poured some water on the ground with water creation. The ground drunk the water greedily; the mud seeming to cake into a hardened mass almost as quickly as it formed. With his thumb, Erin pushed a seed into the patch of mud. Frowning at the mud, Erin poured more water on it. It seemed as though no matter how much water he used, the level of mud barely increased.

When he was satisfied, Erin began pouring divinity into the seed. Nothing happened for over a minute. Just as he was starting to consider changing his approach, a tiny cactus bud poked out of the ground. Encouraged, Erin continued filling the cactus with his divinity. The cactus grew at a snails pace, and by the time he exhausted his divinity, it was at hip height. He sighed, having hoped for more. His disappointment was ameliorated by the goblins, who stared at him awestruck.

Erin shrugged at them awkwardly. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Gob shook his head. “You make life. You like big voice.”

“No I’m not like…” Erin hesitated when he realized he had divine power. Theoretically, he was something like a proto-god.

“Well, I’m not a god ok?” He finished weakly.

“If you say.” Gob nodded, seeming unconvinced.

Erin looked out at the assembled goblins, and sighed. He wasn’t averse to the idea of being a god, but being worshipped was another thing entirely. Shaking his head, Erin returned his attention to Gob.

“Alright, so, in order to use my summoning ability, everyone needs to have a name.” Erin used earth magic to pull stones from the ground. When he had enough raw material, he blended them together into a single foot thick slab of stone as long as he was tall, and almost as wide. “I need you to get them organized in a line. When they’re ready, I’ll start naming goblins, and carving the names into this slab. For the moment we don’t have anything better to write with.”

Gob nodded. Organization only took two minutes, which Erin used to levitate the slab so it was upright, and wedge it securely into the ground. The first goblin stepped forward.

“Your name is Gobbo.” Erin said, carving the name into the slab. Another goblin stepped forward.

“Your name is Goblina.” Erin told the goblin. He had already named his first goblin Gob, and felt he was committed to the trope now. This lasted for exactly thirty-two goblins before he ran out of ideas for Gob variants. Erin’s mind searched for another name as the next goblin stepped up.

“Your name is…. Carl. Actually, wait, I knew a guy named Carl M. Capps. Your name is Carl M. Capps now. He always made a big thing out of the M for some reason.” Erin decided, feeling inspired. The goblin seemed taken aback, but nodded his acknowledgement.

“Two names?” Gob asked.

“Yes, most people have two names.” Erin replied, not really paying attention as he focused on trying to come up with more words he could use. The assembled goblins muttered among themselves as they realized he had in a sense granted every goblin two names, though most had started with the word Gob.

As Erin continued doling out names, one goblin spoke to another.

[Then when he named me Gobbo, what he meant was Gob Bo] Said the first goblin.

[That makes me Gob Lina] The second goblin replied.

[Then should I just call myself Bo? Everyone calling each other Gob doesn’t make much sense.] Bo mused.

[That’s a good point. Call me Lina then.] Lina replied thoughtfully.

Erin was oblivious to the usurpation of his naming conventions as he continued the process. By the time he was done, the sun was setting, and he had been forced to expand the size of his naming slab twice. Sighing at the chunk of smooth stone the size of a small houses wall, Erin rubbed at his eyes. After the first fifty names, every goblin had become progressively more difficult. He simply wasn’t imaginative enough to come up with over two hundred genuine names. There were even a number of goblins who had Bob variants in the same way he had been using Gob earlier. Erin snickered every time he remembered Bobrick, wondering if he should send him to the council of Ricks from one of his favorite shows.

By this point the mass of goblins was aimlessly milling about the empty, flat plains; the hum of their conversation reminding him of visiting a bird exhibit in a zoo. Considering what he should do next, he remembered that his divinity had refilled. Stepping over to the cactus bud, He emptied his divinity into it. Under the watchful eyes of the goblins, it grew another two feet. It was now two and a half feet tall, and as thick as his leg. The bud of a flower made Erin smile in victory.

Erin turned to Gob. “By the way, do you guys need to eat? And what do you need to eat?”

Gob seemed puzzled by this. “Knowledge of goblin says yes. I think no, though. Big Voice made us. Big Voice children not need food.”

Erin nodded. “If you get hungry, let me know. I can go hunt pidgits in the dungeon.”

Gob nodded back, and Erin continued speaking. “Alright, so now I guess we need buildings. Do you need to sleep?” Gob shook his head, and Erin mentally checked houses off his list. “Ok. I’m not exactly an expert on city planning, but I think we need a blacksmith, maybe some warehouses to store stuff, somewhere to make clothes, a well, defensive walls, somewhere for me to sleep, and farm-lands. That’s all I can come up with off the top of my head.”

“What you need?” Gob asked after a moment.

Erin grimaced. “I guess building materials would be the place to start. We could make everything out of stone, but just making the wall of names used up most of the easy stone around here. I think I need to go back into the dungeon, and mine the walls.”

“We help?” Gob asked plaintively.

Erin thought about this question before realization struck. “Gob, my friend, how many goblins do you think would be interested in learning proper magic?”