Dungeon Life-Chapter Four-Hundred Twenty-Nine

I hum to myself as I examine the high branches of the Tree of Cycles. I keep getting distracted from making my birdkin enclave. If I keep putting it off or otherwise delaying, I might never get them situated! So now I’m trying to focus on where to place it, and trying to not get distracted by thoughts like: shouldn’t it be a ravenkin enclave?

No, I’m calling it a birdkin enclave. I didn’t specify the type of rats, spiders, or ants; the birdkin don’t get special treatment, no matter how many times I get distracted. I had been considering giving them a spot well away from the trunk at first, wanting to give them a clear sky to soar through. The problem with that is it’ll be harder for them to build proper buildings out on the edges, and it’ll be harder for any visitors to get to them.

Though come to think of it, living closer to the trunk will also make it difficult for visitors to get there, just a different kind of difficult. Out on the edges, people would basically have to climb ropes or vines, and that’s a long climb. They might be able to rig up an elevator of some sort, but I’m nervous about putting something like that far out on a limb.

Closer to the trunk, they’ll have nice, thick branches to build on, and if needed, they can make stairs around the tree. Teemo interrupts my thoughts with a mental nudge, and when I realize what he’s hinting at, I ask him to facepalm for me.

Getting visitors to and from them will be a cinch, no matter where I put them. With the fancy new blessed shortcuts Teemo can make, it doesn’t really matter where I have them settle. After a little more thought, I decide to designate a full ring around the central trunk for them. If they end up preferring a specific season, they can expand that way, but like this, they’ll have a bit of all four to choose from.

It takes me a few more minutes to decide exactly where to put them, and I end up choosing a spot closer to the top. It’s a bit crowded, as they’re basically between some of the beehives and the fey spawner, but I get the feeling it’ll just be a good opportunity for my upcoming birdkin to forge their own niche.

I hesitate for a few moments more, then designate the enclave. I’ve had the raven harpies for long enough now that only about half of them gain the familiar progress bars. I eagerly watch them as they mill around for a few minutes, then spread their wings and fly to gather whatever they think they need.

One raids the belfry, grabbing a bunch of different food seeds. They don’t touch the herbalism seeds, but anything that might make good food is fair game. Interestingly, several prowl the manor grounds and scoop up the basic rats that run around there. Are they planning to eat them? It seems weird, but I can’t imagine any other reason to specifically grab the basic rats. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

A small group also starts harrying some of the soil elementals, pulling the accompanying vine out of them before squawking and cawing to get it to climb up to the enclave. That’ll be interesting if they can actually domesticate the elementals. I didn’t think about how they might try to farm, but getting a few of the elementals would definitely be easier than trying to drag a bunch of soil up into the tree, let alone build some kind of farm area to grow everything.

I don’t see any going after the rainbats yet. They’re probably going to test the different seasonal areas before messing with the bats. The elementals are pretty chill, but bats need to move around, and I have no idea what you might try to feed them to get them to come back.

The rest of the raven harpies split into four groups and start building. I can’t help but laugh at their antics as they go, too. My other enclaves weren’t… really smart enough at the beginning to have strong feelings on how things should be done. They just saw a problem, someone started working to fix it, and everyone else followed along.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

My harpies are smart enough to have opinions already, and I get the feeling my birdkin enclave is going to be one with a great deal of arguing in it. Still, they don’t let the arguing get too bad. When they reach an impasse, all involved will try their preferred option and see which actually works best.

I had expected them to try to make big nests, and though that seems to be the starting point for the ones building in spring and summer, fall and winter need things to be a bit more insulated. It looks like fall is experimenting with a variety of wattle and daub: using sticks and branches to weave the basic structure, then smearing it thickly with clay and mud. I have no idea how well it’ll hold heat, but it’ll definitely keep drafts to a minimum.

It looks like winter is hoping to get along with some proper straw and mud bricks, which is enough to make me poke Coda to see if he can offer them any help. I dunno if concrete will be better at insulating, but it should at least last a lot longer.

I watch them continue to build, even as Coda swoops in to offer his wisdom on construction. I don’t even need Teemo to translate to know they want to mostly do it on their own, though they do seem interested in mixing concrete to use instead of mud. At the moment, it looks like they’re building fairly small. Each nest looks like they’re aiming for maybe ten feet across, with a circular footprint.

They’re only making single room dwellings so far, but that’ll probably change as they progress. Right now, a harpy might only need a single room, but as they get closer to being proper birdkin, they’ll start wanting things like storage space, a place to cook, a place to sleep, things like that.

Oh, and doors. Summer can probably get away with a simple flap for privacy, but fall and winter will need to minimize the gap to try to keep the heat in. Spring, I’m less sure of. Spring can get pretty cold, but can also get pretty warm, too. Hopefully, they’re paying attention to what fall is doing, since they need to be concerned with keeping heat in, but also with letting it out when they need to.

The harpies are also a lot more interested in the look of their homes than my other enclaves. While they don’t look shabby by any means, it seems the raven’s love for shiny and pretty things is still strong with my harpies. They’re already weaving flowers into the walls and floors of their nests, and I spot more than a few of them slipping down into the tunnels to get some gems from my nodes there, for decoration.

I wouldn’t be surprised to see a few eventually haul up a crucible anthill to either be a capstone for their nest, or for everyone to tear apart to have some shiny material for their own abodes.

A few delvers wander by, but keep a healthy distance. The more veteran ones recognize an enclave in construction, while the ones that don’t know what’s going on are smart enough to decide to not go messing with dozens of my harpies at once.

The ones still gathering seem to have what they need for now, and I get to watch them try to organize the soil elementals and pop some seeds into them. They start arguing about the best places to put them before they all basically grab one and put it where they think it’ll be best. Some are up near the trunk, secure from falling, but I don’t think they’re going to get too much light that way.

A few are trying to have their elementals follow the various beams of sunlight that come through, but that’s a lot more work than leaving them somewhere to just sit still. It gives them something to do, at least. Between fetching water and moving the elementals into fresh light, the farmers are going to be some athletic birbs.

As the sun sets, they herd the walking gardens to relax near the trunk, then retire to the various nests still in construction. Most of them prefer summer right now, but there’s still quite a few for spring and fall, and a few more stubborn ones huddling together for warmth in winter.

I smile to myself and pat the bonds with them all, making sure they know I appreciate their hard work. It won’t be long now before the bond will fade, and I won’t be able to encourage them like this anymore, so I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts. Even once they’re proper dwellers instead of denizens, I’ll hardly abandon them. They’ll just have left the nest and will have to choose their own path, even if that path is to settle down on the next branch over.