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[This Quest is Bullshit] - Chapter 48: Like it or not, the Answer is Slime

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The source of the noise led them away from the relative safety of the cliffside. Eve felt a pang of anxiety as she turned back to watch the fresh fog roll into the space left by Wes’s flames and the wall of rock disappear behind it. The sound of grunts and footsteps ahead was their only compass, now. How easy it would be to wander in these mists for the rest of their lives.
A duality of emotions washed through her as the silhouette first came into view: relief at finding a guide mixed with apprehension at its outline.
It wasn’t human.
The thing scurried about on all fours around a large dark blob that Eve could only assume was the aforementioned “slimy bastard.” A string of unintelligible mutterings marked its sapience, if the relative size of the strange figure compared to the mass of the thing it’d killed wasn’t enough. When at last the shape stepped upright on its hind legs, it stood only four feet tall.
“What’s that out there?” The high pitch of the shout contrasted sharply with the amount of grit in the masculine voice. “I’m warning ye, ye face Drathis, great hunter of the grey abyss!”
Eve froze. “We’re adventurers,” she answered. “We’ve um… got a bit lost.”
“Sounds like mimic bullshit to me.” A click rang out. “Don’t make any sudden moves. This thing’s loaded.”
“What thing?” Preston called out. “We can’t see you.”
Drathis let out an over-exaggerated sigh, stepping up to the very edge of Wes’s ring of fire. The lilac glow flickered over him. It wasn’t the layer of deep brown matted fur nor the pointed snout nor even the hairless tail that swayed dangerously behind him that drew Eve’s attention.
It was the weapon he pointed at them.
“Ah,” Preston said, holding up his hands defensively. “‘This thing’ is a crossbow.”
“We mean you no harm,” Eve continued her attempt at an introduction. “We’re adventurers from south of Xandria’s Teeth. We got stuck out here and have been wandering in the fog for days.”
Wes rubbed his eyes. “We could need some help.”
Drathis blinked. “What?”
“Wes has been burning the poison away,” Preston explained, “but he’s about to pass out from exhaustion. We need another way to survive the mists.”
The oversized rat furrowed his brow. “I don’t think mimics can use fire magic.”
“Don’t mimics only copy inanimate objects?” Eve asked.
A crazed look crossed Drathis’s face. “Ye can never be too sure.” The air fell silent. Even the dim crackling of the ghostly purple flames seemed to quiet for the sake of the tension of the moment. The seconds dragged on.
From seemingly nowhere, Drathis lowered his crossbow. “Alright, that’s sure enough.”
Eve released a breath she’d certainly known she’d been holding—the constant need for oxygen made it difficult to hold one’s breath without knowing about it. “Thank Ayla.”
The dirty rag over Drathis’s mouth twisted with what Eve could only hope was the giant rat version of a smile underneath. “You’re just in time, too. I could use some help with this pelsid.” He turned away, scurrying back towards his kill as he wildly gestured the adventures to follow.
With a shrug, Eve did.
As they approached, Preston made a point of reminding Wes to redirect his blaze around the massive blob. Drathis probably wouldn’t be too happy if they set fire to his prize.
A pelsid, as it turned out, was a giant slug. At over twenty feet long, Eve had no idea how Drathis had originally intended to harvest much at all from the carcass given the complete lack of any sort of cart or wagon he might’ve used for hauling meat. It wasn’t until he snatched up a pair of iron buckets from the ground that Eve realized his intent.
“Start scraping,” the rat barked. He seemed to think that wasn’t quite enough instruction, as he took a moment to demonstrate with a clawed hand. In a single motion, Drathis swiped a layer of dull green slime from the pelsid’s flank, depositing it into the bucket with a hideous plop. “Get to it!”
Wes hung back, too sleep deprived to risk his control of the flames over a bit of sludge. Eve and Preston shared a grimace before the Striker finally shrugged and stepped forward. It couldn’t be worse than the Lynthia sewers.
It was.
The pelsid carried the distinct stench of rotting flesh, a smell that only intensified as she reached out a reluctant hand to touch it. She scooped a handful of ooze into the nearest bucket. It was still warm.
Fighting back a wave of nausea, Eve turned back to glare at Preston. Like hells was she going to do this alone.
The healer rolled up his sleeves.
It took about four more swipes for Eve to fall into the rhythm of it—about as close to ‘used to’ the horrific stench and mucus-y texture as she was going to get. The bucket she and Preston shared was only half full when Drathis moved to exchange his full bucket for an empty one. Eve spotted four more still waiting for their share of the slime. She sighed.
“What do you need all this sludge for, anyway?” Preston asked.
Drathis’s squeaky yet gravely voice carried from behind the giant slug. “You’re the one who was complaining about the mists.”
“I wasn’t complaining, I was…” Preston trailed off. “The slime helps?”
“How did ye think the pelsids survive out here? They absorb things through their skin. Without their slime, they’d absorb the poison too.”
Preston’s eyebrows raised. “It’s an antidote?”
“I didn’t say that.” Drathis set down yet another completed bucket, moving on to his third before Eve and Preston finished their first. “Stuff’s more toxic than the air.”
Eve’s eyes shot open as she jerked her bare hand away away from the dead beast. “How toxic?”
Drathis scaled the carcass to peek over at the two adventurers. “Oh, relax. Don’t eat it and you’ll be fine.
Eve took a moment to confirm she had no notifications about ingesting a new toxin before returning to her work.
Preston continued his line of questioning. “If it’s poisonous too, how is the slime supposed to help us with the fumes?”
“Same way it helps the pelsid.” Drathis slid back down to the ground. “By filtering the air. It takes some doing, of course, but if ye soak a bit of cloth in boiled and dried and re-boiled pelsid slime, it’ll keep the mists from killing ye. Directly, that is. Won’t stop something from sneaking up on ye.”
“Ah, right,” Preston said.
With another swipe, Eve topped off their first bucket and moved to pick up a second. On her way back, she made a point of glaring at Preston for letting his conversation distract him from the task at hand. He sucked in air through his teeth in silent apology before getting back to work.
Despite having smaller hands, shorter arms, and claws more fit for slashing than scooping ooze, Drathis managed to finish his fourth and final bucket just as Eve and Preston topped off their second. At least they had managed to keep their clothes relatively free of the stuff. Drathis’s hardened-leather cuirass couldn’t say the same.
“Good, good,” the rat-beast muttered, handing off the collection of buckets to the adventurers.
Eve took them all. Her class had started out as a glorified pack mule, after all. Carrying Drathis’s slime was just a return to her roots.
“This way, this way.” Drathis took off into the mist, forcing the companions to scurry after him for fear of losing their only guide.
Eve took the opportunity to fully analyze their savior. Beyond the leather chest piece, the crossbow at his back, and the mask protecting his mouth and nose from the toxins in the air, Drathis was completely exposed. Eve wondered at his decision to go without pants in such a dangerous place, if only for the sake of protecting his fur from getting covered in grime. As it was, he looked an absolute mess.
Dirt and blood and pelsid slime practically coated him, giving his fur a glossy sheen that reeked more than the slug itself. Perhaps he preferred it like that. Rats were filthy creatures, after all, at least of those she’d fought in the sewers were any metric.
Eve shook the thought from her head, cursing herself out for stereotyping Drathis. He was no sewer rat. Instead, she opted to Appraise him like she would any other adventurer in the wild.
Level ?? Scavenger of the Wastes Uncommon Tier 4 Class
Eve snorted, fighting to suppress her laughter. With a class name like that, maybe he had been a sewer rat at one point. It just sounded too much like ‘scavenger of waste.’ Far too much.
The other piece of information she noticed was the class’s rarity: Uncommon. However high level he might’ve been, Drathis was probably weaker than she was, at least from a stat perspective. Not that it mattered—in their current environment, his survival skills were worth far more than a few points of Strength.
Just as Eve’s musings turned toward how the Scavenger had found himself in the Dead Fields, he stopped short.
Eve stumbled, bits of slime sloshing out from the buckets to land on her leg. She winced.
“Careful!” Drathis snapped. “We’re here.”
Lost in her thoughts as she was, Eve hadn’t noticed the stone cliffside come back into view, nor the twenty-foot pond at its base. “What’s here?”
Drathis snatched two of the buckets from her grasp, his shoulders slumping from the weight. “Follow me.”
He dove in.
Eve squinted at the water’s surface, watching as the giant rat disappeared into the depths. She turned back to give Wes and Preston an uncertain look.
The healer raised his eyebrows. “You first.”
Eve sighed, looking back towards the clear pond. She took a deep breath.
Reginald leapt in.
“Shit,” Preston cursed. “I must’ve said that to Regi too. Still getting used to this mental-link thing.”
“Can Reginald tell you if it’s safe?” Eve asked.
“Maybe?” Preston shrugged. “Depends on how far away he gets.”
“Can drakes even swim?”
Preston furrowed his brow in concentration for a moment before nodding his head ‘yes’. “He seems to be doing fine so far. Oh, he’s found the—” he trailed off. “Shit. Shit shit shit.” He jumped in.
Eve grit her teeth. “Can you make it?” she asked Wes.
He rubbed his tired eyes. “If it means I’ll get to sleep, I can do anything.”
They took the plunge together.
Frigid water rushed along Eve’s skin in a refreshing shock. It took less than a second for her mana-infused body to overcome the chill, but she worried for Wes and Preston. Such was becoming a trend.
Her gleaming mana lit the way through the submerged tunnel as she swam, following Preston’s frantic kicking ahead of her. About halfway through she spared a thought for the four buckets she still carried. Looking down revealed the slime still rested comfortably in the iron receptacles, dense enough to avoid being washed away. Unfortunately, the same could be said for the ooze that still clung to her hands and leg.
A minute later, she emerged into the cool of bioluminescent moss and the tense growl of a frightened drakeling.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Preston struggled to calm both Reginald and the crossbow-wielding Drathis. “Reginald is with me.”
“Well, why didn’t ye say so?” Drathis slung the crossbow over his shoulder, accidentally firing a shot into the ceiling.
“He… was visible around my neck this entire time.”
“Was he?” Drathis pulled back. “I thought that was a growth.” He shook his head. “Anyway, welcome to Hunter’s Den. I’m the hunter. This is my den.” He turned to where Eve was still pushing herself out of the water. “Ye can put the slime by the cauldron.”
As she deposited the buckets, Eve took the opportunity to survey Drathis’s cave. It was downright verdant. Moss lined the walls, joined by twisting ivy and even a few ferns in the soft soil around the water. There was probably more plant life in this single cavern than the entire Dead Fields.
Eve was okay with that. She’d rather missed plants. Seeing the same dead earth and barren stone all day every day had grown rather tiring.
Throughout the cave, she noticed a complete lack of any sort of ventilation. Given the poison outside, that was probably a good thing, though it did leave her to worry about the oxygen supply. Perhaps the sheer size of the cavern in conjunction with the quantity and diversity of its plant life could help overcome that particular danger?
Eve sighed. It worked for Drathis, but three additional sets of lungs meant that much staler air. At least it wasn’t actively poisonous.
While Preston helped Wes climb from the frigid pond, Eve took a moment to sit back upon the soft moss and rest her weary legs. Manaheart or otherwise, she had just walked for several days straight.
As chance would have it, her quest decided then of all times the ideal opportunity to reward her for the combination of endurance, bravery, dumb luck, and willingness to scoop slime off a dead slug with her bare hands that had gotten safely to Drathis’s abode. Eve smiled.
Legendary Quest Milestone Reached: Get Your Hands Dirty! +16000 exp!
Much as she wondered why this was getting her hands dirty as opposed to fighting the goblins or visiting the gods-damned sewers, Eve accepted her milestone as it was. She’d take what she could get.
Besides, regardless of how it happened, for as long as she lived, she’d never grow tired of the notification that followed.
Level Up!
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