"Come on, Kiroth! Fuck its shit UP!" Sareth yelled, her voice surprisingly fierce. She was perched on a relatively dry tussock of grass a short distance away, her usual calm demeanor replaced by an almost bloodthirsty excitement. This was clearly a different Sareth than the one who offered pragmatic advice and shared knowing glances; this was Adventurer Sareth, reveling in the chaos.
Kiroth, however, was not reveling. He was, in fact, in a rather undignified and increasingly uncomfortable situation. He was largely engulfed by a quivering, translucent pink blob of thick, viscous slime. It clung to him, making squelching, sucking noises as he struggled. He’d charged in with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm, his silver dagger held ready.
His first slash had met a surprising lack of resistance; the blade had sunk into the slime almost effortlessly. The problem was, the slime hadn't seemed to care. Instead, it had simply… absorbed the knife, pulling it deeper into its gelatinous mass. In his panicked attempt to retrieve his only weapon, he'd managed to get himself well and truly stuck, his arms and torso mired in the sticky, cloying goo. His skin was beginning to itch intensely, a burning sensation spreading where the slime made contact.
Strength Check (Escape Grapple): Success! (Target 13 / Rolled 15)
With a desperate, grunting heave, Kiroth put every ounce of his new halfling strength into it. He twisted, he pulled, he kicked against the sucking morass. For a heart-stopping moment, nothing happened. Then, with a disgusting schlorp, he managed to wrench his upper body free, simultaneously yanking his dagger loose from the slime’s resistant embrace. He scrambled back a few feet, panting, the sticky residue clinging to his tunic and his new pauldron.
"Are you sure I can actually kill this thing?" Kiroth gasped, wiping a smear of pink goo from his face with the back of his hand. His skin still tingled and burned. "It doesn't seem to be affected by my attacks at all!"
Sareth laughed, a wild, exhilarating sound. "You can, Kiroth! Trust me! Slimes don’t have vital organs like we do, but they’re still living creatures. You just have to damage their… well, their everything, enough. Eventually, you'll send its cellular structure into shock. It’ll destabilize, fall apart, die. Just keep hitting it! Hard!"
Kiroth took a deep breath, trying to ignore the itching. He gripped his dagger, its hilt slick with slime. The pink blob, seemingly unfazed by its momentary loss of prey, quivered and then began to ooze towards him with surprising speed.
Attack Roll (Silver Dagger, finesse = DEX): 13
As the slime surged forward, aiming to re-engulf him, Kiroth sidestepped neatly and brought his dagger around in a surprisingly swift and impressive upward slash. The blade sliced through the pink jelly, carving a deep gouge and sending a satisfyingly large gobbet of slime flying off to the side. It landed with a wet splat in the mud.
The slime visibly recoiled, a shudder passing through its amorphous body. It didn't bleed, it didn't roar in pain, but it definitely reacted. Then, it lurched forward again, a pseudopod of pink goo shooting out, trying to grab Kiroth’s legs.
Dexterity Saving Throw (Dodge): Success! (Rolled a 12 + 1 vs. Slime's grapple DC of 10)
Kiroth yelped and threw himself into a desperate sideways roll, the greaves and pauldron clanking against each other. He came up a few feet away, muddy but free, the slime’s appendage slapping harmlessly against the spot where he’d just been.
"Nice one, Kiroth!" Sareth cheered, clapping her hands. "See? You’re getting the hang of it! Keep moving! Don’t let it corner you!"
The slime, momentarily disoriented by Kiroth’s successful slash, began to coalesce again, preparing for another assault. But Kiroth, emboldened by his small victory and Sareth’s continued encouragement, wasn’t going to give it the chance. His eyes darted around, and he spotted it – a thick, fallen tree branch, about as long as he was tall, lying half-submerged in the muddy ground nearby. It was probably waterlogged and heavy, but it looked a damn sight more effective than repeatedly stabbing the thing with his little dagger.
Strength Check (Improvised Weapon Attack/Attempt to Overwhelm): Success! (Target 14 / Rolled 16)
With a grunt of effort, Kiroth heaved the branch free from the mud. It was heavy, and awkward to wield, but a surge of adrenaline fueled his movements. He swung it like a club, a desperate, two-handed blow, bringing it down with a satisfying thwack squarely onto the quivering mass of the pink slime. He didn't just hit it; he slammed it, driving the branch deep into its gelatinous form.
The effect was instantaneous and dramatic. The slime convulsed violently, a shudder rippling through its entire body. Then, almost as if a plug had been pulled, all its cohesion vanished. The vibrant pink color faded to a watery, pale hue, and the thick goo became limp, liquefying into a puddle of foul-smelling, discolored water that quickly began to soak into the marshy ground.
A wave of notifications washed over Kiroth’s mental interface:
- Pink Slime Defeated!
- Experience Gained: 15 EXP
- Inspiration Gained: General (1)
He stood there, panting, the heavy branch still clutched in his hands, watching the last of the slime dissolve into the muck. He’d done it. He’d actually killed something. Something monstrous, albeit a relatively low-level monster. A grin spread across his face.
"Congrats, Kiroth!" Sareth called out, walking over. She was now kitted out for a proper excursion, a quiver of arrows on her back, a recurve bow slung over one shoulder, and the scimitar Ash had mentioned now gleaming at her hip. "Took you a while to figure out brute force was the answer, but you got there!" She gestured towards the patch of muddy ground where the slime had been. "Now, the best part. Go check it for loot!"
Kiroth let the branch drop. Loot? He looked at the messy patch of ground. Amongst the disturbed mud and lingering puddles of liquefied slime, he could see a few objects that had clearly been embedded within the creature. There was some splintered wood, a few unidentifiable bits of debris, and then… his eyes widened. Loose coins, glinting dully in the crimson sunlight. And a skeleton.
It was a human skeleton, or at least humanoid, partially submerged in the muck. It was clad in rusted, slime-coated chainmail, with a few discernible, articulated plates of armor still attached, once painted a vibrant red but now stained and corroded. On a tarnished, kite-shaped shield lying beside it, Kiroth could make out a faded emblem: a stylized, radiating sun, with a man’s face in the center, one hand held out palm-first in a gesture of blessing or warding.
"Looks like one of Agmoth’s," Kiroth commented, gesturing towards the shield. "A paladin, maybe? Or a cleric."
Sareth nodded, her expression thoughtful as she examined the remains. "Likely. Poor sod. Slime got him."
For as strange and unsettling as the revelations about the temple's moral ambiguity had been, Kiroth couldn’t help but wonder if Agmoth, or whatever forces governed this world, was somehow looking out for him. Being reincarnated, even into a halfling body, was a second chance. And now, stumbling upon this… it felt like more than just coincidence.
The armor, Kiroth could see, was far too large for him, designed for a full-grown human. But it looked well-made, or at least it had been before its unfortunate encounter with the slime. "We should try to carry some of this back," Kiroth mused. "If it’s valuable."
The skeleton wore a leather belt pouch, which Kiroth carefully unfastened. Inside, amidst more slime residue, were a handful of coins – silver and copper – and then, something else. He pulled it out. It was a key, about the length of his finger, intricately carved from a piece of what looked like dark green jade. It hummed faintly with a subtle, almost imperceptible energy.
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Sareth came over to inspect his finds as he laid them out on a relatively dry patch of grass.
"Think we should try to carry some of this armor back?" Kiroth asked, nodding at the chainmail.
"Yeah, absolutely," Sareth agreed, examining a section of the red-painted plate. "Even damaged, good quality steel can be salvaged or sold. This is a pretty lucky find for you, Kiroth, especially since you're still pretty pressed for decent gear and coin right now."
"What do you think this is?" Kiroth asked, holding out the jade key.
Sareth took it, turning it over in her fingers, her purple eyes narrowed in concentration. After a moment, she carefully unfolded her own character sheet from a pouch at her belt. Kiroth, remembering Corym’s admonition, made a conscious effort to look away, studying a particularly interesting patch of mud. He heard Sareth murmur a few words, then a soft gasp.
"It's a Dungeon Key!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with excitement. "Specifically, a key for… 'Sunken Crypt B49J.'"
Kiroth didn't bother asking what a dungeon key was; the name was pretty self-explanatory. Sunken Crypt B49J, though… that was an odd, video-gamey name. Any more needless fantasy exposition right now and he was fairly certain his head would actually explode.
"Do we… do we know where this Sunken Crypt might be?" Kiroth asked, trying to sound casual.
"No, sadly," Sareth admitted, still examining the key. "The sheet doesn’t give coordinates. But if this fellow had it on him when he met his gooey end out here in the marsh, it stands to reason the crypt itself might be somewhere relatively nearby." She handed the key back to Kiroth.
"Well, you should keep it," Kiroth said, pushing it back towards her. "I bet dungeons are way too advanced for a Level Zero like me right now."
Sareth paused, then smiled. "Don't sell yourself short, Kiroth. But you're right, rushing into a crypt unprepared is a good way to end up like our friend here." She tucked the key into her own pouch. "Tell you what. I'll hold onto it. We can consider it a… future Guild project. When you're ready. When we're both ready."
TIME PASSES…
Back in Blackwell, within the surprisingly spacious common room of the River Bear, Lily the blue-skinned, frilled librarian was engrossed in a thick, leather-bound tome. The usual hum of a relaxed guildhall filled the air – the soft clinking of mugs, muted conversation from a couple of members playing a board game in the corner.
Suddenly, the air in the center of the common room shimmered, crackled with an unseen energy. A glowing, ragged tear appeared in reality, widening into a swirling portal. On the other side, she could glimpse a landscape of windswept dunes under a harsh, white sun – a desert.
A figure stumbled through the portal, covered head-to-toe in fine, pale sand, looking utterly exhausted. It was Corym. Liana, the emerald fairy, zipped through after him, looking equally drained, her glow a little dimmer than usual. The portal snapped shut behind them with a soft implosion.
"Corym! Liana!" Lily exclaimed, rushing over. "Welcome back! How was your expedition to the Wastes?"
"Tiring," Corym gasped, brushing sand from his ornate half plate armor. He sagged onto the nearest couch, tossing a large knapsack to the side. "Gods, so tiring. The sand zombies just… wouldn't quit today. Relentless." He sighed, a weary sound. "But I was hoping to farm some decent loot…" His voice trailed off.
His gaze fell upon Lily’s desk, and he did a double-take. Lying there, looking slightly less battered than before but still distinctly recognizable, was Tenacious Tim’s Travels. He’d almost forgotten about the frustrating book.
"Hey," Corym said, a note of shock in his voice as he pointed at the volume. "Did… did Kiroth finish that already?"
Lily smiled brightly at Corym, her frills fluttering with enthusiasm. "Yes, he did! Just finished it a little while ago, actually. Said he hated every single, poorly-written page of it, but he stuck with it." She tapped a manicured claw thoughtfully against her chin. "He mentioned it gave him a few minor skill boosts."
Corym looked genuinely surprised, then a thoughtful, almost wistful expression crossed his sandy face. "Huh. Guess Sareth has been spending a lot of time with him, then. Lots of… training."
The subtle shift in Corym's tone didn't escape Lily. She was, after all, the guild's bookkeeper and quartermaster; she was used to observing details and noticing undercurrents.
Insight Check (Detect Corym's Unspoken Feelings): Success! (Target 12 / Rolled 14 + WIZ Modifer 1 = 15)
Lily rolled her golden eyes dramatically. "Oh, Eleven Hells, Corym, just ask her out already! Honestly."
Corym jumped, his face flushing a dull red beneath the layer of desert dust. "Lily! What are you talking about? That's… that’s extrapolating a lot from what I just said!"
"Is it?" Lily challenged, tapping a claw on the counter. "He's a lost soul, Corym. Just like Sareth was. And he’s actually from her old world. They have a connection you can't replicate by just… mooning over her from afar and bringing her shiny trinkets. If you want to date her, just be a man – or, you know, a brave adventurer – and ask her!"
Corym ran a hand through his already disheveled, sandy hair, looking flustered. "Yeah, well… I know, okay? It’s… complicated." He abruptly changed the subject, grabbing the hefty duffel bag he’d dropped by the couch. "Here, speaking of helping out new recruits… why don’t I give Kiroth some of this treasure I farmed? He could probably use it. Help him get on his feet." He hoisted the bag and, without another word, headed for the companionway leading up to the deck.
"He’s so transparently insincere sometimes," Liana, the emerald fairy, remarked quietly, zipping out from wherever she’d been hiding to perch on Lily’s shoulder. "Using Kiroth as an excuse to go see Sareth."
Lily just sighed, shaking her head. "Men," she muttered, then went back to her book.
Up on the deck of the River Bear, a couple of braziers were lit, and the delicious aroma of something grilling – perhaps fresh fish caught from the river, or some unidentifiable but tasty-smelling marsh creature – filled the air. Several members of the Sugar Beasts were gathered around, chatting and laughing, the general mood relaxed and convivial. Micheal, the floating eyeball guardian, drifted lazily around the perimeter of the boat, its single eye methodically surveying the surroundings.
Kiroth was currently engaged in an animated conversation with Shiela, the silver-haired dwarf warrior from last night. She was regaling him with a rather embellished tale of a goblin chieftain she’d once bested in an arm-wrestling contest. Sareth stood nearby, occasionally interjecting with a dry comment or a shared laugh, her coppery hair glowing in the warm light of the braziers.
Kiroth noticed Corym emerge from the companionway, still dusty but now carrying his laden duffel bag. Sareth turned as Corym approached their group, a welcoming smile on her face.
"Hey! You look like you wrestled a sand dune and lost," Sareth greeted him. "Not going to change out of your gear?"
Corym just stared at her for a second, a strange, almost vulnerable expression on his face, before he quickly shook his head, regaining his composure. "Nah, uh… no time. I’ve actually got another errand to run. Urgent one. Going to be spending the night in the Foothills, near the Old King’s Pass."
Sareth’s smile faltered slightly. "Oh…" she said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "So, you’re just stopping by then?"
"Yep. Pretty much," Corym confirmed, trying to sound casual. "But I wanted to drop off some stuff I found beyond the Desert Gate." He began to rummage through his bag. "Got something for you, Sareth. And Kiroth, actually."
Hearing his name, Kiroth excused himself from his conversation with Shiela and approached them. "Hey, Corym. What’s up?" He grinned. "I finally finished that awful book Lily gave me."
Corym chuckled, a genuine, if tired, sound. "I saw. Impressive feat of mental endurance." He pulled something from his bag – a short sword, its blade gleaming a warm, untarnished bronze, its hilt wrapped in well-worn leather. It was simple, practical, but undeniably well-made. "This is for you," he said, handing it to Kiroth hilt-first.
Kiroth took it. The weight felt good in his hand, perfectly balanced for his smaller frame. It seemed to suit him in an odd, unexpected way, more so than the heavy bronze mace he'd salvaged. "Wow," he said, admiring the craftsmanship.
"It’s nothing special, but it's sound," Corym said. "You’ll still need to gain proficiency with short swords to use it effectively, but when you do, it's a +1 magical blade. Pulled it off a particularly stubborn sand zombie earlier today. Figured you could use an upgrade from that dagger."
"Thank you, Corym! This is… this is amazing," Kiroth said, genuinely touched by the gesture.
"And Sareth," Corym continued, reaching back into his bag. He pulled out something that glinted in the firelight – a delicate circlet, seemingly crafted from silver or mithril, with a single, multifaceted purple gem set in the center. The gem was almost the exact shade of Sareth’s eyes. "I found this for you, as well. Thought it might… suit you."
Sareth’s eyes widened, a soft gasp escaping her lips. She took the circlet, her fingers tracing its delicate lines. "Corym, it’s… beautiful," she breathed. "Wow. Thank you. That’s very sweet of you." Without hesitation, she lifted it and settled it onto her coppery hair. It did indeed suit her, lending her an almost regal air.
"Right then," Corym announced, slinging his now-lighter bag back over his shoulder. His voice carried slightly, catching Shiela’s attention. "I should get going. I’ll be back at the end of the day tomorrow, hopefully with better news about that enchantment focus."
"Oi, Corym!" Shiela called out from her spot by the brazier. "Don’t have any dusty old treasures for me, do you? A lonely old dwarf could use a new trinket!" She winked.
Corym managed a tired smile. "Nope, sorry Shiela..."
"Travel safely, Corym," Sareth said, her voice sincere, her hand unconsciously touching the new circlet on her brow.
Liana zipped from the cabin, nuzzled Corym’s cheek, and they exchanged quiet words. Then Corym waved and disappeared into Blackwell’s deepening twilight, leaving a thoughtful silence. Liana, with a surprisingly audible sigh for one so tiny, zipped over to join Sareth and Kiroth by the railing, the aroma of grilled fish promising a pleasant evening. Kiroth fingered the hilt of his new sword, glancing at Sareth. The circlet gleamed in her hair. Some gifts, he thought, were more than just loot.