Stumbling Up: A Loser's Guide to Progression - Chapter 57: No Statues for Slugs

"Cole, those kids need our help." Tandy wasn't wrong.

The kids needed help, no argument there. But what could we do?

Also, Leo was invested in the Hunt. My [Heartbeat] skill pulsed with his need to prove himself. If we didn't go it was entirely possible he'd go without us, and our team would effectively end. There had to be a solution that wasn't just one or the other.

"The invitation, though," I said what we were both thinking.

"I know." Tandy was at a loss as I was. Almost three dozen kids lived in that orphanage. Even with Andrew's help and our dungeon loot, it would not be enough. Not long term. Even if we stayed and tried to help, I wasn't sure it’d be enough.

"Richard, do you have any ideas?" It was a shot in the dark.

I think they should invest in a bathtub.

Gods be damned, slug, I don't know why I ever asked his opinion on anything.

"I talked to Andrew while you were cooking. Apparently, pop-up dungeons have become a thing. He's heard a couple of reports through the [Wayfinder] network of towns getting overrun. It's enough to have me worried about Woodsten. Team Abs wouldn't know the first thing to do about finding a dungeon. The Adventurer’s Guild has been noticeably silent. It's the small towns that are suffering." Tandy was spiraling.

She was stuck on it all. Which was great because now we had a third option to add to our list of things we needed to worry about.

"You're not helping." I countered.

We were walking back to Mistress Del's to consult with Meredeath and Leo, our bags significantly lighter. Andrew had insisted we keep a little of the coinage for 'emergencies.' He sounded like my dad.

The Ashborn have always figured out a way to survive. I'm not sure why the two of you think the dungeon outbreaks are your personal problem.

Tandy paused in her next footstep. She turned, looking at Richard.

"Is that how you've sat out the last five hundred years, [Immortal]? It's 'not your problem'? The world struggled with the cataclysm for decades, but that wasn't your problem. If you're even [Immortal]." Tandy stomped off.

I’d never looked at Richard’s theoretical [Immortality] with that lens, probably because I’d never taken it seriously. Tandy was kind of right, for all that it cut.

It wasn't my problem because I couldn't fix it.

We both stared after her as her boots hit the pavement hard enough to cause heads to turn. Her nettle cloak flapped behind her braids. People parted, giving wide berth to her stormy countenance.

"Tandy hasn't met a problem she won't try to own," I told Richard.

Yeah, fair. What buzzed up her skirt?

I smiled. For all of his wisdom and snark, he still had a long way to go before he understood Tandy. You couldn't tell her something wasn't her responsibility. If she was bent on fixing something, it was going to get fixed. Either that or she was going to torture herself and everyone else around her with it. Tandy didn't understand the idea of can't.

I didn't bother rushing after her. Andrew had given us pretty clear directions back to the Red Eaves district. I was going to enjoy a bit of freedom in a new city. Besides, I wasn't in a hurry to have an uncomfortable conversation with Leo.

Eddie's Mill turned out to be much easier to navigate once I took the time to learn it. My internal map had filled in. The central mill and market formed the city’s center, with the rest of the city extending like spokes on a wheel. I passed a flower shop, looking in the window at a collection of fresh-cut and potted flowers. Part of me wanted to pick out a bundle and bring it back to Eryn, to give a little joy to her and the children.

Something about the orphanage had caught my imagination. A different life, a left instead of a right. Fixing up the house with a fresh coat of paint and maybe fifteen room additions for all the souls camped out in the yard. Running the dungeon with Andrew and bringing home the loot.

So, do you have a plan for practicing your skills yet? Richard's question rudely interrupted my daydream.

Uh, nope. I hadn't really considered it.

You need to have a plan.

I started walking quicker. This didn't sound like a conversation that I wanted to have either.

"You’re suggesting I kill myself once a day?" A passerby on the street gave me a side-eye as I talked with my mollusk. I gave them a quick, reassuring smile. They frowned harder and quickened their pace. I guess it was an unusual thing to say to oneself.

I'm suggesting you make a plan for each of your skills, including that one.

"That one? The one that just morphs me into something a little less human each time I use it?" I murmured, this time trying to avoid attracting the notice of another passerby.

Richard didn't respond immediately.

"Don’t think I haven’t thought about this. I’m talking to a sentient slug with what I’m assuming is a similar class.” I let my words sit uncomfortably between us. “What is the natural conclusion to this class? Is [Cheat Death even a skill I want much less want to practice?”

The slug on my shoulders sat unusually quiet.

Strolling through the city window shopping, I smelled spices coming from restaurants and bakeries. I even stopped on a street corner to chat with a young mother and her snuffling kid. It was a wonderful moment to be alive. To be the gelatinous, partial amphibian pet of a slug who could reasonably be mistaken for a human.

"How are we even going to have this conversation with Leo?" I changed the subject. I wasn't really irritated at Richard. I was just feeling trapped. "Excuse me, Leo, but we're going to pass on your ticket to the Hunt, because we've got a houseful of children to feed?"

That's a rhetorical question, right?

I didn't bother replying. His opinion wasn’t what I wanted. I just needed a moment.

At the next square, I moved out of the flow of pedestrians. The town square held the local well and a small manicured park space. This one held a dark onyx obelisk almost three meters tall. I walked over to it, reading the inscription. It recounted the feats of those who fell in one battle of the cataclysm. The names etched on the obelisk were old, forgotten.

It was likely we'd be forgotten much sooner than these lost souls.

Elasira Penragon. Richard's mental voice knocked me out of my introspection.

"Excuse me?"

Elasira, she was friendly. Had golden hair that glowed in the sun. She loved to play practical jokes.

"Okaay, context would help." As I said the words, my eye fell on the list of names.

Lira Hesa, Rsan Talon, Elasira Penragon.

The three Heros of Eddie’s Mill.

The inscription followed with dozens of more names, but hers was third on the list.

That's the problem with caring when you live as long as I have.

A cloud passed over the sun, threatening an early drizzle. I stared at the name. Perspective was a bitch.

"That would be... tough."

I sat on a bench as the first raindrops fell. Richard curled in on himself. For the first time in a while, I felt completely alone.

You’ll note you have seen no statues of slugs.

“You’d have to be heroic to have a statue.”

Heroic and dead, of which I’m guilty of neither.

“Glad I’m in good company.”

We sat for ten minutes, an hour, I wasn't sure. But it hadn't rained enough to get me soaked, just enough to make my gills flex comfortably.

Our introspection was broken with an unrequested [System Notification]:

[Quest Complete: [Missing].

The mystery of Mistress Del's missing ladies has been solved. Meredith Steele has turned in the ring as proof, and the party has received free room and board for the month. Additional rewards may be granted upon talking to Mistress Del. Adventure Onward!]

Tandy and Meredeath must have returned to The Velvet Box and delivered the news to Mistress Dell.

An idea blossomed in my head. Maybe we could reroute Mistress Del’s reward to the orphans. We were going to head to the Hunt and wouldn’t need it. And she was a bit of a softie. Something to consider.

I turned towards the Red Eaves district. It was time to sit down and have a good old family meeting.

Floria would laugh at me if she knew I was going to play the unpopular head of the household. Gods help me, she’d be right to laugh.