This Quest is Bullshit - Chapter 137

Chapter 137 - Seriously, What’s With the Eyepatch Thing?

Eve leapt back into the pond without hesitation, even dropping a low-mana Jet to hasten her way out of the cave. She resurfaced just in time to watch Drathis appear in the mist.

He didn’t walk into vision, nor did he ride on the back of some beast.

Drathis was pulled.

Twelve six-foot-tall, jarringly white frogs tugged at series of harnesses, each hopping forth in time with the crack of Drathis’s whip, pulling his sled forward in awkward lurches. The vehicle itself stood on two griffin-bone skis, its hard-leather platform stretching wide enough to fit the rat’s entire workshop. His cauldron, drying racks, work table, and even a hearth and cot on which to sleep all made their way onto the sled.

Drathis truly had gone mobile.

The rat himself looked much the same, still four-feet-tall and only clothed from the waist up. In lieu of the slime-coated rag he’d used in the past, Drathis wore a mask of leather, its front punched with a series of holes through which he breathed. Whether pelsid ooze or some other function of it protected him from the poison fog, Eve couldn’t tell.

Additionally, the rat had somehow lost one of his eyes. A black leather eyepatch hid the injury, but Eve could see furless scar tissue peeking out on either side of it.

“Why is it always an eyepatch?” Wes muttered to her as Drathis’s sled approached.

“What do you mean?”

“It just feels like every time you go without seeing someone who lives a dangerous life, the next time you see them they have an eyepatch, usually with a dramatic scar across their eye. Why is it a always an eyepatch? Is there some monster out there that goes around poking eyes out?”

Preston blinked at him. “What in the hells are you talking about?”

Before Wes could respond, Drathis leapt down from his giant sled and approached the party on foot. His first words he directed at Reginald. “Well, ye got big, didn’t ye?”

He did! Art sent in reply. I’m Art, by the way. It’s nice to meet you!

One by one Drathis scanned the adventurers before finally concluding the one with the unfamiliar face must’ve been telepath. “Nice to meet ye too,” he replied, seemingly unaware he addressed the trellac that had so terrified him a year ago.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Eve exclaimed, deciding their situation wouldn’t be any better if Drathis knew they’d overheard him. It wasn’t technically a lie. “When we went inside and saw that thing, we thought it might’ve eaten you.”

“No.” Drathis shook his head. “Planty wouldn’t do that.”

Wes stared at him. “You named it Planty?”

Eve didn’t let that line of questioning continue. “Why not? It’s a humantrap. Those mouths could absolutely fit you inside.”

“Exactly,” Drathis said with a snap of his fingers. “Planty’s a humantrap, and I’m not a human. So how’s he doing? Did his leaves look pert and verdant? Were his flowers plentiful?”

Wes rubbed the back of his neck. “Um… about that…”

“We killed Planty,” Eve put it plainly.

Drathis gasped. “Ye killed Planty? What? Why? He was just a—”

“Homicidal plant that was actively trying to eat us?”

Drathis looked to Wes and then Preston with his one good eye. “I can see how that might pose a dilemma for those two. But ye…” He turned to Eve. “You’re not human either.”

Eve shrugged. “You know, I really don’t think the name ‘humantrap’ really excludes it from eating nonhumans. It was definitely trying to eat me.”

“Are ye sure he wasn’t trying to give ye a hug?”

“With his mouth?” Eve held her foot up. “My boot still reeks of digestive fluid.”

Drathis scowled. “Hmmm. Is there any chance that boot is made of human skin?”

Eve blinked. “I think you’re getting way too caught up on the ‘humantrap’ thing. The plant doesn’t care what it’s called.”

“Didn’t,” Drathis corrected. “The plant didn’t care. Because he’s dead now.”

Wes frowned. “Actually, I don’t think he started caring once he died. You could argue he still doesn’t care. He just doesn’t do anything else either.”

“Not helping,” Preston muttered.

“I’m sorry, Drathis,” Eve said. “Really. If we’d known Planty was in there, we never would’ve gone inside, but once he grabbed me, we didn’t really have much of a choice.”

“I… I don’t blame ye,” Drathis sniffled. “Planty’s as much of a scary bastard as you all are now. I just… I need a minute.”

The adventurers parted to allow the giant rat through, watching with solemn eyes as he plunged into the pond. They left him alone to say his goodbyes.

“Well that went better than it could’ve.”

Eve rounded on Wes. “Did it? He’s not exactly happy with us.”

“Yeah, but he’s not pointing a crossbow at us either. Which… you know… he did when we first met him.”

“I’m just glad he’s alive,” Preston said. “And from the looks of things he’s doing well for himself. Other than the dead pet thing.”

“The new mask definitely looks better than those old rags,” Eve said. “Not as stylish as Wes’s, of course, but he sets a high bar.”

“Not to mention he’s somehow tamed a team of…” Preston Appraised them. “Mid-fifties misthoppers.”

“Is there a lake somewhere?” Eve asked. “I thought frogs needed to moisturize their skin.”

Preston looked at her sideways. “You realize the poison isn’t the only thing in the mist, right? It’s mostly water.”

“Right. I knew that.”

Preston totally believed her. “It’s an interesting setup he’s got, though. Seems more dangerous than just staying in the cave, but I guess there’re only so many resources to scavenge within a day’s travel. Probably didn’t have a choice other than to start taking multi-day trips.”

Throughout this exchange, Wes quietly stared at twelve misthoppers hooked up to the sled as well as the leather whip hanging on a peg at the sled’s front. Under his breath, he finally spoke. “So does this mean he just needs to climb up onto his sled, grab the whip, and—”

“Don’t say it,” Eve cut him off. “Whatever pun you’re about to make, don’t.”

“But it’s right there.”

“No.” Eve said sharply.

Nearly an hour passed in uncomfortable silence before Drathis emerged from the cave, a charred thorn in his hand. “Something to remember him by,” he said. “And possibly a nice tip for a new spear.”

Instead of commenting on the Scavenger’s propensity for repurposing things that perhaps shouldn’t be repurposed, Preston replied with empathy. “It’s what Planty would’ve wanted.”

“Aye,” Drathis breathed, “a chance to keep killing things from beyond the grave.”

He climbed up onto the sled, digging through the heap of bags and bulky items all tied down to find the perfect place to stash the burnt thorn. That done, he stood and addressed the adventurers eye to eye, thanks to the extra feet of height the sled gave him. “I figure ye didn’t come all this way for a quick visit and a touch of murder.”

“We were in the area for a quest and figured we might as well stop by,” Eve explained. “Art wanted to meet you, and we thought we might store some supplies for our return trip at your cave.”

“No.”

“Right. Well. Yes.” Eve stumbled over her words. “Obviously we wouldn’t imagine storing things on Planty’s… yeah. Of course not.”

“So,” Drathis said, leaning back against the pile of junk he’d hoarded on his sled, “what’s this quest of yours anyway? I might know it.”

Eve pulled the map from her pack. “We’re searching for the lost Crown of Burendia. Apparently somewhere north of here—possibly beyond the end of the Dead Fields, we’re not sure how far they go—is where the capital city used to be.”

Drathis scanned the map for a few quick seconds, letting out a few thoughtful sounds as he gazed at the icon for the crown. “Now this is interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” Eve grinned. “Long lost capital of an ancient people. You can see why we—”

“No, I mean you’re map. It’s all wrong.”

“Well, yeah, of course it is,” Eve said. “It was drawn before the Dead Fields were even—”

“Not that,” Drathis snapped. “I mean they’ve got the city in the wrong place.”

Eve blinked. “They’ve got the what now?”

Drathis pointed at the map. “Ye see, right here they’ve got the ruined city due north of Scarrag’s Peak, but it’s actually a fair bit west of that.”

Preston leaned in. “You know where it is?”

“Of course I do! I know where everything is.” Drathis tapped the side of his head with a claw. “All part of my class knowledge.”

Wes sighed. “Drathis, we’ve been over this, there’s no such thing as—”

Eve interrupted, “Can you take us there?”

“I can get ye close, but not all the way. Place is more dangerous than a lonely dragon’s pantry. And I want a cut.”

“A cut of what?” Wes asked. “We’re not getting payed for this.”

Drathis blinked as much as a one-eyed rat could blink rather than winking. “You’re going into that deathtrap for free? Are ye sure ye aren’t getting scammed?”

“Never,” Wes chimed.

“What use do you have for money, anyway?” Eve asked. “You’re out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“So are ye.”

“Fair point,” Eve ceded. “I can give you…” She dug into her pack. “Forty-seven gold?”

“Deal!” Drathis snatched up the gold just quickly enough for Eve to realize she probably was getting scammed, but she didn’t mind. Drathis had already given them so much, so far they’d payed him back by killing his pet. If a bit of extra gold would make him happy, she’d readily part with it.

“Alright,” Drathis said, “I can’t fit the big one, but the rest of ye can ride up here with me.”

Art was the first to scramble onto the sled, excited to try riding a sled for the first time. Wes and Eve joined him, more out of respect for Drathis than any real desire to experience the lurching travel of a frog-drawn sled. Preston elected to ride on Reginald’s back as the drake walked alongside them.

As everyone settled in for the trip, Wes asked a question. “So, how did you know it was me under this mask?”

“Class knowledge,” Drathis grumbled.

“What? Drathis, that doesn’t even make sense.”

“It’s cause you’re the only clown he knows,” Eve said from the back of the sled.

Wes rolled his eyes in a sarcastic gesture nobody could see behind the hideously painted mask. “This sled is awesome, though. I never would’ve thought to use-um… misthoppers as pack animals.”

“Aye,” Drathis muttered. “They can be stubborn, but options out here aren’t exactly plentiful.”

“So you just have to harness them up…”

“Aye.”

“And get on the back of your sled…”

“Aye.”

“And get out your whip…”

Drathis ran a hand along the handle of the whip, giving Wes a curious look. “Aye.”

Even through the mask, Eve could hear the big stupid grin on Wes’s face. “And flog the fog frogs?”

Eve groaned.

Preston groaned.

Reginald groaned.

Art giggled.

Drathis fell over.

Wave after wave of high-pitched, full body cackling echoed through dense fog as Drathis clutched his belly. He laughed and he laughed and he laughed, the sheer inanity of the joke somehow amplifying its effects on him in particular.

Eve watched it all in awe.

When at last the giant rat managed to regain control of himself and climb to his feet, he turned to Wes with a grin of his own. “Flog the fog frogs. How didn’t I think of that?” He placed a hand on Wes’s arm. “Thank ye. I needed that.”

“Any time,” Wes replied. “Sometimes a dumb joke is really the best thing.”

“And you’ve got plenty of dumb jokes, haven’t you?” Eve said.

Wes chuckled. “If I’m gonna be a clown, I might as well be good at it.”

“‘Good’ is a strong word.”

“Sorry, I misspoke,” Wes replied. “I meant to say ‘great’.”

“Alright,” Drathis broke up their banter as he finished lashing down the last of his junk. “Let’s get moving.” He grabbed his whip, stepping up to the front of the sled before turning back to address the others. “Ye might want to hold on to something.”

He didn’t wait for any response or indication of readiness from Eve, Wes, or Art. They had a ruined city to find, after all. Instead, Drathis turned his attention forward, raised his whip, and in a single motion, got the party under way.

Drathis flogged the fog frogs, and off they went.

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