Psilocybin Twenty-Five

This was... bad.

Still, I couldn’t just panic. I had to figure out what to do, but that required a cool head. A cool head, and a space devoid of enemies.

I walked to each body, making sure that they were dead.

I didn’t know what I would do if they weren’t. Someone dying because they had been caught in one of my spells, or by some spores, was one thing. They had started it, after all. Finding out that I’d have to put someone out of their misery was... well, it was asking for a lot.

Fortunately, all four of the people here were dead as doornails.

I looked over their gear, and a small part of my mind went a little feral, but it wasn’t time to go all loot-goblin on these folks. There would be a more appropriate time for that later.

First, a check on myself and Sir Nibbles. I was fine. More or less. Winded, a little bruised, and my magic reserves were low, but that would all be fixed in time.

Sir Nibbles had definitely been struck, however.

I ran after him, only pausing for a split second to scoop up the sword of one of the delvers. It was lighter than I would have thought, even though it was as long as one of my legs. I would have tried for the mage’s rapier, but it looked complicated, and this weapon was easier to grab on the go.

Rounding the corner, I found Sir Nibbles a dozen steps in, panting on his side. Next to him was the trapfinder. The man’s neck had blossomed open, and he was laying on his face, pressed into the ground as though he had fallen mid-stride. He likely had.

“Nibbles!” I said as I sprinted over. “Are you okay? Let me see.”

The panbadger hissed at me as I touched him, but he didn’t bite. Instead, he let me touch his bleeding side and move his blood-matted fur aside.

That was a nasty cut. It went under the skin for a ways, and I couldn’t be sure that nothing was punctured. Still... I pressed a hand over his side. No noticeable increase in temperature. The bleeding had slowed down, but it was still ongoing, pooling around him.

“Shit,” was my prognosis, sworn under my breath.

Only... I looked up, to the trapfinder, who had a lot of belts around his chest and a satchel at his side.

I leaned over Sir Nibbles and pulled the corpse closer. Someone like this would certainly have a few tools on him, and he did. Foldable rods, lockpicks, spare knives, and potions. He had an entire bandoleer of them, and the genius had them all labelled still.

I squinted at the small paper tags. Was there any chance that they were purposefully mislabeled? Yes, but that would require a level of paranoia that I wasn’t ready to accept.

Someone who was an expert like this wouldn’t do that. What if he needed the potion and was unconscious? These were as much for others as himself.

So, I ran through the ones he'd had, then let out a sigh as I found two that were appropriate. A rapid coagulation potion, meant to be spilled over an open wound, and a potion of healing.

That latter was in a glass bottle with a small metal cage around it. It was probably worth a month’s pay for a man like this.

I grabbed the canteen at his side, then sniffed it before pouring it out onto Sir Nibbles, then I did the same with the coagulation potion. “Stop squirming,” I said. “This will heal you.”

Next, the potion. I sniffed it, took a sip, then almost gagged.

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Expensive it might be, but tasty it was not. Still, I could feel the magical energy in the potion coursing through me, and even if I wasn’t an expert, it felt right for a potion of healing.

So, I forced Sir Nibble’s mouth open and had him down the rest. I winced at every spat out drop of the potion that ended up on the sewer floor. Probably a year’s worth of work for the average factory man, spilled out carelessly. Still, enough made it down his gullet. It would help.

I started to loot, looking for bandages and other medical supplies, and I quickly struck gold. The man was prepared, I’d give him that.

Soon, Sir Nibbles looked part-mummy, and was breathing a little more steadily. I’d have to find a vet once we were out of here, to make sure, but at least I was a lot more confident that we would be getting out of here alive. That was good.

I pet his head a little, then laid him down in a shadowy corner. “Stay here, hiss if you hear anyone,” I said.

Sir Nibble grunted, and then I took off, back to the bodies.

There was looting to do, and unfortunately I had too many prizes before me. The mage alone was... a lot. His coat was made of some sort of magical material, his clothes were fine, well-tailoured, and probably worth a small fortune. His boots... those were just really nice boots.

Unfortunately, none of it was anywhere near my size, and if there were people already scouting the inside of the dungeon with a shoot-first attitude, I couldn’t afford to load up on anything heavy.

I stared at his rapier. It was real nice. Gems in the hilt, a faint magical resonance. The thing was probably worth an entire street in the slums.

I almost cried as I tossed it into the sewers, letting it splash in the water.

That thing was bespoke. It could be traced back to me. And I only thought about ripping the gems out after it was in the drink. Oops?

I was a little more careful with the other’s gear, but while there was a lot of stuff that I would have loved to grab, I had to be realistic. The armour wouldn’t fit, and it would slow me down, the gear likewise. They hadn’t brought much by means of coin, though I did get a few pounds from all of them. They had a few odd coins in pouches and such.

Potions I piled up to the side, as well as anything small and useful. Food as well. If I was going to be down here for any amount of time more, I’d want proper food, not just mushrooms. Plus, these guys hadn’t brought bottom-shelf stuff. No spam here. They had real canned food.

I ended up opening my own bags and transferring the things I really wanted to keep into one of the delver’s much nicer bags. Then I checked it over again to make sure there were no distinguishing marks. I didn’t need to have someone discover that I’d stolen it.

The things that I decided that I could loot were small, or better quality copies of what I had already. A can opener that wasn’t rusty, a good camp knife, the aforementioned food, and a selection of potions and elixirs. A lot of those I’d be leaving behind, they either did something I could do already, or didn’t seem useful, but some would be nice to have.

I packed everything up, then slowly pushed the bodies off the side, letting them splash into the sewers to slowly sink under the muck.

Sir Nibbles was sleeping when I returned, a little uncharacteristic, but he woke up and complained when I grabbed him and stuffed him into my new satchel. He had energy, and wasn’t feverish.

I’d found a second healing potion, though it looked a lot cheaper and was nearing expiry. Still, if I saw his condition worsening, I’d give him that. I did encourage him to eat the last of my healing mushrooms, just as a minor pick-me-up.

Now... what was next?

Obviously, there were people searching the dungeon. Was that the only team sent down?

I... wouldn’t bet on it, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn't a second team. The people in charge of delving and the like were often very competitive, they wouldn’t so casually allow another team to delve while they could be the ones to go down and reap the glory.

Was I willing to gamble on that possibility?

No, not really.

I kept a mushroom bomb in one hand, and my borrowed sword in the other as I navigated through the floor.

On reaching the end, I climbed the stars, ears peeled. There was also the possibility that if there were others down here, I would miss them. The dungeon wasn’t small, by any means, and I ran into some living monsters here and there. Which was a good sign. I tried to slip by without notice where I could, something that the others were unlikely to do.

Soon enough, somehow, I was back at the top. Tired, sweaty, and a little annoyed. It was, judging by the light I could see through the entrance, late in the evening, but not so late that it was fully night.

Now what?

Make a run for it?

That was... doable, maybe.

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