“So, what happened next?”

Chef questioned his companion who somehow managed to look even more awkward than usual. The man refused to look directly at him, seeming to find his boots incredibly interesting today.

“Look, just promise to never drink alcohol ever again, ok?”

“But what hap—“

“Promise me, Chef!”

The man’s scream caused another wooden beam to fall to the ground. They were both standing just past the ruins of his restaurant, The Hidden Gem. After liberating his barrel from the fly invasion, Chef had proceeded to pour a pint of his mead for everyone, but that was the last thing he remembered before waking up not long ago in his home turned ruin. He was just trying to finally discover how his mead tasted, but half a dozen people had begged him not to with tears in their eyes.

“Fine, I promise. But why not?”

Nerick looked away entirely as his eyes lost focus, almost as if he was seeing something far away.

“Please, the world cannot handle a Chef without inhibitions. I had no idea what you were capable of, and sadly only you were able to forget.”

Chef simply nodded before making his way over to the barrel. As he began to tip it over to rid them of its heinous influence, the tears returned to his adventurer’s faces.

“No! Don’t toss the mead; it was delicious!”

The goblin stared at the humans who still couldn’t look him in the eye, confused.

“But what’s the point in making something that I can’t have?”

Perhaps a different group would have been appalled at the apparent lack of empathy that the goblin was showing, but not these people. These brave souls had gone through a harrowing experience together that prevented them from being shocked by anything as insignificant as goblin selfishness. Nerick placed his hand on Chef’s shoulder as he continued to stare off into the distance along with all the adventurers.

“You can still sell it to these people and others like them. I assure you; this would be a huge draw for your restaurant.”

When he sensed that the goblin still wasn’t convinced, presumably by the continuous slow tilting of the barrel, Nerick patted him on the back and imparted what he felt passed as wisdom.

“Part of being responsible is doing things for others, even if it’s unpleasant or hard. It won’t be the last time that such a burden falls onto your shoulders, Chef. Don’t succumb to temptation.”

Chef decided then and there that he didn’t care much for being responsible. Regardless, he begrudgingly let the mostly empty barrel right itself and started rebuilding his restaurant.

“As much as I admire your hard work, I’m afraid we don’t have time for that.”

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A questioning look was shot towards his companion who still avoided his line of sight. All the while, the adventurers began to fight for the opportunity to get into the mead barrel, all the while stepping on a carpet of dead flies.

“We have a meeting to get to, remember?”

Chef remembered, but that wasn’t for another few days. Why was Nerick bringing it up now?

“We have time. If it’s just a day or two away, we can leave in the morning and still get there early.

The man sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as he suddenly found the battling adventurers incredibly interesting. They were, to be fair. The shining lad had pulled out his gauntlets and began threatening to break anyone who got in his way, which was quite amusing for Chef. He liked that particular human and his lust for violence. The lad also had a huge appetite for Chef’s cooking and a seemingly endless supply of coins which only served to further improve his opinion of the lad.

A gauntleted fist crashed into the armor of shadow guy, sending the man to the ground, doubled over in pain as a cloud of dead flies flew into the air from the impact.

“I’m afraid that you were out for a bit longer than you think.”

Chef’s attention returned to his awkward companion.

“How much longer, exactly?”

“The meeting is tomorrow.”

He’d been out for two days? Oh no, then it must have been like his poison fueled fugue state back in that other forest! Looking around, Chef began to pick up signs that indicated that it was exactly like that after all. One corner of his ruined restaurant had a particularly lively pile of vomit containing something that writhed and pulsed rhythmically.

Oops. Looks like I got a little carried away again.

“I promise to never drink alcohol again, Nerick.”

The man seemed to calm down a little after hearing the seriousness in Chef’s voice. Of course, the second half of his promise went unspoken.

At least, I won’t drink in front of humans.

----------------------------------------

“We’re lost.”

The declaration left no room for argument, and yet Chef received exactly that.

“No, we are not. Neither our location nor that of the ruin are the issue here; it’s the pace of our travel that’s to blame.”

A humming noise came from his side as Chef loudly considered the situation. It was nearly evening, and they hadn’t exactly made excellent time.

“The meeting isn’t until tomorrow at noon, but we’ll never make it at this rate.”

A green hand rubbed a similarly shaded chin as the goblin began to ruminate on a potential solution to their problem. In Nerick’s experience, that usually meant more trouble, just of a different variety.

“You’re quite confident then? Positive you can direct us to the location at a quicker pace?”

The man slowly nodded, looking down at his companion with thinly veiled concern. It was late in the afternoon by now, meaning it had taken him half a day before he was able to look at Chef without being overwhelmed by disgust and fear, and yet he still couldn’t see him the same as before.

Not after the horrors he’d seen.

“Then I suppose there’s no choice. Just tell me when to turn.”

Without any additional fanfare, the goblin picked him up, tossed him over one shoulder like a sack of grain, and took off in a sprint. The forest blurred around him as Nerick’s vision bobbed up and down at a maddening rate. The speed they were traveling at was faster than he’d ever moved before, even on horseback, all while being jostled endlessly by the tiny, boney creature carrying him. He fought down the rising nausea, but that only lasted so long. Fortunately for his companion, his bile mixed meal was also green, allowing the addition to the goblin to stand out less.

Chef came to a stop, looking down at his vomit-soaked attire before turning to glare at him.

“Is there a river or creek near this ruin?”

He nodded weakly, his body wracked with the rippling effects of so many overpowering sensations just seconds old. The rapid start had been enough to set him off, and Chef’s immediate stop hadn’t been much better. Just as the goblin opened his mouth to speak, Nerick evacuated the rest of his stomach onto green legs and feet.

Well, they were certainly greener now.

“You will direct me to this river and then we will forget this ever happened.”

Another weak nod was the best answer he could give before acceleration took away the last of his mental faculties. Nerick spent the next four hours retching off and on while directing the goblin to the ruin miles away.