"On the bright side, we can rest easy with these little... surveillance drones perched up in the trees at night." Quintin mused out loud.
He dug around in his [Inventory] and pulled out a hooded cloak from PanQuil. Before leaving there he bought a few sets of everyday clothing, including a few inexpensive cloaks to match. These garments had just the right fit for Quintin, but for Hedon, the length would trip him up while walking.
To accommodate the tiny goblin, he folded the bottom portion in, creating two layers of fabric. Then bent some nails into makeshift clasps to fasten the pieces together. Nothing fancy, but it would do in a pinch.
While appraising the bulkier cloak, he spoke with a shrug, "Here, wear this Hedon. It'll have to do until we make it to another town. It should go without saying, but don't take the hood down unless I tell you otherwise."
Hedon took the conical cloak from his outstretched hand. Some of the less manic heads came over with buoyant curiosity. Having only one hand made things difficult, but with a little help from friendly mouths and tendrils, he successfully threw it over his body.
He spoke from inside the baggy hood, akin to a dried-out river bed, "Will wear always. Much thanks you."
Perhaps some dignity yet remained within the shaman goblin. The trappings of intelligence often yielded the importance of a proper appearance. In that regard, Hedon was no different than any other, twisted up by corruption though he may be.
After looting what he could from the battlefield, they all made it into the quiet campsite. A squirming mass of darkened faces peered out from underneath Hedon's cloak. Quintin pressed ahead of that unsettling imagery with a hitherto unseen tempo.
Along the way to the command tent, he paused to ransack the smaller ones that caught his eye. Most of them housed a pile of garbage, but he did manage to salvage a two-handed axe and an assortment of various sundries in his haste.
Nearer to his true objective, the sound of whispers and sobbing came from the main canvas. Worry and doubt dominated the contents of their muted conversation. The tent situated itself beside Niagelus' feeler, which split the camp into two halves. He may have found it eerily out of place if not for the tragic tale of a dragon and his beard.
He went through the entrance much like last time, but without a dramatic tumble. Oversized furniture lent an air of peculiarity to the spacious interior. On a round table at the center laid a scattershot of documents and various items for the taking. However, the most eye-catching of all were the prisoners. They cowered within a row of individual cells at the far end.
As far as Quintin was concerned, these people had endured enough. So, with prior experience on his side, he freed them in due course. They were thankful but shaky and traumatized. Glad to be alive and unbound. Though what was lost would remain an immortal relic in their mind's eye.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
The group was composed of different races, who all shared the same belief to hurry out. Understandably, they refused to stay there even one moment longer. Meanwhile, Quintin took the opportunity to clean the place out, including the tent itself.
With the loot handily secured inside [Inventory], he let out a sigh of relief. Somehow, he managed to rescue everyone in one piece. Not only that, but the flawless [Quest] completion guaranteed a plentiful reward.
[Quest Chain]:
[Along Came Some Bandits]: [√]
[Under a Serpent Canopy]: [√]
—Rank: Rare
—Zone: Nagelroot Hills
—Action: Elimination
[√]1. Defeat the [Dragonkin] controllers.
—oCount: 5/5
[√]2.Eliminate: collared monsters and beasts.
—oCount: 5/5 camps
[√]3. Optional: rescue Laszlo's comrades.
—oCount: 15/15 rescued
4. ????
Rewards: [Quest] EXP. & [Gore Travelers] item [Quest Reward]:
[Gore Travelers]
—Unique
—Military Prototype
—Sabatons of Repurposing
Wherever there is gore,
there is hope.
•4x Damage Multiplier
•Passive: picks up and stores [Gore] in an internal pocket space.
•Summon: [Gore Fiend] with size and power proportional to the amount of [Gore] inside the pocket space.
—○[Gore Fiend] expends its biomass over time and with every action.
—○Stored [Gore]: 2.7 tons
"two point seven tons..." Quintin unconsciously mumbled, "That's like, almost two cars..."
The elfin head of Vissitri tilted in confusion. [Si-Si-Si. Should I be worried? Did Hedon's brand of crazy infect you already?]
More than a little creeped out, he shared the details on [Gore Travelers]. Nothing he wore would remain a secret for very long. Besides that, he needed a second opinion on whether it was even legal to use such an obscene item.
"Maybe I am taking crazy pills, but there's a certain novelty that fascinates me. Hope where only desolation remains..." He let the optimistic outlook hang.
Unsurprisingly, Vissitri shared fewer reservations about their function. [Crazy would be not using such a powerful item. If you let others dictate the terms of your survival, the list of approved methods will only grow shorter; until your life is as well.]
Every now and again, the fluffy critter made a lot of sense. What was the point of his [Pneumatic] upgrades? This whole time, it seemed logical to strive for personal power. In that case, what possible scruples did he have about relying on alternative sources of power? Even by that sensibility, summoning a [Gore Fiend] seemed out of pocket. At any rate, simply wearing the [Gore Travelers] cost him nothing.
With that in mind, he put them on over his [Pneumatic] feet. The pointy devils went digging for murder in every footstep. Whether they found it or not, the weight made for an uncomfortable experience. The [System] gave an unconventional reward this time, however that desolate potential brought him one step closer to being a player.