Like magma running off a volcano, the furnaces radiated a bright orange. As hot as dragon fire and as sharp as a knight’s sword, the glass master carefully scooped the liquid gob of glass and poured it into the sandy mold.

30 people were inside the smithery performing their duties, either using a blowpipe, shaping, trimming, cooling, or molding; everyone was hard at work as the furnaces roared and commands from work leaders yelled.

“Rainier told you to do what now!? 40 slimes!? You can only kill the fuckers by boiling them in furnaces and I’m not about to ruin my ovens just for that asshole!”

The glassmaker wiped the sweat from his brow and took off his large leather gloves, burn scars and cuts covered his arms. “I got orders to process and I’ve been backlogged since last Hexan. I’m not halting my business for him. Do you know how hard it is to clean slime residue once you melt the bastards!? And don’t even get me started on the fumes they produce. Here, I’ll sign this note saying that you already gave me the 40, go tell Rainier you completed it after his belly is full and his mind is clouded after supper time. But bring me at least one slime! He’s indolent but he ain’t stupid, just bring one in case he starts getting any ideas.”

“Thank you!” Ryder exclaimed over the bickering and flames.

Durge was flapping his shirt when they exited the workshop, “Well, that was an easy quest, huh?”

“We just need to get one slime, and then we’ve finished it,” Ryder said.

“Beats blowing glass.”

The duo marched away from the depraved town and into the fields to the west. The trees of the cherry orchard crested over the landscape alongside hundreds of rows of shrubs. Fieldworkers and farmers were spotted on the land, harvesting their produce.

“Where would I be if I was a slime?” Ryder muttered.

“Under my boot,” Durge retorted.

“Tsk. I don’t know anything about where slimes live.”

“I’ve only heard of farmers complaining about them.”

Ryder gazed at the beautiful greenery, “Then they must only inhabit the wilderness and stray far from man. Let’s go into the woods over yonder and see if we can track any.”

As they headed into the orchards and were glared at by the workers, Durge presented a handful of bright red cherries and little pink berries to Ryder.

“You usually only see these ground up, but don’t eat these pink ones,” Durge said.

“Where did you… Why not? They look fine to me.”

Durge squished one of the tiny berries and a black ichor ran down his thumb. “What you want is the stems of these boys,” he threw the pink spheres over his shoulder.

“Is that what they smoke?”

“Yep,” Durge crushed the stem in his palm, powdery pink dust flew from his hand.”

“And what about the other red berries? Ryder asked.

Durge put a handful in his mouth, his teeth stained a bright red as he laughed, “These are just plain-ass cherries.”

The duo searched for any sign of the slime in the dense thickets. Although it was a poacher's paradise as hares, deer, and foxes roamed the lands, it was barren of slimes for quite some time.

They hacked and slashed through the brambles and branches until a peculiar trail caught Ryder’s eye. It was void of any grass or underbrush, revealing the rich soil below.

Ryder pointed at the path and crouched near it, “Look, It’s like a snail trail.”

Durge touched a nearby fern that was dripping with a clear gelatinous goo. “It’s still wet,” he said, as the fern slowly melted away.

Ryder and Durge followed the slime’s trail in the heat of the afternoon sun. It led out of the woods and into a clearing on top of a hill. They spotted the goopy creature roaming and absorbing a field of flowers.

As they skulked behind it, Ryder carefully strung one of his arrows and aimed at the beast. Durge readied his sword and shield. The horrendous beast loomed over an undefiled daffodil, ready to absorb the innocent with its bubbling feelers.

When the stem of the flower was dissolved from its roots, Ryder let loose the arrow while Durge charged the creature. The beast towered three steps tall and was a translucent green orb with a flat bottom. Durge saw the innocent vegetation swirling inside it.

The arrow stuck into the slime, there was no effect except making the slime jiggle and wobble. With a powerful downward thrust, Durge’s blade cleaved into its body but got stuck as it reached the center.

In fear of losing his sword, Durge quickly pulled it out and watched as the slime’s wounds mended back together.

Ryder approached with his bow drawn but stopped when he saw his arrow sink inside the creature’s core.

The slime didn’t react to the gentlemen as it consumed its nutrient-rich delicacy.

“How are we supposed to kill it?” Durge asked, forgetting the glass master’s words. “The fucker eats all damage.”

Ryder crouched next to it, examining the front of the slime. Although it had receptors on the front of its head that looked like eyes, it couldn’t see. Much like a jellyfish, it had no senses except for physical touch.

“I know what’ll get him,” Durge said with a sly grin. He holstered his sword and shield and took a few steps back.

“Durge don’t—”

With a running start, Durge kicked the slime with all of his might as if he were playing with an inflated pig’s bladder back home. The slime was no ordinary leather-stitched ball; it wiggled with the impact and slowly tumbled down the hill, absorbing branches and plants on the way down.

Ryder groaned, “Nice one, Durge.”

“What? I’m not allowed to have some fun?”

The slime was trapped in a bush when the duo found it. It was slowly sinking into the foliage, unamused and unharmed.

While thriving in its element, Durge picked up the slime with his bare hands.

“Let’s just carry the damn thing to the glassblower,” he said. Durge took a few steps before Ryder yelled at him to put it down.

The slime splatted on the ground as Durge felt a burning sensation on his hands and arms. It felt like acid or hot grease melting his flesh, he swiftly poured his waterskin on the burns and scrubbed it with parts of his now-frayed sleeves.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“I’m surprised your boot didn’t melt the first time you touched it,” Ryder said.

Durge grimaced and shouted curses at the slime.

“How are we going to take this bastard to the glassblower!?” Durge’s skin was perpetually burning. Like scorch marks from the sun, it only hurt worse with every press or dab of cloth on his skin.

“Drink half your health potion,” Ryder commanded. “I don’t know if it’ll cure you but it’ll stop the pain for a heartbeat.”

Durge was reluctant at first, but the pain was unbearable. He drank half his health potion and then Ryder suggested that he pour the rest on his arms.

He took another small sip of his vial before wasting it on his burns.

The redness and blisters that began to form were settling; like a mild sunburn, Durge’s arms still hurt.

“Better?” Ryder asked.

Durge nodded, “Fucking slimes.”

The gelatinous creature was meandering away, absorbing patches of grass.

We can’t hurt you. We can’t carry you. Hmmm. Ryder plucked a fresh branch full of leaves and hovered it in front of the slime.

It followed.

“But we can lead you,” he said aloud.

It would turn when led but grew increasingly bored or hungry when it was unable to eat the bait. Durge joined in picking appetizing foliage for the beast.

The slime was being talked to like a newborn pup as the duo led it out of the forest. Ryder was placing a trail of snacks while Durge kept its attention on the line.

“C’mon, boy! Come here! You want the flower!?”

Ryder laughed, “Try whistling at it.”

“Shut up!” Durge said defensively.

Once they went up the rolling hills and out of the woods, the most difficult part of leading the slime was getting it past the orchard. The mix of cherries and stem plants swirled in its body, it looked like a watermelon full of pink fog as it gorged itself on the fruit.

The slime was dreadfully slow and only grew larger while in the fields. At Ryder’s behest, Durge rolled the slime by pushing it with his shield. The farmers stared as the duo struggled to move the rotund creature.

The evening sun was setting as they rolled it onto the front steps of the glassblowers. They heaved and sweated from head to toe, even the slime looked weary from the journey.

The glass master took a long look at the slime. “Nevermind, I don’t want the fucking thing. The rest of my men left shop and I don’t feel like roasting this cretin all night and cleaning the furnace all morning. It’d probably ruin our next batch of glass if we tried using the oven it was placed in. If Rainier says I didn’t aid you folks, then he can lose the best gaffer of this town and eat my glass,” the glass master set his gloves by the door and walked away. “And ditch that thing, would you? I don’t need it eating my tools!”

Ryder and Durge were dazed and distraught. They would’ve used the slime as a cushion to rest if it wasn’t going to melt their bones.

“All that work…” Ryder said, laying on the ground.

“I hate slimes,” Durge sighed.

The slime would’ve muttered its exhaustion too if it could.

“I guess we go lie to Rainier and say we completed the quest,” Ryder said.

Durge taunted the slime with a stick before throwing it into the forest, the beast gradually followed it, eventually being consumed by the dense woods again.

“And we were supposed to get fucking 40 of those?” Durge huffed.

“That wasn’t what the quest said to begin with. We don’t have the time or the coinage incentive to even go back and find another. Let’s pray that he’s less-than-conscious.”

The pink smoke poured from the room as they entered the hostel. Rainier was on a sofa smoking from a large pipe.

“My favorite adventurers! Did you complete your quest of…”

“Slaying slimes,” Ryder said.

“Ah, that’s right! Usually, I’d join adventurers on the hunt, but what can I say, Drupeton needs me!” he laughed, and his crowd of nude elves giggled along.

“What of our reward?” Durge smugly said

Rainier looked confused and embarrassed, he didn’t remember offering a reward besides the one printed on the quest note.

He cracked a wide grin, “I see what you’re doing there.”

Ryder’s heart was thumping, Durge you moron. He won’t fall for it.

“You think I’d forget about rewarding you? I know what you seek. So here, take this pouch and that sprout on the window sill. May you remember your journey and never forget our beautiful town!”

Durge peeped into the bag and gratefully nodded, it was a weighty pouch of stems. Ryder collected the clay pot from the window, a tiny black seedling was barely under the soil.

Ryder awkwardly smiled, “Thank you, Mister—”

“And by the stone! Where did the sun go?” he got up from the sofa and peered outside, the sun was set and crickets chirped. He went back inside and put his arms around the duo’s waists. The dwarf was too short to grasp their shoulders but it was surprising and uncomfortable nonetheless.

“Now I know what you boys are really after,” he said quietly, gazing at his pile of lovers.

“I know that reward ain’t much, the earth knows I’d ingest that entire bag before my breakfast!” Rainier laughed. “But Drupeton can reward you in other ways besides gold and stems… if you can fathom the fortune,” he winked.

Durge and Ryder looked confused at one another.

“Please, pick one yourself!” The variety of elves looked lustfully at the duo, biting their lips or playing with their hair.

The two didn’t know where to begin, they hadn’t the slightest interest in these strangers.

Rainier snickered, “Okay, fine. If you’re afraid I’ll judge you on your preferences, I’ll close my eyes and count to 10.”

He slowly started counting. Ryder and Durge were both stunned and wanted to leave. But Durge wasn’t eyeing the doorway and the numbers were only getting lower.

Ryder was frantically looking at the elves, wondering which was the right choice. The wood elf? Sea elf? Stone elf? Black hair? Red hair? Teal hair?

“Four. Three.”

Durge randomly pointed at a slender male stone elf who gleefully stood up. Durge only took so long to pick because he was thinking about what to eat for dinner.”

“Two.”

Ryder nervously pointed at a red-haired female wood elf, who elegantly joined his arm.

Rainier counted slowly as he reached the final number, “One… And done. You boys pick your companions for the night? Ah good. Now for my final reward,” he pulled a folded piece of parchment from the waist of his undergarments. “I bestow upon you a letter of completion. I hope the Guild Hall appreciates your efforts as much as I do. Those goblins were a real burden on this town! Now go and take any of the rooms upstairs, you earned it!”

The elven escorts dragged each of their chosen men into separate rooms.

Durge spent the night with the gray-eyed and toned elf, but he wasn’t all too pleased about it; he thought of food more than the elf’s body. His companion quickly fell asleep cuddling up to him, but Durge’s stomach growled throughout the night.

The wood elf threw Ryder on top of the firm bed and sat on his lap. Her wooden choker and freckles matched her hair, while her green robes matched her emerald eyes.

“You picked me for a reason. Was it my body or my face?” she said, gazing deeply into his eyes.

Ryder grew flush, “Well your face… and your body… but your face is also really nice but—”

She pinned his wrists and kissed his neck.

He immediately escaped from her grasp and threw her to the side of the bed. She looked deeply confused and almost ashamed.

“I’m sorry I…” Ryder bit his tongue and firmly spoke, “It’s unfair of me and I apologize, but I will not.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she turned away, with knees folded to her chest.

Ryder felt like he was trapped. He didn’t want to be rude to the poor woman but he knew to stand for his boundaries.

“There was this sorceress once,” he began to explain.

The night was breezy as the moon rose higher. It was late in the night and Durge couldn’t handle sleeping with an empty belly. He slowly unhooked the handsome elf from his side and crept out of the room.

The wood elf embraced Ryder with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek, her eyes wet and puffy as she departed his room.

Durge saw the escort briskly walk past, wiping her eyes. Looking down the hall he could see Ryder in the doorway with a melancholy expression.

Durge went over with a grin on his face, “I’ve never seen such skill in the bedroom before, What do you call that move, the tear-jerker?” he belted out a laugh before Ryder slapped his blistered arms.

The hostel’s ground floor had no food to be found; people were spread across sofas and chairs, snoring relentlessly. There was a bar but it was void of any bottles. Durge would have to start eating rations or stems to cure his hunger as they left the quiet town.

“What are you doing with that plant, Ryder?”

“I shall nurture it as if it were my own, Durge,” he proudly hugged the flower pot.

Durge shook his head, “You don’t have to grow stems if we have a pouch full of it.”

“I have no interest in fogging my brain, I do however want to earn pearls.” Ryder could envision himself returning after a long journey and trimming his plant. Harvesting its yield and filling his pockets with extra coinage.

Several horizons from Drupeton later, Ryder and Durge made camp near Lake Cherry. Their fire roared and reflected off the glistening water. The crackling and shifting of logs spewed embers into the air that drifted into the cold azure.

Frogs were croaking and owls were hooting. The night was serene as the half-moon joined the wonderful stars in the sky.

“Which star is yours?” Ryder asked.

Durge pointed at a random cluster, “That one. Hound-0747.”

Ryder chuckled, “Right.”

Durge heard the crackle of sticks again. Although he was right next to the fire, these sounded dull and distant. He looked over his shoulder and heard it again. The crunching of sticks and foliage was nearing, surrounding the camp.

Durge hastily grabbed his shield and sword.

Four figures stood just outside the light of the fire, peering from the shadows.