[Shrubley, the Monster Adventurer] Chapter 72 – A Thorny Problem II

This is bad, the Countess thought, making her way to the unconscious Shrubley. He was the only thing holding these two peoples together. Without him, they’ll start to fight again.

The Countess had grown up through generations of people. Seen their quirky little ways and judged them accordingly.

She had seen parents and grandparents raised from the cradle to the grave. There was very little about humanity that surprised her anymore.

But what she witnessed now, as both monsters and humans alike gently set Shrubley onto the ground and clustered around him worriedly, was unlike anything she had ever experienced in her long life.

For a brief moment in time, the core races and the monsters set aside their differences.

All because of a little shrub who thought he could be a hero.

He wants to use transference healing? Two can play that game!

The spell would be broken, eventually. It always was. But the Countess needed it to keep going a little longer. It was all Boffo, a type of pageantry and show that people needed to keep living their little lives.

Left to their own devices, they’d go back to their petty ways. She’d seen it a hundred times before when some matriarch died and the whole clan came out to try to mend fences.

It lasted all of a few weeks, long enough for the comforting glow of being a good person to fade and the little annoyances to pile up.

But she could do something to extend it, even a little bit. I don’t have much, but you’ll do more with it than I could, I reckon.

He already had done more with less.

Kneeling beside the shrub, she cradled his leafy body. The leaves were stained with purple blood and looked dried and withered from all the healing he had done.

The little hero gave everything he had, and then more. He had to know what he was doing, the risk he was taking. And yet, that hadn’t stopped him.

The Countess used her Blood essence to transfer her vitality to Shrubley. Even though she couldn’t summon her Steel aura, she was far beyond Shrubley’s strength and could bring him back to full without risking her own life.

It would cripple her, but how much would that really matter? She was already weakened to the extreme. What the people needed was a symbol. They needed Shrubley on his feet and leading the charge against the snakes.

That was what the story demanded. It needed a hero.

And I’ll never be one,the Countess thought to herself as her features went from pale to gray.

She slumped to the side as she used [Instill Life], drawing out her own mortal essences and suffusing them into Shrubley’s small form. He drank up her health and her stamina to refill his own.

By the time the Countess was done, she could hardly lift the shrub anymore. She had been tired this entire time, but now she understood what Mistress Ceasewane must have felt all these long, lonely years.

She was exhausted. So much had happened that she wanted to find a nice tomb and curl up in a cozy coffin to sleep for a few decades.

“On your feet, Hero.”

Shrubley opened his lamplight eyes, blinking curiously. “I am… alive?”

So, he suspected.Still, she couldn’t bring herself to be mad at him.

Shrubley took in the owlish stares and the worried looks that crossed the faces of both monsters and people alike.

It was everything his little monster heart had ever hoped for, and more.

He struggled to his feet, then with only a little use of his Copper aura, he carried the Countess in his small wooden arms.

The aura was so thin that it was hardly visible, but it gave him the Strength needed to lift the large woman without any obvious effort. People needed to see that the Countess was cared for and that Shrubley was fine now after sacrificing for them.

Shutting her eyes, the Countess smiled to herself. They were in good hands, even if those hands were made of wood.

“Shrubley!” Cal cried out, vanishing with the aid of his cloak and then appearing again beside him. “Are you okay? Is the Countess okay?”

“She saved him!” somebody shouted proudly. “Our Countess, saving a little ol’ monster!”

“Hero!” Shrubley corrected.

“Yeah, only after the monster saved her!” shouted a different voice.

“Hero!” Shrubley corrected again.

Cluckley returned to the town square. The house with chicken feet was odd and unsettling enough that both monster and man alike withdrew in its presence.

They knew it had helped in the battle, but it was also a hut that had chicken feet stained purple with serpent blood.

Even with several people arguing about who saved whom, nobody could have missed that the death-dealing ambulatory house bowing to the little heroic shrub at a simple word.

Shrubley set the Countess gently inside and came back out onto the porch. He set his hands on the railing gently, amazed at all the faces turned to him.

“You see how much stronger we are when we fight together?” Shrubley told them. “You would have died without the help of each other. Monster and man alike!”

The villagers had to admit, even if they didn’t do so aloud, that there was something different about all these monsters. They had an unnerving stare, like a child that had just ventured out into the world.

And they weren’t biting or clawing anybody, even though there was nothing to fight.

Even the monsters didn’t know why they weren’t fighting their traditional enemies. Clans of goblins should have been brawling with each other or stealing the clothes off the nearest human or elf. Only… they couldn’t see why they would want to.

After all the fighting and battling, what was the point? They survived together.

Shrubley pulled himself up onto the railing so he could stand slightly above everybody and be seen. “The snakes that we fought, the very same ones that put you here, are threatening our home of Taamra! If you come with me, we can make sure that they pay for what they’ve done. None of us can do this alone. We need to rely on each other. I will do everything I can to keep you safe and protected, on my honor as an adventurer!”

And that was when Shrubley, realizing that the green Adventurers Guild badge was splattered with blood and looked like just another leaf, wiped it off so it could gleam in the strange half light of this world.

The murmuring voices picked up. Quite a lot of people had heard about a monster adventurer, but most of them were too busy on their farms or steadings to go have a look.

However, everybody, no matter how far away from civilization they were, knew what an Adventurers Guild badge meant.

The few sullen voices that were still trying to convince themselves and anybody else who would listen went silent. The Guild wouldn’t allow just anybody into their ranks.

A young man with a bandaged arm, the same one who had swung an axe at Shrubley, was the first to step aboard Cluckley’s porch. He turned to look at the others. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some snakes take away my home.” He looked at Shrubley. “You have my axe, if you’ll have me at all.”

Shrubley turned, who was now just the proper height to look the young man in the face, and extended his hand to him.

They shook.

Perhaps, if things had been different, there would have been raucous applause and some light cheering. Maybe spontaneous confetti would have been thrown up into the air.

But such things only happen in stories after the events have been scrubbed of the blood and guts.

Hopping from foot to foot, Slyrox was next. She scampered aboard Cluckley, then danced while revolving on the spot, much to the amusement of the children and young monsters.

Then she rummaged around in her [Kobbie Bag]. With a relieved, “Pssh-koh!”, the koblin handed over a [Spiritgem] to Shrubley. “Gives muchly mana.”

Slyrox hurried inside after the Countess. The downside to [Heartgems], and the other jewels that slimes excreted, was that an individual needed to be conscious to use it.

Lady Haalften’s sacrifice had been needed. The koblin whimpered sadly, looking upon the vampyr’s sleeping form.

The offered [Heartgem] was of no help, no matter how many times Slyrox prodded the Countess with it.

“You better wake muchly soon, teacher!” Slyrox said, sniffling.

Slyrox prodded the Countess just once more with the [Heartgem].

The Countess opened one eye a fraction and grabbed the koblins wrist firmly but gently. She pulled her down until one green velvety ear was near her lips. “I’m fine,” she hissed. “But the people need a show, all right? They need to see that I sacrificed something to bring him back. It makes him important. Go give that [Heartgem] to somebody wounded.”

And then, just like that, she released her grip and shut her eyes again.

Slyrox squeaked in surprise. “Ah, muchly big brain-fruit,” she whispered, then ran off to do exactly as the Countess wanted.

Slowly at first, then faster and faster, the people of the town square filed into the cottage. The wounded and the children were brought inside while anybody who had any fight left in them was positioned in a circle around the wraparound porch.

Men stood hip to shoulder with goblins, who stood beside their long-hated enemies the gnolls, who in turn stood beside slimes that blinked out of sync and probably didn’t know too much of what was really going on but were happy to be there all the same.

The last to arrive were a bunch of cows who had a mad glint in their rolling eyes. They had been among the fiercest of fighters, standing on their back hooves with a goblin working their udders like a machine gunner.

Tiny bolts of sharpened bone still littered the town square and people gave the cows and their trusted goblin attendants a wide berth.

Monsters, sure, that was one thing, but monster cows? That was a bit too far for most of the simple farmers to wrap their head around.

What was next? Demonic chickens?

They were happy for the aid, but they weren’t exactly comfortable.

Rising on her large chicken feet, Cluckley rose to her full five-story height and stepped over the tiny walls of Taamra.

People stamped their feet and blew on their hands to add a little warmth to them. Only after the battle was over did they begin to realize how oddly cold it was here. Monster and man huddled together for warmth.

Shrubley took up position on top of the railing, gripping a nearby pole that held the roof up. From here, he could see the few fleeing serpentii making for the road with all haste.

Cluckley caught up to them with ease.

Those that the witch hut didn’t crush into the freezing cold dirt scattered into the trees that were exploding from the sudden dip in temperatures.