[Shrubley, the Monster Adventurer] Chapters 6 - 10

Chapter 6 - Say “Aloe” to my Little Friend

The adventurers stared in stunned silence as Jorn’s club was shattered by that toothpick of a sword. The monstrous shrub took a few steps back and squared up again as if he was human.

“That does it!” Konko yelled, pulling out a bottle of [Firesap]. She launched it at the creature, but it was so small and so nimble that it merely avoided the spreading pool of flames that licked across the road.

Frederick, however, wasn’t just watching and waiting. He had seen an opening in the creature’s defenses and was on him in an instant, stabbing into the fluffy, leafy exterior.

His cruel grin spread wider as he saw the surprise in the yellow glowing eyes of the shrub.

A moment before his dagger struck, a faint pearlescent shimmer stopped the tip and forced it to skitter to the side in a shower of sparks that dropped to his skin like a painful rash.

“What the hell is that?!” he cried, stepping back and looking at the red welts all over his arm. “How did it do that?”

Konko turned and lobbed another bottle of [Firesap] at the creature just as it landed. It was small, but it was clearly inexperienced. She hit the stupid thing square in the face or body or whatever and pumped the air with her fist, waiting for the Experience notification to flood in at any moment.

Fire was veryeffective against wood-type creatures. It was one of the reasons they were out here grinding on simple Wood mana monsters.

To her immense surprise, the shrub stood in a pool of dwindling flames, the area directly around it completely untouched.

It looked up at her, which was a quite a distance for such a small creature and it said in its thin pathetic voice, “An adventurer must always treat those it fights with honor and respect!”

She had heard that before, but she couldn’t remember where.

“Look at the little puffball!” Frederick said, twirling his daggers. “It thinks that just because it can ape our tongue that we’ll get freaked out. Hah!” On the last word, he tossed one of the daggers.

Shrubley pulled up his shield arm, still using a trace of Red essence to not just apply enhanced impact damage, but also to speed up his movements.

Wielding Red essence from [Lifelong Student] is invigorating! I feel so much spryer, Shrubley thought to himself.

Frederick frowned sharply as the little twig-like arm raised far faster than should have been possible. Still, it was nearly bowled over by the impact of the blade hitting the wooden lid that it used as a shield.

The dagger quivered on impact, making an odd wobbling noise.

Jorn, meanwhile, was staring at his shattered club. “I paid 2 silver for this club,” he said softly.

“Shut up, you big meathead, and help us squash this thing!” Konko snarled. “It’s got to have some epic loot if it’s got this much magic. I don’t even care what wizard birthed you. I just want you dead now.”

Shrubley used the tip of his sword like an accusatory finger and pointed it at her. “An adventurer must always keep mercy in their hearts.”

“Hey,” Jorn said, tilting his head to the side, “that’s from the adventurer’s handbook.”

“So?”

The big man tapped his chubby cheek thoughtfully. “Why does a monster know the tenets of the Adventurers Guild?”

“Because I am an adventurer!” Shrubley cried enthusiastically.

This did not have the effect he had hoped.

Rather than attack, all but Jorn burst out laughing. When their scornful laughter had died away, Shrubley stood there, unyielding.

“Is he serious?” Frederick asked, hiking a thumb Shrubley’s way. “There’s no way, right? A monster, as an adventurer?”

Konko remembered hearing about the blessing of a junior adventurer. It was supposed to stop more established adventurers from hazing the new guys before they had even joined.

Particularly, it applied to those who were not full-fledged members, either invitees or those undergoing their first contract. No adventurer, no matter how powerful, could harm a junior.

Even a Diamond Ranker wouldn’t be able to put a scratch on a Copper. Granted, there were ways around it, especially if you were that strong.

Everybody heard rumors of what a Diamond could do, and the Diamonds themselves were not only remarkably scarce, they all had their own secret little agendas that nobody but another Diamond Ranker might guess at.

Still, with the power of a Diamond, it didn’t matter if they couldn’t directly hurt you if they could obliterate the town you were in with a snap of their fingers. Even if you didn’t die from the direct damage, the lack of air, or the fall or the stone that had suddenly turned to bubbling lava would kill you just as easily.

“You are an adventurer?” Jorn said before anybody else could. Which was a surprise. The man was thicker than his broken club. He was useful as a meat shield and he wanted to be a Paladin or Defender when he finished his essences. Not that he had the brains to be a Paladin, but every team needed a way to soak up the damage and draw fire so the real stars of the show could do their work.

Shrubley stowed his tiny sword into his bushy interior and brought out the black pane of glass that was so precious to him. “I just joined today.”

“No way!” Frederick darted forward, a blur of Green essence lending him speed. His fingers tried to snatch the invite from the monster but as soon as they touched, there was a blinding wave of light and sound followed by a strong smell of ozone.

When the others could see, their would-be Thief was sprawled out on the grassy side of the road twitching and smoldering.

“He is an adventurer,” Konko said without quite believing it herself. How was that possible? Monsters couldn’t be adventurers!

“Yes,” Jorn said. He went up to Shrubley who was hastily putting away the invite card. The big man knelt on one knee and smiled his big dopey smile at the shrub, placing one hand on the creature’s leafy… head? “Good shrub.”

Shrubley squealed with delight.

Jorn stood up and turned to Konko. “We cannot hurt him.”

“Yes, Jorn, I think we all gathered that.”

The hulking brute looked from her to the smoldering unconscious form of Frederick as if he doubted they all had learned the same lesson. Then he shrugged broad, meaty shoulders and picked up the other piece of his club.

Without a word, he picked up Frederick with the same effortless ease and began walking down the road back to Taamra.

Konko, grumbling to herself, went over to the cauldron. She was so distraught that she didn’t even notice the [Slime] had disappeared in the scuffle. She wanted nothing more than to be far away from this unsettling creature.

Shrubley, however, waved joyfully at their backs. He even received a small wave from Jorn as they disappeared beyond the bend in the road.

Nice kids, a bit misguided though, Shrubley thought to himself.

He looked around for the slime but couldn’t find gel nor goop of the thing. Still, he took some berries and food he had picked up along the way and set them down on the side of the road in a pile.

“I don’t know if you are still out here,” Shrubley said to the countryside at large, “but here is some food. I will not harm you. Come out at your own time.”

And as if it just occurred to him, Shrubley took the small blue berry out of his [Verdant Inventory] and placed it atop the small pile of food as a token of friendship.

He hoped the slime would be okay.

Shrubley had never seen a pink slime before. No wonder the adventurers spotted it so easily. A slime up here would need to be green or yellow at this time of year. Poor thing.

Quest Complete: Slime Savior Wanted

A fellow monsterfolk is in danger from a group of adventurers. You have rescued the young slime and driven off the adventurers.

Objectives complete:

Rescue the slime 1/1

Don’t die 1/1

Rewards:

Class Experience

[Essence Vessel]

10 [Copper Coins]

Monster Accolades (Common)

Like before, the rewards materialized in the air in front of Shrubley. He let go of his Curiosity essence ability and used the shield like a plate to catch everything.

That really drains my mana! Shrubley thought, glancing to the bottom left of his vision where a trio of bars stood one atop the other. Red for his health, green for stamina, and blue for mana. The last one was nearly at half, but thankfully his health and stamina were fine.

He didn’t have much practice with his essence ability, since he tried to avoid fighting until he became an adventurer, but this was a good lesson. Even if something says it is a low amount of mana per second, over long enough, it would still drain him dry.

I must be careful with my mana, Shrubley decided. It is very important. Perhaps I can even gain more mana by growing stronger!

The first reward made itself known at the same time as the clinking coins and [Essence Vessel] fell onto his shield.

The shrub had never experienced such a thrill of power and invigoration before. His leaves quivered with exaltation as his level increased from 1 to 2. It was his very first level, and even if he lived to be a mighty oak that towered over the other trees, he did not think he would ever forget it.

He felt rather proud of himself for accomplishing a level up and being recognized by the Shard for his efforts.

But his attention quickly focused solely on the curiously pale glass-like pot that was balanced precariously on his shield.

[Essence Vessel]

(Item)

(Copper  Rank) (★★★ Rare)

A small glass pot adorned with runes and diagrams designed to draw in ambient and natural mana types.

Imprint: Draws in mana, condensing it into an essence type based upon your actions and the ambient natural mana around you.

Quite thrilled with this reward, Shrubley tucked it carefully into his [Verdant Inventory], along with the extra–and very much appreciated–money. It wasn’t much, now that he had a better grasp on what things cost, but it was welcome all the same.

After a few more minutes waiting for the tiny pink creature to come out of hiding, Shrubley ambled back onto the road and continued on his way.

He made sure to make a great deal of noise while doing so, which was a difficult feat for such a small creature, but he wanted the slime to know it was well and truly alone.

When Shrubley was just a tiny dark green dot heading into the hills, a tiny pink face poked out from beneath the hedgerows along the side of the road. “Pyuu?” it asked quietly.

When nothing made a sound, it bounced its gelatinous body out of its hiding place and happily gobbled up the food left for it. There were a few berries in the mix that felt a little strange to eat to the creature, but a slime will eat nearly anything, and free food was free food.

Besides, it was beginning to feel more… alive. In fact, as it finished its meal, it had its first coherent thought since its birth just a few years earlier.

-----

Chapter 7 - Bone Hurting Juice

“Listen,” said a tremulous voice at the back of the horde of undead skeletons, “maybe we don’t need to steal milk from the farms? There’s a lot of us, yeah? Why not buy a cow, and then we’ll have all the milk we could need.”

The lead skeleton, who had a deep dry and tomb-ridden voice like a proper skeleton, sighed and rubbed at his bony brow. Red glowing lights in his empty sockets flared as the other undead skeletons parted to reveal the speaker.

“Cal,” said Ominus. Even his name was sufficiently spooky. Cal sounded like a used car salesman, and not even a very good one at that.

“Sorry, sir,” Cal said, shuffling his cracked and bony feet in the moonlit dirt. Compared to the leader skeleton, Ominus, Cal was scrawny and full of more cracks than a plumber’s convention.

Ominus, with his imposing skeletal structure and red glowing eyes continued to stare. “What are we, Cal?”

Cal muttered something.

“What was that?”

“Rattle Rousers.”

This, naturally, got all the other skeletons in on the action. They began chanting with menace-filled glee, “Rattle rattle!” while repeatedly clacking their bones together.

Cal just wasn’t like the rest of the skeletons. He couldn’t help but keep getting into trouble, and trouble inevitably always led to more brittle bones. Honestly, he was embarrassed to be seen with the Rattle Rousers, but it wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter.

He had been risen in the same crypt as them, and that was that. It didn’t matter that he was different, or that they picked on him for reading dusty old books.

Satisfied that the troublemaker was suitably cowed, Ominus turned back toward the distant cowshed. There was a figure in the field lit by the moonlight. It looked like a human smuggling a beach ball beneath her coat.

The Rattle Rousers approached the fence and clambered over it with little difficulty. They hadn’t hit this farm yet, and they needed the milk. It repaired their bones and made them stronger. They weren’t yet to the point of killing and plundering bones from other creatures, but they were working up to it.

Cal was nervous about the whole affair, but since when did anybody give two bones about what he thought? Not ever.

So he shuffled along, mindful of his brittle bones. Whenever one of the other Rattle Rousers was hurt or cracked a rib, they passed the bone down to the person below them.

And since Cal couldn’t keep his perpetually grinning mouth shut with all his bright ideas, he was always at the bottom of the totem pole.

He was more cracks than bone at this point.

Still, the Rattle Rousers tolerated him. And in his current state, what were his options? He was a dab hand at magic, but finding books was hard and turning pages was a chore when you couldn’t lick your finger to unstick a particularly troublesome page.

Not to mention, it wasn’t as if he could just walk into a town and ask for some books, spelltomes or otherwise. If only it was that easy. His entire unlife would be completely different.

Before Cal knew it, they had silently shuffled across the field and ambushed the woman.

Eyes wide, she froze up, as people are often wont to do when approached by nearly a dozen skeletal creatures skulking in the night. That was one thing Cal didn’t entirely understand. Most humanfolk had skeletons hiding inside themselves after all. Why be afraid?

Cal could see the scream building in her throat. He knew how to handle this so nobody got hurt. If she screamed, that would bring the farmhands, and then there would be a fight.

Aside from wanting to spare anybody’s life, he didn’t think he could handle having even more broken bones. A fight would definitely result in that. And the cows in the area had been strangely dry lately, so everybody was suffering a bit of the ol’ osteo.

He managed to shuffle his way to the front before Ominus could frighten the poor thing further and start a scrap. It might even get the other farms involved and upgrade into an affray. He didn’t even want to think about it becoming a ruckus.

Cal cleared his nonexistent throat and held out a pleading skeletal hand to the woman. He would beseech her skeleton. Every human had one, and on a deep level, they understood that it was technically trapped within them.

Cal had some… ideas about liberating other people’s skeletons that even Ominus thought were a bit too far. But he’d seen the medical diagrams! Even elves had bones under that flesh and fat.

But would anybody listen to him? No, of course not.

“We are terribly sorry to interrupt your evening stroll, madam,” Cal said gently. “We do not want any trouble, but as you can see, we are only poor skeletons looking for sustenance. Could we trouble you for a drop of milk? It is not our fault we were risen. We did not ask for this.”

Ferrah Jerbon was on her fourth child and had taken to nightly strolls in the cool autumn air to ease her mind and calm her raucous child’s infernal kicking. The little bundle of joy enjoyed heel-stomping her bladder more often than not, and she would do nearly anything to have a break from visiting the outhouse every ten minutes.

And so, when she happened to spy the undead monsters on her property, she nearly fainted. The undead ate the living. They hated them with every fiber of their being because they were warm and alive, while the undead were not.

Everybody knew that.

She did not, however, know that they could talk.

Ferrah was not a scholar, but she knew you used your tongue and throat to talk. It had to do with pushing air out of your chest. So how was it that a skeleton without lips, a tongue, or any meat whatsoever was able to talk like some dusty old librarian?

In a strange way, the battered skeleton put her at ease. It was smaller than the others and looked one good sneeze away from being graveyard dust. Even she could take a monster like that.

More to the point, monsters didn’t plead or beseech. He sounded more like a traveling scholar than a monster ready to eat her and her unborn child.

She felt the odd urge to tell him off rather than screaming to rouse the men when a much more terrifying and imposing skeleton pushed the smaller one out of the way and came forward.

“Give us your milk!” it bellowed at her with all the horrid darkness of an unopened crypt.

Ferrah clamped her hands protectively on her bulging belly. “It is my milk!” she managed to squeak out.

“Then we’ll just take it!” the red-eyed devil said.

The thought of the skeletons taking her baby’s milk was too much for poor Ferrah and she fainted on the spot.

***

It was night by the time Shrubley arrived at the Haalften farms. At least, he dearly hoped this was the place.

He double checked his contract to remind himself of his goal and objective.

Contract: Run off the Rattle Rousers

An undead menace has been terrorizing the Haalften farms to the west of Taamra, stealing milk from all the growing boys and girls. Stop them and save Taamra’s milk supply!

Objectives:

Stop the Rattle Rouser gang 0/1

Rewards:

50 [Copper Coins]

Induction as an official member of the Adventurer’s Guild

Difficulty:

Copper Rank

Shrubley nodded to himself. There was another reason why he looked at his contract again. To make sure he had not failed yet.

He could only imagine that some contracts were time limited. And even though this came from the adventurers guild, this one might not be any different from his previously completed Slime Savior Wanted quest.

Strangely enough, Shrubley did not need any light to see the gold of Shardscript. Neither did it provide any illumination of his surroundings.

Unlike some monsters, such as trolls and goblinoids, Shrubley didn’t have anything special to help him see in the dark. Nothing innate, at least.

Fortunately, Shrubley had some wits about him, owing to the Curiosity Essence and the Druid’s many teachings. Using the dirty bottle Winmore had sold him, he had captured some rather friendly glowbugs.

Shrubley didn’t know how he had done it, but the bottle and the glowbugs together had turned into an item!

[Bottle o’ Glowbugs]

(Item)

(Copper Rank) (★Common)

A dingy bottle stoppered with a cork, containing dozens of glowbugs that provide a source of mobile illumination when released. Becomes active when fed mana.

Imprint: Impart mana to trigger the glowbugs’ illumination. When the glowbugs run out of offered mana, the creatures return to their bottle to rest.

By that point, Shrubley’s mana had recovered nearly to full, and he gladly sent a trickle of mana into the bottle to make the glowbugs shine with a yellow-green light.

He watched with no small amount of wonder as the glowbugs flew into the air, scattering to the surroundings. Just one wouldn’t be enough, but with there being so many dispersed, the glowbugs’ illumination was more than enough for Shrubley.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Did a few of them buzz agreeably in response? He wasn’t sure, but he liked to think some of them understood.

With the glowbugs lighting his way, Shrubley ambled toward the farm. The first thing that surprised him was the lack of dogs barking. In fact, there was only the faintest muffled sound of distressed mooing.

A dark figure on the ground materialized at the edge of his glowbug light. It was a young and quite fat woman. Her hair spilled out all around her like spun sunlight.

Shrubley hurried up to her and touched her arm with a twiggy hand of his. She groaned in her sleep, but didn’t rouse.

From the Druid, Shrubley knew a fair amount about human anatomy. Though the Druid had not been very keen on giving him much in the way of “the birds and bees” talk, considering he was a shrub. He couldn’t see any visible wounds on her, so after making sure he was unable to wake her, Shrubley left her and hurried on to the sound of distressed mooing.

Voices echoed out from the cowshed.

“I don’t know why she went all limp like that,” one voice said.

“I only asked for her milk,” a worried voice answered. “You would think I asked to liberate her skeleton. I know humans are touchy about that. Did I ask? I didn’t. And yet you saw her.”

“Shut up, Cal,” said a harsh and cold voice. “You did good for once, knocking her unconscious with your weirdness. Take a sip of your pale prize and stop your whining. We have more farms to hit before the night is through.”

The foul fiends!Shrubley thought. They were stealing milk from all the innocent growing boys and girls. He had to put a stop to it.

In true Shrubley fashion, he marched up to the shed until he was illuminated by the edge of the lamp’s pool of light. He stood and brandished his sword and shield of wood.

“Halt, foul monsters and trouble these good people no further! I, Shrubley the Adventurer, am here to put an end to your terrorizing spree!”

The skeletons looked at each other and, now that they were unfolding themselves from around the cows, Shrubley saw just how many there were.

A lot.

And he was just a lone tiny shrub.

That didn’t stop him. He had the heart of a lion, the Druid had always told him, and he wasn’t about to let being outnumbered a dozen to one stop him from doing some good.

Shrubley charged in, sword raised.

-----

Chapter 8 - Bone Hurting Juice II

Shrubley was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t necessarily one of them. He was a quick study, and he understood that sometimes the best option was to charge in and hope to startle your enemy into making a mistake.

A swift kick hit him square in the bushy middle, however, and he found himself rolling out into the cool, dark night. A glance at the bottom left of his vision showed that his health dropped a tenth.

Not good, he thought. Shrubley felt scared, but just because he was afraid, did not stop him from trying again.

“Even heroes feel fear,” the Druid had once told him. And being a man of few words, had not said much more than that at the time.

It took Shrubley a lot longer back then to understand much of the Druid’s teachings. He didn’t hold Shrubley’s hand–or branch, as it were–and tell him what to think or what to do.

He gave Shrubley the tools to do that himself.

Sitting there on his back, dozens of skeletons clacking menacingly and rattling their gleaming rib bones with their finger joints in a macabre tune, Shrubley was truly scared.

But he also got to his feet and gathered up his sword and shield. Because he knew the secret that the Druid was trying to tell him. You weren’t a Hero because you didn’t feel fear. You were a Hero because you felt fear and didn’t let it stop you.

Shrubley rushed in again but dodged to the side at the last moment. He was roughly half the size of many skeletons and despite being outnumbered, he was a small target, partly covered by his handy pot shield.

The skeletons needed a solid hit on his center-mass to do much damage him, glancing blows only hit his bendy green outer branches and leaves which he hardly noticed.

For just being a level 2 soul shrub adventurer with only a single essence, Shrubley was still able to hold his own against the malnourished skeletons.

Twisting on his roots, Shrubley threw himself to the side just as a scything disembodied arm went swoosh through the air over him and shattered against a beam of wood holding up the second story of the barn.

“Dammit, that was my favorite arm!” one of the skeletons cried out.

Shrubley fetched up hard against a pair of feed bowls. They looked like somebody had taken an old barrel and cut it in half around the middle, so they formed two shallow circular bowls stuffed with hay.

An idea popped into Shrubley’s head.

He ducked down again as several finger bones whistled through the air and stuck into the wooden wall of the shed, quivering slightly and wriggling as the fingers tried to unstick themselves.

Shrubley scurried to the side, putting some distance between himself and the Rattle Rousers. Several of them had taken bones out of their forearms and were playing their ribs like a pair of xylophones.

“Rattle, rattle, rattle!” they chanted menacingly, though Shrubley did notice that there was one voice in the back that didn’t seem to get the timing right.

Unlike all the others who had red glowing fires in their eye sockets, that one had a greenish flame. And he looked quite a bit smaller than the others as well.

The largest skeleton of all, with raging crimson infernos in his skull, stopped and turned to glare at the member in the back. “Cal! I swear on my bones, if you don’t get with the program–”

“Sorry, boss, sorry!” the skeleton in the back called. “I’ll do better.”

“See that you do.” Ominus looked at the nearest skeleton. “This thing looks like a monster.”

“I’m a Hero!” Shrubley corrected him.

“A hero, eh?” He nudged another skeleton in the ribs. “Looks like we got a true bone-a-fide hero here, lads!”

Even Shrubley, who loved puns, could tell that one was forced. Judging by the crickets chirping suddenly, the bugs appeared to agree.

The skeletons guffawed anyway, all except Cal, at least. You shouldn’t be able to cringe as a skeleton, but Cal somehow managed it.

The Rattle Rousers advanced as one and Shrubley had to move quickly to avoid being boxed in. He scampered beneath a nervous cow, who kicked out at the next skeleton that got close enough, shattering its femur with a deep crack that echoed around the shed.

The cow, however, turned to Shrubley and gave him a sly wink.

All the while, the glowbugs hovered high above, giving Shrubley just enough light to see by where the pools of the hanging lamps dropped the barn into shadow.

Shrubley used the cows as cover whenever the skeletons got too close. They weren’t the smartest lot, and they managed to break several bones chasing after Shrubley who hit them with his blunt sword and shield.

They weren’t nearly as strong and scary as he had thought, though he wished he had some Red essence to lend his strikes some extra oomph. He missed that extra speed, too.

The mixture of knowledge and power imparted from [Lifelong Student] only lasted so long, and these skeletons weren’t using any Red essence that he could learn from.

Perhaps that was the dividing line between most monsters and men. Some time ago, Shrubley had crossed that line in order to become an adventurer.

Bashing with his wooden shield and whacking with his sword, Shrubley whittled the skeletons down one by one as he led them on a chase around the shed. He aimed to keep them inside while they tried to herd him outside, where their greater numbers had room to move.

“I got you now!” Cal said, raising his staff and summoning a ball of fire that streaked through the air and landed with a hearty whoomph as the flames caught the dry hay and began to burn rapidly.

Shrubley, smoldering a little himself, turned about and heaved the water trough over the feed bowls, extinguishing the fire, but the move cost him dearly.

The skeletons had managed to surround him.

“Aw, nuts,” he cursed.

Cows mooed in dismay.

“We got you now, you little ball of kindling,” Ominus said, grinning wickedly. Though maybe he was just grinning. All the skeletons seemed to do that.

“Think that monster got any milk, boss?” a skeleton in the back asked, snapping an arm back into place.

One of the skeletons, a slim, lanky creature with two extra arms for a total of four delicate hands, clacked his fingers together in an unsettling gesture. “I can milk anything, boss.”

Shrubley cringed at the disturbing thought of a skeleton trying to milk him. The poor cows!

“We should just burn him and leave,” Cal said miserably at the back.

Ominus turned and snorted. “You are a disgrace to the calcium in your bones! We are the Rattle Rousers and we do this the Rattle Rouser way!” He turned to the four-handed skeleton. “Quadlactor!”

Two sets of hands saluted. “Boss!”

The head skeleton turned slowly to leer at Shrubley. Skeletons were very good at that. The burning fires in his eyes flared for a moment as he stared into Shrubley’s yellow lamplight eyes. When he spoke, his voice was full of nightmares and malice, “Milk him.”

The four-armed skeleton stalked forward, all twenty fingers tensing excitedly. Shrubley backed away until he had one foot in the sodden hay of a barrel.

It was time to enact his plan.

As the skeleton swiped at him, Shrubley ducked down, grabbed the sides of the barrel, and reached for the other half. With his knotty little fingers and root-like legs, Shrubley was able to wedge himself into both halves of the barrel and bring them together.

A single glowbug had snuck into the barrel with him. Already, its light was dimming. The skeletons outside were talking.

“Boss, I can milk anythin’, you know that,” Quadlactor said.

Think, think!Shrubley chided himself.

“Sure, sure,” Ominus replied.

“But I can’t milk a barrel, boss. I tried. It don’t work.”

“Maybe you weren’t trying hard enough.”

In an aggrieved and affronted tone, the four-armed skeleton said, “Ain’t nobody tries harder than me to milk anything on these hills, boss. But nobody can milk a barrel. Nobody. Not even Milkin’ Jon.”

Through a hollow knot hole in the barrel, Shrubley saw Ominus turn on his underling. “Don’t you dare besmirch Milkin’ Jon! He was a hero. Kept the clan fed and strong for years!”

This is my chance!

“Uh, guys?” a small uncertain voice said from the back of the group.

“I don’t mean no offense, boss,” Quadlactor replied with all four hands up in surrender. “Learned everything I could at Milkin’ Jon’s knee.”

“...guys?” Cal said, watching what Shrubley was doing from the back. “Maybe we should pay attention to–”

“Shut it!” the two skeletons said in unison.

“Shutting it,” Cal said, while wisely stepping away and climbing over a small low-walled stall.

The occupant, a rather grumpy looking cow, studied him. Cal raised his hands, one still gripping his ancient staff. “I’m not here to milk you,” he said softly. Then, when the cow kept looking at him, he added, “Unless you want me to. No? No. Of course not, silly me. Forget I asked.”

While the skeletons were busy arguing amongst themselves, Shrubley was getting his fingers and toes–what he had of them in any case–into the grooves and splits in the wood barrel.

With the dimming glowbug alighting upon where his nose could’ve been, he rolled toward the group of skeletons, but he wasn’t going very fast. It was hard to get momentum when he couldn’t really see where he was going.

Rather more gently than he had intended, Shrubley hit the first skeleton on the shin with the barrel. It was little more than a love tap.

Ominus looked down. “Stop that.”

“Sorry,” Shrubley said, reversing and rolling back toward the wall. It was quite difficult, but he was starting to get the hang of it. He picked up speed, hopped and bounced the barrel off the old boards of the wall. The barrel continued to roll, now with a sort of menacing trundling bounce, toward the skeletons.

Yes, it’s working! Shrubley thought with a rising surge of excitement.

Ominus made the mistake of lifting a leg to put a bony foot down on the barrel when Shrubley let the barrel separate just enough to poke his wooden sword out of the top and stab the skeleton’s foot.

That was enough.

The skeleton hopped back and, only balancing on one foot, was bowled over by Shrubley’s barrel. One bony body fell into the other as the barrel rolled over them in a cacophony of clacking bones.

The tables were turning.

-----

Chapter 9 - Bone Apple Tea

Bottles flew into the air and tumbled to the ground, shattering upon impact. Somewhere, one of the Rattle Rouser skeletons sobbed over the spilled milk.

Cal heard all the chaos over the stall’s low wall. A bottle flew high into the air with its pale elixir of life. It landed on the soft hay in the stall and Cal picked it up. The skeleton could scarcely believe his luck.

He looked at the cow. “You don’t mind, do you?”

The cow snorted and rolled its eyes.

“Yes, yes, I suppose it is rather offensive. I’ll just… just… yeah, ‘scuse me, oop just gettin’ by.” Cal, with exceptional care, squeezed by the cow and out of the stall.

It was a good thing Cal couldn’t smell, on the account of having no nose, for the cow had chosen that point in time to drop something equally, perhaps even more so, offensive.

It did seem rather intentional.

The bone mage turned to look at the chaos of shattered and spread-out bones. They looked like the floor of an ossuary.

Ominus’ skull turned to face him. “He’s got the last bottle of milk! Quick, you idiot, pour it over me so we can get our revenge on this little pipsqueak!”

It was then that Cal realized the shocking choice before him. He never expected the chance, so he was hardly prepared to go against the Rattle Rousers.

For all the cruelty they dealt him with on a daily basis, he was used to it.

And that wasn’t a good thing.

The shrub monster was staggering around like a drunk toddler, the barrel he had been in was smashed to pieces. A rusted, iron hoop was caught around his middle and gave the little shrub monster a rather rakish appearance.

Shadows twisted that way and that from the dimming glowbugs that followed dutifully after the monster.

Cal thought about this for a moment longer. Here he was, being bullied again. It was all painfully familiar. Would they be grateful if he saved them? No, of course not.

But then again, what choice did he have? He was weak, frail, and… he looked around at the smorgasbord of bones, and he had a buffet of bones to choose from.

I could be the strong one for once, he thought to himself. No more getting bullied and beaten, my bones stolen. Hey, that’s my tibia!

Without another thought, Cal decided to take back what was his right then and there. He didn’t steal anybody else’s bones, and at least half of his original bones were broken or badly damaged. However, when he was done, he finally felt like himself.

His bones. His milk. His life was in his hands.

“What are you doing, you bonehead!” Ominus’ skull shouted at him. It hopped over and began to bite at his ankles. “You put those back this instant. You don’t deserve those bones!”

Cal flailed, unable to get the skull to let go. “They are my bones!”

“Your bones are the ones I tell you to have!”

“Let him go!” Shrubley cried, wrapping his fingers around Ominus’ skull and pulling. There were teeth marks on Cal’s leg and the skull kept trying to bite Shrubley’s leaves and branches, which made holding the thing quite difficult.

“You helped me,” Cal said. He didn’t have eyelids with which to squint, but necromantic fire was impressively expressive, and he managed to get the point across. “Why?”

Shrubley looked at him as if he did not understand the question. Even now, Cal watched as the shrub walked Ominus over to a pile of vertebrae and gently placed the skull atop one. When it didn’t connect, he moved to the next one and the next after that until it connected.

“What’re you doing?” Cal cried.

The shrub shrugged his little branch shoulders. “Helping? My quest told me to stop the Rattle Rousers. I did that.”

Cal felt the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, which he no longer had. Besides, his hands were full. “Then the milk won’t be safe anymore.”

A cow meandered over. And then another one, and another one.

Shrubley backed away as Ominus hastily hopped on a few vertebrae, gathering up more bones. He fiddled nervously with his leaves. “But they are defenseless.”

The cows mooed threateningly. Worse, they unnervingly mooed simultaneously, as if they were all one creature.

Ominus leapt up and tried to attach to the underside of a cow. “Ha ha, stupid cow, your delicious milk is mine!”

The cow, with far more speed and agility than it had any right to, moved out of the way and cocked a leg. It thrust out with such speed that it blurred. When it hit Ominus’ large skull, it shattered the thing into fragments.

A thin, watery voice drifted away as the ruby fires in his eyes winked out, “Nooo, my milk!”

The mooing of the cows grew more urgent and threatening.

Cal jammed the bottle of milk between two ribs. He grabbed Shrubley by the hoop caught in his branches and hauled him out of the cowshed. “I think we’ve worn out our welcome, young shrub.”

The sound of shattering pottery filled the night air, and a fine white powder filtered out of the shed. After a while, silence settled over the shed once more, and slowly the nighttime life of a farm moved back in.

Insects and creatures made their various songs. Cal sat beside Shrubley, watching the shed to see if any more Rattle Rousers came out. He sipped his milk with great relish, all the more for having his bones back where they belonged.

Shrubley got up and ambled over to the recumbent form of the farm wife and, after a little work, managed to drag her gently into the warm flatulence of the cowshed, now with a soft powdery-white floor.

I should go, Cal thought to himself. He said he had a quest. That makes him an adventurer. And that means we’re enemies. I’m still a Rattle Rouser, he’ll have to finish me off too.

And then, hot on the heels of those thoughts, came another: Are you though? You never fit in, never belonged. Who’s to say that you’re a Rattle Rouser? You could leave, start your own clan. Be your own boss. Milk your own damn cows.

Cal pulled his knees up to his chin and wrapped his bony arms around them, deep in thought. The shrub was checking on the remainder of the Rattle Rousers and… was he using a broom? Yes, yes, he was.

At least he was neat and tidy.

And then he looked a little closer at Shrubley. A monster that turned into an adventurer. Everybody knew monsters couldn’t be adventurers. And yet, here he was, defying the logic of it.

It was like seeing a cow eat a skeleton. It upset the natural order of things.

An even more treasonous thought entered his skull. Could I be like him too?

Would Shrubley even accept him, or would Shrubley bully him just like the Rattle Rousers did? He was small, yes, but that shrub was strong.

His first memory was one of pain and sorrow. By the time he was risen, the other skeletons were fighting over his bones, looking for the best ones. They were raiding every coffin in the crypt.

It didn’t matter how much he protested, asked, or screamed. They didn’t care. The skeletons, who should have been his family, didn’t stop until the Necromancer stepped in to make them. And not because the Necromancer took pity on Cal.

Oh no, the Necromancer had laughed at his pain and called him weak and pathetic. Telling the other skeletons that they shouldn’t take the bones of somebody so clearly inferior.

Times hadn’t been good under the Necromancer, and when he left, Cal thought things would be better… but they only ever got worse.

All of Cal’s second life could be summed up in the phrase, “and then it got worse”.

He sighed. Better go see what the little hedge was up to.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he entered the surprisingly clean shed. To the side, the young woman was resting and warm on a pile of hay with a pair of cows flanking her protectively.

They gave Cal an evil eye.

He tried to smile at them. It didn’t do much good.

Shrubley looked over and set the broom aside. “A tidy home is a happy home,” he announced cheerfully. He ambled over to Cal and stuck out a hand that looked surprisingly like his own. No flesh, no muscle, just twigs and supple branches. “My name is Shrubley!”

Cal grasped it and shook the small shrub’s hand. “I’m Cal. Cal Cee’m.”

He waited for the expected reaction, but Shrubley merely shook his hand with an air of gentle ignorance.

“You can stop shaking my hand now,” Cal told him.

The shrub jolted and gave him a little bow. “I am sorry. I have not met a skeleton before.” He circled around Cal. “Are you in pain?”

“Not after that bottle of milk,” Cal said. “Are you going to kill me?”

Shrubley nearly fell over in shock, although it could be the way the iron hoop was dragging at him. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I am evil.”

Shrubley stared at Cal with his glowing yellow eyes set deep in his bushy body. “You are?”

Cal opened his mouth to speak and then stopped. He was, wasn’t he? Everybody said the undead were evil. Well-known fact. It just… was, right?

“You don’t look evil to me,” Shrubley said, peering at Cal with an unsettlingly piercing gaze.

“Evil takes many forms,” Cal said. “Ever seen a tax collector?”

“No.”

Wait, Cal thought, why am I trying to convince him that I’m evil?

Because you want him to tell you that you aren’t, his thoughts spun back on him. You want to believe that you can be like this dopey little bush that, not to put too fine a point on it, just decimated your entire clan on his own.

“Could… I come with you?” Cal asked in a very small voice. A small voice that was used to being rejected. Left out and forced to be terribly, terribly alone.

Shrubley’s yellow eyes lit up like the rising sun. “I think I would like that very much!”

“Can… you teach me how to be an adventurer like you?”

Shrubley turned about face, wriggled out of the iron hoop, and began to walk out into the night air. He suddenly spun on Cal. “You want to be an adventurer?”

Cal’s answer was immediate, and it surprised even himself. “More than anything.” He hadn’t been aware he even wanted it or that it was possible until he saw this runty little green thing lay out his whole cruel crew as if it was nothing.

-----

Chapter 10 - Let’s Stick Together

The pair of monsters traveled eastward to the village of Taamra throughout what remained of the night. Cal had imparted mana to the glowbugs, so they were once again able to light the way until dawn broke over the land.

The growing sunlight warmed Shrubley’s leaves, slowly helping to replenish his depleted reserves of health, stamina and mana.

That was his [Solar Synthesis] racial ability at work. At least, so long as he concentrated on it. On the road, it wasn’t quite as effective as sitting down to rest, but that was alright for now.

[Solar Synthesis]: Accelerated health, stamina and mana recovery while absorbing Solar mana. Alters your affinity towards Nature, Wood and Life mana.

Shrubley supposed that might be one of the reasons he had an affinity for that wooden sword.

So many things were comprised of different types of mana and essences, and the burnished crescent of the sun peeking over the horizon was no exception. It bathed the land in nourishing Solar mana.

He wondered if the moons were like that too. He looked forward to finding out.

Shrubley was brimming with so many questions for Cal, the soon-to-be adventurer skeleton. However, he did not wish to be rude by asking all of them at once.

Instead, he started with just the one. “What kind of adventurer do you want to be?”

“I am good with magic,” Cal said, lifting the weathered and much-loved staff of his. “I haven’t had much chance because I only have a few useless elemental spells. All the skeletons wanted was milk magic.”

“Elemental spells?” Shrubley asked with no small amount of curiosity.

Cal pointed to a small cluster of rocks on the side of the road. He concentrated and Shrubley watched as a tiny bead of glowing orange light formed in front of Cal’s staff. It streaked through the air, leaving a line of light in the cool dawn air until it blossomed into a roaring sphere of flame that scorched the rocks.

“Like that,” he said a bit breathlessly, struggling not to show how much that single spell cost him.

Shrubley couldn’t contain himself. He clapped his hands excitedly. “That was very good! Adventurers need to be able to fight evil, and your magic can do that.”

“It can?”

“Yes!”

“But I can’t even cast the most basic milk cantrips….”

“Do you want to?”

Cal thought about this. “No. I like wielding the elements.”

Shrubley beamed at him. “Then that is your answer, yes? We are now a team. I am still finding my role, but you are a powerful mage already, I can tell.”

They lapsed back into silence as the miles disappeared beneath their feet. With the sun came a strangely invigorating feeling Cal had scarcely felt before. He had never been out in the sun very much, not during his second life at any rate, and that was all he could remember.

He wasn’t even sure if he had been anything else.

But Ominus and the Necromancer had thought alike. They both thought that skeletons shouldn’t be out during the day. It wasn’t spooky enough. They belonged under the cloak of night.

Well, who cares what they want? Cal thought. I’m my own skeleton now! I’ll walk all I want in the sun. It feels good on my bones!

He could see the same healthy glow on Shrubley’s glistening leaves. They almost seemed to shine and shimmer with magical light.

“Shrubley?”

“Mhm?”

“I have been thinking.”

“Always a good sign.”

Cal scratched along a knot on his staff awkwardly. “Um, well… you know I’m not evil… but what about other people?”

Shrubley put a hand to where a generous person might say his chin was. “That is a very good question. People are frightened of skeletons. They remind them of mortality.”

Cal gave the shrub a little side-eye.

“They will welcome you,” Shrubley said with surprising confidence. “You are with me, and I am an adventurer!”

“Perhaps you could… hide me until you are sure?”

Shrubley stopped and pulled out something from within his leafy body. It was a black glass card with the golden anvil and silver hammer emblazoned upon a shield. Shrubley had told him all about the Adventurers Guild.

It remained the most precious thing in the world to Shrubley. It represented his hope and dream.

And he was giving it to Cal.

The skeleton took it reverently in his bony fingers. “I do not know what to say.”

“Say you will be an adventurer.”

Cal took a deep breath–though that wasn’t strictly needed to talk–and shouted loudly, “I WILL BE AN ADVENTURER!”

Birds scattered into the sky. Rabbits bolted through the fields to the safety of their burrows. Several bleary-eyed farmers squinted, but they couldn’t see much because the pair were walking eastward toward the rising sun.

“That card is an invitation to the Adventurers Guild,” Shrubley told him. “A very precious person gave it to me, and it kept me sure of purpose on my journey through the mountains and swamps and even the Riven Weald. It will keep you safe too.”

Cal was honored. He clutched it tightly, afraid he might drop it somehow. If it was precious to Shrubley, then it was precious to Cal. He found himself feeling hopeful for the first time in his second life. How long had it been since he had looked upon the beauty of a rising sun?

How long had he looked forward to the next day and what the future might bring? He’d been trapped so long in darkness it was like he was only just now coming to life.

“Thank you,” Cal choked out.

“We are friends,” Shrubley told him. “Friends help friends, always.”

***

For the second day in a row, the town of Taamra was in an utter uproar.

It all started with that damned shrub. Now he had returned and brought an animated skeleton of all things into town. Once again, adventurers tried to attack the pair, but to no avail.

The shrub was protected by the junior adventurer blessing, while the skeleton was holding tight to the invitation card that rendered him immune to the deadly blows the adventurers of Taamra attempted to inflict upon it.

Jerric sighed and watched the display from the second-floor balcony of the tavern. It provided his team a clear look at the “festivities” without having to get up from their seats.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Fio said with a sniff, adjusting her Wizard hat. “I’ve seen worse adventurers that came from noble blood than that little scrapper.”

“It’s unprecedented, that’s for sure,” their Bard, Remal, said with a languid sigh. “A bit romantic though, if you ask me.”

“You think everything’s romantic,” Henry told him, jabbing a sausage on a fork and shoving it into his mouth.

Remal placed a hand on his spotless and ornate jerkin, feigning a mortal wound. “It is not my fault that I happen to see the hope and optimism in the world while you see the darkness and the depravity! Oh, what a horrid life you must lead.”

“If I have to listen to another of your sonnets, it won’t be just me living a horrid life, Rem.”

“What’s so romantic about monsters, anyway?” Fio muttered, crossing her arms. “Now fireballs, those are romantic.”

“Don’t get him started,” Henry grumbled.

But it was too late.

Remal stood up, kicking back his chair and standing on it as it slid toward the railing. He elegantly crossed from the chair to the railing and walked along the thin beam of wood as if it were a broad avenue back in Sormwynn. “My dear friends! How can you not see that we are on the precipice of a new age? Look at yon shrub and skeleton! They not only seek admittance to our most hallowed of institutions, they seek to be Heroes!”

“Get down from there before you break your fool neck,” Henry muttered.

Remal continued, undeterred. “Even now they’re suffering the slings and arrows of their would-be brothers and sisters in arms just for the chance to prove their worth! How is that not romantic? The world is cold and cruel, but those two are seeking to make it something better.”

The group collectively groaned. Even the squeaking mouse escaping into a hole in the wall seemed to commiserate with them.

Jerric shook his head, but he kept an eye on the thronging street. “There is something very different about that shrub,” he agreed. “I’ve never seen a skeleton out in broad daylight. They don’t like it. I thought sunlight damaged them.”

“Common misconception,” Fio said, thumbing through her spellbook. As usual, she didn’t bother to look up. “Now sunlight spells are a very different story. But the actual sun? Nah. That’s more vampyrs and ghouls.”

With a sigh, their bard back flipped off the railing and landed effortlessly in his seat. “Well, I for one, applaud them. At the very least, you have to admit, they’ll make our little staycation here more entertaining.”

“I suppose they already have,” Jerric said, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “It is rather stunning that no one can stop them. Not physically, anyway.”

All eyes turned toward the crowd of people shouting and jeering as they filed into the Adventurers Guild at the center of town.

Good luck to them,Jerric thought.

If they wanted to become adventurers, they would soon find that not all people in their midst were good, or even decent, folk. There were some people that Jerric had met that were more monstrous than the most vicious manticore.

And yet… he found Remal’s words warming his heart. He did hope that they were admitted and were able to follow their dreams. Just like anyone else had the right to.

The Adventurers Guild might not be all sunshine and rainbows, but it did do good work. If they were able to add monsters to their ranks, perhaps things could get better.

A monster was a terrifying thing to face, but as an ally, they were amazing. The problem was most monster allies were summons or familiars and were essentially conscripted to assist adventurers in one way or another.

There had never been a willing monster that joined the Adventurers Guild. Not before yesterday.

Remal raised his glass of [Balraka Juice]. The pink liquid sloshed around, a million tiny pips shimmered in the morning light like tiny black stars. “A toast, then, to our newfound brothers. May they have the freedom to pursue all their dreams just as we have had!”

Reluctantly, the other three joined in, raising their glasses in toast to the two new adventurers. After all, if they didn’t, Remal wouldn’t put his arm down. He’d been known to keep it up for three hours before, following people around trying to get somebody to toast with him.

Jerric took a sip of his coffee. This is going to be interesting.