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Stumbling Up: A Loser's Guide to Progression - Chapter 2: Drunken Consequences
🕑 Added 2025-06-24 14:45:27 +0000 UTCYou're lucky we're already bonded.
"I'm sorry,” I said, immediately hating how whiny it sounded. I was apologizing to a slug. This was a new low.
A gentleman may have helped Richard out of the compost bin, but my stomach clenched at the thought. I didn’t want to add to my disgrace. Instead, I leaned against the sink, trying to face it all.
Two yellow tentacles breached the top of the bin. They waved in the air, almost sniffing before focusing on me. Inching forward, a tiny fanged mouth appeared.
We had banana slugs in the forests around Woodsten, but I’d never seen one fanged. I’d never heard of an [Adventurer] bonding something so slimy. At almost a foot long, he was the most enormous banana slug I’d encountered, which wasn’t saying a lot.
"I'd help, but I'm not sure I trust my stomach..." My voice trailed off as I watched Richard shimmer with a soft yellow energy, bits of compost and unmentionables slid right off like water off a duck’s back. My yellow companion pulled the rest of his larger-than-average body onto the rim of the barrel.
One of the first skills I picked up as an [Adventurer]. No one likes a dirty... never mind. So you're Cole?
By the tone of his mental voice, I could tell that Richard found me as wanting as I saw him. At least we could commiserate in our disappointment.
"I am Cole, newly minted, unprepared [Provisional Adventurer]." I stood, straightening my shoulders, lifting my chin, trying to strike a heroic pose for the foot-long slug.
The stained apron must go, but I can work with this.
Doubling down, I grabbed my plate scraper, thrusting it into the air like some magical heirloom sword. I tilted my head to show off my five o’clock shadow and ‘chisled’ jawline.
Even better. At least you have a sense of humor. You're going to need it when the monsters show up.
Richard undulated forward, his long body balanced easily on the barrel’s rim. I watched in fascination as he stretched forward, bridging the gap between the barrel ledge and the countertop. He was easily the most enormous slug I'd ever seen. I wasn't sure how useful a self-cleaning slug was to an [Adventurer], but he was unique.
As a kid, I dreamed of returning to Woodsten as a hero in shining armor with a dire wolf by my side. The wooden scraper lowered slowly. Richard was a slug, and I wasn't a hero but a [Provisional Adventurer]. The [Trial Dungeon] stood in our way. So few souls who attempted it passed.
“We’re going to die,” the words slipped out. I had to stop thinking about it. My stomach did a slow flip. Thankfully, there wasn't anything left to lose.
You might, but I’m immortal.
“Sure, and I’m the King of [Adventurers],” I laughed. “My first act is to outlaw [Trial Dungeons].” I got the distinct impression that Richard wasn’t impressed by my mockery. “Lo, my famous immortal banana slug, are you ready to tackle the quest before us?”
His ego seemed mollified, but Richard didn’t reply. Which got me thinking, did I need to finish the dishes?
I looked at the unappealing leaning stack of plates. Congealed gravy mixed with mashed potatoes and limp pot roast. Do I finish them? Is this even my job anymore? The buzz from the compost pile clogged my thoughts. If I only have a week to live, do I want to spend one more day working next to the trash heap? Do Tandy and Leo realize what we've done?
A cool, slimy touch knocked me out of the mental spiral. Richard stretched across the gap between me and the counter. His eyes looked up at me, concerned.
We'll figure it out together. Without warning, his body glided forward, up my arm.
"What the hell?" I shouted as he wrapped himself around my shoulders like a python looking for a meal. Except he didn’t squeeze, he just settled behind my neck like one of Tandy’s cats. I absently wiped at my slimy arm, only to find it surprisingly dry.
You're fine. Soon you won’t even remember I’m here. Besides, where else am I going to sit? I move too slow to keep up with a human.
The back door opened, and Marta stuck her head out. "You're falling behind, Cole." She did a double-take, eyes furrowing. "Is that a... nope, I don't want to know." The door shut with a muttered, "Kids these days."
I went back to dishwashing. Knowing Leo, he would be out of commission for a while yet. He slept late most days, even without a hangover. And Tandy, even if she were a newly minted [Provisional Adventurer], she’d take care of her family obligations first. I had time.
I started scrubbing. No part of me wanted to be on Marta's bad side. Quitting this week would be bad enough.
"I'm just going to finish up work, and then we can figure out the [Adventurer] life," I said aloud, for Richard, but mostly myself. I needed to calm the incessant churn of anxieties running through my head.
Richard, the Dishwasher Assistant. Not the role I was expecting.
Every seventh dish or so, a yellow glow would extend from my shoulders, causing all the dirt and slop to fall away magically from the plate I was about to dip into the dish water. It surprised me every time.
Richard had been right. He was easy to forget. If I focused on him, I'd note the oddly cool wet presence wrapped around my shoulders, but otherwise, he just melted into the general sensation of wearing clothes.
I fell into the rhythm of the job: scrap, dip, scrub, rinse, dry. The wait staff kept the pile of dishes high, and the kitchen emptied my dry rack every hour.
My thoughts drifted to Marta. She had taken me in after I'd quit the forge. Put me to work on the morning shift making breakfast. Instead of harping on my failures, she kept me busy with work.
I’d been close to heading home, tail between my legs. And she saved me from facing my parents and the unending work of the farm. As much as I wouldn’t miss doing dishes, I would miss her.
A dry voice entered my thoughts.
Cole, keep washing dishes, but we've got a problem.
My back itched as I tried not to turn around.
I thought we'd have more time before the monsters started showing up. I was wrong.
Monsters showing up? What the hell was Richard talking about?
You must neutralize the threat before it initiates its sonic attack.
My heart raced as my eyes scanned the dish pile for a potential weapon. The only two options among the butter knives, mugs, forks, and plates were a small paring knife and a mid-sized iron pan.
I pretended to dip the three-inch knife into the dish water, my knuckles white as they clenched the handle. The cast iron pan had burnt au gratin stuck along the rim. I was going to die smelling of potatoes.
Ready or not, I was about to meet my fate as an [Adventurer]. To face my first monster encounter. Richard coiled tighter on my shoulders. I spun, raising my pan like a shield.
Then I saw it.
A duck.
An oversized, menacing duck with murder in its eyes.
Richard shrieked in my mind.
It's a bogquacker! They eat slugs, Cole! Slugs!
