Content to allow it to stay for now, I take a loose stone block from the sewer walls and place it over the top. At least this means I’ll always know where it is. I guess keeping all my treasures in pockets will also protect them from the slimes? Yet another valuable use for this beautiful song.
Feeling much better now, I finish placing all the remaining items into pockets that I wouldn’t usually take with me on outings. Except for the big pack, short bow, and the new quiver. They’re all still too big for my current capability. The iron pot as well, of course. Must keep practicing!
With the job done, I return to the slime, lift the stone off, and stare down into the pot. It’s still simply cowering there at the bottom, religiously sticking to the surface as flat as it can. Was it in there when I put the pot into a pocket? Is that it?
My experimental mind gets excited with the implied test. Using both my hands to carefully work space around the pot, I then seal it with a twist of my fingers. Waiting for about a minute, a quick poke suffices to manually release the floating wisp. The pot still rests where I left it, but inside the slime has condensed down to half its previous size, its surface vibrating erratically.
Is it afraid of being inside the pocket? Did something bad happen after it was sealed inside? Hm. Having valiantly contributed towards my knowledge, this slime deserves a reward. After all, it’s another little one, if not a brother. Compensation, compensation, …, what does it want? I know nothing about it.
I reach out towards the book wisps and pop them all one by one, causing the shelf to repopulate. Running my finger across the titles, I find it: “Common Beasts and Monsters of Kyklos”. I think I stole it from the little, big ones’ den in Figeholm? I avoided reading it until now because more important matters always kept me busy. Besides, I’m usually dealing with the big ones and their songs, so the beasts of this world haven’t mattered much. However, perhaps it’s finally time that I research at least this little slime.
Awakened slimes are most commonly found in the wilderness. That said, spotting them is difficult since they spend most of their time hiding from predators, who can easily devour the slow moving creatures. The main cause for them to come out of hiding is the discovery of a corpse, which is one of their favorite foods.
So, perhaps I can kill a rancor rat to reward it?
In addition to the wilderness, it’s also common to find awakened slimes in any of the urban sewers. There, they feast upon the nearly constant flow of sewage for most of their nutrition in addition to the occasional dead body making its way down below.
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It eats the sludge? I wonder if it would like mud as well. Perhaps we’re more of a kindred spirit than I realized.
Although feasting on the dead or other various biological waste is its favorite, the slimes will also consume plant life, certain stone, and even dirt under the right circumstances. However, it will never consume any sort of metal. Interestingly, it also refuses to eat any currently living organic matter aside from inanimate plants. It’s hypothesized that the slimes hitch rides on faster moving creatures to overcome their sloth-like speed.
Enough. This is also a good excuse to try out the bow. Grabbing it and the quiver, I skulk off into the tunnels. Having hunted enough of them already, I know the rats’ habits quite well. There’s a particular alcove with their most commonly used holes. Choosing a good spot to corner them after an ambush, I fade into the background and wait.
Hiding down here is so comfortable and easy. I lose track of time waiting, but eventually a nervous head pokes its way out of a hole before hopping down into the tunnel. I’m ready, having already taken an arrow in hand. I pull back the exceptionally strong and supple wood of the bow. With a loud snap, the arrow fumbles from my hand and the bow smacks me in the face.
The surprised rat races down the tunnel past me, lucky to live for another day. This wasn’t what I planned at all. The hunting manual included a rough primer on how to handle a bow. Did I misunderstand?
Running back to my alcove and finding the right book, I flip open to the correct section. Oh, there’s a diagram. You hold it like what? The wood is so much stronger than the string, why would you want to hit the arrow with the string? Or is it pushing and not hitting? Puzzling. It’s so much less complicated with the daggers and spear. You just poke your opponent with the sharp end.
Resolving to practice before trying again, I repeatedly shoot over and over at a little leather target set up in the corner. Eventually, I can sometimes hit it. It even sticks in pretty deep every now and then.
Back at the rats’ favorite entryway, I blend in to wait again. This time the bow is correctly at the ready. Another rat pokes its head through one of the holes. I slowly pull the bowstring back to prepare an already notched arrow and hold it. The rat jumps down, landing with an awkward, soft splash. I release, and the string snaps as the arrow shoots straight into the rat’s eye. The creature violently rolls in protest across the slippery floor. I quickly move forward with my dagger drawn, just in case. However, it proves unnecessary as the rat’s struggle comes to a stop.
Huh, that actually felt pretty good. Falling into obsession, I spend the next few hours repeatedly hunting more rats with my bow, tying the prizes to my belt one by one.
My goal accomplished, I triumphantly return with spoils for experimenting on my new, little prisoner. Maybe I can make him useful? Perhaps as a potion taster. Trained guard slime? Oh, spacial pocket explorer! He already seems to love that.