Sporemageddon - V2 Chapter 32

Death Cap – Thirty-Two – Life Gives your Great Rewards and Greater Challenges

“You recognize it?” Terrence asked.

“No,” I admitted as I lowered the [Ghoul Button Mushroom]. Actually, that brought up a question. “Why is it labelled as a Stockholmes Flesh Eater?”

“That’s its name,” he said.

“I have an identification skill that’s giving me a different result.” Telling him that much didn’t seem like too much of a risk.

“That’s normal then. The name on the label is attributed to the person who discovered or pioneered a use for an herb or fungi. It’s a great honour to be one of those though it is of course quite difficult.” He pointed to the other two boxes, specifically at the labels. “Alchemists, potion makers and herbalists will usually memorise these names, especially since different skills might give the same plant subtly different names.”

“How different?” I asked.

“Some skills would call what you’re holding [a mushroom] and leave it at that,” he said.

That made sense. I’d keep using the names my [Druid Sight] gave me for my own use though, seeing as how that was what I’d used so far, and I didn’t care much for some stuffy academic’s honour.

The [Ghoul Button Mushroom] didn’t seem immediately useful to me. I don’t think the Ditz dungeon had any undead to worry about. It was possible that some combination of this mushroom and another one of mine would lead to something good, so if I could afford it. “How much are these?” I asked.

“Three halfpennies per hundred grams,” he said.

That wasn’t much at all, really. “I’ll take two mushrooms please. Fresher is better, but I mostly care about the cap.”

He nodded and went to the front only to return a moment later with a few brown paper bags and some tongs which he used to pluck the mushrooms out of their case. He put that onto a scale which ticked up. Then he wrote something down on a sheet of paper next to the scale. A receipt?

I checked the other two mushrooms while he worked. I didn’t want to waste his time.

Finnegan’s Stinker–which was quite the name, was next. They were rather small, reminding me of puffballs but without the size

[Skunk’s Lament] – Common

A small mushroom that, when squeezed, releases a cloud of minuscule spores which emit a potent foul odour. Has some use as a revitalising reagent.

“Need to be careful with those,” Terrence said. “They stink. I won’t have you driving out clients because you miss-handled them.”

“No worries, sir,” I said. Of course I wanted some. The spore dispersal was similar to my best, which meant a whole new round of new, potent weapons. “I think I’ll take three of these, please. Do you have something less squishable than those bags?”

“Good idea,” he said before he fetched a little cardboard box. It was meant for something else, but it would do.

I checked on the last of the mushrooms. This one was labelled as Seb’s Bells. I vaguely recalled Seb being a god of one sort or another. I couldn’t recall of what though. The mushrooms were rather small, with a thin but long stem and a head that looked like a delicate bell in beige and white.

[Healing Chime] – Rare

A small mushroom that accelerates healing when eaten raw.

That was the entire description. It was enough to have me salivating. “Oh, these are brilliant.”

“Hmm? Oh, they’re quite popular. Not as potent as some other alchemical ingredients, but from what I hear they are more stable,” Terrence said. “One pound each.”

I baulked at the price. A whole pound. Each? They were minuscule! I wouldn’t be getting many spores from even one, and I couldn’t know if I’d be able to make them grow at all.

But then… healing.

There were so many ways I could use that. And if they were worth so much, there could be an aftermarket. And what of the combinations?

It wasn’t the perfect weapon I was looking for. I had come hoping for something to counter bullies, or which could chew through armour, but I’d take healing if I could get it.

“Fine. I’ll take one,” I said.

He took one out carefully, and placed it in a paper bag. I took my stuff and after waiting for Terrence to pack away the boxes, followed him back downstairs. “Anything else?” he asked.

“No thank you. Though… do you think I could have a list of the powdered mushrooms you have? And do you have the contacts to get samples of them in their raw, unpowdered forms?”

He sniffed. “Little miss, I’m doing this against my better judgement already. You don’t have the papers to be buying what you’re buying already.”

“Right, sorry,” I said.

He tallied things up at the counter and I went over the math myself. He was honest, at least. It really hurt to fork over the coins to pay for everything, but I did what I had to. Then it was off to head back home.

I didn’t quite run home. There was nothing like someone clutching a bag and looking eager to set off every mugger within ten block’s instincts on edge. Still, I might have walked a bit faster than usual on my way back to the farm.

As soon as I arrived I let Nibbles out of the bag, then set to work.

The [Ghoul Button Mushroom] was easy to extract spores from, and under a slight but continuous push of my aura, the spores started to flourish almost as soon as I placed them in their own vial.

That was good, because I ran into immediate trouble with the [Skunk’s Lament]. The mushroom must have been squished a little while I moved because on opening the box a small puff of spore dust escaped and immediately filled the farm with a nauseating scent that made roadkill skunk smell like roses.

I suppressed my gag reflex even as my eyes watered, and Nibbles just outright lost his lunch on the floor next to me.

Working fast, I plucked some spores out, shoved them into a vial, then reclosed the box and ran out of my farm.

Two hours later, after walking around the block a few times, I discovered one new advantage to that particular sort of mushroom. No one wanted to be on the same street as me, not even the seediest, most disgusting people living in the slums.

I wouldn’t be able to grow those in my farm, not if a tiny spritz from one mushroom was enough to make the place smell like death rotten over for hours. I’d have to find a place nearby to grow them. I… could use the mushrooms as a security measure. They would certainly work as a deterrent against the average person.

Unfortunately, they were working to deter me at the moment.

I opened the door to my farm and sniffed around. The smell had faded, a little, but it was still lingering like a bad after-taste.

I’d have to see if dusting the room out would help. The smell came from spores after all, and those were just particulates.

I cursed my own stupidity. I shouldn’t have opened the box in my farm. I was too excited about the [Healing Chime] to think straight. Nothing I could do about it now. I cleaned up as best I could, leaving the door open a crack to let in fresher air.

Then, once everything settled, I pulled out the bag with the [Healing Chime] and all the tools I’d need to extract its spores.

I went very carefully, taking my time and moving as precisely as I could. Still, it wasn’t easy. The cap on the mushroom was tiny, and its bell-like shape made reaching the underside where its spores were hidden difficult.

Grabbed a few, I filled three vials with different starting elements in each. Some rotting meat, some old wood, and some cloth. I hoped one of those would be good enough for the spores to settle on.

Then I was left with a tiny mushroom, gutted of its spores.

I shrugged, checked it with my poison-based abilities, and when those came back blank, I tossed the mushroom back and chewed on it.

With how poor my health was at the best of times, that could only help. I sealed the vials, then placed them on a rack where I’d be able to observe their growth.

The [Healing Chimes] were my hail-mary. If I could start growing these, then a lot of things would get a lot easier. Selling them as-is could be profitable. The Union would certainly be interested in healing, even if it turned out to not be super effective.

I sat down on my stool, then welcomed Sir Nibbles onto my lap where I scratched at his rough bristly fur. “Things might be going okay,” I said to the badger.

With a bit of luck, things would only get better for me.

And a whole lot worse for the rest of the city.

***