Divinity Rescue Corps

65- Regain the Chill

It seemed like the whole world got a bit warmer once the god had reconstituted from the offerings made by both the Marshins and the people on my team. The sun seemed a bit brighter and more cheerful. The cutting breeze died down a little. All seemed well.

All seemed better when we got an achievement.

“Holy—” Regina started, but Tara once more clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Quit that! When things are literally holy, you can’t just blaspheme all over the place, okay?” Her brow furrowed. “Are you… licking my fingers?”

Regina had a mischievous look on her face.

“That is so gross,” Tara muttered, and held her hand out in front of her. “You’re so gross. I wish you were wearing clothes so I could wipe my hand on your shirt or your dress. Gross gross gross!”

Tara left in

I couldn’t keep the awe out of my voice. A surge of amazement and glee shot through me, seeing a burst of fire come out of the red Flameingoes, and cause the Cyclowls to veer away.

“That is so cool,” I muttered. “Does this mean we’re close to a volcano or a vent or something?”

“There,” Tara said, pointing down at a mass of escaping steam and smoke. Dozens of Flameingoes were landing there and clustering around other creatures.

“Let’s head down.”

The heat was palpable as we drew closer, but thankfully it lessened as we descended. “Hot air rises,” I told myself.

I quickly located and Identified the tiny offspring of the Flameingoes, as Kindlets. These things were adorable, with big fat heads and fire smoldering over their entire little bodies in the shape of new feathers. They weren’t even a foot tall, and stumbled and fell down repeatedly because of the size of their heads.

“I love them,” Tara breathed. Then, when her bonded pet made a groan of complaint, she got in a bunch of head and neck scratches. “Oh hush, you. I’m not going to replace you. Things can be cute, you know.”

A number of Magmamanders also basked nearby, grumpily moving aside if pecked too many times by the Flameingoes.

“Wait, do you see that?” Tara asked.

I followed where she was pointing, but only saw a hump of glowing coal, like an ember but a good six feet long.

“I don’t… wait, is that thing breathing?”

It was. The system identified it as a Scorchomp.

Peering into the camp fire was a hypnotic and meditative exercise, and this wasn’t any different. So it was, looking over the assembled creatures trying to eat the minerals bubbling out of the volcanic vent from several hundred feet away. I couldn’t take my eyes off the heat shimmer of the basking Magmamanders, the darting heads of the Flameingoes, or the cute antics of the Kindlets.

I couldn’t tell you how much time passed. However much it was, suddenly the smaller creatures surged into motion. I’d never seen Larelle’s Magmamander react except when feeding, but these things suddenly burst into action. They scurried away from the Scorchomp, which lumbered to its feet.

The thing was a dinosaur. Spines that had lain flat before now stood up, and the triangular head lifted. An obsidian eye opened, and one flame-orange pupil swiveled and locked onto Tara and I. It had chips of volcanic glass for teeth, we saw now that it yawned. That maw would easily be able to fit my leg into, possibly both. The tail unfurled behind it, long and powerful.

Like a cat waking up, its maw opened in a long and relaxed yawn, and it quivered as its spine arched in a stretch. It reached out with front legs, then rear legs, before it shook itself. And here was the wildest part: it stuck its head directly down into the lava, then moments later disappeared down inside. The volcanic vent they’d all clustered around swallowed up the Scorchomp. I held my breath, expecting it to burst out closer to us, huge crocodilian mouth wide, but it didn’t.

Beside me, Tara shivered. I definitely felt that.

Identify went up to level 3 that day, and level 4 three days after that. I catalogued a lot of new creatures.

Ranging further from the village went like that: I’d add this or that creature to my Nakamadex, a system-based index that catalogued all the Nakamamon I’d seen.

By some kind of Wizard spell nonsense I didn’t understand, new entries and information was periodically downloaded from whatever all of us had seen, and added to the overall index. The person who’d engineered this was a collector, that much was clear. They wanted us all to discover all the Nakamamon for ourselves.

The natives of Slinktrickle didn’t push us. They continued to supply us with food, allow us to use their buildings, and once in a while, Alan or Trent would stagger back to camp with a certain smile on their faces. They wouldn’t talk about the dopey grins, or what they’d been up to, but I knew. The girls knew, too.

This is Christopher enjoying the wider world, and trying to regain some of his chill.