Mother's Tear

A cloud of dust and spores puffs out into the air as the blue mushroom Tear rips itself away from the cluster. The wide cap, shaped like a giant paddy field hat, elevates rapidly to brush the bottom branches of the fern trees. Sickly teardrops suspend from under the cap and reach almost to the forest floor, drifting in the air like the feeding tentacles found on a Man of War. Buttress roots split the mushroom stem close to the ground, clinging to the surface and pulling the monstrosity away from its home. A young Satyr, who was gathering from the same clump, falls back in alarm at the sudden growth. She crawls away over the cascade of small blue shrooms from her overturned basket, too slowly for the roots grip her legs and latch on.

I unsheath my sword and charge the 20ft distance separating us, calling for Cane and Piia for aid. The two Thorns guarding us, stare in shock, all their training with little battle experience leaves them stupefied. I bark at them to assist which results in a few hesitant steps forward. The tentacles from the Tear lace themselves around the trapped girl's skinny frame, wrapping her arms and legs, causing her to wail in pain. The Thorns, hearing her screams, sprint in a hasty retreat and abandon their spears in the process. An arrow sinks into the fungus, rapidly stopping only an inch deep, Piia continues to fire with little impact. I consider slitting my hand again to activate my Searing Blade, however it’s only a mushroom, and my blade will surely bite without my Chaotic powers. The tentacles start reaching towards me as I approach closer, thinner than my fingers and wafting lazily around, they lack intimidation. I swat a dozen away, discovering my blade simply moves them around like trying to chop a falling leaf in the air. The tentacles, repeatedly displaced, fill any gap I create and then advance on me. The Young Satyr's screams hit a new level of pain and despair as steam rises from where the mushroom touches. I sneak a glance and almost vomit at the sight. Her fur is melting away to flesh and bone, a dark liquid passes through the transparent tendrils and makes its way to the shroom’s cap. The flowing tentacles continue to slither and envelope with increasing velocity as more Satyr mass is consumed, her eyes roll to blank whites as the pain overwhelms her. I pump my arm, hoping to get to the stem which is only a few feet away, I can topple the mushroom like a tree. I cleave across in a great swing and create a large gap. Pushing forward to my target, only an arm left away, I aim for its trunk when a blank of endless appendages smothers me. Leaping backwards, I barely make it out of the trap, a lingering tendril brushes my exposed hand. An excruciating burning sensation causes me to recoil even further away, the reality of the situation dawns on me with dread. The smoking vapours of Satyr fill my nostrils with a sweet acidic scent, even without my Cattle Sense, it’s overpowering. Cane dashes beside me, ready to leap into the fray.

“Halt!” I command, he brakes sharply.

I assess the situation, Piia’s arrows continue to pepper the Tear with little effect, I can barely reach it without killing myself and I wasn’t going to send Cane in on a kamikaze mission. Guilt builds as the leaves fall on, the screams beginning to lose momentum and energy. We need to reach the cap, it's the only space unprotected by its digestive sting. I look to the canopy for a quick route up, however the fern trees will make poor climbing supports. Scanning my environment, I see Yadon ushering people away, the Thorns spears abandoned on the ground near him.

“Cane, run around the mushroom in a tight circle, but keep out of reach.” I command him.

“Piia! Get me one of those spears! I have a plan!” I yell at her as she releases her final arrow. She turns and dashes away without question.

I access my inventory and produce the rope acquired from the hunters. The dry coarse material has been used many times to capture or kill creatures, hopefully I can use it to save a life. I look over my shoulder to see Piia grabbing the spears and yelling to Yadon, he finishes herding the nearby tribesmen away then rushes towards us, catching a spear from Piia mid-run. The young Satyr was now moaning softly, her lower half is out of sight underneath the Tear's root legs, her torso almost completely entwined except for her head and one arm that had scraped away the dirt in a desperate escape attempt. Cane's trick is causing more tendrils to unfurl from her, his threatening patrol around its body, drawing the tentacles out in and into a twisting corkscrew on itself. Using this brief respite, I call to the young Satyr and throw her my rope, only to realise she was unconscious or worse. Hastily gathering it back and knotting a hangman’s noose, I cast it out in a large loop over her exposed head and arm. I yank the knot tight and begin pulling with all my strength, trying to shift her from under its roots. Her body shook with my effort but held under the Tear’s embrace.

“Cane! To me!” I scream in desperation.

He completes a circuit and bellows next to me, ready to help in any way. I create a bowline knot, looping it over one of his giant tusks.

“Pull!” I command.

His powerful body yanks hard on the line, I pray to Mother it doesn’t snap under the strain. I look towards the captive with glee as her body begins to pull from underneath, my happiness recoils to horror as the melted flesh shreds apart, Cane tumbles away as the tension lifts and with it the Satyrs's torso. Tumbling through the air, it lands inches away from me, a long trail of blood and intestines still connecting the separated body parts. Her head turns and looks at me with glazed eyes, no noise escapes her as she finally escapes her gruesome end through death's door.

“Oh no.” I stutter out.

I see why they call them Mother’s Tears.

“Seth! Move!” Piia shouts.

Pulling my eyes away from the dead girl just in time to see the mushroom waxy trunk closing in on me, it had followed the trail of remains to me, eating all the way. I roll backwards onto my feet, clutching both the rope and my sword. With Cane, we retreat to Piia and Yadon, they were arguing about strategy and wasting precious time.

“We should gather more numbers for an assault, it is the way we have always dealt with them.” Yadon claims, fear evident in his voice.

“We can not leave it to wander into a group of younglings. You know the damage they can do.” Piia snarls.

“Give me your spear, I have a plan.” I take command.

Yadon looks at me with concern but hands his weapon over.

“I’m going to tie the rope to it. Then I need you to hit that piece of shiitake in the head, with force. We need the spearhead to dig deep, understand?”

He nods with smooth confidence, already sighting his target amongst the low hanging fern branches.

I saw off the end of the rope still tied to the Satyr girl, not wanting to disturb her corpse any further. Then clove hitch one end to the spear.

“Remember we need it to sti-

“Mother guide my arm!” Yadon yells.

He didn’t let me finish, aiming down the shaft and racing forward in one fluid move. The spear flies like a comet, the rope snaking behind, till it punctures the chitinous flesh. The Tear sways slightly from the impact but continues its feasting path towards us.

“Everyone grab on and pull!”

The group took position, one end hooked around Cane’s tusk again.

“Now!” I scream.

We strain and cry with effort, the rope cut into my hands with painful burns. The Tear stops moving, feeling our tug and braces its roots into the soil, the top half bows slightly but weathers us easily.

“Stop! The spear is about to give!” Piia shouts at us.

Everyone lets go, the Tear straightens and immediately returns to its dinner.

“Wait here!” I tell the party.

Then holding onto the rope I run a circle around the mushroom, keeping my distance and the rope taunt, I repeat the circuit several times before stopping back with the group. Finally the rope is securely wrapped around the trunk of the Tear, its tentacles held down by the rough rope like a maypole.

“Chop the roots!” I shout.

We rush forward, mindful of the old tattered rope keeping the threat at bay while we stand beneath it. Everyone circles the thick buttress roots and begins wildly hacking away. My Xiphos was severely blunt from use, having never sharpened it since I looted it, and barely cut into the shroom's thick waxy outer layer. I should just use my Searing Blade and end this, but if others in the tribe recognise my Chaotic will then I may never be accepted as their leader.

“We need to focus on one side!” I tell my team.

They all strafe around the Tear, mindful of those looming tentacles overhead. We begin collectively assaulting two of the large buttress like roots, Cane gnashing through a third. The appendages falter and wither with each slash and stab, finally giving us hope of success and fueling our muscles with much needed energy. My hippo whips his head around and with it the root he focused on. Ours were mere tatters by now, offering another solution to end this fight.

“Grab the rope and topple the muking thing!” I unwind the rope in another few circuits.

We heave as one, our combined strength with the fractured leg supports causes the shroom to resist only slightly before toppling like a young tree. Our cheers die quickly as the heavy landing causes our rope to snap, releasing the tentacles in a frantic wave, they squirm like seaweed in a churning ocean reaching for the surface.

No one spoke as we rush forward and attack with desperation at the exposed top cap. Its thick outer layer hinders our petty weapons.

Sweating, panting and straining, the head is slowly opened apart to reveal a soft milky blue centre. With metal and tusk shredding this spongey core, tremors in the Tears movement spoke of vulnerability and its inevitable end.

With a final chomp from Cane, it was over.

We collapse to the ground, exhaustion painted across all the party's faces. After the sound of my heart pounding begins to die down, a thick chomping noise takes its place, looking over my shoulder to see Cane enjoying a much deserved meal. The Tear’s brain, or whatever the softcore amounts to be, was clearly delicious food since he ploughed deep into the cap. Piia and Yadon stand up and join him, cutting off a small piece each and holding it up in the air. They mumble something inaudible and consume their prize.

“Seth, come join us. It is our tradition.” Piia explains.

I grovel quietly, not a huge fan of mushrooms in general and definitely not expecting to like brain fungus either. I clean my blade using my inventory space and lean against the cap, intending to reach inside its concave head.

A flash of green startles me.

Decomposer / Replication spirit collected

“Holy Mother.” I yelp.

“There is no Mother with these creatures.” Yadon explains.

“They are betrayers to her way.” Piia states,

“I understand the name now, so they attack Mother’s followers and have Spirit?”

“Yes, we are not sure why. The old Voice said they were mindless beings without the intelligence to venerate her ways. So she punished them with Spirit, hoping that humans and Daemons would hunt them.”

I poke the Tear and loot its remains

Loot added to inventory

Whip of absorption

Tear fungus core

Tear fungal meat

Potion of Mushroom skin

I remove the whip from my inventory space, the dark blue handle is made from a dense root leg of the Tear. While the whip itself is a single tentacle snaking out at full length, upon close inspection I can see almost microscopic fine hairs coating the weapon. The appealing sky-blue colour only slightly masks the tremendous danger the tendrils pose to exposed flesh. After only one encounter with a fully grown tear my subconscious associates the soft shades with threat, funny how quickly your brain is conditioned or adapts from perilous events. I run my hand along the organic cord, smooth as a lemurs paw, the shroom hairs lying flat as I move near them. Piia walks over with a curious expression, she watches the hair movements and touches the weapons as well.

“Rutting Order.” She snatches her away, wrapping her finger protectively.

A small buzzing pulses through the cord and into the handle, transferring through my hand. The short burst is over in an eye blink and reminds me of the afterglow from empowering.

“Let me see your hand.” I say to Piia who reveals a small rash on the end of her finger.

“That stings worse than a Rubus bush.”

“The weapon appears to know who the wielder is and that absorption power will be effective. Shame it’s a whip though, I don’t how to use one.”

“You don’t know how to use that sword either.” She laughs at me.

“Do you think someone in the tribe can teach me?” I enquire.

“I will enquire, though I would keep that whip stored away for now. A human brandishing a tool of pain galavanting around our home is a hard leaf to chew.”

“I see your point.”

I do as she says and hide it away in my inventory, even if I never use it I am sure Livingston’s Emporium or another trader in magical items will pay a pretty penny or trade another item we can use.

A small crowd is beginning to form, keeping a safe distance from the dead monster, a wailing Satyr breaks through and runs forward. Her screams intensify as she arrives at her dead loved one, the remains completely mangled and telling of her painful end. I feel her harrowing grief with a moanful sob, others pull closer to comfort and witness.

A commotion drew our eyes, a much larger group were running towards us, all masked and wielding spears with various weapons attached to hips and backs. The majority sported the dark wooden armour that covered limbs and torsos. If they were hoping to help in the fight, then they are a meal of shroom brains too late. In fact, Cane is close to the REM stage in his post-feast coma from the sounds of his snoring. The group halts before us, pointing and chattering about the messy scene. Cane’s snoozing mass and the dead Tear lying nearby weren’t what they had expected, it appears. A single Thorn steps out of the pack.

“ The Voice will see you.”