World of Fantasy

Sewer Fight!

JANE

You ever come across one of those spots in a video game where the developers left a little crack in the environment? Maybe these three mountainsides form a triangle you can't get out of; you fall in and get stuck and have to log out. Or someone built a room and then decided they didn't want it, but instead of deleting it, they just build a wall to hide. But they didn't do it perfectly, and there's a tiny space where you can run and jump and twist every which way until you randomly squeeze through that impossible gap. Environments are never perfect.

Jane stalked out of the adventurers guild, her body hot and angry and possessed of disappointment and guilt. Taking a hard right, she plowed down the road, heedless of anyone in her path, forcing other players and citizens to scramble out of her way.

She felt betrayed. Somewhere deep inside, she'd always known that Quill would do something like this, that it wouldn't last with him. Today had only confirmed her worst fears. He was just like everyone else.

Her foot came down on the edge of a sewer grate placed between the flagstones of the street — and where the metal met the stone, an imperfect gap had been left where she hit just the wrong space of nonexistent pixels.

She plummeted down through the crack in the street, losing her staff and crying out in surprise. Her vision cut off for a moment, and everything went black, then she was in free fall.

Yet it was over before she could fully freak out. Her butt and back landed on something smooth, soft, and bouncy, almost rubbery and covered with — slime. The stench of feces and rot hit her in the face like a freight train, making her gag. Before she could do anything, she was sliding through the muck, picking up speed. "What the hell!" She landed with a splash and flailed around, desperate to get out of the foul water she found herself in. Only once she got to her feet did she begin to register the world around her again.

She was in a large storm sewer main, the brick walls covered in ooze and lichen. Sunlight filtered down from the sewer grate overhead, along with a couple of faint shouts from people who seemed to have noticed her unexpected fall.

A man in plain clothing stood next to her with a burning, orange torch in one hand and a flaming sword in the other. With a fierce expression, he tried to insert himself between her and whatever was behind her. "Who are—? Get out of here! Run!"

Jane looked over her shoulder — and saw what was probably the biggest poo slime in existence, taller than she was. She ran. "Oh, hell no!" But she didn't go far, blindly stumbling into the fighter's partner and nearly taking them both down into the knee-high water and unpleasant stuff.

"Get off me, you crazy nut!" The woman tried to shove Jane aside, then raised her hands. "[Icicle]!" White motes of cold and light coalesced in a heartbeat into a sharp, conical shard of ice about the size of the woman's forearm. It shot forward and penetrated the poo slime.

In creating that hole, the membrane that gave the slime its blob-like shape ruptured. A fountain of brown, acidic slime blasted back out of the opening and hit Jane square in the chest.

The foulest gunk imaginable coated her from head to foot, burning her skin. Her stomach heaved, and she turned on instinct, projectile vomiting all over the ice caster next to her.

The woman stared down at herself in horror. Before this, she had somehow managed to remain pristine from the knees up despite adventuring in a sewer. But no longer. She could barely get words out. "You...you cow!"

The burbling, gurgling sound of something viscous boiling carried through the tunnel. A shout of victory. Then the stench of steamy urine and feces washed over them. Then a panicked voice rang out, "Uh...help. Help! Winnie!"