Dodge Tanner’s Highly Unrecommended Travelogue - #116: Mushrooms, Mistakes, and Mad dashes

Dodge had made this trip enough times to consider himself an expert at gathering Stonecap Fungus. Always with a single firm twist, no pulling, tearing, or cutting. Respectful pace. Easy enough.

Or at least it should have been easy.

Unfortunately, tonight, his mind had wandered.

It wasn’t entirely his fault—thinking of seeing Flora always had a way of pulling his thoughts from the present, making him careless in the way only fondness could. He imagined the look she might give him if he arrived with a good haul, perhaps even a rare, perfectly grown cluster—maybe even one of Those smiles if he really outdid himself.

That was why he barely noticed the first shift in the cavern air.

Why he didn’t catch the faint scent of spores swirling in the air and the fungus patches around him actively growing in real time under the care of one of their tenders.

Why the large, looming figure of a Cragstool Sentinel managed the unthinkable—sneaking up on him. It wasn’t actually sneaking, of course. Sentinels didn’t do that. It had simply arrived. Watched. Waited. Loomed

And Dodge, lost in his thoughts of Flora, had utterly failed to notice.

When his mind finally caught up to reality as he turned to find another patch of Fungus, when his eyes dragged themselves from his dreamy distraction and landed on the towering fungal guardian standing entirely too close, he shrieked.

Instinctively, Dodge jumped back.

And stepped on a Stonecap patch.

The Stonecap Fungus did exactly what every warning, every book, every seasoned traveler, heck even his OWN harvesting guide, warned it would do—it released its spores in a gaseous anuran aroma.

The cavern filled with a dusty cloud of caecilian consequence, thick and shimmering under the crystal glow.

Dodge froze, mind suddenly filled with fanciful flights of frog and folly.

The Cragstool Sentinel did not freeze.

It moved, slowly at first, turning towards him, then exploded into vengeful, spore saving rage. The weight of its presence sent tremors through the ground, each step cracking through the silence with fungal displeasure.

Dodge, seeing the onrushing wall of fungal fury invade is frogmatic fantasies, did the only thing he could. He ran, dodged, apologized rapidly and profusely, and hoped to all the gods he hadn’t completely ruined his evening plans.

"I swear that was an accident! Your fungi are thriving, really!", he yelped as he ducked beneath sweeping fungal limbs. He vaulted over jagged crystal ridges crying "Total respect, full admiration—please don’t stomp me!" With every flailing, frantic avoidance, he made certain to always know where his feet would land, knowing that a second mistaken step on a Stonecap would likely be his last. "Flora is gonna yell at me if I die in here, and frankly, I'd rather not deal with that! So let’s both agree to move on!"

He most assuredly did not attempt to fight the fungal guardian of the caverns, because fighting would have been pointless.

Sentinels weren’t conquerable. They were persistent, rooted in the cavern’s fungal mycota, nearly impossible to damage in any permanent meaningful way within their networked dens. This wasn’t a battle, it was Dodge dancing for his survival. Performing acrobatic acts of contrition to escape the consequences of his own distraction.

So he performed. An intricate, desperate display of dexterous footwork and increasingly fervent apologies, weaving between the cavern pillars, narrowly avoiding another burst of spores, firmly swearing, to both the Sentinel and himself, that he would pay better attention next time.

Finally, after several tense, frog fantasy filled and humiliating minutes, the Sentinel slowed and returned to its tending duties, allowing Dodge to escape past him towards the surface.

Dodge did not wait for another warning as he made his delicate dash to open skies.

Still panting, still tingling with residual spore exposure, he tucked his already-collected Stonecap carefully away, gave one last deeply apologetic bow to the now-quiet cavern, and, ignoring the occasional warbled croaking still hounding his spore shocked senses, swiftly made his way out, loudly whistling a jaunty tune in an effort to reset his dignity before he reached Flora’s door where he could regale her with the tale of how simple and easy a task this day's collections had been for a Wayfinder of his skill and knowledge!

- And that, my fellow readers, is how I stumbled upon the ancient, unbreakable law of the Crystal Caverns—‘Avoid dangerous distractions, Respect the Fungi, Or Suffer the Consequences’—a lesson taught via tree sized smashes, earthquake-like stomps, frog inducing spores, and deeply regrettable footwork."