The Leatherworkers [Tier 13]

“This is just ridiculous,” grumbled the orc, dropping her trowel in the mud. Her gloves were coated in a thick, stinking layer of algae and mud, as was her entire lower half.

“You know how particular druids are,” replied her companion. “Always looking for new ways to commune with nature.” He continued to dig in the mud.

“Yes, but mushrooms? From the Outlands?” She peered at one of the fist-sized, glowing blue fungi she had extricated from the marshy lakebed. “They don't look so special to me.”

“Eat one and find out,” suggested the tauren. He only laughed when the orc flicked mud at him. “What I wanna know,” he said, sitting back on his heels and gesturing with his trowel,” is how they incorporate the plant matter into the leather so that it changes when the druids shapeshift.”

The orc stabbed into the mud, rooting for another mushroom. “Whatever it is, it's more magic than I could muster. That's why I'm just a gatherer.”

The tauren waded into the shallows to wash off the mushrooms he had collected. He exchanged them with the orc, who handed him her haul to rinse while she wrapped the cleaned mushrooms in waxed cloth.

The orc swung the bundle on her back. “Let's go check the trap.”

They set off across the perpetually damp, spongy ground, weaving among the comically tall mushroom trees and glowing foliage. As they approached the clearing where they had set the trap that morning, the tauren motioned for the orc to hang back, then snuck on ahead.

Although the tauren was taller and wider than her, the orc was again struck with how quietly he could move. It was with roguelike, almost delicate steps that he crept to the edge of the clearing to check on their quarry.

The tauren motioned the orc forward, and she went to his side. In the clearing was a sporebat, placidly eating from the mound of food they had set and completely missing the fact that it was now entangled in their trap. The orc readied her materials – a pouch of soft, rubbery material and a length of cord.

Before the sporebat could register what was happening, the tauren had grabbed it and deftly flipped it upside down. At his companion's questioning look, he explained, “It makes them sleepy.” True to his word, the panicked thrashing soon resided into minute tremors. The orc took hold of the sporebat's twin tails and held them over the open mouth of her pouch.

“Let 'er rip,” she instructed the tauren. He began to tickle the sporebat on the glowing sphere of its underbelly, and in response, glittering spores puffed out of its tail and into the waiting bag. “I'm curious as to how you discovered this...method,” the orc said conversationally, trying to keep a smirk off her face.

The tauren had moved on to the pointed tips of the sporebat's tiny wings. The spores changed color. “The locals keep sporebats as pets. Apparently they are quite ticklish.”

When the sporebat was all tickled out, the orc carefully closed the pouch and stowed it along with the mushrooms. The tauren righted the sporebat and gently cut it free of their trap, then fed it a cracker before it floated away.

The orc watched this with amusement, then summoned her wind rider, which gave her an appreciative sniff. “I could do with a shower and a drink, how about you?”