The corridor glistens with moisture. The air smells of mildew, candle smoke, and quiet resignation.
A low humming echoes from ahead, wet, rhythmic, oddly peaceful.
Glop the Muckling shuffles into view, dragging a mop that leaves behind a trail of fresh sludge. His eyes droop. His smile doesn’t move.
“Ahhh. There you are. The new collector.”
He gestures to a nearby heap of bones, moss, and something that’s definitely still twitching.
“Today’s haul is impressive. Kitchen says they’re low on calcium. We’ll fix that.”
His bucket burbles approvingly. Glop pats it fondly.
“Yes, Puddle. We share.”
He squints at you, slowly tilting his head.
“Here’s the rule, helper: nothing’s trash. Everything’s at least tomorrow’s soup. Whatever it is, find a use for it and deliver it to the right department.”
He hands you a dripping shovel and points toward a broken adventurer boot half-buried in ooze.
“Start there. Collect carefully. Anything you can chew goes to Ogra. Shiny bits to Balgrith. Screaming ones to R&D: they like spirit in their samples.””
He sighs, wringing out his mop.
“Funny, isn’t it? They fight, they fall, they feed. The cycle continues. I clean it. Ogra cooks it. Everyone’s happy, eventually.”
The bucket lets out a small, satisfied slurp.
“See? Balance. Now move quick before the leftovers start arguing again.”