The Mimic Farm file was disappointing. Keylynn expected more from a quest designed around a farm filled with mimics. She expected a quest where everything could be a hungry mimic to be more successful than what it was. From what she knew about adventurers, this was the sort of experience they wanted. It promised a unique experience for every adventurer who attempted the quest. How could a perfect quest concept fail so completely?

  Annual Assessment Division File X230004

  Quest name: The Mimic Farm

  Adventure level: 1

  Storymancer: N/A

  Years since Quest opened: 100+

  Number of Adventurers to date: 3892

  Number of successful completions: 0

  Number of failed completions: 3892

  Total staff on-site: 1

  Creatures on site: 51-99

  Time since last annual assessment: N/A

  Previous Assessment Team: N/A

  Number of Previous Assessments: N/A

  Quest Overview: The Mimic Farm is a large agricultural area spanning several human acres. The farm has a small barn and coop, along with a small field growing a seasonal crop. The major product of the farm is the mimics, who have taken a liking to adopting unique forms. It’s dangerous to traverse the farm unsupervised.

  The Mimic Farm file lacked all supplemental materials, including the required map, personnel files for the current and previous employees, and up-to-date records on every mimic they have and had. Quests with creatures have even more paperwork to manage, as they have to keep up-to-date health, training, and staff and adventurer interaction logs for every creature. The last thing any quest needed was a creature that indiscriminately attacked adventurers and quest staff alike.

  If any quest needed an assessment, it was this one. In fact, this quest has needed an assessment since its inception.

  “Ragna, you handle the single current employee and go through onsite records. Tsunami and Inferno, you two can handle the active assessment of the quest itself. I’ll be looking through the paperwork with Ragna. The last thing we need is to miss a mistake in payroll or something,” Demetra repeated, her nerves getting the better of her.

  True to the farm aesthetic the quest has, they portaged into a small town that happened to lack any transportation to help them reach the farm faster than walking. They were lucky there was a portal to the town at all; it had one general shop, one inn, and a tavern. There were probably a few more shops, but they weren’t down the main street where the portal site was.

  The road was a firm dirt road that had two deep divots on the other side, suggesting a wagon travelled through often. The sky was overcast overhead, and the divots in the road were filled with mud and rainwater, making for a dreary walk.

  “And Mushroom Boss supervises,” Tsunami added. He stomped through a puddle, splashing Demetra and Ragna.

  She scowled at him before agreeing, “Yes, and the Mushroom Boss supervises.”

  “Does anyone else think someone from the quest should have met us and guided us to it?” Ragna asked.

  “Yes, but only to save me from the mud,” Inferno said, looking down at his mud-splattered boots.

  Demetra smirked and stomped in a puddle to splash him. “I thought since you started your flora and fauna training, you’d be all over the mud.”

  “Plants and animals don’t include mud,” he retorted.

  “Hope you studied mimics,” Ragna said, pointing to the large sign welcoming them to The Mimic Farm. The sign was little more than a plank of wood with the words ‘Welcome to The Mimic Farm’ painted in a dark reddish brown.

  Demetra looked up at the sign. “That’s ominous. I’ve got 5 gold pennies on the paint being blood.”

  “Oh, no, I’m not that dumb. It’s a mimic farm; of course it’s blood.” Tsunami retorted.

  Keylynn reached her magic to the sign. “Focus, please. And yes, the sign is painted with blood.” She hoped the sign itself would be a mimic, but being painted in blood wasn’t a bad move by any means. It gave her hope that there was something to work with when it came to adjusting the quest. The sign combined with the cloudy sky and the waterlogged road made for a foreboding ambiance.

  “Is there a problem?” She asked her team. None of them seemed brave enough to take one step closer to the sign or onto the farm itself. She could only imagine how effective it was for lower-level adventurers. Perhaps that was the problem; the quest was marked as a level one adventure when really it should be a mid-level one.

  They were all staring at the sign apprehensively.

  “Uhhh, well… What if the sign is a mimic?” Inferno asked. He seemed to be the only one eager to step closer, if only to get a better look at it.

  She smiled. “The sign is nothing more than a plank of wood.” An effective plank of wood.

  Inferno nodded, and before he could take a step, Demetra stepped forward, resuming her role as leader. What would make the entrance to this quest better is a caution sign that says something like ‘Warning to all ye enter here.’ The best part is the sign is a mimic ready to chomp on any unsuspecting travellers.

  Keylynn hoped that the mud was intentional and that it was always muddy here. It added to the experience of walking through a run-down, dishevelled farm. All of the farm buildings that she could see looked old and decrepit, as if their caretaker could no longer maintain them, while large sections of the fields were filled with overgrown weeds or pockmarked with muddy puddles.

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  Aside from the lacking of an actual quest, The Mimic Farm was exceeding her expectations. A dilapidated farm overrun by mimics practically writes the quest itself. They can have it be that the adventurers have to rescue the farmers or search through the overrun farm to find and deliver their most treasured possessions to start fresh. Depending on who the farmer was that ran this farm, she can work with them to be an exceptional mid-level guest.

  A bush quivered on the side of the road as Demetra drew near. Keylynn pulled her back right in time to avoid the large purple tongue and its maw of teeth.

  “Holy shit!”

  “That was a mimic. Show caution. Oftentimes a mimic will quiver or undulate as we draw near. It’s how they prepare to attack their unsuspecting prey. And if something seems out of place, such as a bunch growing out of the road, it’s a mimic,” she explained, scanning the farm ahead of them. She didn’t need her magic to see the potential for hundreds of mimics. Her report was widely incorrect on the number of mimics currently on the farm.

  Some of the farm buildings were likely mimics. The turbine of the old windmill up ahead rotated slowly in the absence of any wind, while the stage building beside it looked far too new to be part of the farm. She saw a field filled with scarecrows and others filled with plants in every stage of life, from seedling to rotting.

  What was absent from view was farmers. If the mimics were to attempt to adopt the form of farmers, that would add a whole new level of eeriness to the farm. A mimic farm completely self-sustained would only fill adventurers with more dread. A mimic's transform ability was only limited by their own skill, and most find being an unassuming object much easier to catch unsuspecting prey than it is to master the form of a living creature.

  Slowly she pulled out her RADAWC ID and clipped it to the front of her sweater where it was clearly visible. “Make sure your IDs are visible.” The last thing she needed was to file an incident report and mention they weren’t following protocol exactly. Incident reports only go in favour of the assessor in question if they follow every protocol.

  They all started to dig through their bags. The last one to clip on their ID was Tsunami, who looked at his picture and let out a deep sigh.

  “I don’t see why we should bother. It’s not like the mimics won’t eat us if they see our ID,” he grumbled.

  Before Keylynn could comment on why, Demetra stepped in and clipped his ID on for him. “If the picture is that bad, just retake it. I retake mine every time I change my hair.”

  His ID picture truly was dreadful. He had one eye swollen so badly that it was shut, and the other eye was stained with blood. Keylynn didn’t know the story behind his picture, but she assumed it wasn’t a good one. Inferno’s photo wasn’t much better, except he was covered with every visceral fluid that she knew of and several she was scared to ask about.

  “Oh, gee, why didn’t I think of that? You know Anje hates my guts and uses pictures I didn’t even know existed. If I got a new picture, she would only find a worse one,” he grumbled back.

  Keylynn raised an eyebrow at that. It sounded like a personal matter spilling into their work lives, which broke the diplomacy section of the employee handbook. She will inquire with him further when they return to the office.

  “There is a chance that the mimics could recognize our IDs, as most quest creatures are trained to treat anyone with an ID badge as not food. Furthermore, should they decide to attempt to eat us, the incident report will go in our favour if we have them clearly visible,” she explained, giving Demetra a pointed look. Adherence to the code of conduct was something that she should know innately when she becomes a team lead.

  “Does anyone else find it strange that we haven’t seen anyone yet?” Inferno interjected, changing the subject. His eyes were always in motion, and he was busy making notes on his matrix tablet about what could be and could not be a mimic.

  Keylynn shot a glance at his tablet and saw that he had taken a picture and was writing directly on it what was and was not a mimic. She will have to ask him to show her how to do that when they aren’t on the job.

  “Seeing as there is a single quest staff member on file, no,” Ragna answered him curtly. He was tenser than usual, but she attributed that to the excessive mimic population.

  Inferno gestured to the windmill and gave her a questioning look. She answered him with a simple nod. He nodded in return before announcing to the team, “Don’t step too close to that windmill.”

  Demetra paused mid-stride and stepped to her right before continuing forward. “You can’t be serious. That thing is huge.”

  Tsunami and Inferno shared glances before Tsunami picked up a rock and threw it at the windmill. A jagged line appeared down the centre, revealing several rows of jagged teeth and a giant purple tongue. All across the windmill thousands of small eyes appeared, staring at them. The tongue caught the stone lightning quick and retreated into the massive maw. The mouth sealed behind it, leaving behind only the eyes.

  The colour drained from Demetra’s face. “Let’s j-just find the quest staff and start this assessment. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

  The old farmhouse blended in perfectly with the rest of the farm; it was run-down, rotten in parts, and covered in mildew. The windows were covered with so much grime that Keylynn couldn’t see if there were lights on inside. The whole building sagged as if it were weary with life.

  Demetra approached the door hesitantly, shooting Keylynn a questioning glance.

  “The door is not a mimic,” she answered her question. Although if the door were a mimic, it would be a fun upgrade. The quest guides the adventurers to the farmhouse door, only for it to be a trap. Every quest could benefit from a good trap.

  Demetra nodded confidently and knocked on the door loudly. After a minute of silence, she called, “Hello? We are part of the Annual Assessment Division of the Royal Assessment Department and Adventurer Welfare Council, and we are here to conduct the annual assessment of the Mimic Farm quest.”

  A series of loud crashes echoed through the house.

  “Dangnabit! Hold yer horses, Imma coming!” An older nasally voice called from somewhere in the farmhouse.

  A crash of broken glass was followed by a series of clever curses that Keylynn hadn’t heard previously. After a loud thud that shook the door, it creaked open.

  Through a crack in the door, an elderly man looked them over with his watery blue eyes. “What’s this about some assessment? We don’t get no assessment. Not in all me time on the farm or me papies time or me grandpapies'. No siree. We ain’t never got no assessment.” His voice was tinged with pride.

  The man’s head was shiny on top, while his hair below the bald spot stuck out in all directions. He looked down his long hooked nose as he constantly chewed on something, likely tobacco leaves.

  “Uhh… hello,” Demetra said, her gaze fixated on the man’s chest of white hair in between the suspenders that were keeping his pants up. “Y-you should have received a notice of assessment in the mail.”

  Keylynn squinted at the man’s chest, confused. He had none of the features that suggested his chest would be pleasing to gaze at.

  “Hold yer ass cheeks. Let me go check an’ see if them suits did that.” He slammed the door shut.

  Demetra turned back to Keylynn questioningly. Keylynn shrugged; quest workers came in all shapes and sizes. This one at least wasn’t screaming at them to get off his property.

  The door opened wide as he looked through a big stack of envelopes. “Don’t get me mail too often. Ye know how it be. Ain’t nothin’ good ever comes written down. The letters carry the bad words.” As he flipped through the envelopes, his lips moved slowly as if he were reading them to himself.

  “That would be it,” Demetra exclaimed, pointing out the manila RADAWC envelope. It was a wide-format envelope with prepaid postage. The address was printed with a white address label.

  The old farmer nodded and pulled out an old pocket knife. The blade itself was black from age and use. He slid the blade across the edge of the envelope, opening it effortlessly.

  He pulled out the paper inside and read through it silently. “Right there it says we be getting assessed. And look at that—they apologize for neglecting us for so long. Well ain’t that nice.” He folded the notice and slid it down the front of his pants.

  “Alright, ya can do whatever it is ya need to be doing to please the higher-ups. Ol’ Cleatus knows how it do sometimes. I keep all that paperwork they like in Grandpapies office. Oh, and the safe word for the mimics is Chartreuse. Ya say that, and they’ll spit y’all right out like you’re the bad cheese,” he explained as professionally as he could manage.

  Demetra stared at the edge of the notice that stuck out from Ol’ Cleatus’s pants. She didn’t seem to notice that he stopped talking and was waiting for her to respond. Keylynn will have to give her a reminder of professionalism in the face of all quest workers later.

  “You are most gracious and cooperative,” Keylynn said, bowing her head.

  Ol’ Cletus waved her off. “Think nothing of it. Ol’ Cleatus knows how to do when it comes to the bosses. Papie always said, 'Don’t go pissing off those that feed ya.'”

  “Demetra and Ragna will need access to your grandsire’s office as well as yourself if you are available for questioning. Tsunami and Inferno will be assessing your quest.”

  “Sure, sure. Whatever y’all be needing from Ol’ Cleatus.”

  ? Featured Story ?

  by Steve Rock

  “A Pioneer’s Blood Waters the Tree of Civilization”

  The Galaxy has finally learned peace. The Akaadi Imperium and Libera Coalition have put down their blasters for now, turning to the Frontier to replenish their resources. But, they'll need Pioneers. Dropped into remote, inhospitable worlds, Pioneers must hunt for useful salvage. Valuable materials, lost technologies, and unique lifeforms are all pursued, at grave peril.

  Enter Daniel Hardgrave. The old man who raised Hardgrave had always told him, "Do what you want, Danny, but never become a Pioneer. Life's short enough. Don't become expendable". Hardgrave had listened, scratching out a living as a humble fry cook. Until he learned he had a little sister to care for. Wanting to fund her education and give her a better life, he enlisted as a Pioneer. And unknowingly threw himself into the maw of the Apocalypse. Old powers are gathering, threatening everything Hardgrave has ever known. For an ex-fry cook trying to provide for a genius little sister and cynical cat, it's an impossible threat. But his discovery of an ancient technology could change all of that…

  Inspired by series like Warhammer 40K andvideogames like Helldivers 2 and Lethal Company,this is a tale of a man who faces danger where others will not go.

  What to expect

  Pulse-pounding action in exotic environments.LitRPG-like progression, with a sci-fi twist.Minor romantic and comedic elements

  Don't miss out on this incredible story!