Everyone gagged a bit at the heavy scent of burned troll. Everyone except Coko, who was surreptitiously dabbing a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth as he inhaled deeply. Mastering their rebelling stomachs, the party did what they always do after battle — looted the bodies. Eli may or may not have been holding his nose during the process.
They found a leather pouch securely attached to Larry’s belt. Nix, becoming increasingly wary, nimbly retrieved and opened the pouch with his mage hand, eliciting a communal gasp as the disembodied hand floated in the air. Dumping the pouch yielded 150 gold, a cookbook, and some spices. The burlap sack Curly had been carrying had landed on the ground as they fell. It was only smoking a bit. As Slick touched it, the sack changed form, its clever illusion revealed. A quick examination revealed the item was a bag of holding, and apparently a lunch snack. It contained 2 severed arms and 75 gold.
Cokolkahn immediately claimed the arms and began flapping them around in a macabre dance, chuckling the entire time. “What an interesting texture. I’m keeping these!”
It was then that he fell victim to the insidious haze. Blinking and shaking his head, he uttered a small sound of surprise. “ My bones…they’re…melting!” His usually confident voice faded to a whisper as he slumped forward to lie flat on the ground, a boneless, amorphous blob. All that remained of him was a head and the arms, embedded in tentacle-like pseudopods.
Laika, too, felt a bit strange. As she scratched her head, wondering what the fuck was going on, a tuft of her hair came loose. She casually tossed it away, shrugging her shoulders and muttering, “Shit happens.” It would have been comical if the situation had not become dire.
Cokolkhan, meanwhile, was experiencing the full effects of his latest level of contamination. He pressed out pseudopods and tried to walk, his gait wobbly and uncertain. "I… I can still walk," he announced, his voice a little strained, "but… not well."
Slick, ever resourceful, popped Coko into the bag of holding, leaving his head and “shoulders” exposed. It was a struggle, but Coko accepted it gracefully, looking around with interest, perfectly satisfied with his new state. Slick hoisted the bag like a baby carrier, secured it to his chest and
"Alright, let's get a move on, slowpoke!" Slick quipped, gripping what would normally be Cokolkhan’s shoulders. Cokolkhan's arms flailed about uselessly, but his expression remained strangely placid, as if this was just another Tuesday.
Nix shook his head at the surreal scene, suddenly clutched his temples. "Ugh… my thoughts feel… fuzzy," he groaned, swaying slightly. The insidious influence of the haze had clearly touched him as well, though for now, it manifested as a creeping delirium rather than physical mutation. "Morrigan have mercy…" he mumbled, though it wasn't entirely clear if it was a prayer or a curse.
Their peculiar procession continued towards the infamous Slaughterhouse Square. However, their journey was interrupted by the sight of two figures engaged in hushed conversation. A tall blond figure sporting a flowing black cape and nobleman’s garb stood facing another clad in the deep violet robes that marked a member of the esteemed Amethyst Academy. Even from a distance, Slick recognized him as Christian Lament, the head of the elite Wounded Hearts — a Queen’s Man through and through.
"Hold up," Slick hissed, pulling back slightly. "Something's going down. Lament shouldn't be in this part of town, much less talking to an Academy mage."
Slick and Laika eased forward, exploiting their natural stealth and cunning. The Academy mage spoke arrogantly as he held out a crystal globe glowing with octarine light. He stowed it in an intricate padded box containing a small cylinder and handed it to the dapper Queen’s Man.
“This is a rare piece of experimental work. I’m not sharing the arming and firing procedures with you, rogue,” he sneered, “The Queen knows what to do. Now hand over the payment.”
Christian momentarily stroked his rapier as he reached into his cloak. He handed over what looked like a huge amount of delirium with a dismissive air. “Take it. The Queen hopes to deal with you again.’
The mage eagerly grabbed the delerium, stuffed it in a protected box, and teleported away.
As the mage disappeared, Christian muttered to himself, “This should be enough. That was 1000 gold-worth of delerium!” He gently stowed the box in a leather pouch secured to his belt. “I'll be back in her good graces, even though I’m out every last piece of delerium I had.”
Slick, ever the opportunist, chose that moment to test his new warlock powers. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a fleeting, shadowy apparition in a nearby alleyway.
"Hey! Who's there?" Lament called out sharply, his hand instinctively moving towards the hilt of his sword as he turned to investigate the sudden movement. Laika and Slick exchanged a glance and continued their cautious approach, the mystery of the delerium bomb and Cristian Lament deepening with every silent step.
The air shimmered around Nix, and in a disconcerting instant, the goat-like features and tiefling skin melted away. In his place stood Brand, his childhood nemesis. The transformation was unsettlingly complete, down to the green tunic stretched across a form that now towered over Nix’s by a full head.
Before anyone could react to this bizarre metamorphosis, Laika flung her boomerang. It whistled through the air, striking the Queen’s Man squarely in the ribs with a solid thwack. He gasped, clutching his side, a dark bruise already blooming beneath his fingers.
"Brand, hey bro, get over here!" Lament spat through gritted teeth, beckoning the transformed Nix forward. As the towering figure of "Brand" approached, Nix, his voice now a gruff imitation, said, "Quick, hand me the package."
The stunned rogue, momentarily disoriented by the sudden attack, complied. He removed the pouch from his belt and handed it to the disguised Nix. “Careful with this, bro. And get it to the Queen if I go down. Tell her it’s from the Wounded Hearts. He turned to face his attackers, shouting “en garde” as he flourished his rapier.
Slick lunged forward, his own rapier singing with arcane energy. Booming Blade crackled around the slender weapon as he thrust, leaving a series of pinprick wounds on Lament's chest that immediately blossomed into dark red spots.
From a distance, Elivalor loosed two arrows in quick succession. The first struck Lament's shoulder, and the second slammed into his chest, sending him staggering back against the crumbling wall. He slumped there, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
An uneasy silence descended upon the party. The immediate adrenaline faded, replaced by the stark realization of their actions. They had just openly attacked one of the Queen’s Men. The consequences of such a brazen act in Drakkenheim were likely to be severe. A hurried discussion ensued, filled with nervous glances and hushed tones. Deciding that leaving a body in plain sight was unwise, they quickly set about burying Cristian Lament beneath the plentiful rubble that littered the ruins of the Inner City.
They pressed on for another two hours, the oppressive atmosphere of Drakkenheim seeming to seep into their very beings. Then, a familiar, unsettling sensation washed over Nix. Just like Cokolkhan before him, he felt his bones begin to soften, turning to a strange, gelatinous consistency. Laika, meanwhile, yelped in surprise as a hard, chitinous shell began to form across parts of her skin, flexing as she moved. It felt protective, almost like natural armor. Both Nix and Laika then noticed a disturbing development: their fingernails felt loose and detached.
"Dammit," Nix groaned, flexing his fingers. "Not again! It takes forever for these things to grow back!" Cokolkhan, observing his companions' transformations with a detached curiosity, seemed almost pleased with his own ongoing changes.Eli looked on in shock at the state of the Doom Slingers, but did not say a word. He and Slick forged ahead, expecting their companions to follow. Eventually, the party fell into their usual marching order. Slick and Laika took point, and Eli guarded their rear. Nothing is ever easy in Drakkenheim, though.
They approached an area littered with rubble. Heavy wooden beams leaned precariously. The ruin was so complete that it obscured the path forward. The whole place looked ready to collapse at the slightest provocation. Skirting the obstacle was impossible. They would have to pick their way through. Superb gymnastics, athletics, and innovation got them through unharmed without making a noise that might have drawn monsters. At one point, Cokolkhan slithered his boneless body through the narrowest cracks, making his escape easily. He smirked a bit. “See, mutations are great!” But it seemed he realized his amorphous state limited his abilities to help the party. A faint octarine glow emanated from the blob as the druid exerted his will and his body reformed. He shook himself slightly, as if settling his shape into place. “Well, that was fun!”
They had lost valuable time navigating the ruined street, and they were anxious as the haze swirled and thickened around them. Nix felt a familiar nausea. “Not again,” he bleated, as he dissolved into a blob.
Their vision limited by the thick haze, no one noticed the eerie mansion set back from the street. A voice wailed in despair. “Where are my people?... I’m so lonely….Please come visit, I neeeed people.”
The Doom Slingers all felt a strange pull towards the house. It was speaking to them. They should go see what was wrong. But one by one, they shook off the compulsion and plodded towards their goal — the sewer grate near Slaughterstone Square.
Off to their left, they barely caught a glimpse of one of the arched entrances to Queen’s Park Gardens. And the haunting Castle Drakken loomed above them. Eli sighted a dragon flying along the battlements. At least they knew they were close to their source of Eldritch Lilies, should they ever need more. Nearing Slaughterstone Square, they entered a street of ruined shops. Nix recognized some of the pieces of glassware scattered in the street. “Look!’ His current form could only manage a burbling voice. “Retorts. Beakers. Condensing coils. Alchemy.”
Hearing that, the party scrutinized the collapsed shops more carefully. There could be useful items here. Slick’s sharp perception caught sight of an orange glow and a glint of metal beneath a partially ruined wall. Could it be Aqua Expurgo? Laika crept forward carefully and extracted three of the valuable syringes. Evidently, her chitinous scales protected her from the shards of broken glass. She held the potions up triumphantly as she returned ot the group muttering, “Finally, something fucking useful!”
After avoiding a bunch of writhing tentacles reaching from a rusted grate, they arrived at a large, rusted sewer entrance. Their directions to the cistern stopped there, but they had found the entrance
Following the fragmented directions they had received, they eventually located a large, rusted sewer grate. Beyond the grate, they found themselves not in a typical sewer but in a wide, arched tunnel that more closely resembled an ancient aqueduct. Clear, albeit murky, water flowed steadily along its floor – a remnant of the days when this supplied Drakkenheim’s fresh water supply. Laika, leery of her four levels of contamination, paused a moment to jam one of the doses of Aqua Expurgo into her chest. “There,” she growled. “Now I won’t mutate anymore….for a while, at least.”
They moved along the tiled passageway. It was a bit wider than the sewer passages, making the journey less precarious. But the water still radiated that ominous glow. The tunnel had no branches, so they moved on.
to be continued