They had started their life off, like many creations of the tower in a vat. Of course the vat in question had been the size of a goldfish bowl, but that was a long long time ago. The first thing they saw was The Master, and they remembered being fed so gently (of course that the food was a magic mutagen of a horrendous type was irrelevant, after all when you grow up in a lab food is food.

“I think I’ll call you Mister Tickles, after all you do look to have ten of them now,” The Master chortled, gently reaching a hand into the vat to gently pet his creation. Mister Tickles liked being petted, and they loved food. Growing to look forward to feeding time, and even listening for master humming as he approached, or wrote down notes on that pad of his.

Then things started to get strange, Mister Tickles was getting bigger. But now there were new creatures running around the tower. So many of them now, and Mister Tickles didn’t like that one bit. Soon the other robed people who came to feed him at The Masters request started showing up less and less, but The Master showed up at the same time every day, though he looked more tired these days. Almost nervous, and the glowy light around him grew into more and more complicated patterns.

“I’ll get those bastards, they’ll pay yet, just wish they’d leave witnesses. I won’t vanish, nonono won’t vanish, only vanish if you let your guard down. ” He muttered to himself, petting Mister Tickles as he did. “You’re growing up so nicely, you’ll be big one day, and you’ll protect me won’t you? yes you will. You’re such a good deathalopod aren’t you?”

Mister Tickles accepted the treats, and promised himself he would grow big and strong, so strong he could keep The Master safe forever. He would eat all his food like a good boy, and those nasty scuttly things in the shadows? He would eat them too. They would not hurt Master.

Sadly Deathalapods like Mister Tickles were really special, but they grew slow, and day by day The Master grew tireder, and tireder. He could hear the fights up above, but The Master had gone for a nap. Well Mister Tickles knew what to do. He would eat and grow, and wait. Once he outgrew his vat The Master flooded the bottom of the whole tower with water, all that space to hunt. Nothing would ever disturb Master again.

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Mibbet and the others desperately scoured the room, using every weapon they had to hand to buy themselves the time that was needed to figure out where it had gone.

Elvira and Rattanian dug through the mouldy piles of what had probably once over been a sizeable library, hoping to feel the edge of the storage box Veggie had described, but so far they were drawing blanks. Oh and soggy paper, lots and lots of soggy paper.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

The thaumatologically glowing mushrooms that were flashing a variety of colours weren’t exactly reassuring as to the chances of contamination either. But frankly the bloody massive shark toothed octopus of doom was a rather more immediate threat.

“GOT IT” Bellowed Mibbet, holding aloft the locked chest, and then once she realised she couldn’t find the key resorting to the choppy lock pick. She carefully started to read the ritual while the others formed a defensive circle. They really really really did not want a spell on this scale being interrupted by a tentacle. That could lead to even more things with tentacles and that never ends well.

She carefully searched out each item in turn, or at the least what was left of them, really hoping the spirit of the spell was considered more important than the letter of it at least on the performative aspect. The sacred sword was replaced by a slightly rusty letter opener, on the grounds nobody was in a position to surrender a perfectly good weapon. The candle became a a very unimpressed looking Rascal, who didn’t like being asked to stay still, but they needed the fire, and no rules said a ritual candle couldn’t claw away at invasive appendages. (Probably because for obvious reasons it had never really come up before, even wizards had limits on the weird crap in theory, well at least until alcohol was involved.)

Then at last Mibbet began to chant.

“A twist in time saved me and mine,

a mangled turn, to seal and hide,

but now it is the time, I say,

that all the secrets fade away.

Unkink the world, untwist the turn,

it’s time to be revealed, or burn,

let light shine in, oh blessed sun,

may the gods forgive us what we’ve done.

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Mister Tickles was scared, and angry, he would not let The Master down again, he was sleeping in there, and now the intruders were inside. He reached desperately through every nook and cranny, fighting for The Master, HIS Master, but no matter how hard he fought it didn’t seem to be enough. Did he have to grow even more? Or was he no good. The Master had been gone so long, and he missed him. He was all they had.

Then a familiar feeling hit, he remembered it, and his heart sank. He had failed again, just like last time he wasn’t strong enough. The world went all weird and twisty and turny, and beneath him the floors fell out. Down, down, down, no he couldn’t go down. He grasped desperately at the walls, his suckers holding on as for a fleeting moment they held his weight, as he tried to get back up there. But it was only a moment, as his whole world once again came crashing down.

He swam through the falling pieces to avoid being hit, not that he cared anymore. He had failed The Master TWICE. he was a bad Deathalopod.

Then something landed on him, a figure in a familiar robe, The Master, he came back, he had done good. Now he swam deep into the basement of the tower, safe from the falling rubble. A place nobody would disturb them. He was a good boy, and he got a reward, he got to keep The Master safe forever.