There was a door in the deep catacombs beneath Four Ring Hills Palace. It was a secret place, a long-forgotten place. The chamber had been unearthed by accident a hundred years ago, and it’s vast, blasphemous treasures were plundered to feed auction houses –
Since the decaying residence overhead had needed a new roof.
But the door remained, and it was cut of living, slumbering sea-stone, even if no one was alive to remember it. That night, the hinges of the entryway groaned as the chamber swung open, and yellow-green clouds of poison spilled out from the darkness. It rose, lighter than air, but thick: and almost resembled loose cotton as it poured.
The first goblin toppled out of the smoke, hacking and coughing violently. The dangerous gas clung to his clothing and hair, and so he lay flat and rolled along the hard floor to shake it free. He was joined soon after by another goblin, and then more, and then soon the whole of the army Office of Special Projects leadership and research teams (and various security staff) was vomited out into clean(er) air.
“Sorry, everybody!” Squeaked the sword-genius Jern Hakkat-Yune. Her voice had nearly gone, both from overuse and from the haze of pollution that they had escaped. “My aura gets slightly poisonous. My fault.”
The abominable mother-of-homunculi checked her dress for burn-marks and batted at the lingering fumes in front of her face. “No, my dear Ser,” she sighed. “I have to admit, that I also found myself somewhat out of hand. My spirit was piqued by the circumstance, and I –”
Fidelity Brand’s most tragical mustache had wilted on either side, but he carried himself with poise nonetheless. Still, he had an Eintirp wrapped in his arms, so he passed her over into her cousin’s care and then turned to address the crowd.
“Now, we should not be so quick to blame one another. I myself was quite taken by the promise of what we saw here tonight. It would not be untrue to say, I acquitted myself quite unbecoming of my station as well.”
The half-elf adjutant, veteran of various battles and skirmishes, and renowned grand-master of penmanship, made quick repair to the curl of his whiskers.
“Now, as you may all know, I have had certain doubts about this project from the start.” Brand graciously accepted the noises of rebuke that ensued. “And I have not been quiet about them, it’s true. But I think we can all accept that what we witnessed here today – the display of Rhode’s potential… by the gods, this changes everything.”
There was a smattering of claps and half-hearted hoots from the gathered crowd, but the low noble encouraged them. He rewarded the accomplishments of the miscreants and lunatics around him with an earnest round of applause of his own. He even bowed, just a little to them in respect.
“We’re just getting started, though. There’s more work to do, but the only difference now is that I know better than to doubt you. Good work – to you all. And I’ll see you in the morning.”
There was a cheer which rose up through the exhaustion. Then there was an announcement that antidotes would be made available later to counter any lingering, toxic effect from tonight. Then the gathered crowd, eager for rest, began to move back towards the tunnels to disperse.
“Wait,” a voice called out, and gobs stepped aside to reveal brother Eloft, the humble wind-surgeon of Selt. “Speaking of Rhode, um, where is he?”
Because the towering shape of the homunculus was nowhere to be seen. After a moment of confusion and escalating terror, finally a hateful little old serving gob piped up from the distance. He had been hobbling into the shadows, but he turned long enough to growl an answer.
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“Fell asleep,” he said simply.
“What, inside the chamber?” Croaked the full-bellied Scholar Tarrop.
“Given his new level, might not the conditions inside lead him in particular to exacerbate his health?” Mused Scholar Yagget.
“Oh gods! He’ll get double the dose. No, ten times, even!” Eloft cried.
“I think – I think I’m gonna be sick,” Scholar Rikva offered helpfully.
And then after the briefest of riots, Brand brought the howling stampede of gobs back to order with a booming command. “Well what are you waiting for, you morons?! You, you, and you! Go GET HIM!”
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It was hard to say whether Rhode would slept peacefully, as morning passed into evening and still onward. Good dreams? Nightmares? If he’d had them, they spun together and tangled up and then he forgot them all. Instead, he perceived and remembered only an anxious void, and lost himself in the comfort of it.
Gene [Vigorous Ichor] progresses ★○○→★★○: The first key to Enduring Stamina. Foundation level {mutation}. Levelable. Mergeable.
Evolution to [Rejuvenating Ichor] available. Evolution resisted.
Comment: Boss-man, maybe you should think about taking this one?
Gene [Hibernate] progresses ○○○→★○○: Conserve strength through slumber, the first key to Restful Longevity. Foundation level {mutation}. Levelable. Mergeable.
Skill [Bellows] progresses ○○○→★○○: A mighty wind, a’blowin from within. Compound legacy (Eloft, wind-surgeon of Selt) {skill}. Levelable. Mergeable.
Notification: Risk for [metal toxicity] is high.
Notification: Alchemical substances detected. Risk for [metal toxicity] is reduced.
Notification: Infected tissue detected. Risk for [lingering fibrosis] is moderate.
Notification: Alchemical substances detected. Risk for [lingering fibrosis] is reduced.
Level up: aura formation → FAILURE::ERROR_MANA_STABILITY_INSUFFICIENT
Level up: weapon art → Progress 0.08%
Comment: Point zero eight? How is that even possible? You should be ashamed. Be ashamed now.
Comment: Hello? Dummy? Hello?
Rhode rolled in his sleep, coming close to waking, in fitful starts until a voice called out through the darkness and pulled him out into the light.
“Big guy?” Scholar Rikva asked as she shook him. “Rhode, I think you need to wake up. I mean, you don’t need to, need to. You know? But it’s kinda like, destiny stuff and all that.”
The monster’s eyes opened, crackling with the filth of days worth of sticky residue. “I, what? Rikva? Destiny? What are you talking about?”
“You know, Fate. Chance. The futures which may or may not come to pass. I know it’s not modest to talk about it, and like, I don’t wanna give you the impression that I’m somebody who brags about herself. But this is work stuff, so…”
The scholar wiped at Rhode’s face with a wet rag, and the cup in her hand rattled when she shook it. “You should probably know that Destiny’s kinda like, my whole thing.”