“You know, delicious as he is, I am almost one hundred percent positive you are not going to like this when you wake up. So how about we slow down and finish what we have before we go bursting out of any front doors–orrr you could keep shoveling torso at me, that works too. Hey–hey! Don’t forget the shin! What? Don’t look at me like that, of course it’s worth going back for– there’s plenty of meat left! Just because I didn’t want you to eat his fabulous footwear doesn’t mean I don’t want his foot! What? Yes, both of them! It’s over the counter somewhere, would you just– Sean. Sean!”

Sean clawed his way back towards the surface of his own mind. He could hear Gel’s words distantly, but they didn’t make any sense. It felt like he had been trapped underwater here for longer than he should have been. Searching for a way out. Searching for the way out– only to find it iced over. The lake had frozen. But what did that mean?

He pounded on ice that had grown too thick as he shouted wordless bubbles and battled with his legs to keep the current from sweeping him away again. Trying to force his addled mind to put the pieces back together. Trying to break through. But to what? To Where? And why? He was so tired.

The lake had frozen.

What lake? Sean shouted into another bubble, slamming his skeletal fist up against the ice palm-first. Shoving against it with his shoulder. It was heavy. Impossibly heavy. More like rock than it had any right to be. Where am I?

Such questions didn’t matter. His psyche was trapped. Or concealed? Submerged.

Why is it so hard to think? Another fist punched unyielding ice, then another. Each made no more difference than the last. Who did this? Let me out! Damn you to hell and back, let. Me. Out. Of. Here!

The lake had frozen.

“Sean, no! Stop! I uh, I didn’t mean what I said about the boots. We can eat those, too! Just turn around and we’ll– no, no! Don’t go towards that door! Why? Because we don’t want the whole town after us, that’s wh–what? Yes. Prey is outside. But too much prey means we die, and I don’t want to– Sean, no! Stop. Stop! Don’t go out there! I’m serious. Yes, I am. Danger is out there. And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but even I can’t eat all of the– no, no-no-no! Ugh, what part of no can’t you get through your thick– would you wake up already?! Why’re you–!?”

A fissure formed in the ice, cracking open with a sudden peal of thunder. Sean saw it split the ice across the entire lake nearly in two right over his own head. Hurriedly, he slammed a fist into it. Then another, and another. More cracks formed, and soon it was wide enough for him to push his fingers into.

“Sean! SEAN! Snap out of it before you get us both killed!”

With a soundless roar of desperation and unyielding determination, Sean shoved hard– and all around him the lake split apart. Darkness swallowed him. His vision faded.

An instant later, he was no longer trapped under a lake.

He was in a store of some sort. Standing there, perfectly dry, with one hand on a wooden door handle and the other on the door’s frame. As if he had been straining himself to open it.

What the–

“Ohh, thank the ancestors’ appetites.” Gel breathed out into his mind, a flood of relief coming through their bond from the slime like never before. “You’re back. And none too soon, mind you. You almost walked us out onto the street! Imagine, us in broad daylight, without a suitable hat to go with our glorious new armor? I might have died of shame.”

Gel was doing the thing he often did when the slime was calming down after a fright: talking a mile a minute. At first, Sean was confused– but he let go of the door handle all the same and took a step back. Doing so bumped him into something that wobbled and almost fell– before he turned and caught it on instinct.

Or tried to catch it, anyway. His midnight blade was still in his right hand, so when Sean moved to intercept the falling object he discovered what happens when a sharp length of steel forcibly intersects a fluffy pillow:

Feathers. Feathers everywhere. In no time the space immediately around them was suddenly covered in what he could only imagine was this world’s equivalent of goose down. The newly evolved Geladin stared– first at the feathers, then at his hand holding the sword.

His armored hand.

“Woah. Is that–?”

Before Sean could finish his question or interrupt Gel’s babbling long enough to get an answer, the universe provided one for him. In a blink he saw everything that had happened since they had emerged from evolutionary stasis. The attempt to kill Saren. Rampaging through the tunnels. Trying to force their way to the surface. Their kin who slumbered below. The unlocked grate and–

– and the two men they had slaughtered once they had broken out. That last sewer grate had led to some kind of deep basement filled with an abundance of different objects on pedestals. Objects Sean hadn’t– and still didn’t– recognize. They had sensed another beating heart above and charged through the door to the stairs, meeting who Sean presumed was the former owner of this establishment at the final step. Whoever he was, he clearly hadn’t been expecting bloodthirsty undead in his basement, and so the third man had hesitated.

Only for a moment, but that had been enough to seal his fate. What had followed had been quick, brutal, and a great deal messier than it might have otherwise been out in the desert. In the comparatively cramped confines of a shop trying to display its wares, the only thing that had kept the man alive longer than a breath had been his own merchandise. After that, Sean recalled sensing a number of pulsing hearts outside right before Gel had tried to distract him. First with some success, but then in a sort of flailing desperation.

We got lucky. Sean couldn’t help but think, absently reaching down to help pick up the mess of feathers Gel was already in the process of carefully dissolving. So very, very lucky. Another few seconds and I might’ve opened this door. Would’ve been out on the street before even waking up.

The geladin briefly recalled a dream of being trapped under a frozen lake, but he shook the already fading images clear of his mind. He had way better things to focus on right now. Like the fact that they had just taken three presumably civilian lives. Or the fact that he was now decked out, shoulder to toe, in stunning, gleaming crimson platemail.

“Holy– Gel, did you make this?” Sean’s alarm over the situation they were now in, his concern over their potential discovery, and his guilt over the triple-murder they had just committed were all temporarily sidetracked by a hard shiver that ran up his spine as his emotions were forcibly regulated. The only thing that made it through unchallenged was, amusingly enough, his sheer awe at the absolutely gorgeous armor he was now wearing. “This is– this is incredible. It’s way better than the chitin armor. We look badass!”

“Excuse you?” Gel said immediately, his voice full of affront. “We look absolutely nothing like bad ass, and I have eaten some bad ass before let me tell you! Not yours of course, but others! They looked nothing like us. All lumpy and uneven…”

The slime in his chest, who felt considerably smaller than before, shivered as if at some dreadful memory.

“We look pristine.” Gel corrected, pride practically oozing out of his mental tone. “Just look at those clean lines, the deep blood-red mixing with carmine and vermilion to form delicate wave patterns down our plating. We have actual ruby coloring on our chest now I hope you know– and I think some maroon on your elbows. That wasn’t intentional but as a design choice I am all in on it. Normally you don’t mix so many shades of a single color with one outfit but when you blend it properly like we have, well. I think the results speak for themselves.”

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“What are you– no, ‘badass’ is a good thing.” Sean didn’t even try delving into Gel’s color fixation, that was a swamp he had no hope of wading through. “It’s a term from where I’m from, it means ‘awesome’ but in a really cool kinda way, like: “That guy is badass.” and he’s some legendary knight or something. That’s what I meant.”

“Why would a legendary knight have a bad ass? That doesn’t make any sense, he’s a trained fighter. Heavily muscled, no doubt. He should have a toned–”

“Just take the compliment.” Sean interrupted, now fully sure that the slime understood his point and was just messing with him. He spread his arms wide, careful not to bump into anything else with them or his sword, and took in what they were wearing with a great deal of personal satisfaction that felt like it came from somewhere deep within. Again, the emotion went unregulated.

“You did this, didn’t you? We look unstoppable, that’s what we look like.” Sean did a slow turn, admiring himself. “Like our enemies won’t even know how much blood we’ve–”

“Oops, my bad. You got so focused on leaving that I haven’t had a chance yet to clean all of it up.” Gel’s whip popped out from under a plate affixed to his shoulder and rolled over their chestplate, rapidly sucking in and dissolving blood that Sean honestly hadn’t even noticed. “There. Now look at us. That shine! I can’t wait to see how it looks in the sun. How we do!”

The pointed reminder that was the leftover blood on his chest sombered Sean’s excitement considerably. He looked around for a body, before remembering that there uh… were none.

“Gel, what did we–”

Some part of the guilt he was feeling must have seeped through, because it was the slime’s turn to interrupt him.

“Now just hold on, before you get too wrapped up in what happened consider this: we did everything we could to isolate ourselves before evolving. There is nothing we could have done to prevent this.”

“That’s not true.” Sean began. “We could have–”

“Those three were just in the wrong place at the wrong–”

Sean held up a hand. “Okay that’s not the kind of civilian casualty-logic I want to live by, we can’t just hand waive a murderspree, here. The paladins were after Saren, and I get that we had no other choice with those adventurers who wouldn’t back down but these were just regular people living regular lives. They didn’t ask to become slimefood. They didn’t deserve to die just because we–”

“Actually, I’m going to stop you right there.” Gel said, and his tone was so distracted that it actually caught Sean up short. “Look.”

The slime pointed with his whip at a symbol embroidered in dark grey-and-black stitching on what remained of the pillow he had sliced up only a moment ago. Sean knelt down, picking it up for a closer look. It was an elegant affair, quality on a level that even he could appreciate depicting two clasped, skeletal hands of white holding a sphere of black by either end.

Actually...

From this angle, the hands looked to Sean as if they were trying to compress the sphere rather than hold it. Which he had to admit was odd and more than a little grim for pillow-work, but as he rubbed his thumb over it Sean still didn’t feel like the symbol meant anything by itself–

– and then it did. With absolute certainty, Sean suddenly knew what this symbol represented even if he couldn’t quite say how he did.

The Morian family.

It was their family crest. He was certain of it. As certain as if he had seen the American flag.

“Just because they have Bancroft’s family pillow on display doesn’t mean–”

Gel cleared his nonexistent throat, the mental representation of the sound remarkably accurate to a human doing the same.

“That wasn’t the pillow.” The slime clarified softly, as if only now coming to the same realization himself. “The fabric is different. See how it’s more dull, where the pillow was brighter? That’s part of the robe the guy we just ate was wearing. The inside stitch too, unless I miss my guess. Probably near where the neck would have been, based on the fold.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sean breathed out. He could only think of one reason why someone would have a hidden crest stitched into the neck of their robe. A place where nobody else would see it, but at the same time, it could also be discreetly displayed. He let a low, long whistle flow across their mental bond. “What are the fucking odds?”

“No idea, but it does make me feel a whole lot better about eating them.” Gel said, and Sean felt a knot of concern in his metaphorical stomach over the slime’s ready acceptance of the killings loosen as he realized Gel had been just as upset over them as he had been. Maybe more so, considering he’s going to have their memories soon.

“Just how widespread is this dude’s family?” Sean asked rhetorically, standing up and looking around the rest of the shop. It was surprisingly still intact despite the bloodshed it had seen recently. “I thought they were supposed to be all mysterious and powerful– and here we are running into them in some random shop? Isn’t Dervash supposed to be remote?”

“It is remote.” Gel answered promptly. “About as remote as you can get, if the memories I’ve gotten from the villagers and literally everyone we’ve encountered so far are accurate.”

“So, then how are we–”

Sean’s train of thought was interrupted by the approach of a vibrant, pulsing network of veins walking towards the shop’s outer door. They were roughly 65 feet away, which gave them some time. He glanced around the room again. Gel had done a good job of cleaning up the mess, and there were only two displays obviously out of sorts. One knocked down, the other with its centerpiece hanging halfway off – he hurried over to fix each. Behind him, the angle of approach confirmed that whoever was out there wasn’t just passing by. They were coming in.

Of course they are. Why wouldn’t they be? Now’s clearly the best time to browse. Would you like a severed arm? Maybe we can interest you in a fine, severed pillow.

Sean actually had no idea what time it was, and the idea of Gel leaving body parts behind for someone else to find was laughable. Thankfully the shop’s only windows were small, high up, and heavily tinted. A small part of him was curious how this world had managed tinted windows, but that question – like so many others – could wait until they weren’t about to be discovered. While his conscience could abide unintentionally slaying more of Bancroft’s ilk, random passerby were extremely unlikely to be anything but innocent.

“Gel, how long will your disguise ability take?” Sean whispered mentally as he righted the shop’s interior to look as if a murder hadn’t just occurred in it. “Someone’s coming and they’ll be here any second!”

“Only a minute or so.” Gel whispered back. “Why are we whispering? Can people here read minds?”

“I–.” Sean shook his head, pointing at the door and resuming his normal mental volume. He started heading for the staircase, looking around to make sure he had gotten everything, before pausing and heading the other way. “Nevermind. Can you shout something to whoever is coming? Tell them we’re closed for now? I can hold the door shut to sell it if we have to.”

“Sure!” Gel said brightly. “It’ll just be my own beautiful voice until we get the disguise going, though.”

“That’ll have to do.” Sean said, getting his left hand firmly on the door’s latch just before he sensed the person on the other side get close enough to reach it. “They’re here. Try to sound like they just caught you in the middle of rearranging something. Grumpy, but not too grumpy.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” Gel assured him, before the slime’s actual voice boomed out. Since the slime obviously wouldn’t be speaking in Beast, Sean didn’t expect to actually understand any of it– and of course, he didn’t.

What he did understand however, was that Gel’s words hadn’t slowed this would-be customer down at all. The man – Sean’s senses were sure it was a man – simply grabbed the door handle anyway and pushed. Since the geladin was already braced for it however, the door didn’t budge. Sean noticed the locking mechanism at that moment, and flicked the latch to its secure position feeling admittedly silly for not noticing it earlier.

“What’s going on?” Sean asked, hoping to distract his friend from the obvious derp moment he had just had. An irritated voice sounded from the other side of the door, speaking a language that Sean was certain wasn’t peasant. It was too harsh and angry-sounding. It reminded him of Russian for some reason.

“What’s he saying?” Sean probed again, when the slime responded to the man now rapping on the door instead of him.

“He says he’s here for a ‘scheduled delivery’.” Gel said, smoothly translating while holding a separate conversation in a way that still impressed Sean. “Ooh, and to pick up! I wonder what he’s here for. Hope it’s not that pillow you ruined.”

Sean slapped his left hand to his skull, slowly letting his fingers run down to his chin. His burning orbs fell on the deflated and mutilated pillow whose feathery innards they had just finished dissolving all traces of.

“There’s probably more in the back somewhere.” He said, though some part of him knew that wasn’t going to be the case. “We’ll find something.”

Knuckles rapped on the door again, and the definitely male voice was more insistent this time.

“What should I tell him?” Gel asked, and Sean detected a hint of excitement bleeding into the slime’s curiosity. “What’s our bad ass plan here?”

“It’s badass not bad ass, and that’s not how you use it.” Sean corrected absently, his orbs flicking around the room looking for something – anything – they could use to stall or–

– That’ll work. Sean thought, his orbs landing on a particular item hanging from a set of hooks behind the counter. Was it a ridiculous plan? Yes, yes it was. But it was still better than anything else they had. Sean ignored the many, many prompts waiting on his attention as he rushed over to what they needed.

“Alright, just…”

“Yeah?”

“Just tell him we need about five minutes.”