Book 3: Chapter 43 - Change (RAW)

Today I have come to the conclusion that those who are rich need only risk a portion of their Share and assets to succeed and to become greater. Those who are poor must risk their very lives if they wish to become more.

- From the diary of Lady Aelayah of House Salahaem.

This world was slowly teaching me in a manner most crude of the limits of language and hyperbole. It was both the most intimate of sharings and the most heinous of violations. Familiar feminine laughter that only I could hear rang in my ears. It felt as if each peal eviscerated a part of me, and my heart grew heavy as I realized that I had furthered her purpose. Unwittingly, I had fallen into one of her traps.

“Welcome, false priest, to another of my temples,” came a soft whisper, velvety smooth and imbued with divine certainty. It was the voice of Iasis, the mother of monsters. As the laughter faded, I turned my attention to my status. A mix of shock, indignation, and a hint of horror washed over me when I realized my magical reserves were nearly depleted. Damn the witch who dared call herself a goddess. The mingling of magical energies, Chaos and Entropy, had drained more from me than I had intended.

Without warning, the tide of scrabbling creatures surged forth like a wave of living flesh. Furry vermin, emitting shrill squeaks and menacing hisses, surged and swarmed. I pressed my back against the grimy wall of the passage and pushed against the with my spiked shield flood in a desperate attempt to protect my charge. Around us, the horde of vermin parted like water flowing around a steadfast rock in a midstream, forming a writhing mass painted in hues of dirty browns and muted greys. Most repulsive were their tails, sinuous, wriggling appendages that seemed to possess a life of their own.

I saw it all unfold through my borrowed senses. The scene grew more chaotic as the giant rats launched themselves at a colossal slime monster with savage purpose and wild abandon. They tore through its strange, gelatinous flesh with ferocious bites and vicious scratches, feasting upon the bizarre creature with a frenzied hunger. Their feast was not limited to the Quiverings. The rodents also devoured strange white growths and multicolored fungi, ingesting the very essence of burning Chaos. Even as they fed, even as they suffered my creeping Entropic rot that devoured them like a curse. A curse that with each new bite was forming the shape of a gift or a blessing as the Sewer Rats were becoming more before my very eyes.

However, titans do not fall easily. Despite the ferocity of the attack, the slime monster fought with a primal determination, for all life clings fiercely to existence. In this grotesque tableau, the battle was by no means a one-sided affair. The air was thick with the raw, pungent stench of primal violence and struggle. Some rodents were drained dry by barbed pseudopods that sucked the life out of them, others drowned in its mass, absorbed by the slime or simply crushed against hard stone. 

The Quiverings slew a vast score of the Sewer Rats, but the rodent's victory was slowly becoming all but certain. For every Sewer Rat slain, there seemed to be five to take its place. And even in death, the vermin were taking their toll, infecting the slime with a black stain of corruption. A dark cloud that was slowly overcoming the creature, growing ever thicker and more vile as the furred creatures continued their onslaught.

Numbers do not lie, and it was clear to me that the Sewer Rats were overcoming the Quiverings’ large Health pool and spell-granted regeneration. Slowly of course.

We could do nothing more than huddle down, my oversized shield protecting us from accidental attacks as the two forces of nature against each other. Larynda was wild-eyed and breathing deeply and I could offer her no words of comfort or hope.

Though eaten alive by flame both of this world and unnatural, and mauled by the many, it seemed to take an eternity for the Quiverings to die. But die it did, and with its death, a small portion of its strength was granted to me.

You have slain some Quiverings 183 experience gained.

You have slain a Sewer Rat 3 experience gained.

You have slain a Sewer Rat 2 experience gained.

You have slain a Sewer Rat 4 experience gained.

You have slain a Sewer Rat 3 experience gained.

You have slain a Sewer Rat 2 experience gained.

You have slain a Sewer Rat 1 experience gained.

You have slain a Sewer Rat 3 experience gained.

You have slain a Sewer Rat 2 experience gained.

You have slain a Sewer Rat 3 experience gained.

You have slain a Sewer Rat 2 experience gained.

You have slain a Sewer Rat 2 experience gained.

A strange set of notifications, I absently thought to myself, wondering when exactly I had exactly ‘slain’ some Sewer Rats. Looking across some of the diseased and broken forms of some of the vermin I hypothesized that it must have been indirectly due to my Decay spell. They were the Sewer Rats that could not survive the change that the mix of Chaos and Entropy had wrought on them. That, and checking on my bloodied shield, saw that some of the rodents had hurt themselves upon its spikes.

I dismissed my impromptu barricade, the one-eyed tower shield disappearing into me in a disgusting display of writing organic vines. Larynda looked oddly at me, the question clear in her eyes as curiosity finally overtook receding fear.

“What in the Dark Lady’s bouncy bosom is that?”

“Just something I picked up a while back,” I answered glibly, drawing my sword. I winced internally at her use of some of Elwin’s more colorful turns of speech.

The rats, those not busy still feasting, looked at me with their dull yellow, beady eyes. But there was no baleful menace in their gaze, just an odd, curious regard. They made no move to attack and a new confidence filled me.

I hacked at a dead rat, its features stilled in the rictus of death, shearing off its tail. Still, the other rodents made no aggressive moves. 

But this did not assuage Larynda who had not felt my dark communion with them. “Gil, like, we got to go!” she urged.

“We came here to do a job… and we are not leaving until we are finished,” was my simple flat response.

“But…” she began again before I silenced her with a raised hand.

“Come, help me,” I commanded gesturing to the recent dead.

Many of the rats had scattered off now in search of greener pastures, and those that remained were, like us, had business with the fallen rats. And so we worked together under the curious gazes of the vermin. Larynda was much less efficient than I, her lesser attributes and squeamishness somewhat impeding her progress. To her credit, once she got used to the bloody work her pace picked up measurably. 

I lifted a bloody bundle tied into a bunch by rawhide strips to my shoulder. Just doing a job, I repeated to myself endlessly, trying to ignore the wet, squelching presence. 

“Time to go,” I ordered curtly, to which Larynda gave a small nod in return. She was no doubt tired, but from the determination I saw in her features, she was still game.

We carefully made our way past the remaining rats, which sniffed and squeaked as we passed. Many had undergone bizarre changes. Some displayed unusual combinations of body parts, while others sprouted tentacles and pseudopods, features alien to their species. Among them, one peculiar rat sported a large mushroom on its back, enveloped in a swarm of spore flies. It was a surreal, random assortment of mutations.

Together we continued in the direction of one of the exits for what seemed to me an indeterminable amount of time. My heartbeat began to slowly settle as we made distance from the macabre site, leading my thoughts down strange tangents. 

It was amazing what the lack of digital entertainment did, it made me seek ‘fun’ down some very dubious avenues. Violence. The anticipation of it, almost as much as its execution was staining my psyche with its shade. It, even now, made me long for it. This was an education in human nature, an undeniable reminder of our fundamental properties. 

I hated myself for it, bitterly, and knew in a heartbeat that I would trade this all away for a comfortable couch and a welcoming screen. But that line of thinking was for those who never amounted to anything. That was the old me I realized with a sardonic grin within my closed helm.

But was that all to it? Was it just my environment that was painting my thoughts and desires so? Or was it something more sinister? That wasn’t what I needed to think about, was it? The voices within agreed, and I felt myself nodding in agreement with them. 

“Hey… slow down a bit…” wheezed my charge between labored breaths, interrupting my thoughts.

“We can’t… we need to get out here,” I snapped.

Hands on her knees, she continued with her complaint, “Wait… can’t go on…”

“Very well. A quick rest to catch your breath, but we can not afford to dally here. I will carry you if I must,” I warned.

I estimated giving her two or three minutes, during which I closely monitored my Mana, noticing it was replenishing slowly. After some internal debate about whether to drink a Mana potion, I ultimately decided to conserve my resources.

“So… like… what happened back there? And what was that icky thing that was a shield that went into your arm?”

“As to what happened with those rats… and that Quiverings thing, your guess is as good as mine… that was strange I tell you that.” I paused, looking away for half a second while I gathered my thoughts. “And as to that… as I said earlier it was something that I picked up. A magical shield of sorts. Just like in the stories. Oh, and just as an observation, it is probably for the best that you refrain from using that spell again. How did you do that anyway?” I replied, eager to change the topic.

From what I could discern from her expression, she did not completely believe me. However, my question prompted her to answer, “I dunno, it just felt right. Like something I’d done before but jus’ forgotten like… No that ain’t right. More like hearing the first notes to a song… and humming the rest?”

“I have no idea what it is you are talking about, but I can see why the water witch warned you against using that magic. Best not to rely on spells of that element… I feel that their effects may be… unpredictable,” I put forward, keen to keep things focused on her and not me.

She looked at me as if she was digesting my words, running them around her mind before she answered. “You’re probably right. Sage advice that. Need to work on the water stuff anyways… got plenty to work with down here. Bit difficulty for some reason… maybe because it aint all exactly jus’ water. Lotsa icky bits in it too.”

Just as I was about to voice my agreement, I heard footsteps accompanied by the familiar clank of armor. There was also a distant murmur of voices. A small group was approaching, at least by my estimations, though echoes often made liars of even the best guesses.

I sighed to myself and raised a hand to call for silence. The arrival of this new group introduced a complication I had little energy to address. With my mana reserves reduced to less than a third, barely enough to cast a simple Heal spell, I knew I needed to act.

I unstoppered my mana potion and took a deep swig. Almost immediately, I noticed the difference in quality compared to the last potion I had consumed. A fiery sensation ignited within me, drawing the magical energies of the world toward its center and revitalizing me. It felt as though my body was opening up to the world around me, sharpening my senses. My surroundings became crisper, allowing me to perceive subtle details I normally would not. I saw the exact even lines of the stone tiles,  heard a drop of water falling from the ceiling and the faint echo of distant footsteps above, and felt the texture of every fiber touching my skin. Smelt and tasted the rancid air. 

Holding back an urge to urge to heave, I smiled a crazy smile as my Mana rushed up. Whatever happened next, they would find me well-prepared.