A Twisted Tower {Solo}

The region was shrouded in, not mystery, but rumors and myths. Everyone who had talked about it spoke about what had happened three years ago. A massive explosion had rocked the surrounding area, disrupting a lot of normal folks’ lives - and the tower that had been in the region for decades was just ruined, a shattered edifice that had clearly been damaged in the blast. Beyond that - strange plants and creatures had begun appearing in the surroundings, distorted and warped versions of normal animals that spread out and rapidly pushed out the mundane counterparts.

Those were the things everyone knew. But there were more things that they had no idea on. What had caused the blast? Some failed experiment of the Mage who had lived there, an old man who nobody could remember the name of? Or had he been attacked by a rival magic user? Or worse, had a deity decided that the mortal man was reaching too far, and had decided to put him down before he stepped into territory where none should tread?

And the creatures and plants - what were they? Were they magical? Mundane, but warped? Was there some new kind of race hiding in the region, protected by the dangerous beasts that now roamed? The questions seemed to outweigh the answers.

For Nevin, two questions had driven him to this place. First, were the new plants and creatures different enough to possess different alchemical properties? While this drive to explore and know more about alchemical things had bitten him before, he found that even then he could not resist the allure of learning more.

To make matters worse for his personal resistance against coming to this place and exploring it, the Mage who had lived here was rumored to have been highly skilled in several arcane arts - including Alchemy. And this interested Nevin greatly. If he could find texts or documents on transmutative Alchemy that had survived the explosion, then he could finally start making progress on learning the magical side of Alchemy himself - which would advance him in leaps and bounds in his profession.

So here he had come, to one of the furthest, most remote regions of Corone’s isles, and now he was staring into the thick woods that surrounded the ruined tower. He could already see signs of mutation and change in the vegetation around here. Some of the trees were absolutely massive, far larger than they should have been with only a few years of growth. Their size wasn't the only thing that was decidedly wrong to the eye either, they were also discolored, not a lot, but with his years of experience and exposure to different forests and woods, he knew trees shouldn't be this color. They were too… Red, too purpled.

The other vegetation here suffered the same effects. Normal plants were larger than should have been possible - rosemary bushes that rivaled normal trees, briarpatches that had spines growing longer than some daggers would be, other herbs and hay just looking at, Nevin knew did not carry their normal properties. He was actually decidedly hesitant about trying to gather any samples from this place in fact; too much was changed and went. There was too high a chance of mixing one of these distorted samples up with a normal plant, and that would either ruin his potion or turn it into something entirely different.

He also didn't want to accidentally ruin the efforts of the locals by spreading the ‘contamination” that they had quite vehemently warned him about. Apparently, the changes in life in the forest had been noticed, but at first ignored - until someone saw that it was expanding at a frantic rate, like a Wildfire spreading through the woods.

The response had been to cut a burn-mark area. A dozen yards or so all around the affected area, the woods were cut and burned down completely the ground salted so nothing more could grow. This prevented the plants from spreading their ‘corruption’ further, and for the animals two things were in play.

First, it was noticed that the changed animals did not tend to stray far from the affected plant life. Secondly, patrols of concerned citizens traveled around the area every so often, armed with long pikes and crossbows, weapons to kill the twisted creatures from afar. This seemed to be enough to keep the majority of the mutations inside the danger zone, but every so often a random animal or plant that had been changed would pop up outside the burned area, and that would spur a fresh wave of concern about the spreading corruption.

This was all lodged in the back of Nevin’s mind as he sat at the outside edge of the salted earth, chewing on a piece of jerky as he stared at the twisted trees ahead of him. He was almost tempted to call it off, to not go exploring in this place - but even if he wasn't looking for the plants, the potential alchemical texts that this place might hold would be worth more than their weight in gold to him.

No, no. Into the twisted forest he would go. Hopefully his preparations would be sufficient - at least he was alone, so if he had to defend himself with blood magic or his blood-threads he could do it without accidentally exposing himself. No one came to this place anymore as it was, so he was fairly certain he'd be the only person in there unless someone followed him in. With a sigh, he swallowed the chewed up remnants of meat with a wash of water, capping off the water skin and resecuring it to his belt.

He only had enough food and water for a couple of days at most before he would have to either leave, or forage. And staring at the distorted foliage ahead of him, the Alchemist did not in the least feel inclined to taste the vegetation. He was also a bit concerned that it might try to taste him.

Crossing the area of dead earth, bereft of living plants, was a bit unsettling, not at helped by the view of just what it was that he was trying to reach with this ill-fated trip. The woods ahead of him, less than a few yards away now, seemed surreal. They were out of place, not quite right - they looked like someone had transplanted an alien forest right here, and then completely forgotten about it.

Nevin entered the woods cautiously, one hand resting on his whip. While it wasn't a weapon with which a normal person could easily snag a kill, he could quite handily defend himself with it - it did have the rather unfortunate, for its victims at least, tendency to draw blood into itself, and Nevin could enhance that quality by running thin crimson threads from his hand along it's length. The hungry threads would draw blood out from the wounds, and the Plynt barbs would absorb it. All in all, while he wouldn't be killing most things with one blow, the pain of the barbed whip, plus whatever drainage occurred… It would have to be a ridiculously determined beastie that kept coming after one or two lashes.

No, that wasn't accurate. Who knew - the animals in these woods might not have normal pain receptors anymore. He would have to exercise caution - while gathering a sample or two, to keep in a glass container for later study, might be enjoyable, and indeed his fingers were itching towards his dagger to do just that - his primary objective lay beyond these woods.

That blasted, enigmatic tower. Even now, he could see the ruined top of the tower piercing up through the treetops, thankfully orienting him as he trudged through the woods. It was a damn good thing, as the trees and plants in this place didn't grow right. Impossible to notice from outside, Nevin could now see that many of the signs travelers used to guide them were just wrong. Moss grew in every which way, not just on the northern face of rocks, rivers flowed in contradictory patterns within themselves.

If he didn't have that visible landmark to guide him, Nevin would most definitely have gotten lost, even worse than his luck normally had him. This place could quite easily entrap someone for ages in here, and if weather conditions got worse he could see people wandering the woods until they died. The alchemist took a deep breath, and pressed onwards, fighting his way through the ever thickening woods.

He heard the beast long before he saw it. The thing was crashing through the woods, smashing through trees as it ambled about. Nevin had thrown himself up against a tree and was currently peering around it, looking at the beast that lumbered on the other side.

The thing looked like a deer, but wrong, so very, very wrong. This creature was easily twice the size of a normal deer, and Nevin could see why it was able to knock over young trees as it swung overly large antlers against them. What was worse to his eyes was the frothy drool dripping from its opened mouth - a sign of insanity, rabies. Just what he needed to deal with, a beast that by its very insanity wouldn't pay attention to the pain that his whip would inflict on it.

Then a tremor of unease and disbelief wormed down the alchemist’s spine. The deer-thing turned its slavering mouth to the side and opened it, a strange screeching growl hissing forth. And the teeth, the teeth. Deer were herbivores, plant eaters that masticated their food. This thing though, plants were not on its menu. No, this thing had razor sharp teeth that were flecked red and white, the frothy foam of its rabies stained with blood.

Any doubts Nevin might have had about the urgency of keeping the strange magical corruption in this area contained were now completely abolished. There was no way this creature belonged in this world, it's very existence spat in the face of everything that was normal. When he left this place, he would need to see about gathering a group to exterminate the unnatural beings that were populating these woods.

And then he froze in place, as the mock-deer’s head swiveled towards him, it's wide nostrils flaring. Disbelief battled with the evidence of what he was seeing - the creature was now approaching the tree he was occluded by, the foam around its mouth thickening as its lungs pumped with exertion. The blasted thing could smell him, no doubt. Whatever mockery of nature had spawned this thing had twisted it to its grisly function.

So. He could already tell the damn thing could run faster than him, but at least the trees would slow it down somewhat. He needed to get somewhere he could bait it into charges and evade it - he needed a clearing, one with enough space to fight it. Thankfully he was close to the base of the tower - Nevin could see it through the trees beyond the slowly approaching monstrosity. He took a deep breath and steeled himself.

crunch. Whuff. Whuff. Skree- the beast was there, on one side of the tree, and some of its drool fell onto his arm. Nevin twisted and ran, sprinting around the other side of the tree as the beast screeched and tried to bite him. The hot breath of the mock-deer washed over his back and the alchemist heard a clicking snap as its teeth clashed together, just barely missing his back - but he was away, unhurt for the moment, and he stumbled for a moment before he picked up speed, bursting through the tree line into the wide clearing around the base of the tower.

He had made it. But now, he could hear the monstrosity coming, hooves pounding as it charged after him. Nevin spun, flicking his whip from its holster, and prepared himself.

It broke through the treeline with a terrible noise, a rippling bellow that sent demented birds flying from the nearby trees. It tore down a tree, smashing it down as it pelted across the red-orange grass towards the man who continued to stand his ground. Each hoofbeat sent a shower of dirt spraying up behind it as Nevin stared down the oncoming beast. As soon as it was in range he lashed out with the whip, cracking the barbed weapon across its face.

The thing screeched as it reared back and Nevin threw himself to the side, ducking into a roll. Mighty hooves crashed down - but the man wasn't there anymore. He had managed to throw himself far enough that the mock-deer missed him in its attack. Nevin rolled back to his feet as the beast shrieked and pawed the earth. Again he cracked his whip, barbs digging into the flank of the deer thing, and this time, watching, Nevin could see his whip absorb some of the thick red blood of the beast.

It bled. He could kill it.

And now that he knew he could hurt it, it was only a matter of time, and keeping himself from being bitten by the beast. While he could cure the onset of rabies, it would necessitate leaving the woods. And he didn't know if he could force himself to come back in if he had to leave. No, it would be best if he took this out here and now, without being injured.

So back and forth the two danced, Nevin narrowly avoiding the snapping teeth and stamping hooves, his whip drinking deep of the flesh. In the end blood was actually flowing out of the whip, dripping from the weapon, as the massive deer-creature had more blood than the amount of Plynt that he had could hold. But still the slavering beast fought, its motions growing more and more sluggish as Nevin’s whip drank deeply of its life fluid.

But even the mightiest of living beasts can only survive so long losing blood as rapidly as this thing was. It stumbled a moment longer than it should have, and the Alchemist seized the opportunity. With a snap of his wrist, the barbed whip wrapped around the mock-deer’s throat, barbs of metal cruelly cutting into its flesh as Nevin hauled back on his arm. It let out a shuddering screech that echoed through the woods as it fell to its knees, blood that hadn't been soaked up by the Plynt gushing from the jagged tear around its neck.

It tried to rise back up, but the monstrosity was done for. It pushed one foot upright - and over balanced, landing with a heavy thud on the ground on its side. It snapped weakly with its sharp teeth as Nevin walked over to it, and he could see that even now, as death gripped it, the madness still filled its eyes. Madness and hatred, as it tried to lunge for him. Nevin grimly shook his head, and coils of red threads emerged from his arm, spiraling together into a solid point - almost like an oversized pick head. He brought his arm up, and stabbed downwards, piercing through the soft tissue of its throat.

Nevin sat against the cooling body for a long few minutes. He had already found that the strange beast had enough life force to fuel two Essences being crafted from its blood - one he formed was of Vitality, seeking to capture the strength of life that had kept the beast going for so long. The other was…. An Essence of Insanity, or Madness. He had tried to capture its rabid ferocity, but the madness had come out stronger. This was an Essence he would save for a fight against a more intelligent, dangerous opponent - one he couldn't afford to have thinking.

After harvesting the Essences, he had collected as much of the spilled blood as he could, using his threads and his barbed whip to gather more from the body. This blood was then condensed, consolidated into thin plates, chunks of red that looked almost like metal in their consistency. These plates of blood were tucked into a pouch on his belt - they would come in handy if he needed blood for something and didn't want to chop himself up for it.

Now though, he was sitting, back against the slain beast, and staring absently at the tower that he had come far to reach. His mind was actually on the fight, not on what lay before him.

He had come a long way from the desperate man who had had to fight for his life against a lizard, even if it did spit acid. He had learned much since then, and had done his best to control the flow of the battle. Admittedly not a hard task against a creature that could not think, but then again it hadn't needed to - its sheer overwhelming might would have seen it victorious against many foes.

Not that it helped against him. In fact, if Nevin hadn't been concerned with testing out his whip against someone he wasn't afraid to hurt, he would have been able to finish it even faster, after the first blood had been spilled. Cut it open, make it bleed, then use its own blood against it, shooting it… NoNo, that wasn't the most efficient way he could have fought. But he had needed to prove it to himself, prove that his decision to fight with a barbed whip wasn't stupid, and that he could defend himself and kill his foes with it. So far he had mostly used it for displays to keep himself safe - it was good to know that it was indeed a viable weapon.

Though he hadn't counted on there being so much blood that the Plynt couldn't hold it all. Hmm. He might have to see about upgrading the whip at some point. Maybe get some kind of weight for the end, or changing the grip of the handle? Or he could just siphon excess blood off with his thread in the future. It had almost made the weapon to slick to hold, and if he hadn't kept the thing in his hand with crimson threads anchoring it in place it might have been messier.

Still. The fight was done, and he had won. He would leave the desiccated carcass here, for whatever scavengers lived in this area, and face his true goal. Exploring the tower, and seeing what secrets of Alchemy he might uncover. With a sigh, Nevin stood up and dusted himself off, and headed for the tower entrance.

The tower’s door hung open, the gaping entrance sending a shiver down Nevin’s spine. He could swear there was a chill in the air, completely at odds with the muggy atmosphere of the later afternoon. The light from the setting sun barely pierced the gloom of the interior that the man could see - illuminating only a few feet through the archway, showing bare cobblestones and a worn door that hung crooked from its hinges.

Nevin rummaged in his pack for a few moments, pulling out a slender torch and a striker set. A few sharp clacks of flint against metal and the head of the torch caught, flame blazing bright as he set the striker back in his bag. He stood up and slung the pack onto his back and took a deep breath, gripping the torch tight in his left hand, right hand holding the hilt of his whip as he strode through the damaged archway.

The torch’s fire cast the hallway into sharp relief as Nevin looked around. The oppressive chill still clung in the air, almost like something was watching and didn't appreciate his presence in the least. He fought down a nervous swallow and tightened his grip as he examined the hall. The dust of years sat heavy on the ground - but there, very faintly, there were tracks in the dust, like someone had long ago disturbed a part of it, but the footprints only went in one direction, out.

So someone had been here, and left, since the devastation of the tower. Interesting to note, as the townsfolk firmly believed no one could survive here. Maybe sometime later he would see if he could find the person who’d been here - who knows what they had seen so long ago? But that was a concern for later, not today. For now, he had to keep his eyes open for anything dangerous. Or anything he could use to further his Alchemy.

The hallway yielded nothing further to his searching eyes beyond the tracks in the dust. Ahead of him lay a stairway leading upwards, a couple of doors leading off to the sides, and a hatch that was firmly locked. He frowned - he wanted to get down there, but it looked like… cautiously, the Alchemist approached the hatch slowly, his eyes sliding across the doorways as he passed them.

One led into a decrepit kitchen, the prep table rotted half away by time. Even from here in the hall, Nevin could smell putrid food, things that had obviously suffered the passage of time very poorly. He wouldn't go in there if he could help it, he didn't think he could stand the odor any closer.

The other was a small bedroom, and Nevin did take the time to duck in here. There was a tiny wardrobe, though the clothing in it looked like it hadn't been used even longer than this place had been abandoned. There was a bed, that seemed like at some point animals had made a nest there, but aside from droppings and some tufts of fur, nothing remained of them. The final thing of note was a small desk and chair - and in the drawer of the desk, he found a tattered journal. Nevin’s eyes widened as he set the book down and began flipping through it, trying to see what he could decipher from the ravages of time.

.....reth is a strict taskmaster, but fair. I don’t know why people seem to have trouble understanding that. Yes, he asks for a lot from those of us who he has hired, but at the same time, he pays well and he gives us a lot of freedom in completing our duties. So long as we don’t interfere with his work, he tends to ignore us as long as our jobs are done…..
….ear, something strange is going on. The other day………... looked like he had coughed up some blood. It scared us all, but it just seemed to infuriate him. Since then, he’s gotten a lot worse about watching over us. I think he’s getting ready to fire one of us - he’s been asking us all who thinks they could handle another person’s duties on top of their own. I can only think of one reason he’d be asking that. Sti….

Nevin frowned as he tapped one foot against the ground. The book was damp with mold and yellow with age, and large stretches of it were completely illegible. Still, the writing, where it was visible, was mostly clear and crisp, so as long as there wasn’t water damage or mold, he could read the text. He couldn’t tell though if the author was male or female - the wardrobe behind him was no help either, as it contained a mix of clothes for a servant of either gender. He pressed on, casting a glance towards the door to the hall before he continued to read.

...ting weirder. He’s asking for stranger and stranger things - asking us if we know anything about old folklore, or things like necromancy. He’s always been a bit odd, but this is starting to go beyond the pale. I’m no Salvarian, but I can’t say that I’m comfortable working with someone who is delving into places where man is not meant to tread….

….abeth says that he’s been hounding her for information about the Fae, since her family has passed on a lot of myths about them. Honestly it’s a bit of a relief - his obsession with the Fair Folk has distracted him from dealing with the dead. Still, I’m not sure what’s going on with him. There’s this franti…..

…….. Turl is gone. Three now, that’s all that are left. Myself, Elizabeth, and the cook Rikson. There’s a theme here, sadly, and it distresses me greatly. Beth is crucial to him - she knows about the Fae. Rikson is apparently the person who was telling him things about necromancy - odd for a cook to know, but still……..gave him my primer on alchemy. He’s asked me a few things about the subject, but I feel that he will soon be passing me in that. What will that mea…..

This had taken a foul turn, and Nevin wasn’t sure he liked where it was going. That only the people directly useful to this strange ‘he’ that was being referred to kept their jobs was mildly distressing. A few more pages turned, before he found more legible text.

….the Thaynes! I went into town for some supplies. I happened to ask about the others - I figured Beth was sticking around, even without working for ……. Liked the region.

None of the villagers have seen them at all! I couldn’t believe it, so I asked everyone I could find. No one. NONE of my old coworkers have been seen at all, not in months. I’m the only one they’ve seen come from the tower in a long time, and they’re just waiting for the day I stop showing up.

I have to get out. He’s learned almost everything I know. And now I know, as soon as he’s used us up, he gets rid of us. I have to leave, tonight. I’m getting out of here before I conveniently go missing as well. If someone else finds this, a new hire -

Get. Out. Now. It’s a trap. I know he won’t come here, he never bothered with these quarters. But he’ll only keep you as long as you have a use to him, and after that, you’ll be gone. No one will ever see you again. Leave now, go back to your loved ones, it is not worth the pay and the benefits. Leave now, and live. I just hope I’ve decided to leave in time.

The notes ended there, Nevin found. Flipping further and further in showed nothing further written in the pages , just blank sheets that had been destroyed with age and mildew. He sank down into the chair and stared blankly at the journal. He closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer, hoping that whatever poor soul had been writing in this book had managed to escape from what was apparently the descent into madness of their employer. Or, in the worst case, that they had rejoined the Great Flow, and that the next cycle of life would treat them better than this one had.

Slowly he stood up, gripping the torch tight, and closed the book. He didn’t know if anyone else would ever venture here, but this book was an important relic of the place, telling of the fall of the master of the place, and he would leave it for the next traveler, explorer to find when they went through this place on their own. For now - it would remain here, a grim cliffhanger on the writer’s fate. He took a deep breath and slipped out of the servant’s quarters, and looked down the hall towards the entrance.

It would be easy, he knew. So easy to leave, get out of this place now. Leave it behind, get back into the sunshine and out of the unnatural chill that still hung round him despite the torch burning in his hand. Just a few steps away, and he could get away from the madness that had consumed the mysterious man who had once controlled the place. The Alchemist exhaled mightily and shook his head. That wasn’t possible - those notes had mentioned a primer on Alchemy, and it was apparently the last of the three subjects that the demented owner of this place had been working on learning which meant that he doubted it was just herbal alchemy. No, this seemed to be a primer on magical Alchemy - which meant Nevin needed to find the primer.

So further in he would go, exploring the ruins of this place. Whatever was here, he needed to learn it and further himself - and possibly put an end to an abomination of alchemy. The study and usage of alchemy he didn’t mind at all - he himself made some rather unusual things - but causing some kind of explosion? Not cleaning up afterwards - that was inexcusable. Though he was a bit interested in what had been done to cause the explosion - was that alchemy? Or one of the other branches of magic?

A chill ran along his skin as he thought about the other two subjects that had been mentioned in the notebook. Necromancy wasn’t something he cared much about - it would be hypocritical for him to be upset about something that was considered dark magic considering what blood magic normally fell under the classification as. But the Fae? That was an entirely different matter.

The Fae were dangerous from everything Nevin had ever heard and studied. After the issues with Fenn and his strange request, Nevin had gone off on a studying rampage, trying to figure out everything he could about the enigmatic beings. And what he had learned was almost universally categorized as:

Don’t fuck with them.

Deals with them were always in their favor if you didn’t have some kind of obscene advantage over the beings. They’d hide information, set up situations with schemes far beyond what mortals could comprehend, use magicks that only the best mortal mages could hope to match. But. They would be bound by deals they made, so if you could find a way to get them to agree to something, you could trust that they would adhere to the letter of the bargain, if not the spirit.

Was that what had happened here? Had the master of the tower, in his desperation to evade whatever was coming for him - the coughing of blood sounded like an illness, or age possibly - was he dying - made a deal with a Fae? And that deal had come back to bite him, in a rather spectacularly destructive way? It would make sense, especially with the twisted reality outside - the Fae were notorious for not dealing with the real world the same way that others did, and slipping between worlds with far more ease than most mortals could ever manage. He took a deep breath, and looked around the end of the hallway.

The stairway up - and he could see a couple of floors above - and the hatch leading down into a presumed basement. He hesitated - and decided to use some acidic substances to melt the lock before continuing upwards, to see what was above him first. The basement could come last, after he’d seen what had happened in the damaged areas above. So up he went, climbing the stairs as he headed upwards.

While the bottom floor hadn't seemed to be too damaged by anything other than the passage of time, up on this floor he could definitely see signs of the blast having shaken the tower. Masonry had been dislodged in a few places, forcing him to climb over chunks of fallen rock as he made his way through the corridor. There were only a couple of doors on this level, making him wonder if the master of this place had been frugal, or just cheap.

Whichever was the case, didn't matter. What did matter was the result - each of the rooms on this floor took up a half of the building. Nevin pushed his way past the rubble to one door, then had to climb over a half-destroyed doorway to see what was beyond. He cursed as a splinter of wood pierced his hand, stabbing straight through his glove. After perching on the stone - doing his best not to fall - he carefully peeled the glove off, wincing as pulling the leather from his hand made the piece of wood gouge in deeper.

With several deep breaths to prepare himself, Nevin grabbed the wood and twisted it, ripping it free from his body as he bit his lip hard to stifle a scream. He didn't know if there was something else still alive in this place, but he did not want to alert something like that twisted dear while he was recovering from this. A quick glance at the hand showed blood pooling in his palm - and then more disturbing to him, but also strangely right, was the fact that a few threads had emerged from his skin and had slipped into the pool of blood. As he watched with a kind of horrified fascination, the threads gently absorbed his blood, then wove themselves into the gash on his hand, sealing the wound shut.

Well. That was new. Nevin stood up on slightly shaky legs, waving his hand to dispel the phantom stinging. The ‘sealed’ wound didn't hurt at all - despite the fact that before his threads had inserted themselves into it there had been a fiery pain emanating from it. That actually bothered him more than the wound itself - did the threads carry a contact analgesic? Were they actually torturous to have in his skin, but they negated the pain as fast as they caused it, so he never noticed? He would have to figure out some way of testing this so far every time someone had actually touched the threads, it had been in combat. Maybe there was something about them that he had never known. But who on Althanas would he ask to test this?

“Hey, I need to rub my threads against you to see if they have any numbing agents in them. Could you be helpful and just let me do that?” Oh yes, that would go over SO well with people. No, he'd have to find someone he could test it on he could trust. Which was a dreadfully short list.

Bah, this was neither here nor there at the moment! He was exploring an abandoned, blown up, mage’s tower - he didn't have the luxury of not paying attention to his surroundings right now! Nevin shook his head with a growl and looked around, finally trying to see what kind of a room he had ended up in.

The room was fairly expansive, just like he had thought it to be from the outside. The majority of the room was taken up by a series of tables that had black sheets lying draped upon them. Nevin swallowed roughly, forcing down the lump in his throat as he realized just what kind of room he had stumbled into. He wondered why he wasn't being overwhelmed by the smell of the chamber - only to see that on the far side of the room, a chunk of the exterior wall had been torn away. The flow of air through that hole had probably kept any smells from building up - a fact that he was extremely grateful for.

So. Nevin had found a morgue. Considering what he had learned in that journal, he couldn't exactly say that he was surprised by this discovery - whoever owned this place was definitely a man who could obtain what he wanted for his studies, and a few cadavers were probably almost dreadfully easy to come by. Nevin took a shallow breath and held it as he ventured further into the room.

Far from the door, on an inside wall, were several shelves that he couldn't see the contents of from the ruined doorway. Upon getting closer though, he found that most of them were filled with glass jars that held.. Various organs. With a shiver that ran down his spine, Nevin was able to identify that while some of them were animal in origin - others were not. He could see human lungs, a heart, eyes floating in various jars, and then there were the body parts he didn't have a clue of the unfortunate donor.

The Alchemist had to suppress his twinned emotions of an urge to study this and learn more, and his desire to get as far away from this room as he could. While he used some animal body parts in his Alchemy, and he was quite partial to using blood… Most of the time, he stayed far away from using blood from a sentient individual. Human blood had had nothing special about it for most alchemical purposes so he was able to avoid it, and he wouldn't use it for his blood magic. So seeing human limbs and organs was a distinctly unpleasant situation.

But the final shelf contained what he had come in here to look for. A set of three books was tucked away, stashed next to several glass jars. Hesitantly, he reached up and grabbed one - and was very thankful of the fact that they didn't fall apart at his touch. He pulled it down and flipped it open, only now realizing that he had dropped his torch when he stabbed his hand climbing in here. The one in his hands was not a primer on necromancy - and Nevin didn't know whether to be thankful or upset about that. Instead, it seemed to be a log of experiments done here. With a grim expression he flipped to a legible page and began to read.

December 17th:
Experimentation enters the ‘practical’ stages. First subject is healthy Human male, late thirties. Approximate physical condition to recipient. So rejection should be unlikely from what information I could gather. This has to work. My research is not yet done.

Post Procdure:

A FAILURE. The blasted corpse had already begun the rotting process, the soft tissues that I NEED have already fallen victim to the decay. No matter. I have other, fresher corpses. They are not as close a match as this one, but maybe that can be compensated for with necromantic magics.

December 21st:
Rats, accursed rats! The foul little fiends chewed up three of my test subjects before I could even begin the procedures. I shall have to move the morgue out of the basement.

January 7th:
Time is running short. Test subject: living human male, former chef. His use for aid in the experiments has reached its culmination - through him, I shall reverse the flow of time upon my body. Golem constructed to perform the implantation on me, as I cannot do it upon myself.

January 12th:
I survived. I am a fool. Necromancy does not care about preventing death - it seeks to spread it, and escape its clutchs afterwards. Rikson knew nothing of the true, darker arts of necromancy, so I have no hope of becoming one of those vaunted creatures, a Lich.

The procedure went smoothly at first. Chloroform, a potent sedative from my resident alchemist, kept Rikson unconscious as I split him open. His organs were surrounded in more fatty tissue than I had anticipated - it seems he sampled far more of his own cooking than I had ever known. However the removal went smoothly enough - I am glad I long overcame any squeamishness. He woke up partway through and tried to scream, but with his lungs removed it was scarcely more than a wet gurgle. He expired soon after that.

Problems came with after that, and with the golem. The damnable thing grabbed me almost as soon as I had the last of the organs out, and began cutting me open immediately. I forgot to set precise parameters, so as soon as all of the raw materials were available it went to work.

The procedure…. I cannot tell if it was a success or a failure. The spasms in my lungs have subsided but there is something wrong. I cannot tell what yet. I have spent the last five days recovering, and if I had not had the foresight to create wards to bolster healing I am not sure I would have made it.

My research into this matter must continue. I will not die here.

March 3rd:

It has been some time since my experiments brought me here. My body has grown frailer since I last worked in these chambers, but my will and my mind have only strengthened. I have come upon a decision.

I shall construct a new vessel for my soul. This one can no longer contain me so I must move on from it. Alchemy has constructs called ‘Homunculi’, one of the pinnacles of the art. Artificial bodies, meant to swerve as replacements for golems - they can contain far more information than a simpler construct.

But but but no no no that won't work will it. The artificial flesh cannot contain a real soul. Hence my coming here. Alchemy must be combined with necromancy - I must bind the real to the unreal, and use the once living flesh to anchor my soul. I need… Magical flesh and bone.

April 7th:

Another blasted FAILURE. None of these pathetic excuses for magical beings possess what I need! While they continue to house magic, their dead flesh cannot channel it, merely act as a reagent or a deposit. I need the flesh of a powerful, sentient magical being. Beth. I shall question her further.

Nevin closed the book with a snap, staring at it in shock. This was… Exactly as he had feared it would be. The log of a madman who was performing necromantic experiments. Nevin had nothing against the art personally - he thought it would be rather hypocrite of him if he did - but what appalled him was the lengths the man had gone to.

Human experimentation. Worse, he had sacrificed one of his own companions, the man who guided him in necromancy, to do it! That was unbelievable - to kill one of your companions simply because you were doing an experiment? If Nevin didn't already know the depths that people could sink to, this might have stunned him more. As it was though, it just disgusted him.

There was something else there, too. Something that was in that almost entry was bothering Nevin, but he couldn't place what it was or why he was perturbed. Unsure of why he was unsettled - aside from hey, a guy cut up someone who probably thought of him as a friend - the alchemist began taking down other journals, flicking through them. His dark red eyes scanned back and forth along the pages, quickly taking in the information.

These texts were much drier and had none of the personal ramblings that the first one had had. They were almost clinical in their discussions of dissections and the attempts at revivification that the writer was performing on a regular basis. The writer seemed to be primarily focusing on restoring the lungs to life - but the necromantic arts were rarely that precise. Somewhere along the way there was a set of notes dealing with bringing oneself back to life after death, with ‘Lich’ written several times in a hasty scrawl before being crossed out.

Nevin shuddered - Liches were destructive forces. Something about crossing the gap between life and unlife seemed to unhinge them, and they almost all ended up bent on creating empires for themselves, or on becoming living nightmares, blights upon the world. Thankfully whoever was working here had decided against going down that route from what he could find.

Then he found the section in one, near the end, that made him pause. ‘I need to replace my staff. They're growing too suspicious. Cheap alternative - zombies. I now have the knowledge of how to create them, cobbled together from my experiments on bringing lungs back. Kill servants, make them into zombies. Simple. Then they can't judge me any more, can't see my spiral into worse health. Rikson first, I can attempt to use his lungs,and he has outlived his usefulness to me.’

Nevin closed the book with a snap and threw it back onto the shelf, suppressing a shudder as he turned around to look at the three tables with black sheets draped across the prone figures on top. He took a step closer, reaching out to examine one, and peeled the sheet away to reveal a mottled corpse, of a rather rotund man. The alchemist looked down at the sheet in his hand - the corpse was not as decayed as it should have been after years, and -

Oh dear Crimson. Those were necromantic runes on the sheet. Nevin’s eyes shot back to the cadaver in time to see its eyelids shoot open, revealing hollow sockets that glowed with pinpricks of a baleful light. The corpse tried to get up - the zombie tried to get up - and fell off the table. This would have reassured Nevin, if in its fall it hadn't ripped another sheet off of another corpse, revealing a middle aged woman with hair hanging in limp strands. This corpse too awoke, but when she stood up, her movements were more fluid than the first’s. Those hateful eyes locked onto Nevin, and a terrible moan rasped out of its lips as it began to move towards him.

Nevin bit back a vehement curse as he dodged out of the way of the female zombie’s first lumbering charge. While this thing was nowhere near as fast as the mutated dear that he had fought outside, Nevin found himself only barely able to avoid the attack. It didn't make sense - he could see that this thing was moving slower than the deer, hell it was moving far slower than he was. So why was he only just capable of ducking past an angry swipe from one of its arms?

The zombie turned furious eyes in his direction and let out a loud, rattling groan that sent a chill of fear through him. The alchemist swallowed, trying to work past the lump in his throat - and his eyes widened as the thing lunged for him. He threw himself backwards, barely saving his throat from the rotted, jagged teeth of the zombie.

I can't keep this up. I have to figure out why I feel like I'm swimming through molasses - the zombie let out a strangled moan as it pushed itself to its feet from where it had fallen in front of him. The change in the noise was almost comical, and against his will he felt a terrified laugh force its way from his mouth.

And for a moment, Nevin moved smoothly again, easily avoiding the grasping bony fingers of the zombie. Unlike the last attacks, this one didn't even come close to hitting him, and Nevin let himself think that the strangeness had passed - and then the monster groaned, enraged and glaring at him, and the blood mage felt that thick resistance in the air again.

It's a magical effect! How on earth is a zombie - There was a digging pain in one leg, and Nevin looked down. He had completely forgotten about the first zombie that had woken up. Its legs didn't work so it had had to crawl towards him - but in his focus on evading the second zombie, this one had managed to reach him, and had sunk the claws of one hand into the meat of Nevin’s calf. The man let out a strangled scream, choking the sound in his throat.

Crimson threads burst from his leg above and below where the claws were buried. They snapped together, weaving into a spiral that was wrapped around the arm of the zombie, obscuring it from sight. There was a sickening squelch - and the zombie pulled back a stump of an arm, roughly crushed just below the elbow. Nevin felt a painful tugging in his leg, and a glance showed that his threads had pulled the zombie hand out of his flesh.

He shuddered, and turned his attention back to the female zombie. It had shuffled toward him while he was reacting to the crawling zombie, and when it saw him looking at it again, it let out a shrieking groan and lunged for him, hands raised and bony fingers outstretched.

This time Nevin reacted quickly, apparently pain broke whatever the magic was doing to him. Threads slid from beneath his skin and wrapped around his arms, and he almost contemptuously brushed the lunging zombie aside. He drove his fist into its side, feeling and hearing ribs crack as his punch knocked it to the ground. One hand shot down to pull out his whip, and he snapped it out to wrap around the zombie’s neck.

With a powerful pull and a loud crack, the zombie’s head lolled to one side. The mage kept pulling, his threads boosting his strength as he wrenched the zombie’s head from its body with a sickening wet tearing sound. The barbs of his whip had helped in this - cutting and tearing through flesh as he had pulled on the whip.

Nevin jumped to the side to avoid another attempt from the crawling zombie to surprise him, though the blood mage did let out a gasp of pain as his injured leg gave out under him as he landed, and he collapsed to the ground.

The redhead forced his body to roll, his injured leg protesting the motion. But he managed to avoid the clawing hand of the zombie that was still alive. Instead, he ended up rolling into one of the tables, and he braced his back against it and pulled himself up with his empty hand.

It was only when he was on his feet and black cloth was pooling by his legs that Nevin realized his mistake. With no idea what was behind him, the Alchemist threw himself to the left, ignoring the fresh flare of pain from his leg. It was a close thing to - almost unnaturally fast a hand speared through where he had been standing just moments before. If he hadn't dodged when he did, that hand would have plunged into his back.

He didn't have time to deal with the crawling zombie as this new one was getting more active. Threads wrapped around his legs, reinforcing the injured one as he brought his good leg back and kicked out, hard - and did his absolute best to ignore the wet, sucking feeling around his foot as his boot caved in the first zombie’s head. He ripped his foot free and focused on this new zombie - and froze, his eyes widening in shock.

Staggering to his feet was.. Was.. A male Ezra. Paler, decayed, a zombie instead of a Homunculus - but so painfully familiar that Nevin had to fight not to retch in shock, fear, pain and disgust. Even the eyes of this male were purple like his apprentice’s, etched with golden sigils. And littered across the pale, deathly pale skin, were the same alchemical and necromantic runes that he knew were on Ezra.

But there was none of his friend’s intelligence in those eyes, just a mindless hunger as the strangely wrong male version of his apprentice let out a rattling groan. None of the dry wit or sardonic amusement, none of the confusion at social cues that made no sense to her. This - this place - had Ezra - no, she had to have come from here. There was simply no way that there could be a zombie mimic of his apprentice anywhere else.

Nevin knew, as a Homunculus, she had been made somewhere. The fact that his usually bright, inquisitive, friendly apprentice was made by a madman who had literally experimented on people he had known disgusted Nevin on a very visceral level. He would not, could not, leave this abomination, this mockery, alive.

The mage dropped his whip to the ground as dozens of threads shot from his arms, weaving together into snapping cables. With a cry of disgust, and pain, Nevin charged forward, meeting the lumbering lunge from the zombie with wet cracks as his crimson cables lashed out, whips that tore rotten, barely preserved flesh from bones.

Fury drove a relentless assault as Nevin flayed - no, not flayed, he literally flensed this thing, ripping meat apart all the way down to the bone. For a moment the foul magics that wrapped around the undead creature kept it going even as it is as ripped apart - and then three coils of blood red tendrils wrapped around the head and wrenched it from the body.

Nevin's sides heaved as he stared at the quivering pile of meat and bone that now lay at his feet. Any mockery of his apprentice’s appearance had been completely abolished - and now, fury drained, Nevin sagged down, pulling his threads back inside of him as he recovered from adrenaline and rage.

“This… this place.” Nevin’s voice, unused til now, rang out in the still air of the morgue. His tone was full of disbelief as he stared towards the pile of meat and bone that had been… had been a zombie at one point. He couldn’t even bring himself to think of what it had resembled. The redhead swallowed, forcing a thick lump of tension down.

“This place is.. Where Ezra was made. I… I can’t ignore that anymore.” Which meant that he had to figure out just what the COBALT had gone on in this hellhole. Running, fleeing, was no longer an option - no, he absolutely had to get to the bottom of this. Just how had - how had this madman gone from making zombies that were mindless abominations, to making a person - because Nevin was fairly certain that Ezra had her own soul at this point. And the alchemy - that was another reason he was here, he couldn’t forget that. No - clearly the master of this place had picked up alchemy part way through learning his necromancy - that was why it only showed up on the final zombie.

Slowly he straightened back up and turned his gaze back to the doorway that he had come into the morgue through. Moving as swiftly as he could - the injury to his leg did slow him down a fair amount as he limped along - he climbed back over the rubble, back into the main hallway. No - the master’s workshop was up above - he could not take the time to examine the other room on this floor. He had to find out just what on earth the master of this place had been doing. Grabbing a piece of wood from the ruined frame, Nevin made his way over to the stairwell, and paused to stare at it in trepidation.

The obstacle of climbing up these stairs for a moment seemed insurmountable. Nevin’s leg was throbbing in fresh pulses of pain with each beat of his heart - though he did note that the pain was diminishing slowly, and a glance downward showed that threads were slowly weaving themselves across the injury. They weren’t negating the fact that he had been hurt, his leg was still weak, but at least the burning pain was lessening. So, with a deep breath and a clench of his jaw, Nevin slowly made his way upward, practically hauling himself up with the piece of rotted lumber in his hands.

The top floor was clearly exposed to the elements, and Nevin felt a brief pang of despair as he realized that almost nothing was left on this floor. Whatever had been done that blasted open the tower - it had originated here, on this floor, and more than half of the roof and the walls were gone. He let out a scream of frustration as he began dragging himself around this floor, trying to find anything of value - a journal, scattered notes, a ritual circle - anything that might clue him in to what the master of this tower, Ezoreth, had been doing when he died rather spectacularly.

But there was nothing. Just rotted wood and the nests of various birds. Whatever knowledge might have been here at one point, it had been lost to the elements and the passage of time. Nevin came to a stop near what looked like the shattered remnants of a table and he had to bite back another cry of frustration - no, there was nothing here either. Wait. What was glowing beneath his feet? Nevin barely had time to think that he had fucked up when a blinding light engulfed him -

And the top of the tower was empty, save for a piece of wood that fell to the ground with a loud clatter.

Nevin fell to the ground with in an undignified sprawl, bloody in his nose and one hand as he hit stone. Thankfully he managed to keep from injuring himself worse, but having blood leaking down his face was rather annoying. He pushed himself onto his back and looked around, trying to figure out where he was.

Wherever he was, he was surrounded on all sides by stone. It was a fairly small chamber - and Nevin felt a heavy chill run down his spine as he realized that the room was clearly divided in two. One half had alchemical reagents and devices adorning the walls, and there was a small writing desk tucked into the corner. The other side of the room was filled with occult paraphernalia that Nevin had no chance of recognizing.

What he did recognize though, was the summoning circle smack dab in the middle of the room. He might not have recognized it, if it wasn't for the fact that there were alchemical runes dealing with containment and shielding etched around it - trying to contain something, though he had no idea what.

He slowly forced his way to his feet, keeping his distance from that circle for the moment as he made his way over to the writing desk. On top of it was a somewhat thick book - with a giant Alchemy rune embossed on the front. With trembling hands, he reached out and flipped the book open, not noticing the way the room began to glow.

To whatever ragamuffin has their grubby hand on this book, I congratulate you. You hold in your hands THE premier text on the grand art of magical Alchemy. I have seen in my age, that the world is suffering from a notorious deficit of truly trained magical Alchemists - the paltry guilds that exists are little more than glorified herbalists. So I have decided to devote my time to spreading this glorious art - and you hold in your hands the cumulation of that devotion.

I cannot live forever even with the wonders of Alchemy - Philosopher’s Stones are not worth the sorrow - and so, I must turn to text to pass my lessons on. By following the lessons I have outlined here, you will find yourself inducted into the ranks of Alchemy, a proud and noble group of elite individuals. Do me proud, and you will learn my name upon completion of your work with this book.

Nevin’s hands shook as he gripped the text tightly. This, this was what he had come here for. Now he just had to - what was that light? And that voice? With a sudden tightness in his throat, the Alchemist turned around, to see that the circle in the middle of the room was glowing brightly. A figure, screaming was coalescing above it.

“Oh, thick flow.”

The figure that came shrieking and sobbing into existence above the circle was beautiful, even in her furious grief. Even in her faded, ethereal state, partially translucent, she was a sight to behold. Thick red hair framed a delicate face with sharp features, and then fell down her back in cascading locks. Vibrant green eyes pierced Nevin, stabbing right through the man, the color or a forest enraged. She was small, only a little larger than Fenn, though her features were clearly those of an adult. With a start, Nevin realized he was looking at another Fae, though this one was definitely of a different race than his small friend.

Furious eyes latched onto his as the ghostly Fae screamed at him, her hands curling into fists as she glared at the alchemist. “Fantastic. Another human here. What more can you take from me!? Have I not suffered enough already!? Your kind has done nothing but curse me into slavery and abused my body. And for what? To defy the very laws of nature itself in order to prolong your feeble lifespans. Begone, child, or I will…” The ghost trailed off, looking down at her transparent hands, as Nevin stared at her with his mouth slightly agape.

The cadence was wrong, the inflections ones she would never use - but that was Ezra’s voice, full of more emotion in those few words than he had ever heard his apprentice show. His mouth went dry as he tried to swallow, his muscles clenching but no moisture being produced. He had a terrible, terrible suspicion. “Mi-Miss. I…” His voice was a rasp as he tried to find the words to speak.

“Miss. I… I am sorry, but I - I have nothing to do with the one responsible for your state. I… Didn't even know you were down here, and only came because of a trap. I'm sorry. I - your body, it was -” combined with what she had already said, Nevin had a terrible feeling he knew what had happened. Somehow, Ezoreth had gotten his hands on this Fae, holding her captive somehow - and mutilated her body to use as parts for his crowning achievement, his attempt at escaping death.

He was looking at Ezra’s past. And he felt a deep shame, for being even loosely the same species as the monster responsible for twisting nature like this. He bowed his head to hide his face. “I - I think what the mad man attempted failed him in the end. The tower here is destroyed, and I have met the individual he created - there are no signs of his madness within them.”

“His work still lives!? DESTROY IT. BANISH IT FROM THIS PLANE!” The voice distorted, layers of high pitched shrieking and low guttural tones meshing horribly as the spirit’s form distorted. “That… that thing is an abomination! He stole from me, lied, defiled a spirit of nature! That fool damned me to suffer, and now has given one of those foul nightmares even more power! If that man’s soul is still within that body, you must end it. You must end it now, before things can get worse!” She paused, her rage subsiding as soon as it had flared. She began to sob, ethereal tears streaking down her cheeks.

“I have lost too much. He is a monster! Your kind is filled with nothing but greedy, ravenous beasts who love nothing more than to prey on the unaware! I curse your kind to an eternity of misery and woe and damn the consequences of my words! I HATE YOUR KIND, YOU FILTHY LITTLE CRETINS!”

The sorrow on Nevin's face had vanished by the time she ran out of steam, her sides heaving as she tried to right herself. No, instead there was an anger, a trembling rage that was building in his spine. This - this thing tried to tell him to kill one of his few, precious friends? His apprentice?

“You are not the only one who has suffered.” He spat the words out, choked on rage. “I am literally the child of sacrifice, two people killed for mad men’s desire to bring a God to this world. Do not think you can try to command someone who has suffered to do your bidding, ghost.” Nevin’s empty hand had curled into a fist, clenching hard enough to drive his nails into his palm and make blood drip to the ground.

“And I will never hurt Ezra intentionally. She is nothing like the psychopath who was terrified of death who once lived here. She is sweet and innocent, and too blasted naive for her own good. Whatever that bastard tried, failed miserably. Ezra is one of the few people I consider a friend, and I will not let your grief injure her.” He drew himself upright, his eyes scanning the circle. If this ghost had only hatred left, he would not let it stay in this world any longer.

“You’re the naive one, child!” Her mood flipped once more, back into a high pitched screech. “That thing carries his soul! His very essence! Sure, it may be kind now, but for how long? He will take control eventually, and then what? AND THEN WHAT!? WHAT WILL YOU DO, BOY!? Will you let your so-called ‘friend’ live on, even though they’re an actual monstrosity?! That corpse, modified with magics to hide its true appearance? That corpse, brought to life once more through necrotic touch and deals with demons!? They are nothing more than a countdown to madness, and once he is in control, you cannot stop him. I could not stop him. What hope do you have against a man who bested the Fae?”

Nevin stilled, staring at the ghost. That was it, the true crux of the issue. The ghost was scared, scared of her death being truly in vain and Ezoreth returning. He gave the pitiable ghost a crooked smile, no mirth in the expression.

“I have faith that Ezra is stronger than he is. But if that madman did win somehow, and killed my friend in the process? I would rip him to shreds. Do not mistake my faith in my friend for blindness or weakness, Fae, and do not mistake me for a human. I do my best to ignore it, but I am most definitely not normal. And I do not have to abide by rules and restrictions as you did - he cannot trap me, and does not know I am watching and waiting for him.” He drew himself upright, and stared into the ghost’s eyes.

“But. I do not like the fact that any part of him is inside of her. So. I offer you a deal, and a chance for vengeance. Will you listen?”

She raised a brow, then let out a sigh. “It is not like I say no. I cannot leave this place, and the desire to ruin Ezoreth is far too tempting of an offer. Very well. What is your deal, human?”

“When I can, I will bring Ezra here, and work with her to expunge the part of that bastard’s soul inside of her if there is any. That will put it on a plane where you can affect him once more - and, with the passage of death of both involved, any agreements he had you bound to have surely dissolved. Can you stay your rage from her, and wait for your true target?”

She paused, eyes narrowed at the man. Her arms crossed over her chest and she only let out a small huff. Moments passed, and she finally began to speak. “...I suppose I do not have a choice once more. But I do have conditions. And these conditions are non-negotiable. You will accept these or there will be no agreement, and I will do everything in my power to end this so-called ‘Ezra’s’ life. Are you prepared to accept?”

“You will have to tell me this condition before I even think about it. Even dead, you are a Fae, and I am. No gullible idiot to agree to deals with your Kin without knowing exactly what is going on here. Choose your words wisely - I can either vanish you or entomb you forever in this pit with no hope of ever seeing the light of day again. Ezra is my apprentice and I will protect her. Now, your condition?” He folded his arms over his chest and stared at the ghostly image before him.

“You’re adorable to think you have enough power to banish me. And it’s conditions, as in more than one. First, if this plan of yours supposedly works and the body returns here, there is a very good chance that it will die. Not because of anything specifically that I would cause, but due to the attempted refusing of myself to the body. It’s… complicated. Regardless, ‘Ezra’ has a very likely chance of being eradicated anyway. But! On the off chance they-we-it survives, if it even has a single speck of Ezoreth’s soul remaining, you must destroy them. Period. No exceptions. You claim to know the Fae, well, you would also know the consequences of crossing us. Do you accept this?”

“On that first condition, I accept - but it means I will only bring her here if it seems that Ezoreth’s soul is winning over her. And I can ensure she has none of him remaining - I have a boon friend who can see souls. And Fae - I know one of the other Court, who owes me for saving their life. I can deal with you if you try reneging. I extend this opportunity as a victim of a ritual of sacrifice to another, but do not mistake me for a fool or one without connections.”

“You would dare to invoke the Winter’s Court?! Are you mad?!” She screeched, flying up to the man’s face and stopping mere inches. Her hair flew wildly around, and her gaze screamed nothing but pure fury. “I may be a Fae, but I am no spawn of Winter! I do not renege on my agreements! But consorting with the Court of Ice, you must be willing to play quite the dangerous game. My second condition is that you are forbidden from mentioning our agreement to anyone. Not to the Winter Court, your friends, and especially not to Ezoreth. If you even mention it to that corpse, I can guarantee that he will flee or murder you. Or both. I will, however, concede that your soulwatcher can be made aware. They would be useful in assuring Ezoreth’s soul is gone. Do you agree to this condition?”

“As I said, the Fae owes me for saving his life - I am no idiot to make deals with EITHER Court. But - so long as you abide by the deal, I will not mention you to any others, you have my word on that. Talking with that one is a last resort, the final option if you will. So, I agree to the condition again, but my warning remains.” The truth was, Fenn might owe him his life - but the real thing would be the fact that Ezra and Fenn were already close, with Ezra trying to nurture Fenn. Nevin had a feeling that if this ghost somehow hurt Ezra, Fenn would happily help figure out how to get rid of it permanently.

“So. When Ezoreth’s soul begins to manifest, I will bring Ezra here, to help expel it so you may take your vengeance and my friend saved. It any part of him remains, it will be dealt with - and so long as you abide and do not harm Ezra outside of dealing with Ezoreth's *expelled* soul, I will not mention you to anyone else but the one who will help ensure that Ezoreth is completely abolished from Ezra. Are these the satisfactory terms, Summer lady?” Best to make sure that they were on exactly the same page here.

“I am no fool either, child. When you refer to ‘dealing’ with any remnants of Ezoreth’s soul, what I refer to is destroying the body. If my soul has returned to the Earth, so must my body. Understood?” She paused, looking away from Nevin with a solemn gaze towards the wall. “The third and final condition is more of a request… and it is a bit of a selfish one. But it is the one request I value most. You do this for me, and I shall grant you a boon, one way or another. Whether I return to the world of the living, perish with the destruction of Ezoreth, or even if you discover it while I am trapped here.”

They turned back to Nevin, reaching with translucent hands and placing them on either side of his face. Her eyes seemed to tear up again, and although no tears formed, it was clear she was distraught. “I need you to find my child. Find my beloved little dragonfly and tell me what has become of them. I must know what happened to my little one.”

Nevin cursed inwardly, of course the Fae caught that. He had intended to deal with that situation by trapping Ezra/Ezoreth if any of the bastard survived, until he could find a way to fully cleanse his friend. But - he had to nod. If the bastard took over, it would Ezra’s death. And then her third condition, and dark red eyes went wide.

A Fae child, lost and their mother slain. Wait - wait was that why - Nevin’s mouth dropped open. That was why Ezra immediately took to mothering Fenn?? The man closed his mouth with a loud click of his teeth and nodded slowly.

“I will do this for you, Fae. A child should never be lost without their parent, it is wrong. Tell me what you can of your little dragonfly, and I will endeavor to search for them. Even if do not find them before - before we have to deal with the bastard, I will search. And I will return to your grave and tell you.” He bowed his head.

Ezoreth was a disgusting bastard.

The Fae woman blinked in surprise. The human’s straightforwardness in finding her child was something she hadn’t quite expected from the man. Despite his simple looks, he did seem to care about seeking her child and discovering their fate. She could only hope his discovery would end in something more positive. “...I thank you, human. I suppose having the boon of the Summer Court is something that cannot be ignored so easily. My little dragonfly has black hair, their eyes are a beautiful green like the forest… When you spot them, you will know they are mine. I cannot express my gratitude in words for your willingness to answer such a simple request, but if they are alive and well, I would ask you another favor. Watch over them. Guide them until they can return to the Summer Court safely. Will you do this for me?”

“I will. I will find them and endeavor to return them to where they belong. I will search this tower again to see if I can find any trace of the child, and then I will begin my search. Now, to make the deal, we need our names. I am Nevin Aimaparapoiitis, and I agree that if, and when, Ezra begins to show signs of a hostile soul, one Ezoreth, taking control, I shall bring her here, to this tower, alongside an individual who can see souls. Once here, we will expel Ezoreth from Ezra, so that the Fae - to be named as she agrees - may take her revenge upon him. If Ezoreth survives the process and remains infested within Ezra, to ensure his demise I will… I will destroy him. So long as the Fae abides by the restrictions to not directly hurt Ezra, and only attack Ezoreth’s expelled soul, she shall remain secret here - and as a boon for her, I will search for her child, and help him return to the arms of the Summer Court. Agreed?” He slowly extended one hand, staring hard at the Fae.

The Fae stared at Nevin for a long moment, head tilted to the side. Should she really put all of her faith in this man? The last human she ‘trusted’, she ended up having her soul removed from her body and possessed by a psychotic old mortal too afraid to return to the earth. Her hands hesitantly reached for the human, her fingers hovering over his cheeks. She continued to stare warily as she spoke.

“I, on the name of the Summer Court, solemnly vow not to harm the creature known as Ezra and only assault the soul of Ezoreth Vrall to ensure he returns to the earth where he belongs. I agree I also vow one boon to the human Nevin Aimaparapoiitis in exchange for the knowledge of my child’s current whereabouts and if the child is found, will be in his care until I am able to reclaim him or is able to be safely returned to the Summer Court. I once more swear upon the name of the Summer Court and upon the name of Asteria. Consider this contract agreed to and sealed.” She moved close and pressed her lips gently against his, the faint spectral press faint against the human for a brief moment. The Fae - no, Asteria, - pulled back, looking at Nevin with an almost soft look of thanks combined with a steely glare of determination.

“Now, go, Nevin. May Titania bless your path.”

Nevin stared at the ghost for a solid ten seconds, processing the fact that a Fae ghost just kissed him. Wordlessly, he bowed before tightening his grip on the alchemical text, and turned to head up the stairs. He did not say a thing until he had made it to the ladder, and climbed up it - pausing partway up to look back to her with a very strange expression on his face. “Dare I ask why a kiss was needed, Madam Asteria?” He seemed almost hesitant to ask, from what he knew a kiss wasn’t necessary to make a deal - a verbal agreement was enough, from what he knew.

Asteria looked to Nevin from where Nevin had left her, and she placed her arms behind her back. “There could be many reasons, silly human. Perhaps I am indebted to you for assisting me at all. It could be that I am grateful for your agreement to find my child. Or it could be I am just thankful for any sort of communication after who knows how many years and wished to show my appreciation.” She chuckled quietly, running a hand through her hair before returning her stance to a much more relaxed form.

“Or maybe, just maybe, I couldn’t help but mess with your head. Who knows? Maybe I’ll tell you the answer when you return? Leave you in suspense a little.” She gave another chuckle and a small wink before fading from Nevin’s view.

Nevin stared at the spot where she had been for a few moments after her disappearance. This was - what? Why in the name of the sweet Flow - if he hadn't been hanging on the ladder out of the basement, Nevin would have thrown his hands up in exasperation.

The Fae, Asteria, had been shrieking at him, furious and enraged, then distraught over the fate of her child - and then mischievous as she kissed his cheek. Nevin officially did not understand what the hell had just happened. And it was clear the Fae wasn't going to clarify things any more, as her little vanishing act showed.

So Nevin growled and continued his climb. Sure enough, he was under the hatch that he had destroyed the latch on earlier, and he emerged back into the first floor with a grunt as he shouldered the hatch open. His feet almost carried him out of the tower - until he remembered there was a chamber he had not explored. He couldn't take the chance that the Fae child was trapped there - so with his leg burning in pain, Nevin climbed the stairwell once more.

The door was surprisingly easy to open - and when Nevin walked in, he felt like he had stepped into a greenhouse gone wild. Plants covered every inch of the interior and looking down, the redhead could see he was walking on a thick carpet of clover. He sneezed, hard, at the sheer amount of pollen in the air, and covered his nose and mouth with one sleeve as he ventured further into the room, looking around.

The plant life here was not twisted and mutated like that stuff outside - in fact, it almost seemed healthier than any he had ever seen before. Vibrant and blooming - even plants he knew weren't in season right now. This - this had to be the work of the Fae child. There - tucked in the corner of the room, almost entirely overgrown, was a small stone slab, with blankets piled on top of it. Nevin felt a stab of sorrow. Ezoreth had made the boy sleep on that?

But, no. The Fae child was not here. He must have escaped after Ezoreth passed on. Nevin cursed under his breath as he slowly made his way out of the overgrown chamber, and back down the stairs. His leg was burning in pain, overwhelming the anesthetic properties of his threads, but still he pressed on - he could not stop here.

Nevin didn't know how he made it out of the tower, or the forest, safely. All he knew was - he had to get home. At some point, he stopped thinking, focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other, trudging across the distant that felt like it stretched on forever, as he headed back to Stonevale. He knew he could make it - or, he thought he could. He was wrong. Somewhere along the way, he collapsed on the side of the path, and a frantic Aphrael shot off to find help.

A voice, one he knew. But wrong, where was three emotion he knew should be there? There was concern, and confusion, but - he gave up, thinking about this was too hard now.

~Fin~

Thread Title: A Twisted Tower
Judgment Type: Workshop Submission

Nevin receives 3328 EXP and 67 GP as well as the following spoils:

Vials of Vitality x2(Mutated Deer) : Healing serums created from the blood of a mighty beast, brought down in its twisted prime. The blood in these vials contains the life force of the animal, and can heal those who ingest the blood. (Each use heals a moderate amount of damage, such as deep cuts, cracked bones, mild internal injuries. Each vial contains one does of blood.)

Vial of Berserk x1 (Mutated Deer)

Blood drawn from a powerful, insane beast, that ignored many wounds that eventually lead to its demise. When ingested, this blood dose will increase the strength of the drinker to three times that of a normal human - at the cost of stripping away their sanity and making them ignore pain. It doesn't make them immune to it - wounds still accumulate as easily as before, and without self preservation active, danger is increased. A powerful aid - but one that has a price. (One vial, one use)

Congratulations!

All rewards added.

Nevin reaches level 7!