Argor reaches to his side, and removes a scroll from the red scroll case attached to his belt. He quickly reads off the incantation, and points his right index finger at the gnoll.
A beam of fire blasts forth from his finger and hits the gnoll captain directly in the chest, and burns away a large chunk of fur and singes a large patch of flesh.
The webs catch fire as well, burning away even more fur and flesh from the canine-like warrior.
__________
Cladissa maintains her grip on the black cord even as the gnoll staggers forward. She glares at him to disrupt the strands of fate surrounding him, which he shakes off.
________________
saves
Seeing the giant gnoll move a bit closer and then get stuck in the web again, Nyugusk smiles. He leans down through the hole as much as he's able, and lets loose with claw and tusk.
_____________________
Nyugusk’s second claw catches Gnarl Gatherbones by the scalp and yanks his head back. Then the enlarged alchemist darts in and bites down hard on the gnoll’s throat. Coppery blood fills his mouth as the captain’s neck snaps.
Hrimnagel pulls an arrow and attempts to again thread it through the slaves. He breathes a quick prayer to Count Ranalc to guide the arrow, but his first shot catches knee of the hull. His arrow thuds into the gnoll's arm, so Hrimnagel closes in case healing is needed.
Cladissa flicks the lash a few times as she stares at the fallen foe. I suppose it's for the best, but this spell would have paralyzed him. It's a shame he didn't get to feel what it's like being helpless under the lash before he died.
She steps over to Grommuk and chants another spell, lightly touching him.
She steps back to asses the situation and let Hrimnagel cast his own healing. Did you find the lady? she asks Argor.
Hrimnagel enjoys the satisfaction to sticking an arrow into the dying gnoll.
After seeing Grommuk on the mend, he shouts in his small, thin voice to the chained slaves, "The captain is dead. You will be freed. Please be calm for a few minutes while we heal our dying comrade and search for a specific slave."
Hrimnagel grabs the keys from the captain and heads within his shadows to the captain's cabin. He attempts to use the keys to unlock the door expecting to find their person of interest inside.
Argor walks over and notes that Grommuk has stabilized for the moment, and then looks at the dead gnoll and incants a spell. His eyes glow red as he scans over the captain for anything magic of value.
Once the captain's magical gear has been designated and removed, he continues on past him to the doors he was guarding, checking each of them for the noble-woman.
Nyugusk gives out a triumphant bellow as he rips apart the massive gnoll. Seeing the web burnt up, he climbs down and follows Argor to the area behind the captain.
The captain's greataxe is magical, and his room has a chest with several hundred gold coins. The Pathfinders are able to free the slaves, who run off as quickly as possible. They find Lady Anilah in the punishment hole, a small lightless room in the hold. She begins crying with gratitude as they free her. After calming herself a bit, she summons the grace of a noble and tells the Freaks, "I owe you all a favor I can never repay."
After the Pathfinders turn her over to Venture-Captain Alissa Moldreserva, the VC eyes them up and down, “You handled that well. Guess I had you wrong. The lot of you may prove useful to the Society yet. Get yourselves a drink, on me.”
The Agents' payment is 1,500 gold pieces each, not bad for a day's work.
Cladissa doesn't dispute Lady Anilah's claim, but she does softly suggest, Perhaps you can help these others on the ship restore their lives.
Back at the Lodge, she takes a sidelong look at Argor to watch his reaction to the backhanded praise. Regardless of his response, Cladissa curtsies politely and accepts her payment. So, anyone? You want to go get that drink? she asks the other Pathfinders. For the moment, the rescue of the noblewoman and the other slaves has buoyed her spirits after the crushing she'd had in the last week. She found herself not quite ready to release the euphoria, and looked to celebrate.
Then she looked at Grommuk's blood-splattered clothes, and noted some of it had gotten on her as well (she had been right behind him). Or, maybe we go change, first?
Nyugusk smiles -- his broad mouth opening like a tusked muppet's -- and answers Cladissa, "A little celebratory inebriation sounds just right.
"...and I'm sure Argor can freshen up your outfit, if you ask. For myself, I have a cologne of my own design that should do the trick" The mutated half-orc takes out a small vial and dabs his wrists with oil. The olfactory effect is that of opening a cedar chest and finding within it a damp, sweaty ox.
"I make it in small batches but have enough here to share, if you'd like."
______________
Over drinks he turns to Argor and says, "I've been thinking about how to crack the mystery of this serum. I have some experiments on my mind, and would be happy to put our heads together on them, as we discussed some time back."
He takes out a sheath of parchment and begins to sketch alchemical and arithmatic fomulae.
"It occurs to me that -- given the serum's effects, which you will agree are gradually increasing in a fluid, nonlinear fashion -- it stands to reason that there would be chymical means to boost it's effects on us, either temporarily or perhaps indefinitely. We know of course that there are (ahem) negative interactions possible as well, as the departed Dr. Collingsworth demonstrated through his own experimentation.
"Risks aside though, I see ripe potential for learning here, as well as the possibility of practical benefits. What do you say?"
Ooh! Nyug! Cladissa cries while her eyes start watering. Use that trick to give yourself a sensitive nose before you brew your next batch of cologne! As they walk, she makes sure to stay upwind.
___________
Cladissa studies the calculations that Nyugusk has produced, then looks at him askance. You mean you're thinking of trying to accelerate the mutations? If it's temporary, what, we'd snap back to what we are now? Would that give us a preview of what will happen next, or do you think we could use it to practice controlling the change the next time it hits?
With excitement, Nyugusk moves the papers so that Cladissa can get a better view.
"You've got it, exactly! Why couldn't we -- with sufficient research -- find a way to safely amplify its effect on us? Hints of what's to come, means of guiding our transmogrification, who knows where it might lead?!
"I don't know for certain that it's possible. The way this serum works is remarkably different from any known to alchemy, but I don't see any reason not to pursue it."
He takes a drink with satisfaction as Cladissa and Argor examine his notes.
_______________
Argor takes the coin and, without looking at the woman, says, "It seems to be a common thing among you Venture Captains, the lack of the ability to recognize and respect actual talent."
He then turns and departs without another word, paying a visit to the office of the man handling the account over the Manor and making another payment out of his new coin before rejoining the others. At Nyugusk's suggestion that he clean up their clothes, Argor sighs and adds, "Yes, clearly that is the true power of my mastery over the arcane, serving as a glorified launderer." However, he does in fact cast his cantrip and uses it's magic to remove the signs of battle from all of their attire before continuing along. As they walk, he also uses the spell to erase the horrific odor that Nyugusk has exposed them all to.
Once they reach their establishment and Nyugusk presents him with his notes, Argor scans over them, quickly absorbing the information in them before the orc shifts them to allow Cladissa to view them. Ultimately, however, he shakes his head.
"I wouldn't think it wise to attempt to amplify the effects of the serum in any way. Dr. Collingsworth's clear example of the true extent of the "negative effects," as you so eloquently put it, shows that tampering with the formula in any way could prove a fatal mistake. In fact, I am surprised that your own chemical tinkering hasn't resulted in more harmful effects. In fact, who is to say that it hasn't already, without our knowing?"
He takes a sip of wine, "I am still absolutely certain that the serum can be guided by force of will. Clearly, we have some sort of influence over it's path, otherwise, why haven't I developed more physical manifestations, yet have become enhanced in entirely mental and psychological attributes?"
__________
As the group of misshapen Pathfinders make their way back to the Manor, Argor is pleased to be relaxed for the first time in a while. Perhaps it was the wine, or the actual intellectual conversation he was able to share for once, but he felt at peace for the first time in a while.
As Grommuk closes the gate behind them, Argor continues along towards the front door, when suddenly he is wracked with pain and a burning sensation all over his body.
His staff clatters to the ground as he falls to his hands and knees before his companions, unable to even muster the strength to cry out in pain. His body felt as if it were being torn into a thousand pieces, burned, and then frozen all in a manner of moments. His back and limbs contort and appear to break and bend in all the wrong places, and then promptly snap back together and appear normal for moments before repeating the process anew.
"Someone help him!" Arctyryx calls out from the ground a few feet away, a look of terror painted on his avian face as he is forced to experience all the fear and pained emotion of his master.
For a brief moment, a pair of sharp, hornlike projections burst forth from the wizard's skull before quickly falling off and melting away into a fleshlike puddle that is all to reminiscent of the late doctor they had discussed earlier. Then, another pair of arms can be seen reaching up beneath his robes and out his collar, clutching at his face before similarly dissipating. His own fingers appear to tear their way through his black silk gloves, hideous claws growing from them the length of daggers. They claw through the stone of the walkway as if it were warm butter before breaking off and joining the rest of the primordial goo growing beneath him.
Eventually, the physical changes and torment the mage is going through appears to subside, and he lays on the ground unconscious, unmoving, but otherwise, unchanged from his previous form.
Well, I do like the idea of knowing what's coming, and especially practicing. I always seem to pass out right as the change hits, so I haven't been doing much controlling. Maybe that's why I'm the one who looks the most different from what I looked like. She pauses, then quickly corrects herself, I'm sorry Nyug, I don't know what you looked like before. She takes a sip of wine. Were you... much different?
______________________
Cladissa brings her hands to her mouth and stares wide-eyed at Argor as he collapses. When his familiar cries out for help she takes a few steps toward him but pauses in shock as the mutations grow and fall off him. She cannot bring herself to touch him during his ordeal, for fear of interrupting his concentration. If that was what was happening.
When it was finally over, she helps carry Argor inside, then excuses herself. It looks like it's happening again. Good luck, everyone. She heads to her room and shuts the door.
Heart still thudding and stale adrenaline flowing, she sits, crossing her legs as best she can with their new configuration and looks at herself in the mirror. Cole snuggles up to her for a little bit, showing signs that he's got some new tricks to show her. Not right now, she shoos him away. I've got to concentrate.
She tries to remember what she used to look like. The old color of her skin, her dark eyes, her old feet. It was hard to believe it had only been a few months since the injection. She pictures herself as she had been, though she never really paid much attention to her appearance. She remembers her old flaws, the flabby skin around her tummy, the dry patches on her elbows, that wierd crease at her waist, and her thick ankles. There were more. Dozens more. Hundreds, maybe. Every feature that didn't measure up to Auronee, gone or covered up by her fur. Why go back to that? Although, she thinks, why not focus on an upgrade? To really be pretty?
A sudden, mortifying thought crosses her mind. What if I mutate to look like Auronee? She shudders. No, better to be a cat.
A knock on her door shakes her out of her meditation, and she notices that quite a lot of time had passed. She didn't feel that the changes were near. She wonders a bit, since usually when one of them starts to change, the rest of them follow soon after. She gets up, staggering on numb legs, and answers the door.
Letter arrived for you, the new butler says. Your mother expects you for supper tomorrow evening.
Yeah, Cladissa answers. That explains that.
Nyug watches Argor with clinical fascination. After a few shocked seconds he takes out his papers and begins to scribble notes while still not taking his eyes off of the mage.
He keeps scribbling and watching for another few breaths after Argor collapses, and then he tucks away his parchment and examines him, taking his pulses and looking at his tongue and lifting his eyelids.
"I think he'll be alright now." He declares. "I'll carry him into his room. Arctyryx, I don't expect he'll need anything more than a long rest, but if anything else unusual happens, please rap at my chamber door straight away. Or if you prefer not to leave his side, I can leave Huk Huk with you."
Grommuk seems to watch passively as Argor begins convulsing in pain. When parts of him begin to fall off and discorporate into piles of a puddy-like goop, the orcs begins to poke and prod the substance at first. Then he chuckles stupidly to himself and begins squishing it in his huge green hands.
"Nyugusk : Siz bizim dost monicher " Drippy " uyğun olduqca paltar hesab edirsiniz? Mən tez-tez güclü Bildirib biri kimi dadlı nə özümü merak gördük , etiraf etmək lazımdır."
Grommuk scoops up a helping of Argor's dripping fingers and presses it to his tongue. He chews it thoughtfully for a moment before spitting it back out onto the dirt. "Gaaakk! Him taste like rat hair and iron shaving."
After they have returned to the manor, Grommuk busies himself as he usually does: stuffing his face. When the morning arrives, he has disappeared from the home -- again, as he usually does.
Hrimnagel doesn't take the bait of the Venture Captain's comment. He had nothing to discuss with him, so he kept quiet. When Cladissa finally decides on the drinking establishment, the deep gnome peels off to contact the Pathfinder weapon master, Marcos Farabellus. They make small talk while scheduling arrangements for further training. His fellow freaks never realize that he wasn't with them anyway.
_________________________________________________
At the drinking establishment, Hrimnagel secures a small drink and listens to the others. After a while, he begins to feel sad for them. Argor believes that their changes are due to his personal willpower. Nyugusk wants to accelerate the changes, and Cladissa wants to reverse them. Hrimnagel knows in his soul that his changes are due to the divine purpose of Count Ranalc. That certainty is calming and allows him to concentrate on life. He doubts any of the others would understand him.
_________________________________________________
Back at home, he continues to shadow his fellow freaks. He is shocked by the attack on Argor. Hrimnagel asks Count Ranalc to stabilize Argor, which others are too shocked to hear. When Nyugusk confirms the mage's vitals, the deep gnome returns to his basement of solitude. He shapes some stone to look like the gnoll captain to relieve the stress of the day before sleeping. His dreams are contentment and filled in the divine certainty of his faith.
The next day he writes the first draft of his mission in his journal, and makes another attempt to stone shape the gnoll captain getting the rough stone sculpture into a bit better pose at the moment Hrimnagel warned Grommuk.
The next morning, Cladissa awakes and immediately checks herself. Nothing. Remembering that Hrimnagel missed the previous change, she wonders if she might miss this one, or if it's possible that the formula has run its course. She flexes, dropping down on all fours to stretch and arch her back. Not likely, she thinks. She can almost feel it within her, pent up and nearing the moment. She shuts her eyes and shakes her head.
She pads down softly to breakfast and visit with the others, especially to see how Argor was doing. She looks around for Argor, or signs of Arctyryx who usually prefers to be in a different room from her. She mingles a bit with the more social members and the house staff, unsurprised that Grommuk was again out and Hrimnagel likely remaining in his cellar.
At some point, she reads the letter her mother had sent. They were to actually meet at Le Fleur de Galt, an extremely upscale restaurant. Tendrils of dread start to creep into her belly. Having dinner with her mother, discussing things she'd much prefer to leave alone, and the specter of another episode with the formula. After a little while hemming and hawing, she finally decides to make another visit to the catfolk quarter.
Argor awakens late the next morning, alone in his chambers. He groans and clutches his head and rolls over in bed. Arctyryx flies over to his master's side and says, "Thank heavens, your awake!"
"What happened?" Argor says, anxious about what changes may have occured.
"Well, the serum took hold of you, sir. Ya started twitchin' and convlusin' about on the ground, and things started growing then falling off of you and melting away," Arctyryx says. Argor can sense his frustration build as he adds, "The others seemed to care little about your condition. Cladissa ran off to prepare for her own transformation, Nyugusk took notes, Hrimnagel was nowhere to be seen...as usual, and Grommuk tried to eat the bits that fell away!"
Argor stares silently at the ceiling for some time, before finally asking, "And...what changes actually took place?"
"That's the damndest thing, sir. I haven't been able to find any difference in you."
The wizard wearily sits up and goes to don his robe, gloves, and mask. He then notes the various tears and holes that had developed in them, and a knot forms in his abdomen thinking about what must have occurred to cause the damage. He turns and instead makes his way to his spellbook to prepare his spells, particularly one to repair his clothing.
He quickly realized that the concepts of magic and the arcane seemed much more familiar to him now. He had always been a quick study, but now things just seemed to be common sense, including a pair of spells he had been researching, which he was able to finish and add to his tome with little effort.
Concluding his preparations, he used his magic to repair his wardrobe, clean it, and then headed downstairs. As he passes the new house matron, he says, "Mrs. Fecht. I'll be taking my meals in the library today. Find Miss Legrand and see that she makes her way there. Should any visitors seek my aid in arcane matters, have them wait in the den until I summon for them."
He then makes his way there without further ado.
__________
Just before she leaves, she checks in one more time on Argor to see if he was awake yet. Meeting him on his way to the library, she jumps back a bit and looks at him with wide eyes.
Oh, you're awake. You look-- okay. I mean, that looked like an awful ordeal yesterday. Are you all right?
Argor continues on towards the library, and replies without making eye contact.
"For the moment, Miss Velorryan. Let Mr. Newblossom know that my theory was wrong. We have no control over this serum. It will do whatever it wants. Any further questions, I shall be in the library."
Cladissa stares after him mutely. Several minutes after he left, she finally collects herself and leaves the manor.
When she reaches Catfolk Alley, she wanders around a bit, wondering if she fit in. While she couldn't understand the native language, she certainly looked like she belonged. She studied the clothing of the females, deciding what sort of fashions she could pull off. She put her mind hard at work on the mundane, trying to quell a silent screaming in the back of her mind.
Ultimately she splurged on a daring gown that plunged deeply down the middle all the way to the navel. It seemed that there was less a taboo against nudity when one was not technically showing skin. It was an entirely frivolous purchase, the more rational parts of her brain chide her: spending good coin on a dress that flaunted modesty and embraced a form that she may not long possess. She has a terrifying thought that she might not be humanoid for much longer.
After selecting the dress, she indulged on some catfolk-style grooming at the bathhouse. It relaxed her considerably, and gave her a new appreciation for fine-bristle brushes.
As she hired a coach to take her from Catfolk Alley to the restaurant, she felt better than she had in a long time.
The maitre d seats Cladissa and her mother in a softly-illuminated courtyard with a bubbling fountain and a musician playing Galtan classics. Lady Farwynd eyes her daughter's dress with judgment in her eyes, but she says nothing.
They sit quietly for a while, sipping wine and enjoying the ambiance, if not the company. Finally, Lady Farwynd speaks. I realize I have been going about this incorrectly. You have spent far too much time away from home. It's time you rediscovered your roots, before it's too late.
Cladissa said nothing for a moment. That's what this was about. This restaurant was pleasant, and hearkened back to her childhood in Galt. She thought for a few moments, then replied, It might be too late anyway. Argor had another episode with the serum yesterday. He said this morning that he had been wrong. There was no controlling it.
Lady Farwynd looked at her for a long while, then asked, So what has become of the good wizard then?
Well, nothing on the outside. I didn't look too close, mind you. But it was pretty awful when it was going on. Claws, horns, all growing and then falling off of him. She shudders at the memory.
Her mother laces her fingers in front of her and leans over. Yet he shows no outward signs this morning? Cladissa nods. Has it occurred to you that he is lying?
She sits up and shakes her head. Well, no. I don't think he would-- I mean, why would he?
Sighing with impatience, Lady Farwynd shakes her head. Never forget that he has an agenda that is far different from yours. I do not think he views your efforts to control your transformation favorably. Rather than help you, I am sure he has attempted to dissuade you, correct?
Cladissa shifts uncomfortably, which is all her mother needs for confirmation. So he is likely keeping his secrets from you.
Cladissa falls into sullen silence.
After a lull in the conversation, Cladissa takes a deep breath and begins to speak, even though her eyes are focused on her lap. Mother, even if can control it, I-- I don't think I want to change back to what I was.
Lady Farwynd stares severely at her daughter. Words dripping with venom, she asks, Why, pray tell, is that?
Looking up at her mother, she nearly flinches under her gaze. Her voice seems to want to escape her, but she swallows hard and finds it. I don't really like who I was. I wasn't anybody special. I couldn't even pass the Pathfinder challenges. Gathering momentum, she continues. Since the injection I've done some pretty great things. I've helped free slaves. Fought undead. Rescued a child. Stopped an invasion. And taking the serum made that happen. She paused to take a breath, still enduring that imperious stare. She gestures at her body. It's not that bad, looking like this. I'm getting used to it.
Lady Farwynd's response is interrupted by the server, setting down plates before each of them. Escargot for madame, and steamed field mice for le félin.
Cladissa looks down at the elegantly prepared Catfolk dish, then up to view her mother's reaction. Her mother simply arches her eyebrow and begins to dine on her own dish. The restaurant served in the Galtan style; the patrons ate what the highly-trained chefs prepared, rather than choosing a dish off a menu. Cladissa dutifully eats, trying not to show on her face that her dish tasted really good.
The meal finished in silence. Lady Farwynd had relaxed her stern glare, and had instead opted for a withering look of disappointment. As the meal went on, Cladissa more and more felt regret for her words despite their truth.
At the close of the meal, Lady Farwynd finally broke her disappointed silence. Have you forgotten what's at stake?
Cladissa recoils. No, of course not.
Her mother lowers her voice. Each one of these suitors will allow you to keep your name. Your children will keep your name.
She sags, and looks guilty. Mom, the stories I hear from Galt, I don't know if it'll ever get better. So who will really care about the name Velor--
Shush! her mother cuts her off.
Mom, we're hundreds of miles away--
In a Galtan restaurant. You never know who's listening. Lady Farwynd glances around surreptitiously. Calming herself, she explains, It might not get better in your lifetime. But what about your children's? What sort of legacy will you leave them looking like that? And how will they reclaim your father's?
Cladissa felt the knife twist in her belly. She closed her eyes, feeling woozy. She had to bring up her father, didn't she?
My coach will take you home. You can pack up your things; I think you need a break from the Pathfinders for a while, her mother says while Cladissa fights back tears.
She lets herself be escorted to the waiting coach, ready for this evening to be over. She remains in sullen silence while the coach winds through the streets of Absalom. The dizziness intensifies, and then the tingling starts.
I'd forgotten-- Cladissa remarks, and her mother immediately sits up. Mom, it's starting. The formula... She doubles over as the pain begins in earnest.
Control it! Do it! her mother shouts, but nothing gets through the white-hot noise of agony. Cladissa writhes and contorts as her joints shift and muscle cords beneath her skin. Lady Farwynd could see the bones begin adjusting away from the bipedal structure.
She hauls off and hits her daughter. Do you want to be a beast!?! Control it! Cladissa looks at her mother through the pain, and a bit of recognition comes through. Focus! Concentrate! Argor knows this! What did he tell you?
Argor? Argor! Cladissa thinks through the fog of pain. She tries to focus; her mother's screams telling her something. She was supposed to >oh, gods, it hurt< do something. Argor would know. He's smart. If only she could focus. Mother was screaming something about Argor.
Suddenly, the tingling and pain throughout her body ceased, and then immediately returned centered entirely in her brain. Cladissa screams and clutches her skull as her mind feels ripped apart. She convulses and spasms, completely insensate by the agony in her head. White stars fill her vision and high-pitched whines fill her ears for several eternities, until finally blackness engulfs all.
Lady Farwynd cradles her daughter in her lap and begins breathing again once the seizures cease. Clearing her throat when the driver inquires the matter, she replies, Everything is fine now. Continue on to Jabberwocky Lane.
That evening, the unconscious form of Cladissa is brought home. Lady Farwynd lingers long enough to make sure she is carried to her room, and will be looked after. She nods farewell to whomever sees her off.
Griselda takes charge of Cladissa worriedly, after her mother returns her to the manor. The kindly butler stays with Cladissa all night, holding her hand and making sure she is as comfortable as possible.
As Argor toils away in the library, looking over any tomes involving strange finds in Numeria, Arctyryx calls out from the window sill. "Cladissa's home. Looks like she had a rough one as well."
Argor rises and walks to the window, his arms folded behind his back as he watches the girl be carried in with a scrutinizing gaze. She still appeared feline, without any noticeable changes from his current vantage.
"Perhaps her changes were entirely mental this time, as has been the pattern with me."
He then notes the form of Lady Farwynd, and makes eye contact as she turns to leave. Argor lowers his head slightly, not in a show of respect, but rather simply to let the woman know that he is watching, before turning and returning to the desk.
"Arctyryx," Argor calls out. "Fetch my apprentice, we have work to do."
The raven goes to get Jannicke and returns to Argor's room with her.
With all of the drama at Jabberwocky Lane, Hrimnagel sneaks out and goes shopping for a magical longbow. He spends a couple of days window shopping in most of the districts of Absalom. Finally, he finds boutique bowyer specializing in small customers. After an afternoon with the shop owner, the deep gnome places an order.
Hrimnagel trains hard with Marcos Farabellus for a week. Then, he collects his new custom bow leaving his old longbow for starting archer, so he trains with it for the next couple of weeks.
Cladissa awakes with a start. She pitches in confusion and rolls out of bed, landing on all fours. She rises to her hind feet slowly as Griselda scoots back the chair she had been sitting in and gives her a hand. She nods distractedly as the butler inquires into her well-being. She steps lightly over to the mirror and inspects herself.
I believe I am fine, yes, thank you. I assume Mother brought me back here after my episode? You may leave me now, she dismisses Griselda without taking her eyes off her reflection. When the butler turns to leave, she says, Um, wait. I'm sorry. She looks at her and smiles. Thank you for looking after me. That was very kind. Griselda beams and excuses herself.
In the solitude of her room, Cladissa studies herself thoroughly. Though her joints felt slightly different, she had no restriction of movement in any way, and was just as steady on her catlike feet as before.
She remembered the excruciating pain in her head just before she passed out last night. My mind, she concludes. The serum affected my mind.
She replays the episode in her head several times. The formula was continuing with its standard pattern. I likely would have become even more feline, had I not interrupted it. When I did, it immediately targeted my mind. She rubs her cheek where her mother had struck her, then thinks about their dinner and where things had left off. Not a chance, Mom. I'm a Pathfinder.
She realized she felt hungry, but not physically. Intellectually. She wanted a challenge. Cole, you had some tricks to show me? Let's see what you've got. Her familiar bounds from the bookshelf and sits before her, mewing softly. Cladissa sits in a very similar pose and stares into those yellow eyes. Secrets are passed back and forth from the ether.
__________________
Late that afternoon, physical hunger finally overrides and Cladissa slinks downstairs for a meal. How is everyone? she inquires to whomever she first sees.
After watching Argor’s series of fitful half-transformations, Nyugusk finds himself almost too excited to eat. Is Argor in fact shaping the course of his transformations? His recent bout seemed to indicate that he is….But is his fierce will pruning away potential gifts based on his prejudices? Could he benefit from even more if he were to stop resisting? Or is he truly focusing his transformation in the way he most desires?
Nyugusk was running breathlessly by the time he made it to his lab. Thirteen hours later he was still there, gnawing on pemmican rather than waste time coming back out for a meal.
He draws some of his own blood and places it in four vials. The mutant half-orc then tries several variations of his mutagen that could -- theoretically -- have helped to accentuate the serum, or shape the direction of it’s transformations. Each avenue he explores seems initially promising...and then quickly ends in frustration with the blood in the vials turning to the same goo Argor’s claws and horns had devolved into before, or -- in one case, sizzling like acid before turning into a lifeless black tar. Finally, shortly before dawn, he collapses on his workbench, still agonizing over the serum as he falls asleep: Is Argor right then? Is there no useful way for modern chymistry to amplify this bizarre serum?
When he wakes it's late afternoon and he's still laying at his desk. The first thing he notices is the soreness in his face and arms from laying on the journal and papers on his workbench, and a spilled vial from yesterday’s fevered experimentation. He stretches his arms and notices...something that sends him flying back to the common room.
He bursts in from the other door just as Cladissa enters from upstairs. ”It’s happened again -- and more amazing even than before! Look at this!!”
What enters is a substantially different looking man...if the term ‘man’ still fits at all. He’s somehow grown a new set of legs...and his hands and forelegs end in enormous beetle-like pincers with a green-black sheen.
”Look at me!” He crows, triumphantly. ”See how fast I can run now, and watch this!” He rears up on his hind legs, snapping with all four pincers at once, with his accordion-like left arm still extending far beyond the others.
”Marvelous, isn't it? The disturbingly bug-like half-orc asks. "While I don’t believe I’ve found a way to accelerate the path to self-perfection yet, I’m thrilled to say it’s still advancing. I wonder now, Argor: As you channel the effects of the serum, are you also diminishing it? If you allowed it to run free instead of censoring the transformations, could you become even more the being that you were intended to be??”
[2] pinchers (4) -- 1d6 +2 CMB to grab
[2] grab (pincher) -- free grapple check on each hit, +4 CMB to grab
[1] reach (left pincher)
[1] pounce
Argor eyes the changes in the half-orc curiously from his seat behind the desk in the library. Fortunately, his most recent client had departed, and none were awaiting his services when Nyugusk erupted into the study.
"I had asked Lady Velorryan to relay to you my newest assessment, but it would appear you have not spoken with her yet. My new hypothesis is as follows: we have no control over this serum. The turmoil I went through yesterday, without any ability to exercise control over it, proves that it will act on it's own volition. However, I do still believe it targets something unique to the individual to enhance."
Nyug's new form carried with it a sour tang of insect chitin with a briny after-note. Her yellow eyes widened as he burst into the common room and demonstrated his new mutations. She drops to all fours and circles him once, tail flicking in the air, as she studies his new appendages.
Returning to her hind legs, she crosses her arms. Impressive, Nyugusk. An astounding physiological and morphological change -- a rapid step into an entirely different phylum. Something that has not yet been demonstrated thus far by the serum. Turning to Argor, she adds, Except that Argor at one point also exhibited some sort of carapace which prompted his current style of full-body clothing. I never caught a good look. What do you think, Argor? Are there any similarities?
Cladissa blinks for a moment and looks at everyone in the room. I mean, um. Wow, you look different, Nyug. Did it hurt?
Argor's eyes are filled with disgust at Cladissa's accusation. "This is nothing like what I had happen to me."
In truth, however, it was closer than he would like to admit, though his honeyed words and physical language wouldn't reveal that truth, if he could help it. Still, despite his own clarity of mind, his recent ordeal adds some anxiety to his words, even if only slightly evident.
Cladissa nods her head, not taking her eyes off him. My apologies. I meant no offense.
Turning away from Argor abruptly and dismissively, she pads softly toward the dining room, her tail swaying back and forth. When she reaches the threshold, she pauses and looks over her shoulder. Would you care to talk more over dinner, Nyugusk?
Ack! A small, thin voice coughs/shouts near the doorway behind Nyugusk. Nyugusk? Is that you? What god did you anger?
Nyugusks eyes widen at Argor's assertion. "You think you had no ability to exercise control yesterday? Do you have any memory from that time?
"It's quite possible that you're right but that's not what it looked like to me. The rapid way the serum started to change your body and then reversed course looked as much as anything to me like something in you doing battle with the serum. I'd thought you were consciously battling it, but I suppose it could be some submerged part of you as well. If you have any memories from the incident it would be quite interesting to hear them."
________________
To Cladissa, shaking his head "This wave of transformation came while I slept. I do feel quite sore today, but also greatly invigorated. It's marvelous, really.
"And yes, I'd be happy to talk more over dinner. What's on your mind? Have you noticed any new signs from the serum yet?"
Hearing Hrim's voice, Nyug turns in its direction.
"Angered? Oh no! I cannot say for certain if Irori had a hand in this transformation, but I remain fearlessly on the path of self-perfection that I was introduced to in the Master of Masters' schools. It was a fateful day when I realized that my path to self-perfection is not through meditation but through the practical application of chymistry.
"At the very least, Irori's fearless openness to self-perfection is what granted me the courage to open to whatever form my own self-perfection takes. If I'm evolving more rapidly than others, it may be because I have nothing hidden in me that's resisting the gifts of this serum." The bizarre insect-orc grins his familiar (if increasingly unsettling) tusky smile.
Self-perfection? A calmer small, thin voice replies to Nyugusk. How do you imagine you will look when you are perfect?
"Only pain, and a complete lack of control. Other than that, nothing. Arctyryx filled me in on what transpired," Argor says, his gaze becoming cold as ice.
"Now, I have research to resume. If you all don't mind..." he says as he returns his attention to the tome on his desk.
Nyugusk's smile grows broader and his eyes grow dreamy at Hrimnagel's question. "Ahhh, if only I knew. I suspect though that my own self-perfection will involve a willingness to assimilate and utilize that which is best from many species, and that my appearance may never settle into a single form. If my dream of following Irori's footsteps should ever reach full fruition, I envision myself as The Transmogrifying Lotus."
At Argor's comment, Nyugusk shrugs and says, "By all means. Just consider, as you study: Is there something within you that is resisting greatness? That refuses to maximize its own potential out of a preconceived notion of what your own self-perfection might look like?"
Cladissa springs into her chair and waits for Nyugusk to enter. She asks Mr. Goodpies for anything still living or freshly killed when he inquires what she would like.
Then, when Nyugusk finishes his conversation with Argor and is seated, she calmly begins, What is on my mind, you ask? Exactly that. I believe the serum has affected my intellect. For the better; of that there is no doubt. But what distresses me is the very real possibility of personality changes that might coincide with the augmentation of pure reasoning ability. What I would ask of you is to observe my behavior over the next few days and note any instances of radical personality shifts.
Cladissa blinks a few times and leans forward. Um, what I mean is, do I seem different to you?