The common room is large and rectangular. It has a very ancient look to it, with plank floors and aged wooden beams overhead. The space is dominated by a pair of flagstone fireplaces, one at each end, and the space is lit by illumination given off by scattered, glowing fluted pillars. Heavy oak chairs accompany its tables, which surround the bar in sizes both large and small, while long tables and booths line the walls of the room.
An eerie blue mist fills the air of the common room. It's sweet-smelling and impeds all forms of vision, making its far sides always hazy and indistinct. As a result, one can never see the entirety of the common room at any one time and precise mapping of it is impossible.
Situated in the middle of the common room is a large bar, which has a wide shaft of light shining directly above it. In the center of the bar is a massive pillar, lined with shelves holding the establishment's many libations. Stools surround this bar that are variously described as being round, square, or octagonal in shape. Behind the bar is a concealed door to the beer and wine cellar, which some believed was another plane entirely—namely the wine cellar of some deity of alcohol.
Within one of the corners of the common room is a spiral staircase that leads up to a balcony, a sort of partial second floor that looked over the first. There are no windows anywhere on both floors of the common room. Other spaces within the common room include a pair of coatrooms in front of the main entrance and a massive brawling pit.
As each of you enter, you're greeted by the eternally smiling and ever cheerful barkeep."Welcome traveler! I’m Mitchifer, and the World Serpent Inn is here to serve. My bar is fully stocked with the most exotic ales and liquors from across the multiverse, and the kitchen serves only the finest foods available. Rooms are available to rent if you need to relax as well. Take a seat anywhere and one of the servers will attend to you shortly. A few rules of note – don’t go through doors here unless you’re prepared for what’s on the other side, don’t pick fights unless you can finish them, and if you cause any damage, you’ll have to answer to the Owner. Enjoy your stay!" He appears as a large pale-faced human male, with chubby cheeks and a rotund girth. His shock of white hair growing as a beard doesn’t extend beyond his cheek, leaving his head smooth and bald, and his eyes twinkle like obsidian shards in a glassy field. He's dressed simply in a tan apron, brown shirt and trousers, all of which seems impervious to any stain.
"Ah," the relatively mundane-looking alchemist says as he sits down in one of the octagonal seats. "Just mead will do finely; I'm John Smith the Alchemist, well-known enough where I'm from for... admittedly, shoving the magic most alchemists use for bombs into gunpowder and watching it blow up spectacularly. I heard that there's some powerful... cat, if I recall correctly? Care to tell more?"
While the mead is being brought, the man polishes his ornately decorated musket, making sure that everything looks fine. He'd personally test it, but that would likely set about a 40-foot area ablaze in an instant, so her reasons that's a particularly horrible idea.
The Ps-God known as the Sapphire light Came into be in that plane's famous den of late-night drinking stuff that would drop a titan. And cards. Where one could not only lose one but the shirt off one's back but one's back with it. They said that legendary games had had whole worlds placed in the pot. The World Serpent Inn, not to be mixed up with Castle Amber all-you-can-eat buffet dinner Which was way more formal for this bunch, and card games there where mental!!
She had planes shifted her two good friends, Bolvar Gemforged a fellow godling who was always up for a drink and Reepacheep, Guardian of the Gates of Heaven, Commander of the Fourth Host of Mount Celestia and General of the 3rd Abyssal Crusade, and card sharp if you every played with him.
She looked around but could not see them.
"Well they must have hit the bar and car tables respectively."
Said one of her hive-mind followers.
"Shush now! the lot of you! I'm having some ME time, so ^*&)* off"
Her hive mind shuffled off mentally, grumpy dragging of psionic feet, like a teen who has to go clean their room. Once gone She said to no one in particular.
"No that feels better"
And looked around the room.
There was little point showing off one's power in The World Serpent Inn, Everyone here had power, they did not let you in if you did not. And old customers like her knew the unspoken rules, 1: Don't break the furniture too much, and 2: Don't get flashy. You only flexed yourself when someone was being irksome or rude.
She spotted a table and went to get a seat, just as another newcomer did as well. He too was playing it down, she marked him as an old lag as well.
She smiled at him and tilted her head slightly in acknowledgment.
"Sapphire, nice to meet you John Smith"
She walked through the seat as it moved on its own, to let her sit on it. She looked real but it was clear that she was also ethereal in nature. A drink and cake came into being before her. Looked like a hot tea with a small lemon cake on a plate. She shipped the tea and took up a small fork for the cake.
"They know my order here, so it's always waiting. And yes I suspect we are all here about a Kitty who is acting up"
"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Sapphire," he says holding an outstretched hand, the one not holding his signature grenade launcher. "I figure a typical human, no matter how many alchemical enhancements you tack on, is a rare sight around here?"
He continues sipping the mead. By all accounts, he looks exactly like a typical human. His abilities, however, are alchemically enhanced into the limits of what's possible for a mere mortal such as himself, and it occasionally shows in how fast his appendages move when he isn't trying to portray the image of "your everyday alchemist", which given the company he's around, he doesn't really need to do that right now, so at least his reaction speed is apparent.
She puts her cup down and says with all seriousness
"Don't joke, John Smith, I got drunk once with a Cayden Cailean when he was just a typical human, and look what happened to him."
"The Accidental God, yes? I'd not be surprised if the wine cellar here is directly linked to one of his personal collections," Mr. Smith says while finishing his mead. "Anyways... if you've heard rumors about me, don't believe them, by the way."
"Well it must be nice to be normal. No such luck here, I was made a god of a kind, short story, 1st world joke, and someone's idea of fun."
She picks her cup back up.
"So you seem close to that weapon of yours, never seen one like it before, whats it capable of?"
she asks
"Ah, the grenade launcher. It's, presumably, the reason I was deigned powerful enough to deal with the cat," the Alchemist says with a chuckle. "It launches musket balls laced with black powder, infused with the same magic used to create a typical Alchemist's bombs. I call them grenades, and they're highly destructive."
He takes out the vials of blackpowder at the ready, and shows them before continuing, "Sadly, or luckily, depending on how you view things, I've been unable to have the arcane blackpowder last more than a few minutes in anyone else's hand. They're still horrifyingly effective in mine, though."
He contemplates giving a demonstration, but he doesn't want to pay anything more than necessary for this place due to blowing it up. "It's about 30 times more powerful of an explosion than the same amount of mundane blackpowder; if I were to fire one here, I'd imagine it'd make an... 80 feet across circular hole?" he says with a bit of pride in his voice. He realizes now how horrifying this invention must be, if it's powerful enough to get him audience with gods and outsiders; thus, he's extremely proud of the modified musket.
She looks shocked.
"I have to say that is impressive, and I bet it does not deplete as say a caster using mana would when manifesting their magics. The device being, I suspect all alchemical-based. The ingenuity of humans always astounds me."
She takes a small amount of cake and a sip of tea.
"I think I was asked here to see of this Monster Cat could be influenced by"
And the last word is spoken into his mind,
"talents"
It's genital like a kiss or whisper more than a push into one's inner thinking, like far away words on the wind.
"Sorry about that, just a demonstration to make a point. I am what is known as a Mind-Mage, if the thing has a mind my aim is to see if I can get it tamed or controlled. I hope a more humane option to this endeavor."
"It depletes some magic, unfortunately, but the rate at which it does so is very low -- I can make about 80 or so grenades a day, and they degrade after a few minutes. And whether it's purely alchemical depends on whether you define blackpowder used in the propulsion of projectiles to be 'alchemy' or 'technology', but the explosion at the end is purely alchemical, yes." the human says as he orders more mead, his hand betraying his true nature as it sets the glass down with astounding speed for a "typical human". "You plan to tame the thing? I don't doubt the cat has high reflexes, so it should be enough of an issue for me to deal with. If it's, say, afixed to the ground or something like that, it will likely be blown to smithereens within 6 seconds. Cats are known for their reflexes, though, so I highly doubt it'll be a sitting duck!"
Once he gets his second glass of mead, he continues talking. "You say human ingenuity surprises you? Where I'm from, people tend to avoid mixing technology, alchemy, and magic together for the sake of the 'purity' of one method or the other. Gods of magic disgusted at the sullying of their spellcasting tradition by someone merely always shoving it in a bottle for later. Benevolent gods of invention scared of too-rapid progress. Malevolent ones scared their grip on power has come to an end. The list goes on, and I'm probably on some Yarahkut's and Agnoia's hitlist as we speak."
As he looks up to order and then looks back, she had moved. No sound, just a change of her location. She is now sitting closer to him. Still sipping her tea.
"To be honest where I am from all things are powered by the mind. Psi-tech is the norm. Technology and Magic are equally as strange to most of us. We power our devices with our minds, from simple things to whole worlds, that are all powered and even moved by the minds of those who live within them. But we do know of alchemy, many is the Psi-Cleric and Mind-Mages who use it."
She took a moment to look around the room.
"I bet you asking yourself what we do for gods. Well, what we call gods are like me. Godlings that are formed by the will and intentions of our followers. And given time and the size of collective minds we are elevated to full divine form. And become Psi-gods. For this, our followers gain an afterlife. As we psi-gods are all linked to the higher planes hivemind. Into which we decorate the minds of those linked to us upon death, there they are judged and placed in that higher plane of existence. Power can flow back from them and us to the psi-clerics and faithful. Not so different from what magic and technology gods do. I think"
She looks back at him.
"Some who die stay with me, and help power my works, and most of all do the paperwork. I'm not so much a hitter of things as someone who will try and aid others. I can aid you if you like, try and keep you safe, heal, and mend you. Even pass come of my power to you that kind of things. All I need to do is add you to my collective while we fight. would you like that"
As she says this, her eyes glow brighter with that electric blue light that always seems to burn within them.
"I admit, that sounds fascinating. I tend to like to blur lines a lot in my work, so I might consult with someone knowledgeable in psionics back home in addition to my usual theurges more knowledgeable in actually casting magic," he says as he takes a sip of mead. "And... I'm unsure about being added to the collective, and I've figured out the secret to aiding others with my mutagens, a rare feat indeed" he says as he pulls out a mutagen labeled "FOX-V6".
He swirls the mutagen around a bit before resuming speaking, "Sadly not many gods of technology alone exist where I'm from. The closest we have are a demigod of technological destruction, and a few deities of invention. I'd like to know that I can get out of the collective afterwards before I even consider, Ms. Sapphire." He starts laughing hysterically while taking a sip of mead again, "some nutjobs even think I could be an unwitting herald of that demigod. I've tested myself, and I'm no Outsider! As human as someone with decades worth of alchemical enhancement can be!"
The door to the World Serpent Inn opened and snow blew inside. The vista outside, from what could be seen, was an icy tundra. Most of the sight, though, was blocked by an enormous leg. Whatever it was that stood outside was colossal. Slowly, but surely, the figure shrunk. Down...and down...and down...until, at last, he could squeeze through the door. The figure that entered was still huge, barely able to get through. With a final grunt, he completed shrinking, so that he could stand within the confines of the Inn. This was Bolvar Gemforged. Godling of Minderhal and last surviving member of his kin. He had been created by a mad cleric's unspeakable and unethical experimentations, in which arcane and divine power had forced together several giant substypes. The results had been both miraculous and disastrous, with fate being kind enough to destroy the more violent, and unstable, of his kindred. Looking around the nearly empty tavern, his eyes narrowed as he saw the two figures. "Sapphire." His voice boomed, recognizing another with divine blood in their veins. "You only brought one follower." He added, as he walked towards the two, his head nearly scraping the ceiling. He looked down at John, seeing naught but a normal human. Given that two godlings were present, he felt pity at what he expected to be a very messy death for the man, be him mage or servant.
John, seeing yet another godling, decides to at least showcase his insane flexibility. "I am no servant to a god or godling... unless you believe the rumors, that is! John Smith, the Alchemist," he goes to place down the prized musket and taking a sip of mead as fast as his limbs will allow him (i.e. far, far faster than a normal human is capable of).
"You both are Godlings, yes? The main reason I've never personally attempted any ascent into immortality or godhood is because," he then takes another alchemically-quick sip of mead, nearly choking,, "well, I'm an inventor; what need would I have for creating inventions quickly if I have a long lifespan? I may attempt the ascent later in life, once I've had my fill of being rushed by a mortal lifespan, but I don't desire followers or anything of the sort. That does not, however, preclude alchemically enhancing myself to ludicrous extents while mortal, though."
It's clear from his reaction speed that this is no normal human. He certainly is still a human, but the race's limitations seemingly no longer apply to the measely alchemist.
A large grin crossed Sapphire's face as her fellow godling came in.
She stood and grew in size to match his shrunken one. As he walked up she hugged him.
"I wondered where you had got to, I gave the followers the day off, haha, You old drink"
As John introduced himself, she broke the hug and went over to the bar and barkeep.a
"Barkeep!!, Ale the good stuff, two giant-sized Flagons, and a bottle of whatever johns having."
As John finished she winked into being again next to the table, handing a massive mug of ale to Bolvar, and placing a bottle in front of John.
"He is a quick one Bolvar, and as he says, he is not one of mine. Tho I did try to recruit him "
She kinks her own massive mug of ale to Bolvar's before taking a swig and sitting back down at the table.
" So Bolvar, take a seat and let's talk Mega-Cat hunt"
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A small shadow flickers through the door, almost as if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Followed shortly by a small raven which flies to the table next to a short shadowy figure whom appears more shadow than person. In a voice that sounds young and old all at once he says "I don't mean to intrude, but I overheard your group here mention the cat. The name is Umir, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." he says with a slight nod. He turns to the bartender and says "Barkeep I'll take something strong if you've got it"[b] before he turns back to the group. [B]"Now, where was I? Right the cat. If you don't mind me joining you, I too am hunting this cat."
"Pleasure to meet you, Umir, my name is John Smith, the Alchemist," John says as he pulls out yet another mutagen. This one is labeled "CAT-V6", along with a drawn-on picture of a cat. "Might I ask what the crown is for? Also, I realize that there's no ceiling here. So, if anyone needs proof of arcane powder's might, I'll quickly whip up a form of container that can withstand one explosion."
Sapphire, did not notice Umir until he spoke and then she jumped a little at he made his presence known.
"Sorry. you snuck up me there a little, nice to meet you Umir, I'm Sapphire pull up a seat."
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Looking at John, he says "I can remain unseen from most things, but Divination isn't one. I wear the crown to protect my thoughts and my location. You never know what abilities people and creatures can have, no use trying to be hidden if they know your location or your plan." he then turns and looks way up at Saphire and replies with a chuckle "No need to apologize, it's kind of my thing."
In a distant corner of the room, obscured by the haze, comes a high pitched shrieking. Come on baby, double sixes, daddy needs some more mithril
The haze clears a little revealing a massive card table. Several powerful fiends stand around it looking nervous while a small mouse dances on the edge shaking a dice thrower. As he hurls the tiny dice onto the table and they bounce across they grow to prodigious size. As they finish tumbling the come up snake eyes. Gods dammit the little mouse snarls with a glance up to the ceiling, lost in the shadows above. He glares at a large balor demon, You wouldnt be trying to cheat me would you Ertu he growls, his hand dropping to the toothpick like rapier at his waist. Ertu decides he has business elsewhere and swiftly disappears.
Flying off the table Reepacheap flies away from the gaming and plops down in a tiny chair that appears as he approaches the groups table. Bah, my luck is terrible here. Where's this damn cat!
"Considering they offered us rooms, I don't think the cat is in our sights just yet," John says as he grins at the tiny outsider at the table. "And who might you be? I'm John," he says as he begins to extend his pinkie finger out for the tiny outsider to shake.
Bah, my luck is terrible here. Where's this damn cat!
As the mouse sits, Saphy says to him.
"I told you Reep's to let me stand with you when you play. I'm always a little lucky when it counts"
Conversation in the bar stills as the building shakes. Dust drifts down from the upper beams. A second rumble shakes the walls and suddenly the arena buckles and heaves. The ground erupts skyward as a massive shape emerges into the Inn. It must be at least a hundred feat long and possessed of far too many eyes and tentacles than any creature should have. It floats in the midst of the drifting sand and regards the room. The sand settles on it like a shroud and suddenly it isnt there any more.
A short, hairy, humanoid creature dressed in dirty dragonhide plate emerges from the cloud, floating over to the bar. He wears ancient looking furs, well moth eaten and rotted and carries a solid looking staff which he sets down next to him at the bar. He gestures towards one of the bottles and takes the drink offered.
He pulls an old looking instrument from his bag, it looks to be made of a mixture of bone and horn. He adjusts the strings and begins to play an ancient, haunting melody.
Those who know of such things may know of an ancient being, said to have lived since the world was young. The Worm of Autumn has tunnelled through the bowels of the earth for millennia, carving out a vast underground Realm. It is said that, occasionally, he visits the surface there to tell tales and sing ancient songs of the earliest days of the world. In such a way is the past remembered and its lessons leaned.
"Great, the local bards here, they say he is very good"
She moves over to the stage and spends a few moments operating the music.
The she moves back to the table.
"They did not lie, it's quite enchanting"
"So back to business, if we are all here to help subjugate the Demon Cat, let's talk tactics. What are you good at?"
Bolvar awkwardly returned the hug. He was not used to doing so, out of fear that he might accidently kill any mortal that he did so with. Fortunately, Sapphire was no mortal. More at ease, he looked up at the dust from the upper beams. "The Worm is here." He intoned. His eyes narrowed as he looked up at the beams. "Time and space flow differently here." He said, as he allowed himself to grow larger. And larger. And larger. Until he was comfortably at his full size. He hadn't gotten out of the chair, and the upper beams were still well over his head, despite not having moved either. He smiled contentedly, pleased at not having the discomfort of forcing his size down.
He decided to allow Sapphire to continue interrogating the others, as was her wont. She was the one with the most experiencing having large amount of followers, so it followed that she would be better equipped than he in ferreting out exactly what heroes and villains were being drawn.
What am I good at! squeaks Reepacheap as he backflips onto the table, drawing his toothpick as he does so. Why I can duck and weave and spin and then stab! which he promptly demonstrates by dashing across the table and impaling Bolvars flagon over and over in the space of a single heartbeat. Despite being a tiny weapon beer begins to spurt from the many holes he leaves behind.
Sapphire gives her fellow godling room. Bolvar often did not say much, but that did not mean he was not paying attention. For all his size and muscle he was just as smart and cunning.
But on the demonstration of Reepacheep amazing speed.
"That is very impressive Reepacheep. The inns flagons a said to be almost indestructible. They have to be given the clientele this inn gets. Yet you poke holds in one as if it was made of paper. So fast and so well-targeted as well. Makes me think you're a being of great power, and it would be an unwise thing to judge you by your size alone."
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Umir steps into the shadows and disappears without a word (invisibility) but for some reason those with true sight, see invisible or any mind readinf capabilities can't seem to locate him. Even those with Tremor Sense, blind sight/sense, and scent struggle to find him before reappearing. "I am a master of shadows and iaijutsu. I strike first, strike fast and strike accurately. My enemies don't see me until it's too late."
"If we're showing why we're here, infinitely high ceiling and 'indestructible' flagons... I'll show you why I was invited to a table with godlings and outsiders," John says as he grabs two flagons, with an impossibly wide smile on his face. In one, he fills with the amount of blackpowder used to propel a single musket ball. The other, he fills with the same amount of magic-infused blackpowder. "This," he says as he points to the first flagon, "is the amount of blackpowder used to propel a single musket ball," he says as he lights it aflame and the expeced explosion happens, the flagon somehow still intact thanks to its construction.
"Now, when you infuse it with mana akin to how a normal Alchemist makes bombs," he says as he lights the second, and the flagon, supposedly nigh-indestructible, immediately bursts into shards of glass that embed themselves in the Alchemist, with a fire erupting from the top that seems to reach the ceiling, though that should be impossible. He removes the glass shards from his body, blood barely even leaking out as he does so, and resumes speaking. "Human ingenuity is fueled, in-part, by our shorter lifespans in comparison to, say, elves, as well as an innate curiosity and desire for some form of power."
Tearing the last glass shard out, he does finally manage to spill a few drops of blood, despite being previously absolutely peppered with the glass. "If I were to become immortal, that is to say unable to die by aging, then I'd lose that very spark."
As Umir steps into the shadows, John quickly whips out alchemical reagents, as well as talc and powdered silver, and quickly whips up an extract to see if he can locate the tiny outsider. He swirls it and drinks the extract in a quick motion, and then looks about the shadow. "Hm, impervious to any kind of sight against invisibility. Impressive!"
before reappearing.
Umir makes Sapph jump again..
"Will you stop that! its downright spooky, but I have to agree, I can see how it would come in handy in this fight"
she looks at what is left of a flagons
"I did say almost indestructible, Master Smith, it seems you count as a destructible as well as master Reepacheep"
She stops and thinks for a moment.
Then her voice enters your mind and there is an odd effect like many voices speaking at once.
"I can boost you, I can help you and aid you, I can link us all so we can aid each other. And much much more, think of me as a kind of glue for the team"
A kind of Technical display overlays your vision, you feel protected more and think faster, You know where the others are and their conditions.
"United we stand, Divided we fall"
Is her last message, and then it's gone.
"Think of me as a kind of helper"
The one thing you may get from touching her mind is that she is vastly intelligent.
Bolvar watched and listened. For those who could see it, he had a concerned look on his face. The amount of champions here was beyond worrying, for when was the last time the likes of such were needed? He couldn’t think of what it was that they would fight, only that whatever it was there was a good chance that at least one legend that was present would come to an end. And of course, the wait? That was always the worst, for when the blood began flowing there was no time for thought.
Almost instantly after John shatters his flagon, a Serpent Server appears as if out of nowhere. Even Umir isn't as sneaky.
Sighing, she quickly cleans up the mess both John and Reepacheap have made. "Apologies, you two must have downright awful luck. There's maybe a dozen poorly made mugs that have found their way into the rotation, and you two managed to get served a pair of them. Master Mitchifer has informed me that you are each be given a VIP room for the night, in order to make up for the mishap." And with that, she's gone, almost as if she was never there.
A figure slowly approaches the table. Covered in a long hooded cloak it pauses. Darkness swirls under the hood. I am, as I am sure you are aware, the Demiurge. The figure gives a resigned sigh. I have been summoned here, I have no idea why. I do not ordinarily deal with domestic animals...
He turns to regard Sapphire. A for what I am capable of. Anything..
It leaves the word hanging in the air.
Sapphire leans back and gives a grin to Demi,
She claps her hands and nods to the others.
"See now THAT!! is an entrance. That is 100% pour gravitas with a hint of dismissive condescension, all wrapped in a chilling special of dreed. Demi, you never fail to deliver. Talking of anything what are you drinking? It's my round?"
She waves over one of the Gmome Bar girls.
"I doubt any of us here are truly capable of everything," John says, sipping yet more mead. "Otherwise they merely would have called said person here to simply delete," he says as he snaps his fingers, "the cat. I do agree though, that that was certainly an entrace, Demiurge. "
Sapph shifts form to be more elf-like when talking to the bar made.
"Yes the good wine, same again for Mr Smith,
Bolvar will have another tower of ale, that nice Nordic one you had last mouth, and chill it well. get the rest here what they won't. That goes for the worm as well. I think he likes the spiced wine but best ask, on my tab."
The door opens, and what appears to be a human male walks into the bar.
However, all who gaze upon him immediately notice something is off about him. His outline is not stable. His body is constantly shifting, almost as if unable to settle upon a proper form.
His movements appear to be relatively slow and methodical yet it takes him no longer to cross the same distances as any other human male. Upon closer inspection, it's almost a question as to whether he's actually moving a limb forward so much as he's growing a new limb in the place he wishes whilst the old limb disintegrates into the ether.
The air around him is heavy. Sparks of mythic power appear and disappear at random intervals. One thing is for certain: the man wields an awesome power - too much, perhaps, for his mortal form to properly handle. It is clearly a constant struggle for him.
And yet, there he is nonetheless.
"Oh? Despite what seem to be some kind of chaotic influences on you, you seem to be human, like me. My name is John Smith, the Alchemist. Despite all the alchemical modifications to my form, and-- believe me, there are numerous," he says as he shudders remembering the taste and the consequences of some of the less-well-thought-out procedures he has done to himself, "I am still at my core, human and mortal. Unless you believe the rumours, that is. That I'm," he then laughs hysterically, clearly getting tipsy on mead already, "some spawn of Cixyron and/or Haagenti given flesh! HA! What kind of crackpot conspiracy is that?!"
He then gets out his material to brew a potential new mutagen for the new party member. The Sixth Bull's Mutagen, he guesses, would be appropriate for the man.
The man sits down at the table next to John Smith.
He seems to perk up at the notion of another human skilled in Alchemy.
"An Alchemist, huh? In my search for strength, I too delved into the Alchemical Arts. There are a few tincutures and potions I might be able to brew, but I'm sure I'm just a novice, compared to you."
At the mention of Haagenti, however, the man will scoff.
"A crackpot conspiracy indeed. I've met Haagenti. Worked with him, even. With all due respect, you... are not him."
The man takes a swig of his drink and peers down into his own reflection in the mug's liquid contents before continuing.
"No, Haagenti - like most Demon Lords - is too much of a coward to confront a truely powerful threat. Rather, he'd send his peons to scout out the situation and see if there's some way he could profit from it. But that's not why either one of us is here today, is it?"
The man pauses, before extending his hand to John Smith.
"The name, is Henry. Henry Pascal."
"If you've gotten yourself used to mutagens," he says as he switches the set-up of his alchemical lab on the table, and goes to shake the other human's hand, "oh I can concoct a much more powerful mutagen for you, specifically. You worked with Haagenti?"
He then takes another sip of mead. "I must admit," he says between sips, "didn't expect to see another human here, given the godlings and outsiders. We're all here to fight a cat. Makes you wonder, what on Golarion and beyond gets a cat to be so bloody powerful it needs Godlings, Outsiders, and humans with either rumored or true connections to deific figures of technological or alchemical destruction to combat, hunh?"
"Sure did work with him. Initially, I worked for him. I was a weak brat seeking greater strength. He drew me in with his knowledge of transformative magic and the alchemical arts."
Henry looks down at his glass, contemplating the past for a second, before continuing.
"Of course, when you're dealing with a Demon Lord, everything always comes at a price. For him, it was pain. Haagenti loved to watch people suffer during the attainment of their goals. Warped and mutated flesh, shattered psyches, few could follow the path Haagenti laid out to power. Fewer still could survive. Only the toughest. Then, only me."
Henry takes a swig of John's Mutagen, and notes the differences to himself, analyzing it's effects on his body. If pushed, he'll continue the story of his past:
"There were stages to Haagenti's path. At every stage, those who survived would be pit against one another, partially to show off their new powers, and partially to winnow the amount of followers who might otherwise be empowered to seek revenge. Those who won would gain access to the following stage. Those who refused, were hunted and killed. This continued until there was just 2 of us. And then... just 1 of us. Just me."
Henry's eyes will glaze over for the briefest of moments, almost imperceptible to those not studying his face closely.
"The prize for the final competition was this" Henry will say, pointing to his right eye wrapped in bandages.
As he meticulously unwraps it, it becomes obvious that his two eyes do not match. The iris of his left eye is bright blue, with a rounded pupil and a white sclera - perfectly normal for a human. The right eye, however, is drastically different. A black sclera, a slant for a pupil and a red iris.
"The eye of Haagenti." Henry says, with a mixture of both pride and disdain.
"Accepting this eye was no easy feat. Even now, it struggles against me. I think Haagenti was attempting to use this eye in order to possess me. In doing so, I'd gain access to his immeasurable power, but would cease to exist as anything other than his vessel. But he underestimated me, it seems. In my journey for greater strength, I also sought to fortify my mind. The eye is constantly causing my body to shift form in the most excruciating ways imaginable. But after struggling long and hard agaisnt it, I learned how to control it, and use it's power for my own. Thanks to Haagenti, I have gained immeasurable strength. Perhaps even strength beyond his own. I imagine that is why he has not dared to show his face around me since gifting me this eye. Or perhaps he has some other long term plan in the wings. Who can tell, when it comes to him?"
At this, Henry will give a small chuckle. "Either way, I have much to thank him for."
Everyone gets a new drink, the barmaid is waiting
"Food orders, what you want to eat for those that do."
she looks, at Henry Pascal and shifts from a few times, becoming other persons. Then becomes her true, massively tall ethereal Psi-god form. A pionic field emanating around her like a halo.
"I am sorry to hear of your pain Henry, but I am glad your mind is intact and spirit unbroken. You should be proud of that achievement."
She shrinks back to just Saph, sipping tea.
"Would you like me to see if I could help you get better control of your shape?"
"We are mind and mind is us, What you can imagine you can be."
Saph says becoming her now his male aspect.
"Don't worry about me," Henry states, as he shifts between a bevy of forms. Some mundane animals, other exotic monsters. At one point, he even transforms into an incorporeal undead for a while, before returning to his original form. "I think I'm fine."
"Besides," Henry continued. "I just told you that I worked with a Demon Lord. I'm not exactly a person worth your pity. This strength is something I've earned. This pain, too, is something I've earned. Contrary to popular opinion, I believe that it makes me stronger. I wouldn't trade any tortuous excruciating second of it for the world." Henry says, with an almost crazed look across his face.
He seems strangely... happy?