There was an age, now long since passed, when hope prevailed. In the days when Grizelda first made her ambitions known, fierce resistance broke the waves of her rising tide of evil. But as these mortal men and women eventually grew old and feeble, Grizelda only continued to grow in power.
Her nightmarish cult had swollen in number, as well—despite the torment stirred in the wake of her Grand Experiment, the power of her ichor was impossible for the weak-willed to resist. They gladly fought and died for her, and when they fell, she stitched their corpses into a patchwork legion that continued to serve her will in undeath.
Surely some brave remnants of humanity still linger? A band of valiant adventurers, each with abilities complimenting those of their allies, should certainly be capable of breaking the lich queen’s dark spell… Or so it’s been said.
Gasping for air as he sat hiding behind a crumbling stone column, Rufus Swift felt the walls closing in. His left shoulder was gushing from the razor slice of his assailant’s slender arm, still coated in hot crimson. He could hear her chittering nearby as he desperately fumbled through his pack for what remained of the medical supplies. He was losing the feeling in his fingers, and he knew the crushing fatigue creeping into his eyelids meant that it wouldn’t be long until he succumbed to his injury. His garments were becoming heavy as they soaked with his escaping essence.
“Don’t be shy,” Vorpal chirped, licking his blood from the length of her bladed forearm, gurgling as it ran down her throat. Her head swiveled on her neck as she scanned the morgue’s examination chamber for her final victim.
“Come out and play! It’ll be fun… Your friends were so boring!”
Her stinger dragged on the floor behind her as she took a few steps further into the room, leaving a trail of bubbling venom that hissed as it ate through the ancient tile. Her massive abdomen twitched and throbbed with excitement as her poisoned mind ran through a dozen different ways to deliver her sting to the leaking manthing that she’d carefully herded into this dead end.
His friends…
Tears welled as their cries rang in his ears. Could he have saved them?
Old Tom was in pieces before they’d even realized they’d been ambushed. Rufus had tripped over his severed arm, still gripping the trusty family blade, as he turned to face the threat. Transfixed by the looming horror, he reflected the fear in Tommer’s eyes as a second flash of Vorpal’s extremity snuffed him, casting everything above his hanging jaw in a grisly arc. It landed near Rufus with a wet slap, still staring.
Rufus swung his crossbow round, leveled it, and fired in one quick motion. The bolt whistled through the air, and though his aim was true, Vorpal’s reflexes were faster on the ground than even his trained eye could follow. She swatted it away with an amused trill as she turned her attention toward frail Ingrid, crawling away as quickly as her shattered leg would allow.
She screamed his name as the creature overtook her.
He saw that accursed stinger extend from its dripping sheath, slick with violet venom, and then…
He dumped the pack between his legs, and his heart sank further. The only remaining poultice had been shredded when the beast struck him, its pungent contents now strewn across the wet ground. With his good hand, Rufus grabbed a fistful of the mush and pressed it into his gaping wound.
The pain was immediate and excruciating, and despite his best efforts, a wail of misery slipped from between his bloody, grinding teeth.
Vorpal’s antennae perked in the direction of the noise, her mandibles spreading as she gleefully clicked her tongue. She crouched, unfurling her translucent wings for a moment before leaping into the shadows above the lonely abattoir. The rough stones lining its vaulted ceiling were thoroughly covered with dust and soot, and though she was unaware, her hands and feet were the first to touch them in over two hundred years.
She could see Rufus’ boots protruding from behind the pillar furthest from the entrance. She silently inched toward his hiding spot from above, her gaze fixated. The ground surrounding him was damp with blood, exciting her further.
Grizelda had promised that these trespassers were hers to deal with as she pleased; it wasn’t often that Mundus Mortis had a surplus of donors, but there were simply too many bodies to be processed in a timely fashion. Once they reached a certain point of rot, they weren’t of much use to the Mistress. And the dead ones certainly didn’t have the same appeal as the live ones when it came to satisfying Vorpal’s urges. It wasn’t any fun if she couldn’t watch the life drain out of them as the game concluded.
She reached the opposite side of the column, pausing for a moment to calculate the ideal trajectory. Then, with a gentle push, she released her grip and dropped toward her prey. Vorpal salivated as she prepared to sink her fangs and jagged stinger into his soft flesh.
The female he’d brought with him was far too delicate, unable to resist even a single thrust. It felt good, but the need still wasn’t met. She’d almost had her way with this one, too, but the first blow hadn’t disabled him like she’d hoped. She decided in that moment that she would take his feet before resuming her intimate dance.
She heard the whistle of the bolt a moment too late to react.
Vorpal screeched as her descent abruptly stopped, her thorax pinned to the column like a mounted specimen. Fury and bewilderment ricocheted between her synapses. Where did it come from, and why hadn’t she seen it? It hadn’t reflected the light at all this time. A strange and deeply unpleasant sensation was quickly spreading from the wound as she thrashed about, trying and failing to pluck the slippery offender from her back with her hands and claws.
From across the room, Rufus sat barefoot, his breathing ragged as he leaned against the butt of his crossbow. His gambit had worked.
Scooping the remainder of the poultice into his nearly empty pack, he’d shed his boots and crawled as quietly as he could between the altar and the wall. He wasn’t sure his legs would support him at this point, anyway, given the volume of blood he’d already lost.
From the corner, he’d watched the monster stalk his decoy as he packed the last of the plant and mud around the shaft of his final bolt. Ingrid had theorized that the beasts dwelling here might be susceptible to her healing magic, given their undead nature, but they hadn’t the chance to test that theory before tragedy struck.
As he rotated the cranequin slowly and muffled its clicks with his bloody pack, he’d prayed to the Many Mothers that she was right.
It seemed as though they’d heard him.
Unable to extract the bolt and growing more enraged by the second, Vorpal howled wordless fury as she stung blindly at her surroundings. Each strike gouged a chunk from the stone.
Oh, how she hated this mortal! A quick death was too good for him; she would hold her venom until the last possible moment and make him savor his pain.
Whatever trick he’d played with the bolt was burning its way through her juices. Ichor had begun to leak freely from her cracked shell, and she knew that unless she moved, the killing blow would arrive shortly.
Using all six of her limbs, she pushed against the pillar as hard as she could, her shrieks punctuating the squelch of ripping innards as the bolt pulled through. It took three agonizing attempts to free herself, and she tumbled to the floor as the last of the muddy fletching slid out of her chest. She landed on her side with a crack that echoed throughout the chamber.
Scrambling to right herself, Vorpal flattened against the ground to avoid the next strike. She knew it was coming—it had to be. She retched and shook as her body tried to purge the holy poison, her huge eyes frantically searching the room between pained convulsions.
Where? Where was he? Her innermost parts felt as though they’d been set aflame, and her limbs trembled.
Suddenly, she saw it: The shimmer of the torchlight across the stirrup of his crossbow. She skittered from his line of sight. He was keeping perfectly still, but the form of a man was unmistakable this time.
There was no escape. She would make him suffer.
Flitting from column to column as she closed the gap, she leapt upon him and pressed him into the corner with a triumphant hiss. She ripped the hateful weapon from his grasp, snapping it in half and hurling its splintered parts across the room to ensure there would be no further interruption.
He put up no resistance.
She raised her claws and chirred, swaying to and fro as that insatiable lust returned, overpowering even the throbbing pain of her extensive injuries. Ichor dribbled from her mutilated chestplate into his blood-soaked face. Still, the manthing remained silent, offering only a cryptic grin and a vacant stare.
It annoyed her, but it wouldn’t stop her. She pressed the needle tip of a claw against his ribs, sliding it into the soft meat between the bones in a way that always produced the most beautiful song, and yet…
Nothing. Not a single note.
She let out a disgusted growl as she realized that he’d played one last trick. He’d already escaped his punishment.
In a way, he’d beaten her.
Rufus Was Slain By: Vorpal, Bloodthirsty Stalker
New Dungeon Rules Revealed:
- Ranged attacks are effective on airborne targets, but disadvantaged on the ground
- Vorpal can’t easily discern objects that don’t reflect light
- Undead enemy combatants are vulnerable to holy items and healing magic
- Deep wounds are fatal if left untreated
- Inventory resources are finite; item management can determine success…
New Items Unlocked:
- Ranger’s Armor: Chainmail and a light helm that provide moderate protection from a variety of physical attacks, with a bit of extra space for larger inventory items.
- Healing Poultice: A small pack of healing herbs and salve, blessed by a mage. Can cure a non-fatal wound or injure the undead.
- Steel Bolt: A sturdy missile with a sharp tip. Ammunition for a crossbow, carried in packs of six.
- Heavy Crossbow: A mechanical bolt launcher that can pierce most undead flesh. Extremely slow reload time, ammunition is limited but retrievable.
Damage: ✶✶✶ Range: ✶✶✶✶✶ Speed: ✶
New Trait Unlocked:
- Steadfast: Greatly increases stamina and accuracy when HP is low, but all other stats decrease.
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