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<blockquote data-quote="Richards" data-source="post: 6828926" data-attributes="member: 508"><p><strong>ADVENTURE 15: THE FLESHCRAFTER</strong></p><p></p><p>Game Session Date: 13 February 2016</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>"That must be it there," remarked Darrien, pointing ahead to the stone wall. A pair of thick, wooden doors stood in the middle of the stone wall; both doors were closed and there were no handles on the doors' exteriors.</p><p></p><p>"That not very friendly," grumbled Gilbert.</p><p></p><p>"You'd think there would be a bell or something," commented Finoula, riding alongside the wagon on her pony, Daisy. "How do they know when someone's arrived?"</p><p></p><p>"I show you how they know," remarked Gilbert, dropping down from the wagon and walking up to the wooden doors. Once there, he pounded on them with a meaty fist. "Open up!" he demanded. "We here to check out your facility, make sure it doing everything right!"</p><p></p><p>"Who's there?" called a gruff voice from the other side of the wall.</p><p></p><p>"I here!" replied Gilbert. "Now open up, pronto!"</p><p></p><p>"Do you have an appointment?" demanded the unseen voice.</p><p></p><p>"We don't need an appointment!" called back Castillan. "We're here to check up on my brother!"</p><p></p><p>"That pretty stupid," whispered Gilbert to the bounder. "Somebody not let you in without appointment, you tell them you have appointment."</p><p></p><p>"Oh, an appointment!" amended Castillan. "Yes, we have an appointment."</p><p></p><p>"With who?" demanded the voice.</p><p></p><p>"With...the person in charge," replied Castillan. "I've forgotten his name."</p><p></p><p>"This is ridiculous," announced Finoula. "Please let us in, we only wish to talk with whoever's in charge and make sure a family member's doing okay here."</p><p></p><p>"Piss off!"</p><p></p><p>"Well!" replied Finoula, shocked at such course language from someone working at a facility that was supposed to help those in need. Looking off to the left of the gate, she saw a bald head peeking over the wall, checking out the group. The guard ducked back below the wall before she could call out to him. She turned to the others. "What can we do?" she asked.</p><p></p><p>"I don't know about you, but I'm going over the wall," announced Castillan. "I'll open up the gates once I'm in there." He backed up several steps, then raced at the wall at full speed, easily running up the ten-foot wall. Once at the top, he braced his hands upon the top...then cried out in pain and dropped back to the ground. Instinctively, he slowed his fall on the way down, leaving a streak of blood on the wall's exterior.</p><p></p><p>"Are ye okay?" asked Ingebold, approaching the bounder.</p><p></p><p>"The damned wall's got glass shards embedded on the top!" complained the bounder. "What the hell?"</p><p></p><p>Binkadink turned to his jackalope mount. "Obvious, do you think you can jump over that wall?" he asked in the language of burrowing mammals.</p><p></p><p>"Easily," scoffed Obvious. "Hold on tight!" The jackalope hippity-hopped across the ground, then sprang up and leaped over the wall, easily clearing the top with half a foot to spare. As they flew over the wall, Binkadink saw it was five feet thick and surrounded a one-story building made of the same bleak, gray stone. The jackalope landed sure-footedly on the lawn and skidded to a stop -- and then Binkadink realized he was up against more than a couple of surly guards. The two guards spun to face him, and the gnomish fighter saw they were armed only with truncheons - easily handled, if it came to a fight - but there were also two other creatures there on the grounds which the gnome had at first thought were mere guard dogs, until he saw their human faces and the fact that their front paws were inarguably human hands.</p><p></p><p>"Wh-what the--" he sputtered as the first of these human hounds growled and rushed him, running on all fours and yelling "Kill-kill-kill-kill-kill!" in a disturbingly human voice.</p><p></p><p>Finoula, in the meantime, had ridden Daisy over to the side of the wall and stood up on her pony's saddle, peering over the wall. She saw Binkadink and Obvious fighting off some sort of strange human dog, with another racing over from the other side of the gray building. But she also saw what looked like a spider the size of a washtub scampering over the roof of the building. It was difficult to tell for sure, but for a moment there Finoula could have sworn the spider's body was shaped like a human head. Over on the other side of the gate, Darrien carefully climbed up the side of the wall, peeking over the top without cutting his hands on the glass shards, but he was too late to see the spider-thing scurry away.</p><p></p><p>At Binkadink's cries of disgust from the other side of the wall, Castillan decided he was tired of waiting. Racing up the wall again, he flipped over the top, somersaulting in midair and landing gracefully on his feet on the other side. The second human hound altered its trajectory, making for the bounder as he was a closer target than Binkadink and Obvious. It snarled and swore, trying to bite Castillan's legs, but the bounder snapped his fingers and a short sword appeared in his right hand. He stabbed out at the beast, eliciting a cry of pain that mirrored the other human hound's, for by then Binkadink had skewered the unfortunate creature he was fighting with his glaive.</p><p></p><p>The two guards rushed over, truncheons at the ready. Figuring that anyone allied with these abominations was likely of an evil bent, Binkadink brought his glaive around and cut deeply into the nearest guard's abdomen. The man dropped to his knees, fell over, and then his head went shooting toward the gnome, trailing a loop of thick intestines behind it. Binkadink shrieked in surprise and horror and Obvious hopped back from this sudden attack, allowing Binkadink to bring his glaive down upon the disembodied head over and over in what was less of a practiced warrior's combat maneuver and more of a panicked "kill it kill it kill it!" reflex.</p><p></p><p>"That's it, I'm going over," announced Finoula. She pulled herself up onto the top of the shard-covered roof, rolled across its expanse - hoping her armor would protect her from the worst of the cuts - and dropped to the ground on the other side. By that point, there was only one guard left, and the elven ranger had arrived just in time to see Binkadink run it through the torso with the tip of his glaive. The guard's head came rocketing back, propelled by a thick, serpentine body that looked like nothing so much as a large section of intestines. "Ew!" screamed the ranger, stepping back instinctively as she brought her two swords out. But Binkadink had had a bit more time to accustom himself to the horror of these "gut nagas," and he cleaved through this second creature's head with his trusty weapon, leaving four - or six, depending on how you chose to count them - bodies dead and bleeding on the lawn of Ravencroft Sanatorium.</p><p></p><p>"Open the gate," suggested Binkadink, and Finoula hurried to comply. It was barred with a thick slab of wood, but she managed to lift it out of its grooves and pull the heavy wooden gates open.</p><p></p><p>"About time!" complained Gilbert. "What take so long--ew, what the hell that?" Gilbert had gotten his first look at the bodies of the creatures sprawled on the ground. "What kind of place this supposed to be?"</p><p></p><p>"What happened to your face?" asked Castillan in turn, for the wizard's face - and entire body, upon closer look - was a bright blue. "Oh, never mind; it's a 'Winkidew Special,' isn't it?" Stuck outside the gates with Ingebold while the others battled the guards and hounds, Gilbert had taken the time to quaff down one of Binkadink's Uncle Winkidew's <em>mage armor</em> potions, which had the unfortunate side effect of turning the imbiber's skin a bright blue. "You look like a goof," decided the bounder.</p><p></p><p>"Yeah, well I a goof that harder to hit in battle," replied Gilbert. Then he activated his <em>hat of disguise</em>, taking on the appearance of one of the guards. "And now I a freaky guard, not a goof!" he announced. "Let's loot these stiffs."</p><p></p><p>A quick search of the guards' bodies revealed a set of identical-looking key rings on each corpse, which the group took for themselves. "Let's go inside," suggested Darrien, his <em>Arachnibow</em> at the ready. Ingebold drove the mule wagon inside the confines of the wall, and then Daisy, Obvious, and Wrath were left with the mules while the heroes headed for the front doors.</p><p></p><p>"Just what kind of idiot your father, anyway?" demanded Gilbert as they approached the front doors of the sanatorium. "Who puts son in loony bin run by monsters?"</p><p></p><p>"I'm no fan of my father's, but I highly doubt they put their monsters on display when taking in new clients. And knowing Aroben, he likely didn't spend a whole lot of time and effort checking the place out, as long as it kept Aithanar out of the public eye."</p><p></p><p>"He still an idiot."</p><p></p><p>"Agreed."</p><p></p><p>By that time, Darrien had found the key on the ring that opened up the locked front door. Waiting inside for them were two more of the human-looking guards, who blocked the way past the entry foyer, which was decorated with soothing landscapes and a portrait of the sanatorium's founder, one <strong>Dr. Silas Ravencroft.</strong> Darrien sent an arrow speeding over Ingebold's head and into the torso of the guard on the right, while Finoula's swift swords stabbed into the guard on the left. Sure enough, these guards were just like the ones encountered outside, for the headless bodies were mere organic housings for the gut-nagas coiled within. But Binkadink had been ready for such an eventuality and his glaive cut the first gut naga to appear to ribbons. Gilbert sent a <em>magic missile</em> from his lesser wand into the second such creature, killing it as well. Then the group spun in both directions, to the double doors at the east and west of the hallway they were in, but no further enemies presented themselves.</p><p></p><p>Spreading out, they searched the rooms immediately accessible from the hallway, discovering a cloakroom, a bathroom, a small conference room of some sort, what looked to be a break room, and what could only be the administrator's office. Gilbert applied himself to a vigorous search of this last room, uncovering a small lockbox filled with coins and gems (once he got Castillan to open it, as none of the keys from the guards' key rings fit) and a set of records. Flipping through them, he found Aithanar Ivenheart's name. "He in room 9!" announced the wizard.</p><p></p><p>"Great!" replied Castillan. "Where's room 9?"</p><p></p><p>"No idea. It list of names and room assignments, not handy blueprint. Let's go this way." Gilbert found the double doors to the west were locked, but Darrien was able to open them with a key from the key ring. Immediately upon opening the doors, a cacophony of voices became audible: an insane cackling, the occasional scream, and a voice which repeated, over and over, "No. No. No. No. No. No...." A quick perusal through the nearest unearthed a kitchen, small dining area, and food storage area, all showing signs of recent use and an unhealthy disdain for cleanliness. But then the group turned the corner to the north, and a series of barred doors on either side revealed the first of the inmate cells. Each was a metal door with a small, barred window at head height; one, at the far side of the hall, had a spidery creature affixed to the side of the door, whispering to the inmate imprisoned within. From the cell came the unending litany: "No. No. No. No. No...."</p><p></p><p>Darrien fired off a shot at the spider-thing, forcing it to drop to the floor and spin around to face its attackers. And sure enough, Finoula's quick glimpse of the beast outside had been correct, for the creature's body was made up of a human head. It shrieked in pain and surprise, and then another blast from Gilbert's <em>wand of magic missiles</em> slew it. Its body fell backwards, its spidery legs curling up to encompass its human face. "Ew," repeated Finoula.</p><p></p><p>"Guys, look - room numbers!" said Castillan, looking at the numbers stenciled in fading paint on the doors, below the barred windows. "Help me find 9!" But the cells in this section of the sanatorium reached only to 8.</p><p></p><p>The hallway made a right angle up ahead, just beyond a pair of doors which led to a washroom - both laundry and bodies, it seemed - and a bunkroom for guards. But then turning the corner from the east was another sanatorium guard, this one dressed more slovenly than the other four encountered thus far, with his shirt open to the waist and untucked. The reason for this soon became clear; what had at first looked like elaborate tattoos were in fact a series of faces grafted onto the skin all over his body. Seeing the heroes, he roared - from more than one mouth - and rushed to the attack. Finoula was closest, and while her longsword sliced a gash in his side, he shrugged it off and pressed in to her, trying to capture her in a bear hug which would allow the faces on his chest and stomach to bite at her. She blocked him with a boot to his chest, kicking him away from her and allowing Binkadink to bring his glaive to bear. But even so, this guard was much tougher than the hollow "gut naga" bodies of the other guards, and the battle took much longer before they were able to bring him down. Castillan had been in the back of the lineup, and as a result had had a difficult time reaching the face fiend - so he ducked into the guards' bunkroom, extricating four pouches of coins, likely their recent pay.</p><p></p><p>"Hey! Room 9!" called out Darrien after the face fiend had been slain, causing Castillan to scoot back out of the bunkroom and head over to the cell his brother had been assigned to, according to the documentation Gilbert had found. Along the entire back wall were more of the inmate cells.</p><p></p><p>Cell 9 was empty.</p><p></p><p>"Ah, crap!" yelled Castillan. "They better not have turned him into any of those...things!"</p><p></p><p>"He's only been here a couple of days," Finoula reminded the bounder. "Hopefully, they haven't gotten around to him yet. Bink, <em>what are you doing?</em>" Binkadink had pulled the shirt off the slain face fiend and was working on removing his pants.</p><p></p><p>"Just checking," admitted the gnome sheepishly. And then, as if further explanation was necessary, he added, "I wanted to make sure none of these faces were...you know...elven."</p><p></p><p>"Oh, gross!" exclaimed Castillan, turning green at the thought of finding Aithanar's face grafted onto the thing they'd just fought. "...They weren't, were they?" he asked, steeling himself for an answer he didn't want to hear.</p><p></p><p>"Nope, doesn't look like it," replied the gnome, his examinations complete. The bounder let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.</p><p></p><p>Further exploration of the rooms off the back hallway revealed a bunkroom for the attendants, the administrator's rather elegant bedroom, and a small hallway apparently leading to a courtyard in the center of the building. Inside the administrator's bedroom the group unearthed a series of wizard's spellbooks, which Gilbert took the time to flip through, mentally noting which spells were listed to get an idea of what they might be facing if and when they ever found the ruler of this loony farm. He also noticed that several of the most basic spells - those taught to nearly all those aspiring to become wizards - were missing, leading Gilbert to surmise that this unknown wizard was a specialist, giving up the schools of abjuration and conjuration, likely due to a focus on transmutation. <em>That worth noting</em>, he thought to himself, pocketing the spellbooks into his backpack, not wishing to take the time to make them permanent additions to his <em>Omnibook</em> just yet.</p><p></p><p>But of equal interest to Gilbert was a series of controls along one wall of the hallway. He was examining it intently when they heard a woman's screams from around the corner. The others raced around the corner to check it out, leaving the wizard to puzzle out the controls by himself.</p><p></p><p>There were another dozen or so cells on the eastern side of the building, which, judging by the few inhabitants they saw inside several of the cells, was the women's ward. A strange little creature was jumping up in front of one of the cells, peeking into the cell's small window while the woman within screamed at it to go away. The creature's entire body was a human head, from the sides of which dangled tiny, baby-sized hands. A pair of short legs, looking more like the fingers of a giant, ended in another set of tiny hands in place of feet. Binkadink stifled a bleat of horrified laughter at the sight of the thing, which alerted it to the heroes' presence. "Uh oh," it said to itself before scampering down the hallway, away from the heroes, and turning the corner out of view. Binkadink and Darrien gave chase, leaving Finoula, Ingebold, and Castillan to check on the woman inside the cell.</p><p></p><p>"Are ye okay in there?" asked Ingebold, scowling slightly because she was too short to see inside the small, barred window.</p><p></p><p>"Who's that?" asked the woman, in a voice filled more with astonishment than alarm.</p><p></p><p>"My name is Castillan," interjected the bounder, always ready to handle conversations with the ladies. "Who are you?"</p><p></p><p>"My name is <strong>Elsabeth Gayle</strong>," replied the young woman. "I was one of the attendants here."</p><p></p><p>"What happened here?" demanded Finoula, eager for an answer as to why the building was crawling with monsters.</p><p></p><p>"The sanatorium was taken over by a crazed wizard who calls himself <strong>the Fleshcrafter</strong>, half a year or more ago. He killed Doctor Ravencroft and took his place, and has been using the sanatorium, and the workers and inmates housed within, as fuel for his horrific experiments."</p><p></p><p>"Castillan, let her out of there," demanded Finoula.</p><p></p><p>"Are we sure she's telling the truth?" whispered the bounder as he flipped through the keys on the ring.</p><p></p><p>"She's the first person we've met in this place who still seems normal," replied Finoula. "That's good enough for me." Castillan found the right key and turned it in the lock of the cell door. "Tell me, have you seen an elf named Aithanar Ivenheart?" he asked. "He would have been brought here a week or so ago."</p><p></p><p>"I'm sorry," answered Elsabeth. "I've been locked up in there since the Fleshcrafter took over."</p><p></p><p>"Do you know where we might find this Fleshcrafter?"</p><p></p><p>"I believe he does his abhorrent work downstairs, in the lower level below the building."</p><p></p><p>In the meantime, Binkadink and Darrien had tried following the head-thing around the corner, only to find it had disappeared. They briefly searched the nearby rooms since the double doors ahead were still locked. (If Binkadink's mental map of this building was correct, these would be the double doors leading to the front hallway.) There was another dining area and a food preparation area - apparently the Ravencroft Sanatorium believed in gender segregation of their clients - and a linen closet. It was in this last room the gnome finally found his prey, and his glaive made short work of the ambulatory head.</p><p></p><p>Meeting up with the others, Gilbert announced he had figured out the controls on the panel in the back hallway. It appeared as if they were used to access the lower level, turning the floor of the access hallway to the outside into a ramp leading downwards. Elsabeth confirmed his suspicions, and then scurried off to tend to the other patients - whichever ones were left after the Fleshcrafter's depredations, she amended.</p><p></p><p>"Everybody ready?" asked the blue-skinned wizard.</p><p></p><p>"Hold up," advised Ingebold, healing up those who had been wounded in battle thus far, and then following up with a <em>magic circle against evil</em> spell that simple <em>had</em> to be useful in this place! "Aye then, ready," she said once that had been taken care of.</p><p></p><p>Gilbert activated the controls, and the doors to the south swung open as the floor became a ramp, leading down to a single, large room below, filled with all manners of strangeness.</p><p></p><p>Castillan was relieved to see his brother Aithanar was still alive. Unfortunately, he was in the back of the room, strapped to a table, with the recognizable form of Dr. Ravencroft himself leaning over him, scalpel in hand, which the heroes now knew would really be the Fleshcrafter. And then scattered around the rest of the vast room were three more of the Fleshcrafter's creations. The first of these was a simple flesh golem, a patchwork giant made from the mismatched body parts of several different corpses, which stood to the west side of the ramp. Another was a tangle of four arms attached to a bald head, which stood in the northeastern corner on the room, on the other side of the ramp from the golem. But the biggest creation was easily the Fleshcrafter's most deranged: a gargantuan amalgamation made up of the fused bodies of at least a dozen or more people. Built somewhat like a hulking toad, it had a gaping maw filled with teeth formed from human rib bones; below the mouth was the inverted upper half of a human torso, with its lower half merging into the bulbous flesh above its mouth; its legs and feet had been crafted from broken human bodies; and the thing's entire body was covered in doughy, pimpled flesh, with the occasional oozing pustule or protruding bone adding to the overall mind-bending awfulness of the fleshwarped monstrosity.</p><p></p><p>It took only a second or two for the two opposing forces to see their opposite members and size them up. Then, with only an obligatory "EW!" bursting forth from Finoula's throat giving voice to the spectacle before them, combat erupted all at once.</p><p></p><p>Castillan had snapped the fingers of both hands, swapping out his short sword for his shortbow, and sent an arrow across the room to the Fleshcrafter, striking him in the shoulder. Darrien had similar thoughts, but he took an extra moment to line up his shot and then activated the <em>Arachnibow</em>'s powers as his arrow sped across the room; when it struck the scalpel in the Fleshcrafter's hand, the arrow had become a strand of spider silk. With a quick tug from the other end, Darrien brought the scalpel flying across the room, to fall to the floor beneath the fleshwarped monstrosity's hideous feet.</p><p></p><p>Gilbert's initial assessment of the scene was that there were some tough-looking monsters in the room, and an area-of-effect spell was the way to go. Mentally calculating distances to ensure Aithanar would be outside the blast radius, he cast a <em>fireball</em> spell against the western wall that encompassed the flesh golem, fleshwarped monstrosity, and even the Fleshcrafter. The enemy wizard buckled in pain from the spell and Castillan's arrow that he pulled from his shoulder, and then a strange thing happened: either because he had lost concentration, or the spell's effects had naturally run their normally allotted course, or perhaps because he no longer felt the need to cloak himself in an illusion, his features buckled and warped, and Dr. Ravencroft's guise vanished, to be replaced with the Fleshcrafter's true form.</p><p></p><p>The Fleshcrafter - he used no other name, other than when he was impersonating the sanatorium's founder - had apparently not experimented solely on others. The skin was missing from the entire front of his face, leaving exposed muscles in their place. A hole in his forehead showed where he had used a bone drill on himself in an act of self-trepanation. Visible on the skin that remained on his neck and the back of his bald head were numerous small tattoos of arcane symbols. He called out orders to his troops, using a term - "<strong>Sergeant-at-Arms</strong>" - that proved he was twisted in more ways than the purely physical: he was also, apparently, a lover of puns.</p><p></p><p>Castillan knew he needed to get across the room to confront the Fleshcrafter and free his brother, but the fleshwarped monstrosity stood in his way. Deciding the best way past the creature was over the top of it, Castillan snapped the bow back into his magical left glove, raced down the ramp, and launched himself at the aberrant beast. He had planned on running right over the top of it, but once airborne he got the shock of his life when the malformed thing proved to be quite nimble. Much like a dog snapping a thrown treat out of midair, the monstrosity spun its malformed head around, mutated mouth open wide, and gulped Castillan's now-screaming form deep into its gullet.</p><p></p><p>The bounder decided immediately he didn't want to spend any more time inside the belly of the hulking glob of fused flesh than he absolutely had to, the incessant worry in the back of his mind teasing him with horrific thoughts of becoming absorbed into the beast somehow and becoming part of its misshapen flesh. So he unstoppered a flask of his own "Winkidew's Special," this one a <em>potion of gaseous form</em> that was less a liquid and more a gas. Inhaling its vapors, the bounder felt his own body dissipating into a fine mist, which seeped unnoticed out of the side of the fleshwarped monstrosity's mouth.</p><p></p><p>Back on the ramp, Ingebold and Binkadink had started their descent into the room when the Sergeant-at-Arms, the four-armed head-thing, grabbed the side of the ramp and flipped itself up onto the inclined plane immediately before a startled Ingebold. It wielded a pair of sharp knives in two of its hands; the cleric picked out a pair of leather sheaths strapped to two of its forearms. But then she was dodging the waving blades, smashing the creature away with her warhammer when she could (for it dodged and bobbed like a deranged monkey, making striking it quite an ordeal).</p><p></p><p>On the other side of the ramp, the flesh golem grabbed at Finoula with a powerful hand, but its movements were slower than normal, a fortunate side effect of the <em>fireball</em> spell Gilbert had lobbed its way. Finoula managed to dodge out of its grasp, and then she sprang forward, stabbing at it with her blades while Darrien backed her up with shots from his magic longbow.</p><p></p><p>A misty Castillan slowly flowed across the room, coalescing back into solid form once over by the Fleshcrafter. The deranged wizard backed out of range, especially once a snap of the bounder's fingers caused a short sword to manifest in his right hand. Then he cast a spell of his own, having noted that Binkadink, of all of their enemies, was dealing out quite a lot of damage with that ridiculously-oversized glaive of his. The <em>hold person</em> spell took immediate effect and the little gnome froze in mid-stance. Fortunately, Finoula was at his side and saw what had happened, so she pulled him back up the ramp and out of range of the flesh golem and the fleshwarped monstrosity that was even now lumbering up the ramp towards them. By then, Ingebold had smashed the Sergeant-at-Arms upside the head, and Gilbert finished it off with a <em>magic missile</em> from his wand as it tried to scamper off to safety. The portly wizard followed up with a <em>ray of enfeeblement</em> at the gargantuan abomination, which he hoped would have some effect. Unfortunately, the thing was so big it was difficult to see if the slight diminishing of its overall strength would prove to be noticeable.</p><p></p><p>Castillan, by then, was stabbing at the Fleshcrafter, while his brother Aithanar finally realized who it was coming to his rescue. "Squah!" he cried out. "Bindish rolly! Duvong skimmy vandoozle!" While Castillan was distracted by his brother's nonsensical ramblings, the Fleshcrafter managed to get off a spell fired directly at the bounder, but fortunately Castillan managed to shrug off its effects - which saved him from having to fight the rest of this battle while blind. The Fleshcrafter looked around for allies and saw his golem and monstrosity were both busy with numerous foes. But that stab-happy gnome had finally shrugged off the effects of the <em>hold person</em> spell; since he seemed vulnerable to enchantments, why not follow suit with another one? "Gnome!" he called across the room. "Come help defend me against these threats!" It was a ridiculous request...unless you noticed the subtle hand gestures accompanying his speech, which identified his request as the verbal components of a <em>charm person</em> spell. Binkadink was once again overcome - for as long as it took for Ingebold to step up to him, suppressing the charm effect with her <em>magic circle against evil</em> spell. Then the gnome and the dwarf concentrated their attacks on the fleshwarped monstrosity still intent upon climbing the ramp up to them.</p><p></p><p>Castillan stabbed again at the Fleshcrafter, drawing blood for a third time, when the wizard realized enough was enough. He grabbed up a wand from his belt, aimed it at himself, and morphed into a cloud of vaporous gas. "Crap!" yelled Castillan, swinging his short sword ineffectually through the gaseous form of his foe. At his side, Aithanar expressed his agreement with a heartfelt "Vallen foo!"</p><p></p><p>But up at the top of the ramp, Gilbert had witnessed the Fleshcrafter's attempt at escape. He focused on the translucent cloud of gas, aimed his wand, and sent a trio of <em>magic missiles</em> striking unerringly at the cloud. The magical energy did the trick; the Fleshcrafter reverted to his solid form seconds before crashing to the floor, dead.</p><p></p><p>"Blinkus!" called Aithanar, struggling with his bonds. "Folky blifoodoo!" Castillan ran back to his brother's side, struggling to find meaning in his nonsensical words. "Can you understand me?" he asked.</p><p></p><p>"Grantula!" replied Aithanar.</p><p></p><p>"No, just nod 'yes' or 'no,'" corrected Castillan. Aithanar dutifully nodded "yes." "I'm going to free you - are you able to stand on your own?" Aithanar nodded again, and Castillan cut his bonds, releasing him from the operating table.</p><p></p><p>Binkadink's glaive was steadily carving up the monstrosity, and to everyone's horror, they recognized a head merged with the top of the misshapen body. It was Dr. Silas Ravencroft, the original, whose body had been merged with many others to form the gargantuan horror. Although his eyes were crazed, he apparently still had enough of his original faculties to approve of the beast's impending death. "Kill...me..." he sputtered. His bearded face screwed up in horror, Binkadink did his best to comply. And eventually, between his own blade-thrusts and some judicious ranged spells from Gilbert and Ingebold, the aberrant horror was slain. As it crashed to the floor on its side, Ravencroft's embedded head gave a final smile of gratitude as his eyes rolled up into his head.</p><p></p><p>After that, slaying the flesh golem was simply a matter of time, for the creature was slow to move, slow to strike, and slow to react. The six heroes - and Aithanar - had no trouble evading its reach, while the two archers peppered it with arrows and Binkadink carved it up with his glaive. Before long it, too, crashed to the floor, unmoving.</p><p></p><p>"Man, you've been cranking out the damage with that thing today," observed Darrien.</p><p></p><p>"I put some <em>magic weapon oil</em> on it outside the gate," the gnome admitted. "That stuff works pretty good. Once we get back to Garonis, I'm going to pick up a masterwork glaive I'm having custom-made. And maybe then, after a while I'll be able to start having the thing enchanted. <em>Then</em> we'll see how much damage I can do!"</p><p></p><p>"Are you okay?" Finoula asked Aithanar.</p><p></p><p>"Squabbus," the elf replied. "Bandacraff minard." Finoula smiled dreamily at Castillan's brother; he might not make any sense, but he certainly was pleasant on the eyes! Aithanar apparently felt the same, and the two elves stood amidst the horrific corpses of flesh-twisted nightmares, oblivious to all else around them.</p><p></p><p>"He under curse?" asked Gilbert. "Maybe <em>restoration</em> spell help? Or <em>break enchantment</em>?"</p><p></p><p>"I doubt it," replied Ingebold. "Castillan said 'e 'it 'is 'ead. More than likely, the speech part of 'is brain's all jollywampus. It'll likely take a <em>heal</em> spell, which's above me own casting ability - and will be, fer some time."</p><p></p><p>"He could come with us," suggested Finoula. "We need someone to look after the animals while we're off adventuring."</p><p></p><p>"Yeah, I suppose," agreed Castillan. "We certainly can't bring him back home in this condition. Father will just stash him away somewhere else, out of public view. How about it, Aith? You want to join our little group?"</p><p></p><p>"Bassa jublin," Aithanar readily agreed, still not taking his eyes off of Finoula. He didn't need words to express his feelings for the young ranger, and it seemed like the feelings were mutual.</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>T-Shirt Worn: My "EVIL CLOWN SCHOOL - GRADUATE WITH HONORS" T-shirt, which features an evilly-grinning clown as its logo. Given a sanatorium filled with evil, fleshcrafted freaks, it seemed appropriate.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Richards, post: 6828926, member: 508"] [b]ADVENTURE 15: THE FLESHCRAFTER[/b] Game Session Date: 13 February 2016 - - - "That must be it there," remarked Darrien, pointing ahead to the stone wall. A pair of thick, wooden doors stood in the middle of the stone wall; both doors were closed and there were no handles on the doors' exteriors. "That not very friendly," grumbled Gilbert. "You'd think there would be a bell or something," commented Finoula, riding alongside the wagon on her pony, Daisy. "How do they know when someone's arrived?" "I show you how they know," remarked Gilbert, dropping down from the wagon and walking up to the wooden doors. Once there, he pounded on them with a meaty fist. "Open up!" he demanded. "We here to check out your facility, make sure it doing everything right!" "Who's there?" called a gruff voice from the other side of the wall. "I here!" replied Gilbert. "Now open up, pronto!" "Do you have an appointment?" demanded the unseen voice. "We don't need an appointment!" called back Castillan. "We're here to check up on my brother!" "That pretty stupid," whispered Gilbert to the bounder. "Somebody not let you in without appointment, you tell them you have appointment." "Oh, an appointment!" amended Castillan. "Yes, we have an appointment." "With who?" demanded the voice. "With...the person in charge," replied Castillan. "I've forgotten his name." "This is ridiculous," announced Finoula. "Please let us in, we only wish to talk with whoever's in charge and make sure a family member's doing okay here." "Piss off!" "Well!" replied Finoula, shocked at such course language from someone working at a facility that was supposed to help those in need. Looking off to the left of the gate, she saw a bald head peeking over the wall, checking out the group. The guard ducked back below the wall before she could call out to him. She turned to the others. "What can we do?" she asked. "I don't know about you, but I'm going over the wall," announced Castillan. "I'll open up the gates once I'm in there." He backed up several steps, then raced at the wall at full speed, easily running up the ten-foot wall. Once at the top, he braced his hands upon the top...then cried out in pain and dropped back to the ground. Instinctively, he slowed his fall on the way down, leaving a streak of blood on the wall's exterior. "Are ye okay?" asked Ingebold, approaching the bounder. "The damned wall's got glass shards embedded on the top!" complained the bounder. "What the hell?" Binkadink turned to his jackalope mount. "Obvious, do you think you can jump over that wall?" he asked in the language of burrowing mammals. "Easily," scoffed Obvious. "Hold on tight!" The jackalope hippity-hopped across the ground, then sprang up and leaped over the wall, easily clearing the top with half a foot to spare. As they flew over the wall, Binkadink saw it was five feet thick and surrounded a one-story building made of the same bleak, gray stone. The jackalope landed sure-footedly on the lawn and skidded to a stop -- and then Binkadink realized he was up against more than a couple of surly guards. The two guards spun to face him, and the gnomish fighter saw they were armed only with truncheons - easily handled, if it came to a fight - but there were also two other creatures there on the grounds which the gnome had at first thought were mere guard dogs, until he saw their human faces and the fact that their front paws were inarguably human hands. "Wh-what the--" he sputtered as the first of these human hounds growled and rushed him, running on all fours and yelling "Kill-kill-kill-kill-kill!" in a disturbingly human voice. Finoula, in the meantime, had ridden Daisy over to the side of the wall and stood up on her pony's saddle, peering over the wall. She saw Binkadink and Obvious fighting off some sort of strange human dog, with another racing over from the other side of the gray building. But she also saw what looked like a spider the size of a washtub scampering over the roof of the building. It was difficult to tell for sure, but for a moment there Finoula could have sworn the spider's body was shaped like a human head. Over on the other side of the gate, Darrien carefully climbed up the side of the wall, peeking over the top without cutting his hands on the glass shards, but he was too late to see the spider-thing scurry away. At Binkadink's cries of disgust from the other side of the wall, Castillan decided he was tired of waiting. Racing up the wall again, he flipped over the top, somersaulting in midair and landing gracefully on his feet on the other side. The second human hound altered its trajectory, making for the bounder as he was a closer target than Binkadink and Obvious. It snarled and swore, trying to bite Castillan's legs, but the bounder snapped his fingers and a short sword appeared in his right hand. He stabbed out at the beast, eliciting a cry of pain that mirrored the other human hound's, for by then Binkadink had skewered the unfortunate creature he was fighting with his glaive. The two guards rushed over, truncheons at the ready. Figuring that anyone allied with these abominations was likely of an evil bent, Binkadink brought his glaive around and cut deeply into the nearest guard's abdomen. The man dropped to his knees, fell over, and then his head went shooting toward the gnome, trailing a loop of thick intestines behind it. Binkadink shrieked in surprise and horror and Obvious hopped back from this sudden attack, allowing Binkadink to bring his glaive down upon the disembodied head over and over in what was less of a practiced warrior's combat maneuver and more of a panicked "kill it kill it kill it!" reflex. "That's it, I'm going over," announced Finoula. She pulled herself up onto the top of the shard-covered roof, rolled across its expanse - hoping her armor would protect her from the worst of the cuts - and dropped to the ground on the other side. By that point, there was only one guard left, and the elven ranger had arrived just in time to see Binkadink run it through the torso with the tip of his glaive. The guard's head came rocketing back, propelled by a thick, serpentine body that looked like nothing so much as a large section of intestines. "Ew!" screamed the ranger, stepping back instinctively as she brought her two swords out. But Binkadink had had a bit more time to accustom himself to the horror of these "gut nagas," and he cleaved through this second creature's head with his trusty weapon, leaving four - or six, depending on how you chose to count them - bodies dead and bleeding on the lawn of Ravencroft Sanatorium. "Open the gate," suggested Binkadink, and Finoula hurried to comply. It was barred with a thick slab of wood, but she managed to lift it out of its grooves and pull the heavy wooden gates open. "About time!" complained Gilbert. "What take so long--ew, what the hell that?" Gilbert had gotten his first look at the bodies of the creatures sprawled on the ground. "What kind of place this supposed to be?" "What happened to your face?" asked Castillan in turn, for the wizard's face - and entire body, upon closer look - was a bright blue. "Oh, never mind; it's a 'Winkidew Special,' isn't it?" Stuck outside the gates with Ingebold while the others battled the guards and hounds, Gilbert had taken the time to quaff down one of Binkadink's Uncle Winkidew's [i]mage armor[/i] potions, which had the unfortunate side effect of turning the imbiber's skin a bright blue. "You look like a goof," decided the bounder. "Yeah, well I a goof that harder to hit in battle," replied Gilbert. Then he activated his [i]hat of disguise[/i], taking on the appearance of one of the guards. "And now I a freaky guard, not a goof!" he announced. "Let's loot these stiffs." A quick search of the guards' bodies revealed a set of identical-looking key rings on each corpse, which the group took for themselves. "Let's go inside," suggested Darrien, his [i]Arachnibow[/i] at the ready. Ingebold drove the mule wagon inside the confines of the wall, and then Daisy, Obvious, and Wrath were left with the mules while the heroes headed for the front doors. "Just what kind of idiot your father, anyway?" demanded Gilbert as they approached the front doors of the sanatorium. "Who puts son in loony bin run by monsters?" "I'm no fan of my father's, but I highly doubt they put their monsters on display when taking in new clients. And knowing Aroben, he likely didn't spend a whole lot of time and effort checking the place out, as long as it kept Aithanar out of the public eye." "He still an idiot." "Agreed." By that time, Darrien had found the key on the ring that opened up the locked front door. Waiting inside for them were two more of the human-looking guards, who blocked the way past the entry foyer, which was decorated with soothing landscapes and a portrait of the sanatorium's founder, one [b]Dr. Silas Ravencroft.[/b] Darrien sent an arrow speeding over Ingebold's head and into the torso of the guard on the right, while Finoula's swift swords stabbed into the guard on the left. Sure enough, these guards were just like the ones encountered outside, for the headless bodies were mere organic housings for the gut-nagas coiled within. But Binkadink had been ready for such an eventuality and his glaive cut the first gut naga to appear to ribbons. Gilbert sent a [i]magic missile[/i] from his lesser wand into the second such creature, killing it as well. Then the group spun in both directions, to the double doors at the east and west of the hallway they were in, but no further enemies presented themselves. Spreading out, they searched the rooms immediately accessible from the hallway, discovering a cloakroom, a bathroom, a small conference room of some sort, what looked to be a break room, and what could only be the administrator's office. Gilbert applied himself to a vigorous search of this last room, uncovering a small lockbox filled with coins and gems (once he got Castillan to open it, as none of the keys from the guards' key rings fit) and a set of records. Flipping through them, he found Aithanar Ivenheart's name. "He in room 9!" announced the wizard. "Great!" replied Castillan. "Where's room 9?" "No idea. It list of names and room assignments, not handy blueprint. Let's go this way." Gilbert found the double doors to the west were locked, but Darrien was able to open them with a key from the key ring. Immediately upon opening the doors, a cacophony of voices became audible: an insane cackling, the occasional scream, and a voice which repeated, over and over, "No. No. No. No. No. No...." A quick perusal through the nearest unearthed a kitchen, small dining area, and food storage area, all showing signs of recent use and an unhealthy disdain for cleanliness. But then the group turned the corner to the north, and a series of barred doors on either side revealed the first of the inmate cells. Each was a metal door with a small, barred window at head height; one, at the far side of the hall, had a spidery creature affixed to the side of the door, whispering to the inmate imprisoned within. From the cell came the unending litany: "No. No. No. No. No...." Darrien fired off a shot at the spider-thing, forcing it to drop to the floor and spin around to face its attackers. And sure enough, Finoula's quick glimpse of the beast outside had been correct, for the creature's body was made up of a human head. It shrieked in pain and surprise, and then another blast from Gilbert's [i]wand of magic missiles[/i] slew it. Its body fell backwards, its spidery legs curling up to encompass its human face. "Ew," repeated Finoula. "Guys, look - room numbers!" said Castillan, looking at the numbers stenciled in fading paint on the doors, below the barred windows. "Help me find 9!" But the cells in this section of the sanatorium reached only to 8. The hallway made a right angle up ahead, just beyond a pair of doors which led to a washroom - both laundry and bodies, it seemed - and a bunkroom for guards. But then turning the corner from the east was another sanatorium guard, this one dressed more slovenly than the other four encountered thus far, with his shirt open to the waist and untucked. The reason for this soon became clear; what had at first looked like elaborate tattoos were in fact a series of faces grafted onto the skin all over his body. Seeing the heroes, he roared - from more than one mouth - and rushed to the attack. Finoula was closest, and while her longsword sliced a gash in his side, he shrugged it off and pressed in to her, trying to capture her in a bear hug which would allow the faces on his chest and stomach to bite at her. She blocked him with a boot to his chest, kicking him away from her and allowing Binkadink to bring his glaive to bear. But even so, this guard was much tougher than the hollow "gut naga" bodies of the other guards, and the battle took much longer before they were able to bring him down. Castillan had been in the back of the lineup, and as a result had had a difficult time reaching the face fiend - so he ducked into the guards' bunkroom, extricating four pouches of coins, likely their recent pay. "Hey! Room 9!" called out Darrien after the face fiend had been slain, causing Castillan to scoot back out of the bunkroom and head over to the cell his brother had been assigned to, according to the documentation Gilbert had found. Along the entire back wall were more of the inmate cells. Cell 9 was empty. "Ah, crap!" yelled Castillan. "They better not have turned him into any of those...things!" "He's only been here a couple of days," Finoula reminded the bounder. "Hopefully, they haven't gotten around to him yet. Bink, [i]what are you doing?[/i]" Binkadink had pulled the shirt off the slain face fiend and was working on removing his pants. "Just checking," admitted the gnome sheepishly. And then, as if further explanation was necessary, he added, "I wanted to make sure none of these faces were...you know...elven." "Oh, gross!" exclaimed Castillan, turning green at the thought of finding Aithanar's face grafted onto the thing they'd just fought. "...They weren't, were they?" he asked, steeling himself for an answer he didn't want to hear. "Nope, doesn't look like it," replied the gnome, his examinations complete. The bounder let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Further exploration of the rooms off the back hallway revealed a bunkroom for the attendants, the administrator's rather elegant bedroom, and a small hallway apparently leading to a courtyard in the center of the building. Inside the administrator's bedroom the group unearthed a series of wizard's spellbooks, which Gilbert took the time to flip through, mentally noting which spells were listed to get an idea of what they might be facing if and when they ever found the ruler of this loony farm. He also noticed that several of the most basic spells - those taught to nearly all those aspiring to become wizards - were missing, leading Gilbert to surmise that this unknown wizard was a specialist, giving up the schools of abjuration and conjuration, likely due to a focus on transmutation. [i]That worth noting[/i], he thought to himself, pocketing the spellbooks into his backpack, not wishing to take the time to make them permanent additions to his [i]Omnibook[/i] just yet. But of equal interest to Gilbert was a series of controls along one wall of the hallway. He was examining it intently when they heard a woman's screams from around the corner. The others raced around the corner to check it out, leaving the wizard to puzzle out the controls by himself. There were another dozen or so cells on the eastern side of the building, which, judging by the few inhabitants they saw inside several of the cells, was the women's ward. A strange little creature was jumping up in front of one of the cells, peeking into the cell's small window while the woman within screamed at it to go away. The creature's entire body was a human head, from the sides of which dangled tiny, baby-sized hands. A pair of short legs, looking more like the fingers of a giant, ended in another set of tiny hands in place of feet. Binkadink stifled a bleat of horrified laughter at the sight of the thing, which alerted it to the heroes' presence. "Uh oh," it said to itself before scampering down the hallway, away from the heroes, and turning the corner out of view. Binkadink and Darrien gave chase, leaving Finoula, Ingebold, and Castillan to check on the woman inside the cell. "Are ye okay in there?" asked Ingebold, scowling slightly because she was too short to see inside the small, barred window. "Who's that?" asked the woman, in a voice filled more with astonishment than alarm. "My name is Castillan," interjected the bounder, always ready to handle conversations with the ladies. "Who are you?" "My name is [b]Elsabeth Gayle[/b]," replied the young woman. "I was one of the attendants here." "What happened here?" demanded Finoula, eager for an answer as to why the building was crawling with monsters. "The sanatorium was taken over by a crazed wizard who calls himself [b]the Fleshcrafter[/b], half a year or more ago. He killed Doctor Ravencroft and took his place, and has been using the sanatorium, and the workers and inmates housed within, as fuel for his horrific experiments." "Castillan, let her out of there," demanded Finoula. "Are we sure she's telling the truth?" whispered the bounder as he flipped through the keys on the ring. "She's the first person we've met in this place who still seems normal," replied Finoula. "That's good enough for me." Castillan found the right key and turned it in the lock of the cell door. "Tell me, have you seen an elf named Aithanar Ivenheart?" he asked. "He would have been brought here a week or so ago." "I'm sorry," answered Elsabeth. "I've been locked up in there since the Fleshcrafter took over." "Do you know where we might find this Fleshcrafter?" "I believe he does his abhorrent work downstairs, in the lower level below the building." In the meantime, Binkadink and Darrien had tried following the head-thing around the corner, only to find it had disappeared. They briefly searched the nearby rooms since the double doors ahead were still locked. (If Binkadink's mental map of this building was correct, these would be the double doors leading to the front hallway.) There was another dining area and a food preparation area - apparently the Ravencroft Sanatorium believed in gender segregation of their clients - and a linen closet. It was in this last room the gnome finally found his prey, and his glaive made short work of the ambulatory head. Meeting up with the others, Gilbert announced he had figured out the controls on the panel in the back hallway. It appeared as if they were used to access the lower level, turning the floor of the access hallway to the outside into a ramp leading downwards. Elsabeth confirmed his suspicions, and then scurried off to tend to the other patients - whichever ones were left after the Fleshcrafter's depredations, she amended. "Everybody ready?" asked the blue-skinned wizard. "Hold up," advised Ingebold, healing up those who had been wounded in battle thus far, and then following up with a [i]magic circle against evil[/i] spell that simple [i]had[/i] to be useful in this place! "Aye then, ready," she said once that had been taken care of. Gilbert activated the controls, and the doors to the south swung open as the floor became a ramp, leading down to a single, large room below, filled with all manners of strangeness. Castillan was relieved to see his brother Aithanar was still alive. Unfortunately, he was in the back of the room, strapped to a table, with the recognizable form of Dr. Ravencroft himself leaning over him, scalpel in hand, which the heroes now knew would really be the Fleshcrafter. And then scattered around the rest of the vast room were three more of the Fleshcrafter's creations. The first of these was a simple flesh golem, a patchwork giant made from the mismatched body parts of several different corpses, which stood to the west side of the ramp. Another was a tangle of four arms attached to a bald head, which stood in the northeastern corner on the room, on the other side of the ramp from the golem. But the biggest creation was easily the Fleshcrafter's most deranged: a gargantuan amalgamation made up of the fused bodies of at least a dozen or more people. Built somewhat like a hulking toad, it had a gaping maw filled with teeth formed from human rib bones; below the mouth was the inverted upper half of a human torso, with its lower half merging into the bulbous flesh above its mouth; its legs and feet had been crafted from broken human bodies; and the thing's entire body was covered in doughy, pimpled flesh, with the occasional oozing pustule or protruding bone adding to the overall mind-bending awfulness of the fleshwarped monstrosity. It took only a second or two for the two opposing forces to see their opposite members and size them up. Then, with only an obligatory "EW!" bursting forth from Finoula's throat giving voice to the spectacle before them, combat erupted all at once. Castillan had snapped the fingers of both hands, swapping out his short sword for his shortbow, and sent an arrow across the room to the Fleshcrafter, striking him in the shoulder. Darrien had similar thoughts, but he took an extra moment to line up his shot and then activated the [i]Arachnibow[/i]'s powers as his arrow sped across the room; when it struck the scalpel in the Fleshcrafter's hand, the arrow had become a strand of spider silk. With a quick tug from the other end, Darrien brought the scalpel flying across the room, to fall to the floor beneath the fleshwarped monstrosity's hideous feet. Gilbert's initial assessment of the scene was that there were some tough-looking monsters in the room, and an area-of-effect spell was the way to go. Mentally calculating distances to ensure Aithanar would be outside the blast radius, he cast a [i]fireball[/i] spell against the western wall that encompassed the flesh golem, fleshwarped monstrosity, and even the Fleshcrafter. The enemy wizard buckled in pain from the spell and Castillan's arrow that he pulled from his shoulder, and then a strange thing happened: either because he had lost concentration, or the spell's effects had naturally run their normally allotted course, or perhaps because he no longer felt the need to cloak himself in an illusion, his features buckled and warped, and Dr. Ravencroft's guise vanished, to be replaced with the Fleshcrafter's true form. The Fleshcrafter - he used no other name, other than when he was impersonating the sanatorium's founder - had apparently not experimented solely on others. The skin was missing from the entire front of his face, leaving exposed muscles in their place. A hole in his forehead showed where he had used a bone drill on himself in an act of self-trepanation. Visible on the skin that remained on his neck and the back of his bald head were numerous small tattoos of arcane symbols. He called out orders to his troops, using a term - "[b]Sergeant-at-Arms[/b]" - that proved he was twisted in more ways than the purely physical: he was also, apparently, a lover of puns. Castillan knew he needed to get across the room to confront the Fleshcrafter and free his brother, but the fleshwarped monstrosity stood in his way. Deciding the best way past the creature was over the top of it, Castillan snapped the bow back into his magical left glove, raced down the ramp, and launched himself at the aberrant beast. He had planned on running right over the top of it, but once airborne he got the shock of his life when the malformed thing proved to be quite nimble. Much like a dog snapping a thrown treat out of midair, the monstrosity spun its malformed head around, mutated mouth open wide, and gulped Castillan's now-screaming form deep into its gullet. The bounder decided immediately he didn't want to spend any more time inside the belly of the hulking glob of fused flesh than he absolutely had to, the incessant worry in the back of his mind teasing him with horrific thoughts of becoming absorbed into the beast somehow and becoming part of its misshapen flesh. So he unstoppered a flask of his own "Winkidew's Special," this one a [i]potion of gaseous form[/i] that was less a liquid and more a gas. Inhaling its vapors, the bounder felt his own body dissipating into a fine mist, which seeped unnoticed out of the side of the fleshwarped monstrosity's mouth. Back on the ramp, Ingebold and Binkadink had started their descent into the room when the Sergeant-at-Arms, the four-armed head-thing, grabbed the side of the ramp and flipped itself up onto the inclined plane immediately before a startled Ingebold. It wielded a pair of sharp knives in two of its hands; the cleric picked out a pair of leather sheaths strapped to two of its forearms. But then she was dodging the waving blades, smashing the creature away with her warhammer when she could (for it dodged and bobbed like a deranged monkey, making striking it quite an ordeal). On the other side of the ramp, the flesh golem grabbed at Finoula with a powerful hand, but its movements were slower than normal, a fortunate side effect of the [i]fireball[/i] spell Gilbert had lobbed its way. Finoula managed to dodge out of its grasp, and then she sprang forward, stabbing at it with her blades while Darrien backed her up with shots from his magic longbow. A misty Castillan slowly flowed across the room, coalescing back into solid form once over by the Fleshcrafter. The deranged wizard backed out of range, especially once a snap of the bounder's fingers caused a short sword to manifest in his right hand. Then he cast a spell of his own, having noted that Binkadink, of all of their enemies, was dealing out quite a lot of damage with that ridiculously-oversized glaive of his. The [i]hold person[/i] spell took immediate effect and the little gnome froze in mid-stance. Fortunately, Finoula was at his side and saw what had happened, so she pulled him back up the ramp and out of range of the flesh golem and the fleshwarped monstrosity that was even now lumbering up the ramp towards them. By then, Ingebold had smashed the Sergeant-at-Arms upside the head, and Gilbert finished it off with a [i]magic missile[/i] from his wand as it tried to scamper off to safety. The portly wizard followed up with a [i]ray of enfeeblement[/i] at the gargantuan abomination, which he hoped would have some effect. Unfortunately, the thing was so big it was difficult to see if the slight diminishing of its overall strength would prove to be noticeable. Castillan, by then, was stabbing at the Fleshcrafter, while his brother Aithanar finally realized who it was coming to his rescue. "Squah!" he cried out. "Bindish rolly! Duvong skimmy vandoozle!" While Castillan was distracted by his brother's nonsensical ramblings, the Fleshcrafter managed to get off a spell fired directly at the bounder, but fortunately Castillan managed to shrug off its effects - which saved him from having to fight the rest of this battle while blind. The Fleshcrafter looked around for allies and saw his golem and monstrosity were both busy with numerous foes. But that stab-happy gnome had finally shrugged off the effects of the [i]hold person[/i] spell; since he seemed vulnerable to enchantments, why not follow suit with another one? "Gnome!" he called across the room. "Come help defend me against these threats!" It was a ridiculous request...unless you noticed the subtle hand gestures accompanying his speech, which identified his request as the verbal components of a [i]charm person[/i] spell. Binkadink was once again overcome - for as long as it took for Ingebold to step up to him, suppressing the charm effect with her [i]magic circle against evil[/i] spell. Then the gnome and the dwarf concentrated their attacks on the fleshwarped monstrosity still intent upon climbing the ramp up to them. Castillan stabbed again at the Fleshcrafter, drawing blood for a third time, when the wizard realized enough was enough. He grabbed up a wand from his belt, aimed it at himself, and morphed into a cloud of vaporous gas. "Crap!" yelled Castillan, swinging his short sword ineffectually through the gaseous form of his foe. At his side, Aithanar expressed his agreement with a heartfelt "Vallen foo!" But up at the top of the ramp, Gilbert had witnessed the Fleshcrafter's attempt at escape. He focused on the translucent cloud of gas, aimed his wand, and sent a trio of [i]magic missiles[/i] striking unerringly at the cloud. The magical energy did the trick; the Fleshcrafter reverted to his solid form seconds before crashing to the floor, dead. "Blinkus!" called Aithanar, struggling with his bonds. "Folky blifoodoo!" Castillan ran back to his brother's side, struggling to find meaning in his nonsensical words. "Can you understand me?" he asked. "Grantula!" replied Aithanar. "No, just nod 'yes' or 'no,'" corrected Castillan. Aithanar dutifully nodded "yes." "I'm going to free you - are you able to stand on your own?" Aithanar nodded again, and Castillan cut his bonds, releasing him from the operating table. Binkadink's glaive was steadily carving up the monstrosity, and to everyone's horror, they recognized a head merged with the top of the misshapen body. It was Dr. Silas Ravencroft, the original, whose body had been merged with many others to form the gargantuan horror. Although his eyes were crazed, he apparently still had enough of his original faculties to approve of the beast's impending death. "Kill...me..." he sputtered. His bearded face screwed up in horror, Binkadink did his best to comply. And eventually, between his own blade-thrusts and some judicious ranged spells from Gilbert and Ingebold, the aberrant horror was slain. As it crashed to the floor on its side, Ravencroft's embedded head gave a final smile of gratitude as his eyes rolled up into his head. After that, slaying the flesh golem was simply a matter of time, for the creature was slow to move, slow to strike, and slow to react. The six heroes - and Aithanar - had no trouble evading its reach, while the two archers peppered it with arrows and Binkadink carved it up with his glaive. Before long it, too, crashed to the floor, unmoving. "Man, you've been cranking out the damage with that thing today," observed Darrien. "I put some [i]magic weapon oil[/i] on it outside the gate," the gnome admitted. "That stuff works pretty good. Once we get back to Garonis, I'm going to pick up a masterwork glaive I'm having custom-made. And maybe then, after a while I'll be able to start having the thing enchanted. [i]Then[/i] we'll see how much damage I can do!" "Are you okay?" Finoula asked Aithanar. "Squabbus," the elf replied. "Bandacraff minard." Finoula smiled dreamily at Castillan's brother; he might not make any sense, but he certainly was pleasant on the eyes! Aithanar apparently felt the same, and the two elves stood amidst the horrific corpses of flesh-twisted nightmares, oblivious to all else around them. "He under curse?" asked Gilbert. "Maybe [i]restoration[/i] spell help? Or [i]break enchantment[/i]?" "I doubt it," replied Ingebold. "Castillan said 'e 'it 'is 'ead. More than likely, the speech part of 'is brain's all jollywampus. It'll likely take a [i]heal[/i] spell, which's above me own casting ability - and will be, fer some time." "He could come with us," suggested Finoula. "We need someone to look after the animals while we're off adventuring." "Yeah, I suppose," agreed Castillan. "We certainly can't bring him back home in this condition. Father will just stash him away somewhere else, out of public view. How about it, Aith? You want to join our little group?" "Bassa jublin," Aithanar readily agreed, still not taking his eyes off of Finoula. He didn't need words to express his feelings for the young ranger, and it seemed like the feelings were mutual. - - - T-Shirt Worn: My "EVIL CLOWN SCHOOL - GRADUATE WITH HONORS" T-shirt, which features an evilly-grinning clown as its logo. Given a sanatorium filled with evil, fleshcrafted freaks, it seemed appropriate. [/QUOTE]
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