It was clear within moments that this was no ordinary aberration. A mindflayer, mutated and incomplete, its flesh blistered under sunlight. As it neared me, it lunged with no technique or form—simply bared its teeth and bit into my shoulder.
I have dueled against a dozen martial traditions across multiple continents. I have never once engaged an opponent who lunged mouth-first like a starving animal. The pain was immediate, but worse was the inelegance. Sal stabilized the wound with a healing potion. It knitted shut smoothly. But I felt the weight of the lack of Pruning all the same. A wound healed without discipline remains a failing.
Mazarin attempted to reach into its mind. She shared that it was not a solitary consciousness, but a massive room that was not alone, similar to Jeffrey Solian’s psychic remnants. Just before the creature fell, it projected a thought to all of us: “Where is Lessa? Where is she?”
Sal examined the body. He harvested a tentacle and a sample of its mucus. There was a brand on the creatures arm, marking it as someone pulled by the Oracle for a high dissident coefficient. Usually never seen from again, yet here they lay.
Mazarin shared that true mindflayers are not solitary. They act as collectives with devastating mental capabilities. Usually requiring elite tactical teams to attempt elimination. Normally even one is lethal, but this one was feral and weak. Something had gone wrong in its making. Or right. Depending on the intention behind it.
Marrion contacted us telepathically. Her tone was clipped. She instructed us to meet her on the edge of Vellhum Heights, at the district border.
When we arrived, Charles, lacking even the most rudimentary training in restraint or poise, immediately provoked Marrion. The Admiral taught me that emotion clouds judgment, it is a weakness. But I have begun to recognize how tension accumulates in others, especially in proximity to someone as coarse as Charles Brand.
Bishop Theodore Calvers is missing. Marrion admitted that her political allegiance to him, as bishop of Vellhum, now outweighs her duties to this investigation. She suspects Thassen Elvire orchestrated Calver’s abduction. He was moved from Steel Covenant custody to the ordinate precinct in Shardlight. Marrion cannot intervene further, as her involvement with us has already stretched her standing. But she fears something terrible will happen to him if we do not act.
She offered us a solution. Capture a wanted fugitive and use his bounty to gain access to the Shardlight ordinate precinct. The fugitive is Vern Powell, alias One-Eye Vern. A Drakemirian pirate formerly of the Sea Wardens.
We located his hideout in the Cruciboro. We did not infiltrate with subtlety. Still, Sal and Yedan-Neric made attempts to negotiate, but Powell called in reinforcements. In the melee, a pitcher was used as a weapon, releasing three tadpoles into the room. In exchange for saving Powell from the tadpoles trying to burrow into his brain, he surrendered. In the chaos, I thought I saw a shadow move when Yedan-Neric stuck. I saw a goblin felled not by his blade, but by something darker, faster; he plays the part of the humble flower farmer well, although I suspect there is more beneath.
NOTE: Analysis of the scene suggests a final living tadpole was discovered in the remnants of a silver pitcher. Yedan-Neric, who also pocketed a handful of silver, reportedly handed the creature to Sal for containment.
I found a letter among Powell’s belongings. A purchase order from Marcelle Varn—Deputy Ordinate for Experimental Logistics. It referenced “neurologically active seed forms” and included mention of auxiliary aquifer subsidiaries. I am considering the possibility that it connects to the “Water of Life.” The wells distributing this water lie suspiciously close to where the abnormalities have been active.
Powell asked for a single concession in exchange for easy passage to the precinct. A lockpick. Which Yedan-Neric provided.
The Sanctiforge masks itself in tranquility and piety, but beneath it I have seen only rot, lies, and deceit. Conscriptus may be brutal, but at least it never pretends. Nothing here is honest. Nothing here is still.
People
- Vern Powell
Current Places
- The Sanctiforge
- Vellum Heights
Recap Video
https://youtu.be/XRZlba3zO_s?si=b0hYCpcv7JNs1kkj
”’𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬…𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘖𝘭𝘥 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥’ -ร̷̣̳́Շ̶͚̎г̷̺̄เ̵̭̇͌ภ̸͚̮͌̓ﻮ̴̭̽ร̵̫̀̂ 𝘐𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘸. 𝘈 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥. 𝘈 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘈 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘵. 𝘈 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦… 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘥. 𝘐𝘯 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘐𝘯 𝘴𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭. 𝘐 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭, 𝘵𝘰 𝘒𝘕𝘖𝘞, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯, 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯. 𝘚𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬, 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬… 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥. 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦.”