V M Visions of Change

[Sigmund Vrell]

Sigmund’s sleep was wracked with visions of unknowable horrors, glimpses into the void shaking him to the core. Unfortunately, his pleasant dreams were interrupted by a loud ‘bang’ from down the hall.

“Hrmm? Five more minutes…” The high priest grumbled as he collected his bearings. It was hard to say what time it was, but Sigmund guessed that it was sometime early in the morning. Rubbing his eyes, the cultist grabbed his tome and slipped on his robes. He gently opened his door, glancing down the corridor that connected the rooms of the cult's acolytes.

“Is someone there?” He hissed, receiving no answer. Shrugging, the cultist crept out of his room, quietly making his way down the hall to where the sound came from. The temple was silent, barring the occasional fevered whisper from the faithful. Sigmund was somewhat relieved that none of his followers had been woken up, lest they lose any sleep. The high priest continued on until he came to the room that he heard the ‘bang’ from, noticing a faint light glowing from beneath the door.

“Hello?” Sigmund asked, knocking gently on the door. “Devon, are you awake?”

There was rustle behind the door before it creaked open and an eye peaked out from within. Sigmund had taken the time to get to know all of his cultists. This one, Devon, was a converted off-worlder.

“Ah, high priest.” Devon said wearily. “Can I help you?”

“Are you alright? I heard a loud noise come from here.”

“Yes yes, I'm quite alright.” The acolyte said, waving his hand as if to clear the concerns from the air. “I just fell out of bed.”

“If you're having nightmares, you can speak to me about them.” Sigmund said, giving him an understanding smile. “I know a lot of people have been having them since the obelisk was completed, and I'm quite familiar with them.

Devon hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I'm fine. Really.” He said. “I'll just go back to sleep. Good night, high priest.”

“Good night, Devon.” Sigmund said as the man closed the door, leaving the head cultist standing in the dark, utterly unconvinced.


The next morning, Sigmund yawned noisily at the breakfast table. He had slept little after his talk with Devon, concern buzzing within his mind.

“Agate, you shithead, don't take all the mushrooms.” Opal snapped, slamming their hand onto the table.

“I only took two!” The junior cultist retorted, gesturing to his plate.

“Well there were only two left, you greedy asshole, let me have one! I can't hear the spirits without eating mushrooms!”

As the shaman and the cultist struggled over the mushrooms, Amy rolled her eyes and glanced over at the exhausted high priest.

“Sigmund, are you feeling okay?” She asked. “You're not looking so great.”

“I'm just tired, my thoughts were keeping me up last night.” The head cultist yawned. He paused for a moment, glancing over at the Opal as they held Agate in a headlock and shovelled a mushroom into their mouth. “Say, Opal, don't you live across the hall from Devon?”

“Hrmmph? Drrvrrm?” The shaman asked as they swallowed their prize. “The guy who always has dark rings under his eyes? Yeah, what about him?”

“Have you heard anything unusual from him at night? I'm worried that his nightmares are affecting him more than he's admitting.”

“Ohohoh, get this.” Opal said, a wicked grin spreading across their face as they released Agate and leaned across the table. “The other night the spirits were keeping me up and I could hear him from across the hall. I guess he was sleep-talking, because he was crying to his mother.”

“That's horrible.” Amy said, cringing at the thought.

“It was kinda funny.” Opal shrugged. “He kept saying ‘I'll do it, I'll do it’ and then just said ‘mother’ over and over again.”

“I think I have the same nightmares about you.” Agate sniffed as he massaged his throat and gulped down his remaining mushroom.

“Aw, I'm flattered.” The shaman sniffed, placing a hand on their chest in mock joy.

Sigmund wasn't listening to their inane conversation. Instead, he was deep in thought.

“He’ll do it… Mother… Hrmm.” The high priest mumbled to himself. Unable to make heads or tails of it, Sigmund returned to his breakfast, slightly frustrated at his lack of results. After breakfast, the cultists continued with their day. Prayer, lessons in the eldritch, separating Opal and Agate when they tried to kill each other. When the daily routine was over, Sigmund retired to his study to attempt to decipher Devon’s sleep talk. Despite Opal’s jeering, the cultist doubted that it was as simple as begging to his mother.

When Sigmund opened the door to his study, he was greeted with the horrific sight of strewn-about papers. The psychic quickly gathered his scattered work with his telekinesis, skimming through them rapidly. To his relief, all of the papers on the various applications of divine power, bar one, were still there. Slightly disturbingly, the one page that was missing was notes on genetic manipulation.

“Hrmm, curious.” Sigmund mumbled, itching his chin. “Oh, Devon, my suspicions had better not be confirmed. Actually, perhaps it will be more interesting if they are.”

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

Sigmund hesitated outside of Devon’s room.

“I really should do something about this.” Sigmund muttered to himself. “He might go out and cause a big mess with his new knowledge.”

The high priest raised his hand to knock on the door before hesitating. “But then again… Who knows, he might do something amazing.”

Deciding to let the cultist do what he will with his new information, Sigmund retreated to his room, his stomach somewhat guiltily buzzing with the excitement of seeing what Devon did next.


The following few days passed uneventfully. The cultists prayed, worked and stopped Agate and Opal from killing each other. Devon, unfortunately, was among the majority, working normally, despite the high priest’s attempts to subtly note that he knew what the man had done. Sigmund noted that he was getting finished earlier and retiring to his room, but little else was different. On the fourth day after, however, Devon not only didn't show up to the morning prayer, but he was nowhere to be seen at all.

“Has anyone seen Devon?” Sigmund asked at lunch. “I've looked everywhere, but no one knows where he has gone.”

The cultists around him shrugged and gave negatives. The high priest scratched his chin in confusion, wondering where the cultist could have gone. Despite the sneaking suspicion that something exciting might be in the works, Sigmund couldn't help but wonder if he had made a mistake. He had expected Devon to come and talk about his troubles, but it now seemed that he had vanished off the face of the earth.

“By Gal’skap, I didn't know if I'd make it here alive.” Agate sighed as he entered the room, grabbed some soup and sat down.

“Oh, hey Agate. What's wrong?” Sigmund asked.

“Opal and I were having a discussion about the finer details of worship. I was saying that Gal’skap rewards devotion through hard work and dedication, while they claimed that the worship worked itself out and you just had to roll with it. The disagreement got… Heated.”

“Huh. How heated?”

“I'd probably be missing an arm if Amy hadn't come and put them in a headlock. No idea where they are now.” The cultist said, idly scratching his chin. “Anyways, let's forget all that, what're we talking about?”

“Devon. No one’s seen him since yesterday.” Sigmund replied, his brow furrowing as he began racking his brain again.

“Oh, I saw him just before.” Agate said, taking a mouthful of soup. “Right before Opal tried to throw me through a window.”

“You did?” Sigmund said, perking up. “Where? What was he doing?”

“Uh, just by the temple entrance.” The junior cultist replied, caught off guard. “I didn't get a good look but I didn't notice him doing anything unusual.”

“I'm going after him.” The high priest said, shooting to his feet.

“Why? Has something happened?” Agate asked, gulping down his soup as he sensed action.

“Erm, it's kinda classified.” Sigmund said. “All you need to know is that he might end up doing something stupid and dangerous, or perhaps something brilliant and dangerous.”

“I'll come with you.” The cultist said, slamming down him bowl.

“Uh, I don't know…”

“I'm a tunnel scout, remember.” Agate said with a little huff. “Tracking and navigating are my specialities. We’ll catch up in no time.”

“You're right, apologies.” Sigmund said, giving the man a little nod in respect. “We have no time to waste, let's go.”

Grabbing a couple of torches and little more, the two men raced out of the temple, sprinting to catch up with Devon for a minute or two before Sigmund ran out of breath. From that point on, they agreed to keep their pace to a brisk walk.

“It feels weird being outside the temple again.” Agate said, glancing around at the comparatively spacious cavern that housed the Neo New Babylonian empire. “Like, look at those Dwemer over there, I forgot that we even had them around.”

“I know what you mean.” Sigmund said, increasing his pace a little. “It feels weird being away from the obelisk, like I've just noticed a noise now that it's gone silent.”

Agate gave a silent nod as the two strode through the city streets. The townspeople made way for the holy men, giving respectful nods and the occasional bow to the pair, particularly the high priest. With their quick pace, the cultists soon passed out of the city, finding themselves in the tunnels that surrounded the area.

“Hmm... This might be a little tougher than I first expected.” Agate mumbled. “Do you know where he might be going?”

“Um, if I had to guess, probably wherever you can find monsters.” Sigmund said with a little shrug.

“Monsters?” The cultist asked, raising an eyebrow. “Whatever. If he wants to find monsters he'll probably be heading to the surface.”

Sigmund nodded, motioning for Agate to lead the way. A short way in and the high priest was impressed with the way the man navigated the tunnels, barely pausing to consider which way to go despite having rarely visited these tunnels.

“You're pretty good at this.” He noted as they reached and passed their fifth consecutive fork without a moment's hesitation.

“Thanks.” Agate responded, giving a wry smile. “I've always liked tunnels, the long, winding networks just kinda make sense to me, y’know?”

“I understand.” Sigmund nodded. “Well, maybe not on an intimate level, but I understand where you're coming from. I've always been rather inclined towards the occult, myself.”

“Heh, I figured.” The scout chuckled. It didn't take long before light began to peak down into the tunnel, giving them some faint illumination outside of their torches. “Here's hoping that he found his way out before we did, eh?”

“If my theory about his… Situation is correct, he shouldn't have had any trouble.” The high priest replied matter-of-factly. The pair emerged into daylight, shielding their eyes from the harsh glow of the sun after far too long in relative darkness.

“Gods, was the sun always so bright?” Sigmund grunted. They both scanned the horizon, looking around for anything, before spotting a speck in the distance. They left the relative warmth and safety of the cave mouth. Fortunately, the heat god’s favour was with them, keeping them comfortable even in the harsh climate of the moon.

The two began to approach whatever it was they could see from the cave, quickly coming to realise that it was not moving. Fearing the worst, they picked up their pace, only for a sense of relief to wash over them when they came closer, recognising the white fur of a Wampa. At least, it had been white before it had been bathed in the beast’s blood.

“Shit.” Agate muttered as they reached the carcass. Whatever had gotten to the creature hadn't been gentle. It's face was frozen in a silent cry of pain and terror, and both of its arms had been violently severed from its body, the flayed limbs laying on the frigid earth nearby. “What do you think happened here?”

Sigmund knelt down, inspecting the corpse, picking up the arms and examining them with little regard for respect or hygiene. Finally, he dropped the limbs and turned to Agate with a manic grin. “Brilliance.” He said before an excited giggle slipped from his lips.

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

“Okay, enough crypticism. What's happening?” Agate asked as he inspected the wampa’s corpse, soon deciding on a direction to walk in.

“You're right. Basically, Devon stole some notes from my study, and I think he's using the genetic engineering information I had on them to create… Something.”

Agate blinked. “That's… A lot to take in. Why did you do something about it?”

“I didn't want to stifle his creativity.”

“You didn't want to st- You know what, I'm just not gonna question it. So what's the the deal with that wampa. It was completely torn apart.”

“Genewarpers, cultists of the god of mutation and change, can warp flesh, using it to extract genetic information from a subject and splice it together with others. A practised genewarper can extract DNA without the slightest indication that they've done anything, but Devon is not practised. Instead of harmlessly removing a single cell, he's ripped apart the beast’s flesh and scavenged the genetic code. It looks to me like he's going to be using the arms of the wampa for something.”

“Okay, heavy.” Agate said. “Well, we'd better catch up to him quick before he hurts someone.”

“I don't think we need to worry about that.” Sigmund said. “I doubt he’d fine much use for a human. Not exotic enough, you know?”

Agate nodded, somewhat understanding the logic. The two continued to follow the trail that the scout insisted was there, trekking across the vast wastes of Inxerxe. They were silent for a while before Agate glanced over at Sigmund.

“Hey, you're pretty close with Opal, right?”

“Huh? Uh, about as close as anyone, I guess.” The high priest shrugged.

“I don't know why, but we just can't get along.”

“You don't say.”

“I just want to know why, I guess.” The scout mumbled.

“Well… I'm no psychologist, so take this as you will.” Sigmund began. “But if you want to get along with Opal, you need to earn their respect.”

“Hmm…” Agate mumbled. “What have I done to not have their respect?”

“That dying a virgin comment probably didn't help.” Sigmund sniggered. “Honestly, though, just do something intelligent and confident, that should do the trick.”

“Hmm… Alright.” The scout mumbled, seemingly unconvinced. “Hey, look over there.”

In the distance is what seemed to be a small colony of huts and shacks sheltered within a cave beneath a small crag. A bonfire was lit in the centre and the sounds of celebration could be heard drifting across the tundra.

“Let's go see if Devon passed through.” Sigmund said. Agate nodded and the two continued on towards the colony, curiously wondering what they were celebrating about. They arrived quickly, spurred on by their mission, and were greeted with a number of cheerful colonists.

“Hey! These guys are wearing the same clothes as our new hero!” One man called, eliciting a round of cheers from the crowd. The whole colony was gathered around what had first appeared to be a bonfire, but was revealed to be a volcanic vent.

“Your hero?” Sigmund asked, mystified. “So a man wearing these robes passed through here?”

“Yep!” The man said, grinning. “He came through and killed the remorhaz that's been harassing us. We can finally get our colonisation back on track.”

“A remorhaz!?” Agate exclaimed, receiving a curious look from Sigmund.

“What's a remorhaz?” The high priest asked, mystified.

“It's a big centipede monster.” The scout explained. “There's no way Devon could have handled one alone.”

“He did!” The colonist said, grinning wildly. “I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes.”

“How does he keep… Excuse me, can we see the body?” Sigmund asked, suddenly growing intense.

“Sure thing.” The colonist said. If he was caught off guard by the high priest's shift in attitude, he didn't show it. The man donned a heavy coat and took them a short distance away from the cave, somewhat perturbed by their lack of warm clothing. He took them to the massive body of the beast, half buried in the slush. It's hide was rent asunder, spilling its innards onto the cold earth. Despite the state it was in, the body still radiated warmth.

“I don't like this.” Agate muttered. “I don't care how strong these ‘genewarpers’ are, there's no way that Devon could have done this alone.”

“No, I agree.” Sigmund said, a concerned look on his face. “The body is split open in the telltale way, but look at its head and legs.”

The high priest motioned to the beast’s head, which lolled to the side at an unnatural angle, almost parallel to its body. It's numerous legs were also twisted in abnormal ways, each one seemingly pointing in a different direction.

“What does that mean?” Agate asked, his brow furrowing.

“It means that, whether he realises it or not, something is helping him.”

“And what might that be?”

“That is an excellent question…”

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

Concern heavy in their minds, the cultists returned to the colony. The colonists paid no mind to their worried expressions and reserved demeanours, far too pleased to be rid of the remorhaz to care.

“Come on friends, let's feast and celebrate.” The overly enthusiastic man who had greeted them before said.

“No, we really must be off.” Sigmund insisted, waving his hands dismissively. “Can you tell us which way our comrade went?”

“Yeah, he headed further into the caverns, right down that way.” The man replied, gesturing down the tunnels.

“Thank you. We’ll be taking our leave now.” The high priest said, quickly turning to avoid another offer to celebrate. The pair of cultists headed down the tunnel, moving deeper into Inverxe once more.

“What would he be looking for by going back down?” Sigmund asked curiously.

“Nothing good.” Agate sighed. “We should be catching up, though. No doubt taking care of the remorhaz would have slowed him down, no matter what he had helping him.”

Sigmund nodded silently, deep in thought as he tried to figure out what might be assisting the rogue cultist. He mentally ran through the myriad of creatures that could be responsible, but without going through his tome he doubted that he would figure it out any time soon.

“Hey, heads up.” Agate hissed, gesturing forward. Just before the pair was a bend, around which a rasping sound could be heard.

“What's that?”

“I'm not sure, but it's probably bad. Let me take a look.” The scout said, creeping forward and peeking around the corner. As he did, his eyes visibly widened and his jaw dropped a little. “You're going to want to see this.”

The high priest shuffled forward, peeping around the corner. Slumped against one wall was a headless body, clad in dark clothing. The few patches of skin that were visible were a deep blue-purple colour and looked very moist. Barring their absent head, the creature bore few wounds, pointing to a quick, mostly painless death. The xenomorph across from it wasn't so lucky.

“Looks like our friend is rather partial to xenomorph parts.” Agate said with a cringe. The beast lay of the cave floor in a puddle of its own acidic blood, pitifully gasping for air with a tongueless mouth. All four of its limbs as well as its tail were absent, leaving gaping wounds in their place. With a brief chant, Sigmund’s tome flipped open and the cultist fired a bolt of eldritch energy at the weakened creature, putting it out of its misery.

“We’re getting closer.” The high priest noted.

“Yep.” Agate agreed, nodding slowly.

“I recognise the xenomorph, but what's that?” Sigmund asked, pointing to the humanoid form laying against the wall.

“I'm pretty sure that's an illithid, although some people call them mindflayers.”

“Mindflayers?”

“Yeah, they're these kinda octopus-face people with psychic powers.”

“And you didn't see fit to tell me about this?” The high priest asked, his expression growing stony.

“It didn't seem relevant.” The scout said, caught a little off guard.

“Remind me, Agate, what are our priests called?”

“Mindbrea- Okay, you may have a point, but we don't have time for this. If we hurry now, we should catch up to Devon pretty quick.”

“You're right.” Sigmund said, nodding and hardening his expression further. He was ready to bring his faithful cultist back, to take him under his wing, and nothing wou-

“Ready to sprint?” Agate said. “We've wasted too much time shooting shit.”

“Oh…” The high priest said quietly, his hard look giving way to an aghast stare. “I suppose so…”

The pair of cultists dodged around the acid blood of the xenomorph before breaking into a run. They dashed through the tunnels as fast as Sigmund could manage. If Agate was to be believed, they were gaining on Devon quickly. As they got closer, ominous signs of eldritch involvement began to appear.

It started with streaks of a tar-like substance on the cave walls, barely noticeable to the sprinting cultists, but soon grew into large, putrid masses of some black substance and further developed into chunks of black flesh with luminous green pods growing from them. Had the pair not had their torches, they would have been able to see perfectly fine from the illumination provided by the pods.

“Gods... above!” Sigmund exclaimed, attempting to catch his breath. “This place has been marked by the god of mutation!”

“You don't say?” Agate said. “I guess that explains all the gross shit around.”

Soon enough, there was more of the black matter than there was bare earth, swallowing up the tunnel. The green pods increased in number as well, forming an array of natural light for the tunnel. Before long, however, the tunnel came to a dead end, a wall of solid, somewhat squishy black matter blocking their path.

“Damn it.” Agate muttered. “He definitely went this way. He must have conjured up this thing to block us.”

“It shall do him little good. En’dring forgive me.” Sigmund said, his anticipation building from being so close to his goal. The high priest extended his hand and his tome flipped open on its own. The wall of biomass began to shrink back as if aware of what was happening, visibly quivering as the warmth was drawn from it. The head cultist grimaced as he unleashed the collected heat in the form of a fireball, igniting the wall instantly.

“Well, I'll be damned.” Agate said, stepping through the hole, Sigmund close behind him. The tunnel led into a much wider chamber, utterly coated in the black biomass and lit by countless green pods. At the roof of the chamber was a colossal pod with something visibly resting within it, though it was impossible to discern what it was. At the centre of the room, a pod in hand, was Devon.

“Sigmund, Agate.” The man said, slowly rising to his feet with his back to his cultmates. “I hadn't expected you to follow me. I also hadn't expected you to bring Varmnn’s spark to this sacred place.”

“How did you know it was us?” Agate asked. Before Sigmund even had time to roll his eyes, Devon let out a low chuckle.

“They told me.” The rogue cultist said, planting his pod in the ground and turning to face the other men. “They have told me everything.”

“Devon.” Sigmund said warily, glancing around for whatever it was that he was referring to. “Come on, let's go home.”

“No, I'll be staying right here, and so shall both of you.” Devon said, grinning giddily. From behind the high priest and the scout, there was an audible squelching noise and Sigmund’s mind placed the clues together.

“Agate!” The head cultist shouted. “It's a genecreeper! It exists in and moves through the sludge!”

The two cultists dodged to either side as a bulge rushed through the biomass towards them before spikes erupted from the spot they had just vacated.

“Stop!” Devon demanded in, disturbingly, elderspeak. “I want them to see this.”

The genecreeper obliged, moving back to its hiding place at the roof of the cave. As it did, it drew Sigmund’s gaze upwards to the massive pod, just in time to see it tremble as whatever was inside began to strike at its cage.

“I want you to witness my creation. I want you to witness change. I want you to witness the future!” Devon cried as the pod cracked and then split open, bathing the cultists in a foul green liquid. From the pod emerged a pair of massive arms covered in matted white fur, propelling the creature into freedom and to the floor as Devon cackled joyfully.

It was massive, taking both its size and elongated torso from the remorhaz. It bore the four legs and tail of a xenomorph, and a pair of massive Wampa arms spurted from its shoulders. At first it seemed to lack the many legs of a remorhaz, but only closer inspection they were wrapped under its belly, tightly grasping an array of the green pods. The beast’s head bore heavy resemblance to that of an illithid, albeit one without eyes. Its tentacles flared out as it screeched at the interlopers, revealing an organ that resembled the tongue of a xenomorph, the typical toothy mouth replaced by a cephalopod’s beak.

“Meet Mother Chimera. I suggest you pray.”

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

Devon grinned wickedly as the abomination stalked the cultists, quickly getting used to her mutant form. Above them, the genecreeper squelched lazily across the roof, in no rush to interrupt the stand off below.

“Agate.” Sigmund hissed. “Do you have a weapon?”

“I have a dagger.” The scout replied, revealing the small blade. “I doubt it’ll do much good though.”

The high priest gulped, feeling a bead of sweat drip down his brow.

“Would you say you're fast?”

“Faster than most.” Agate whispered, giving a little nod.

“Good enough. Run.” Sigmund commanded.

“Huh?”

“Run, you fool! Run!” The high priest said, extending his hand. With a burst of telekinetic force, the lesser cultist was sent hurtling down the tunnel he had entered through.

“Honestly?” Devon giggled. “That won't be nearly enough. Mother Chimera, time for your first meal.”

The mutant reared back, letting loose an ear-splitting battlecry and thumping on her chest with her wampa arms before bounding down the tunnel after Agate.

“Now it's just you, me, and our friend up there.” The genewarper said, clapping his hands and giving Sigmund a deceptively pleasant smile.

“Devon, listen to me.” The high priest said, raising his arms. “Why are you fighting us? There's no need for this.”

“Please.” The man snorted. “I know what you've come here to do.”

Devon paused for a moment, looking up at the bulge in the biomass that betrayed the genecreeper’s location.

“You know, Mother Chimera is very dear to me. I first saw her in my nightmares.”

“Is that so?” Sigmund asked. He glanced around briefly for his torch, only to find it extinguished in the embryonic fluids that drained from the mutant’s massive birthing pod.

“Yes. I got this horrible feeling that she wouldn't let me rest until I brought her into reality. I haven't slept properly in a week, but I've come to love her.” Devon mused. “My friend up here revealed themself to me when I tried to kill that remorhaz.”

“It swallowed a bit of biomass and the genecreeper killed it from the inside, right?” The high priest asked, getting a little more nervous.

“Exactly. I suppose you're not the high priest for nothing, huh? Well, if you're so smart, I'm sure you'll have figured out that I won't let them go easily.” The rogue cultist said. “Enough talk, you'll want to save your breath for a nice big deathrattle.”

With that, the genecreeper shot down from the roof, traveling along the wall and rushing towards Sigmund. A maw full of razor-sharp fangs rose up from the ground as it rocketed towards the cultist, as if a shark were about to burst from the sludge and devour him. Panicking, the high priest did the first thing he thought to do and hurled himself aside, only to find himself lying prone in the embryonic pod fluid. He struggled to rise to his feet in the slippery liquid, even as the Outsider turned around for another charge.


Agate’s lungs were burning, his heart was racing, adrenaline surged through his veins as the entirety of his body roared at him to run even faster. It was remarkably similar to being chased by Opal. Behind him, Mother Chimera blasted through the thin corridors of the cave, managing to pull her massive bulk through the tunnels. The scout leaped over an oversized tarantula before glancing over his shoulder, noting that the mutant was slowly but surely gaining on him, somehow able to push through the tight caverns. The arachnid attempted to flee, but made little progress before Mother Chimera’s tentacles flared outward and her mouthparts shot forward, harpooning the creature and reeling it in.

“Fucking octopus people.” Agate spat. “Fucking Devon, fucking mutants. Fuck! Gal’skap, big guy, if you can hear me, I could really use some help here!”

As the cultist finished his impromptu prayer, his heart dropped. In his haste, he hadn't been considering where he was running and was about to find himself in a much wider chamber. To his relief, however, the cavern seemed to have been occupied at some point, with numerous ruins scattered about. The scout breathed another prayer as he dove through an empty window. A blood-curdling screech was audible outside as Agate rushed through the abandoned house, finding a small cellar door.

“Thank Gal’skap.” The cultist muttered as he ducked inside, pulling the cellar door shut and rushing down the stairs. The man barely had time to reach the bottom before he heard one of the walls upstairs explode as Mother Chimera threw herself through it. Agate backed away to the rear of the surprisingly large room, falling on his backside as a white-furred arm crashed through the door, shattering it as if it were sugar glass. Fortunately, the arm was almost as big as the doorway and a solid stone floor meant that she couldn't force her way in.

“Yeah, that's right!” The scout shouted. “Get lost, you big ugly freak of unnature!”

Agate took a matchbox from his robes and lit himself a light, suddenly finding himself in the company of a pair of small monsters, one resembling a large moth and the massive praying mantis that was sneaking up on it. The insects shrieked at the flame, fleeing in tandem, only for their escape to be cut short as Mother Chimera’s ‘tongue’ burst forward, impaling both creatures at once.

“Better them than me.” The cultist muttered, wondering how he should spend his time waiting for the mutant to lose interest. His thought were interrupted, however, by a low growl from Mother Chimera and a strange splashing sound. He glanced over, noticing an odd, strangely familiar green liquid leaking down the cellar steps. A sense of recognition dawned on him as a shuffling sound filled the air and an eight-legged creature skittered into the room on the roof. Its moth-like wings fluttered briefly as its legs flexed and it bared its mantis claws, its mandibles clicking hungrily.

The scout was so shocked that he barely noticed how low his match was burning until it singed his fingers, causing his to drop it with a yelp. Agate scrambled for another light, even as Mother Chimera and her mutant offspring screeched triumphantly and the sound of frenzied wingbeats filled the air moments before they were replaced by Agate’s horrified shrieks.


“Devon, think about this!” Sigmund cried, scrambling to his feet. “Let's just put all this behind us!”

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” The rogue cultist responded. “You'd love for me to put all this behind me, to pretend I never went through all the pain and effort, all so you can keep all this power to yourself!”

“What are you talking about?” The high priest asked, confused.

“I know that you wouldn't have given me those notes if I hadn't stolen them! You're a hoarder of knowledge, and I won't stand for it!” The genewarper cried, almost screamed as his Outsider ally emerged from the biomass as a colossal tendril, binding around Sigmund’s waist, holding him tight. The high priest struggled fruitlessly as the genecreeper held him just above the ground, about eye level with Devon.

“By Gal’skap, release me!” Sigmund demanded. The creature quivered slightly at the mad god’s name, but didn't release its prey.

“You know what I call someone who withholds information from his followers?” Devon spat. “A tyrant. And this is what I do to tyrants.”

The rogue cultist cocked his leg back before sending a kick flying, striking Sigmund between the legs. The cult leader saw stars as the blow hit home, hardly having time to recover before the genewarper slugged him in the face.

“Devo-” Sigmund croaked before his former subordinate wound his fist back and let a haymaker fly, sending the high priest careening backwards as the genecreeper released its grip. He barely registered that he was laying face down in the pod fluids as Devon strode over to him, his expression hard. The genewarper stared down at his leader, kicking him onto his back. The high priest mumbled something inaudible.

“Speak up.” Devon growled as he crouched down, leaning close.

“You. Absolute. FOOL!” Sigmund shrieked as he raised his tome before bringing it down on the rogue cultist’s head. Though the high priest wasn't the strongest man alive, neither was Devon, and the genewarper tumbled to the ground as the heavy book struck him. The cult leader was quickly upon the man, ‘thrashing’ him with weedy fists.

“You stupid bastard! You stupid, stupid bastard!” Sigmund wailed, on the verge of tears from the sheer emotional overload. “I was never going to withhold information from you! All you had to do was ask! I even came to you, you dumbass!”

“You're a liar!” Devon shot back, raising his arms to block the weak blows. “Why did you have all those notes in your room?”

“Good f’ing question!” Sigmund shrieked, raising his book and slapping its cover. “Why would I have those notes other than to hand them out? Everything I need is in here!”

Devon opened his mouth to argue before comprehension crossed his face, quickly followed by a look of horror.

“Wait, so…”

“That's right! All of this was for nothing!” Sigmund said, sniffling as he lowered his arms to his side.

“So you're not going to try to take my friend and Mother Chimera from me?”

“Of course not, you idiot!” Sigmund sobbed. “They're incredible! I'm so proud that you're one of my cultists, I never wanted to fight you!”

Devon’s chest filled with relief right as the gravity of the situation hit him. His own eyes began to water as he realised what he had done.

“Gods… I'm sorry, high priest! I… I'm so sorry!”

“It's okay, my friend.” Sigmund said, sniffing as he wiped a year from his eye. “Let's just all go back to the temple together. Mother Chimera and the genecreeper can live in the lower levels with the blight wraith, and your natural talent will surely grant you a high position.”

“That sounds good.” Devon said, smiling as the high priest climbed off him. He walked over to the wall of the cave as the genecreeper moved towards him and peeled off the wall, dropping into his arms as a portable chunk of biomass. “Come on, friend. Let's go home, you and me and Mother Chime- oh shit.”

Devon looked at Sigmund with an aghast look. The high priest returned it with a confused expression before he realised what the genewarper was shocked about.

“Agate!” The men cried in unison as they sprinted down the tunnel.


The scout shrieked as the mutant insect lunged for him, landing on his face and slashing at him with oversized claws. Thankfully, they weren't strong enough to cleave bone, but still carved painful gashes through his flesh. Agate fumbled in the dark for his belt, feeling the cold hilt of his dagger between his fingers. He ripped the weapon from its sheath and plunged it into the monster. The mutant wailed as the blade pierced its patchwork flesh, followed by a quieter cry as Agate struck again. It grew silent after the third stab, thought the panicked mindbreaker gave it another five just to be sure.

Once he was sure it was finally dead, the scout slumped against the back wall, panting heavily. He reached for his matchbox again, lighting another to ensure that no other surprises were about to sneak up on him. A moment later, he wished he hadn't. In the chaos, he had noticed the entrance to the cellar begin to boil and melt, viscous green liquid dripping from it.

“Xenomorph blood, of course.” The cultist groaned as he resigned himself to his fate. After a few moments, Mother Chimera surged through the weakened stone, throwing herself at Agate, crushing the corpse of her offspring under her weight. Her massive bulk gave him no room to escape as she lunged forward, using a xenomorph arm to pin him to the back wall. The scout could have sworn that the mutant laughed as she splayed her tentacles, revealing a twitching beak-tongue. He closed his eyes and waited for the end…

However, it didn't come. In the distance, a voice could be heard shouting in a strange, unnatural tongue, that Agate vaguely recognised at the language that Sigmund incanted in. Mother Chimera jumped a little at the voice, slithering backwards out of the cellar, bringing Agate with her. The scout was met with an unexpected sight as he came face to face with Devon and Sigmund, both men bearing a black eye and embarrassed smiles.

“Turns out there was a bit of a misunderstanding.” Devon said, unable to meet Agate’s gaze as Mother Chimera gently put him down.

“A misunderstanding?!” The scout exclaimed. “I almost got skewered because of this ‘misunderstanding’!”

“Yeah, but you didn't.” Sigmund suggested with a shrug.

“I… Whatever...” Agate sighed. “At least it's better than pissing off Opal. Let's just go home, I need a shower.”

“Agreed.” The two other cultists said, nodding and shuddering at the feeling of embryonic fluid seeping through their robes.