The Jungle's Claw #043
General Summary
Game date: 14th day of the Bull, Year 13945
XP TRACKER
Six days had crawled through Grizburg's poisoned hours since the adventurers first stood before Slazgar Two-Eyes in his forge-cathedral of blackened iron. Six days in which the city had begun its work upon them—testing, measuring, reshaping those who would dare serve its most dangerous master. The intervening time had scattered the party like bones cast for divination, each member drawn along separate paths that wound through the industrial labyrinth toward purposes both known and hidden.
Fouk Shadim and Thronn the Cursed had proven themselves capable of independent operation, their reconnaissance of Barnacle Hill yielding intelligence on Mokresh Coppercoil's suspicious activities and the three-circles gang whose symbols marked the district's elevated streets like territorial brands. Valdin had departed for Blackspire on diplomatic business befitting his station as emissary of the Twin-Headed Empire, his acid-scarred armor and calculating demeanor opening doors that remained forever closed to those of lesser credential. But Sherman—the towering Goliath whose defiance had earned Slazgar's grudging approval—had vanished into circumstances far darker than any diplomatic errand.
What transpired during Sherman's absence would become whispered legend among Dreadmil's workforce, a cautionary tale of what befell those who wandered Grizburg's streets without proper documentation or the protection of established powers. The Goliath's reckless exploration of the city's forbidden quarters had drawn the attention of ICE—the Department of Intimidation, Cruelty, and Expulsion—whose agents prowled the districts seeking precisely the sort of undocumented outlander that Sherman represented. A ten-foot Goliath with undead puppets for hands and the social graces of a war-hammer made for easy prey.
The detention facility where Sherman found himself was no mere prison. Deep within Grizburg's bureaucratic bowels existed laboratories where the city's rejected and forgotten were transformed into instruments of arcane utility. Here labored practitioners whose names were spoken only in whispers—flesh-sculptors and rune-carvers who viewed sentient beings as raw material for experimentation. The local doctor who claimed Sherman had a name that Slazgar refused to speak aloud, though his works were known throughout the Under-City: the Rune Slaves of Grizburg.
The procedure had already progressed seventy-five percent toward completion when Kurgan and Slazgar intervened. Through means neither violent nor entirely legal, they extracted Sherman from the experimental chamber—though not before irreversible modifications had been carved into his very being. What emerged from that rescue bore only superficial resemblance to the Goliath who had spat defiance into Slazgar's face mere days before.
Sherman now stood seven feet rather than ten, his leg bones surgically shortened by practitioners who viewed height as excess material requiring correction. Across every inch of visible flesh spread a geography of scars arranged in patterns too deliberate for random violence—curse-runes inscribed in languages that predated mortal speech, their syllables carved into skin and sealed with salves that prevented healing. The words themselves held power: any who gazed upon Sherman's exposed form felt their sanity strain against the weight of comprehension, their minds recoiling from symbols that communicated meaning through channels no mortal psyche was designed to receive.
Most disturbing were the faces. Stitched across Sherman's back in a grotesque mosaic hung the preserved visages of the missing—twenty or thirty countenances harvested from those who had vanished into Grizburg's darker precincts. These faces retained some terrible fraction of awareness; when Sherman removed his blood-soaked cloak, they screamed in voices that carried no sound yet penetrated directly into the consciousness of observers. The effect combined with the curse-runes created a weapon of psychological devastation that could shatter the sanity of any who witnessed it.
The puppets that had served as Sherman's hands—the undead remnants of his brother Gherman and the elf Vorrin Shadowleaf—were no longer mere attachments. The flesh-sculptor had fused them permanently to Sherman's wrists, their spines now continuous with his own nervous system, their skeletal fingers serving as the only digits he possessed. They fed him with their tiny hands. They spoke for him when his altered voice failed. And Vorrin, trapped eternally against the flesh of the being he most despised, had become a constant fountain of bitter mockery that served as both weapon and curse.
Slazgar's medical staff had salvaged what they could from the incomplete procedure, stabilizing Sherman's condition while enhancing certain aspects the original practitioner had begun. The result was a creature that existed somewhere between Cenobite and construct—a rune slave whose transformation had been interrupted before completion, leaving him possessed of will and intelligence that such creations were never meant to retain. His manner of speech had shifted from simple to strange, his words emerging in cadences that suggested new pathways carved through modified consciousness.
While Sherman endured his ordeal beneath Grizburg's streets, Valdin conducted business of considerably more refined nature. The Dragonborn diplomat's journey from Dreadmil to Blackspire took him eastward through districts that rose in both elevation and prestige, culminating in the governmental quarter whose architecture spoke of power accumulated across millennia. The Spire itself resembled nothing so much as the cover of some forbidden grimoire given physical form—dark angles and impossible geometries that suggested the building had not been constructed but rather coerced into existence.
Within those obsidian halls, Valdin presented himself to representatives of the Council of Thirteen, the Rust Barons whose industrial domains encompassed all that Grizburg produced and consumed. His credentials as emissary of the Twin-Headed Empire opened conversations that would have been impossible for those lacking such documentation, though the substance of those discussions remained carefully guarded. Trade agreements. Technology exchanges. The careful dance of diplomacy between powers who recognized each other as potential adversaries even while maintaining profitable relations.
What the Rust Barons did not know—could not know—was the true nature of Valdin's mission. The Twin-Headed Empire he served maintained dual purposes for all its diplomatic personnel: the official business of trade and treaty-making, and the unofficial intelligence-gathering that would prove essential should the Empire's leadership ever decide to transform alliance into conquest. Valdin's acid-resistant armor and his careful observations of Grizburg's defensive capabilities served purposes that extended far beyond mere commercial interest.
The return journey proved more eventful than the diplomatic meetings themselves. Valdin chose the cable car route that would carry him above the city's toxic streets, offering a bird's-eye perspective on districts he had only observed from ground level. The conveyance swayed gently as it crossed over Sinkhole Ward—the drowned neighborhood that had once been called Northward before the ground itself surrendered to chemical erosion and collapsed into the poisoned waters below.
Something moved in that flooded ruin. Through gaps in the cable car's protective screens, Valdin observed patterns of activity that should not have existed in a district officially declared uninhabitable. Lights flickered in structures supposedly abandoned. Figures traversed walkways that connected buildings rising from the toxic waters like the bones of some half-submerged leviathan. Whatever organization operated in the Sinkhole Ward did so with enough confidence to ignore the danger of discovery—or perhaps with enough power to ensure such discovery never led to consequence.
Valdin summoned a messenger raven before the cable car completed its journey, dispatching coded intelligence to Dreadmil that would warrant further investigation. The Sinkhole Ward's secrets had attracted attention from one whose diplomatic training had taught him to recognize the signs of conspiracy operating in plain sight.
The party reunited at the Listing Merchant Tavern in Barnacle Hill, where Fouk and Thronn had established their reconnaissance position days earlier. The landlocked clipper ship that housed the establishment tilted at its perpetual angle, forcing new arrivals to adjust their balance as they navigated the maze of nautical salvage that served as furniture and decoration. Ship's bells announced each entrance, their bronze voices marking time in naval fashion regardless of the hour.
Sherman's arrival drew immediate attention. Even shrouded in a blood-stained cloak that concealed his transformed physiology, the altered Goliath moved with a lurching gait that spoke of legs no longer proportioned to their original design. His companions recognized him only by context—the location of their meeting, the familiar shape of the undead puppets that still served as his hands. Everything else had been remade by practitioners whose vision of improvement bore no resemblance to mercy.
Thronn the Cursed observed his transformed ally with the pragmatic assessment of one who had survived the Bloodclaw Warband's ritual practices. He had witnessed orc shamans reshape flesh for purposes both martial and mystical, though nothing in his experience quite matched the systematic horror that had been visited upon Sherman. The half-orc ranger understood that whatever the Goliath had become, he remained an asset whose new capabilities might prove decisive in conflicts yet to come.
The debriefing that followed established the current state of their collective mission. Fouk relayed intelligence gathered during his observation of Mokresh Coppercoil's laboratory—the replacement or impersonation of the missing artificer, the three-circles gang's territorial markings, the sophisticated chemical operations that suggested connections far beyond simple drug manufacturing. Sharp Ida and Captain Saltwise had provided fragments of useful information, though the full picture remained obscured by the careful secrecy that characterized all serious business in Grizburg.
While his companions exchanged intelligence reports, Thronn indulged an impulse that spoke to his ranger's soul despite the utterly alien environment. The canals of Barnacle Hill ran with waters that could dissolve steel and mutate flesh, yet evolution had populated those toxic channels with creatures adapted to conditions that would kill any normal organism. The street children who had befriended Fouk shared their knowledge of local fishing techniques—what hooks to use, what depths to avoid, what creatures might be harvested without inviting disaster.
The tessellated serpent that Thronn extracted from the murky waters defied easy classification. Its body possessed the sinuous flexibility of an eel, yet its scales shimmered with metallic properties that suggested the creature was as much construct as organism. Centuries of chemical pollution had forced life itself to adapt in directions no natural evolution would have chosen, producing organisms that existed at the boundary between flesh and mechanism.
The catch represented more than mere curiosity. Thronn's successful extraction demonstrated that even in Grizburg's corrupted environment, the ranger's skills retained value. The tessellated serpent's metallic scales would fetch reasonable price from artificers who understood their properties—a small victory that reminded the half-orc of his capabilities even while highlighting how far he had traveled from the jungles and forests where such skills had developed.
The six days of separation had yielded more than individual adventures. Slazgar had assigned each member of the party quarters within Dreadmil itself, transforming them from hired contractors to resident operatives. Fouk received an artificer's laboratory whose equipment exceeded anything he had previously worked with, the tools and components necessary for crafting positioned alongside supplies of materials whose origins bore careful examination. The facilities represented both opportunity and obligation—Slazgar's generosity always carried expectations of return.
The bastion they had been granted occupied a secured wing of Dreadmil's residential section, far removed from the industrial operations that filled the facility's lower levels with their constant rhythm of hammering and processing. From these quarters, the party could observe the comings and goings of Slazgar's workforce while maintaining separation from the more disturbing aspects of the goblin lord's business. The screams that occasionally echoed from deeper chambers served as reminder that their comfortable accommodations existed within a structure built for purposes that bore no examination.
With the party reassembled and Sherman's transformation explained—if not entirely understood—attention returned to the mission that had originally scattered them across Grizburg's districts. Mokresh Coppercoil remained unaccounted for, his debt to Slazgar unpaid, his laboratory continuing operations under circumstances that suggested either replacement or coercion. The three-circles gang whose symbols marked Barnacle Hill's elevated streets represented a variable whose influence extended beyond simple territorial control, their connection to the Eyes of Tezra hinted at by intelligence that Thronn alone fully understood.
The golem fighting pits of the Under-City beckoned as well, their brass-and-blood spectacles offering both entertainment and opportunity for those seeking to understand the soul forge technology that powered Grizburg's most sophisticated constructs. Captain Saltwise had provided introduction to the local betting operations, establishing connections that might prove valuable when the party eventually required access to piloting techniques essential for their descent into the Whispering Depths.
Outside, Dreadmil's thirteen smokestacks continued their endless exhalations, painting Grizburg's perpetual twilight with clouds of ash and chemical vapor. The Clockwork Titan watched from across the Sko River with eyes that some swore had glowed during the nights of Sherman's transformation, as though the ancient construct recognized kinship with one whose flesh had been remade by forces that blurred the boundary between organic and mechanical. The city continued its work of transformation upon all who dwelt within its corroded embrace, patient as poison, inexorable as rust.
The adventurers had proven their willingness to serve Slazgar Two-Eyes. Now remained the question of whether they could prove their capability—and whether the price of that proof would leave anything of their original selves intact.
Tessellated Serpent - A metallic eel-like creature extracted from Barnacle Hill's toxic canals. Its shimmering scales possess properties valuable to artificers for armor components or mechanical augmentation. Estimated value: 15-25 gold pieces depending on buyer and intended application.
Quarters at Dreadmil - Each party member has been assigned permanent lodging within Slazgar's fortress-factory, including:Fouk Shadim: Artificer's laboratory with advanced equipment
All party members: Secured residential quarters with basic amenities
Access to common areas and training facilities
Six days of rations consumed (party-wide, during separation period)
Filter mask cartridges depleted and replaced (standard maintenance)
Medical supplies expended during Sherman's stabilization at Dreadmil
Canal taxi fare: Barnacle Hill round-trip for Fouk and Thronn
Cable car fare: Blackspire to Barnacle Hill for Valdin
Rune Slave Mechanics: Develop level-appropriate abilities for Sherman's transformation, including:Insanity-inducing presence when unclothed (suggest Wisdom saving throw, escalating DC per round of exposure)
Consider implementing "Dark Bargains" system from The Crooked Moon sourcebook for balancing benefits with drawbacks
Determine hit point cost or other resource expenditure for using curse-rune abilities
Establish limitations on how often the screaming faces ability can be used
Sherman's Physical Changes:Height reduced from 10 feet to 7 feet (leg bones surgically shortened)
Puppets (Gherman and Vorrin) permanently fused to wrists
Curse runes covering entire body
20-30 preserved faces stitched to back
Enhanced intelligence (specific modifier TBD)
Altered speech patterns
Sinkhole Ward Investigation: Valdin's observation of activity in the supposedly abandoned district warrants follow-up. Consider developing:Faction operating in Sinkhole Ward
Connection to existing plot threads (Eyes of Tezra, three-circles gang, other)
Potential side mission or main plot advancement
Twin-Headed Empire Political Development: The suggestion that a single puppet master controls both emperors through a senate of shadows opens significant worldbuilding opportunities for Valdin's backstory and potential future plot threads.
Timeline Adjustment: The campaign timeline has been retconned so that six days have passed since Session 40 (the Slazgar interview), rather than the originally suggested one or two days. This allows for Sherman's transformation to occur within a plausible timeframe while maintaining narrative coherence.
Golem Fighting/Soul Forge Technology: The brass pits and golem piloting remain important elements for future sessions, particularly as the party prepares for the eventual Whispering Depths expedition. Consider developing:Specific mechanics for golem piloting
Training montage opportunities
Connection to Mokresh Coppercoil investigation
Source Material Reference: The Crooked Moon sourcebook was recommended for Dark Bargains mechanics that could inform Sherman's new abilities. This Halloween-themed D&D setting based on "Over the Garden Wall" contains boon/flaw systems appropriate for supernatural transformation effects.
Timeline Retcon: Six days have passed since Session 40 (Slazgar interview), not one or two as originally indicated.
Current Game Date: 14th day of the Bull, Year 13945
Session Duration: This session covered primarily backstory development, character transformation, and party reconvergence rather than real-time Events. The majority of action occurred "off-screen" during the six-day separation period.
Next Session Status: Party reunited at the Listing Merchant Tavern in Barnacle Hill, prepared to continue the Mokresh Coppercoil investigation. DM noted intention to run actual combat encounters in upcoming sessions.
No additional treasure beyond the tessellated serpent specimen. This session focused on character development, worldbuilding, and party reconvergence rather than combat or exploration that would yield traditional treasure rewards.
Report Date: 13 Dec 2025
Primary Location: Barnacle Hill
Secondary Location: Dreadmil, Blackspire, Sinkhole Ward BöötMóöntch's detention by the Department of Intimidation, Cruelty, and Expulsion concluded within hours rather than days—though not through any recognition of native status. Born in the toxic borderlands of the northeastern Kanonos Region, across the River Sko from Grizburg proper, the corrupted Aasimar possessed no citizenship papers to shield them from the flesh-sculptors' interest. What saved them was credentials of a different sort: the weathered documentation of a Veteran Ghostslayer trained by Mara Duskbane herself, the Brass Pass Token from Kurgan's network that opened doors throughout Nolavor's criminal underworld, and most crucially, their specialized capabilities as an undead-hunter in a city built atop the Whispering Depths. When BöötMóöntch demonstrated their Hunter's Bane abilities and produced their meticulously maintained Undead Registry of Kanonos, the processing magistrate recognized value that transcended simple deportation quotas. Their corrupted celestial heritage—that unsettling radiance which drank light rather than shed it—resonated with the necromantic energies seeping through Grizburg's industrial foundations in ways the city's more clandestine agencies found intriguing. Rather than consignment to the laboratories, BöötMóöntch found themselves released into mandatory consultation with representatives from the Echo Chambers beneath Blackspire, where agents of the Eyes of Tezra maintained their surveillance operations. The meeting lasted three days and left the Blood Hunter with new contacts among Grizburg's supernatural intelligence networks, fresh intelligence regarding undead manifestations in the Sinkhole Ward, and the distinct impression that forces far older than the Rust Barons had taken professional interest in their unique corruption. Sharp Ida:
Morvosa's Chamber 
Ropewatch: 
Consciousness Transfer: 
Three Circles Gang: 
Ice Guard Barracks 
Grizburg Skyline: 
Escape through under levels: 
Ice Facility: 
View from Barnacle Hill: 
ICE Detention Hall: 
Heart of Gears Journal: 
Flooded Chambers Undercity: 
Workshop Exterior: 
Workshop Interior
Doppleganger/Mokresh at work: 
Eyes Cultists: 
Workshop Storage: 
Mokresh Quarters: 
Six days had crawled through Grizburg's poisoned hours since the adventurers first stood before Slazgar Two-Eyes in his forge-cathedral of blackened iron. Six days in which the city had begun its work upon them—testing, measuring, reshaping those who would dare serve its most dangerous master. The intervening time had scattered the party like bones cast for divination, each member drawn along separate paths that wound through the industrial labyrinth toward purposes both known and hidden.
Fouk Shadim and Thronn the Cursed had proven themselves capable of independent operation, their reconnaissance of Barnacle Hill yielding intelligence on Mokresh Coppercoil's suspicious activities and the three-circles gang whose symbols marked the district's elevated streets like territorial brands. Valdin had departed for Blackspire on diplomatic business befitting his station as emissary of the Twin-Headed Empire, his acid-scarred armor and calculating demeanor opening doors that remained forever closed to those of lesser credential. But Sherman—the towering Goliath whose defiance had earned Slazgar's grudging approval—had vanished into circumstances far darker than any diplomatic errand.
The Department of Intimidation, Cruelty, and Expulsion
What transpired during Sherman's absence would become whispered legend among Dreadmil's workforce, a cautionary tale of what befell those who wandered Grizburg's streets without proper documentation or the protection of established powers. The Goliath's reckless exploration of the city's forbidden quarters had drawn the attention of ICE—the Department of Intimidation, Cruelty, and Expulsion—whose agents prowled the districts seeking precisely the sort of undocumented outlander that Sherman represented. A ten-foot Goliath with undead puppets for hands and the social graces of a war-hammer made for easy prey.
The detention facility where Sherman found himself was no mere prison. Deep within Grizburg's bureaucratic bowels existed laboratories where the city's rejected and forgotten were transformed into instruments of arcane utility. Here labored practitioners whose names were spoken only in whispers—flesh-sculptors and rune-carvers who viewed sentient beings as raw material for experimentation. The local doctor who claimed Sherman had a name that Slazgar refused to speak aloud, though his works were known throughout the Under-City: the Rune Slaves of Grizburg.
They cut the words into livin' flesh, carve curses deep as bone. Most don't survive th' first night. Those what do? They ain't entirely themselves no more.
The procedure had already progressed seventy-five percent toward completion when Kurgan and Slazgar intervened. Through means neither violent nor entirely legal, they extracted Sherman from the experimental chamber—though not before irreversible modifications had been carved into his very being. What emerged from that rescue bore only superficial resemblance to the Goliath who had spat defiance into Slazgar's face mere days before.
The Transformation
Sherman now stood seven feet rather than ten, his leg bones surgically shortened by practitioners who viewed height as excess material requiring correction. Across every inch of visible flesh spread a geography of scars arranged in patterns too deliberate for random violence—curse-runes inscribed in languages that predated mortal speech, their syllables carved into skin and sealed with salves that prevented healing. The words themselves held power: any who gazed upon Sherman's exposed form felt their sanity strain against the weight of comprehension, their minds recoiling from symbols that communicated meaning through channels no mortal psyche was designed to receive.
Most disturbing were the faces. Stitched across Sherman's back in a grotesque mosaic hung the preserved visages of the missing—twenty or thirty countenances harvested from those who had vanished into Grizburg's darker precincts. These faces retained some terrible fraction of awareness; when Sherman removed his blood-soaked cloak, they screamed in voices that carried no sound yet penetrated directly into the consciousness of observers. The effect combined with the curse-runes created a weapon of psychological devastation that could shatter the sanity of any who witnessed it.
Whoever the sick bastard was that got hold of him, he was trying to create something beautiful in his own twisted way. A walking curse. A necronomicon given flesh and made to walk among the living.
The puppets that had served as Sherman's hands—the undead remnants of his brother Gherman and the elf Vorrin Shadowleaf—were no longer mere attachments. The flesh-sculptor had fused them permanently to Sherman's wrists, their spines now continuous with his own nervous system, their skeletal fingers serving as the only digits he possessed. They fed him with their tiny hands. They spoke for him when his altered voice failed. And Vorrin, trapped eternally against the flesh of the being he most despised, had become a constant fountain of bitter mockery that served as both weapon and curse.
Slazgar's medical staff had salvaged what they could from the incomplete procedure, stabilizing Sherman's condition while enhancing certain aspects the original practitioner had begun. The result was a creature that existed somewhere between Cenobite and construct—a rune slave whose transformation had been interrupted before completion, leaving him possessed of will and intelligence that such creations were never meant to retain. His manner of speech had shifted from simple to strange, his words emerging in cadences that suggested new pathways carved through modified consciousness.
The Diplomat's Descent
While Sherman endured his ordeal beneath Grizburg's streets, Valdin conducted business of considerably more refined nature. The Dragonborn diplomat's journey from Dreadmil to Blackspire took him eastward through districts that rose in both elevation and prestige, culminating in the governmental quarter whose architecture spoke of power accumulated across millennia. The Spire itself resembled nothing so much as the cover of some forbidden grimoire given physical form—dark angles and impossible geometries that suggested the building had not been constructed but rather coerced into existence.
Within those obsidian halls, Valdin presented himself to representatives of the Council of Thirteen, the Rust Barons whose industrial domains encompassed all that Grizburg produced and consumed. His credentials as emissary of the Twin-Headed Empire opened conversations that would have been impossible for those lacking such documentation, though the substance of those discussions remained carefully guarded. Trade agreements. Technology exchanges. The careful dance of diplomacy between powers who recognized each other as potential adversaries even while maintaining profitable relations.
What the Rust Barons did not know—could not know—was the true nature of Valdin's mission. The Twin-Headed Empire he served maintained dual purposes for all its diplomatic personnel: the official business of trade and treaty-making, and the unofficial intelligence-gathering that would prove essential should the Empire's leadership ever decide to transform alliance into conquest. Valdin's acid-resistant armor and his careful observations of Grizburg's defensive capabilities served purposes that extended far beyond mere commercial interest.
The two emperors present a unified face to the world, but I have begun to suspect the truth runs deeper. Perhaps not two heads sharing one body, but one puppeteer controlling two marionettes. A senate of shadows pulling strings that the crowned heads never see.
The return journey proved more eventful than the diplomatic meetings themselves. Valdin chose the cable car route that would carry him above the city's toxic streets, offering a bird's-eye perspective on districts he had only observed from ground level. The conveyance swayed gently as it crossed over Sinkhole Ward—the drowned neighborhood that had once been called Northward before the ground itself surrendered to chemical erosion and collapsed into the poisoned waters below.
Something moved in that flooded ruin. Through gaps in the cable car's protective screens, Valdin observed patterns of activity that should not have existed in a district officially declared uninhabitable. Lights flickered in structures supposedly abandoned. Figures traversed walkways that connected buildings rising from the toxic waters like the bones of some half-submerged leviathan. Whatever organization operated in the Sinkhole Ward did so with enough confidence to ignore the danger of discovery—or perhaps with enough power to ensure such discovery never led to consequence.
Valdin summoned a messenger raven before the cable car completed its journey, dispatching coded intelligence to Dreadmil that would warrant further investigation. The Sinkhole Ward's secrets had attracted attention from one whose diplomatic training had taught him to recognize the signs of conspiracy operating in plain sight.
Reconvergence at the Listing Merchant
The party reunited at the Listing Merchant Tavern in Barnacle Hill, where Fouk and Thronn had established their reconnaissance position days earlier. The landlocked clipper ship that housed the establishment tilted at its perpetual angle, forcing new arrivals to adjust their balance as they navigated the maze of nautical salvage that served as furniture and decoration. Ship's bells announced each entrance, their bronze voices marking time in naval fashion regardless of the hour.
Sherman's arrival drew immediate attention. Even shrouded in a blood-stained cloak that concealed his transformed physiology, the altered Goliath moved with a lurching gait that spoke of legs no longer proportioned to their original design. His companions recognized him only by context—the location of their meeting, the familiar shape of the undead puppets that still served as his hands. Everything else had been remade by practitioners whose vision of improvement bore no resemblance to mercy.
Thronn the Cursed observed his transformed ally with the pragmatic assessment of one who had survived the Bloodclaw Warband's ritual practices. He had witnessed orc shamans reshape flesh for purposes both martial and mystical, though nothing in his experience quite matched the systematic horror that had been visited upon Sherman. The half-orc ranger understood that whatever the Goliath had become, he remained an asset whose new capabilities might prove decisive in conflicts yet to come.
The debriefing that followed established the current state of their collective mission. Fouk relayed intelligence gathered during his observation of Mokresh Coppercoil's laboratory—the replacement or impersonation of the missing artificer, the three-circles gang's territorial markings, the sophisticated chemical operations that suggested connections far beyond simple drug manufacturing. Sharp Ida and Captain Saltwise had provided fragments of useful information, though the full picture remained obscured by the careful secrecy that characterized all serious business in Grizburg.
The Waters of Grizburg
While his companions exchanged intelligence reports, Thronn indulged an impulse that spoke to his ranger's soul despite the utterly alien environment. The canals of Barnacle Hill ran with waters that could dissolve steel and mutate flesh, yet evolution had populated those toxic channels with creatures adapted to conditions that would kill any normal organism. The street children who had befriended Fouk shared their knowledge of local fishing techniques—what hooks to use, what depths to avoid, what creatures might be harvested without inviting disaster.
The tessellated serpent that Thronn extracted from the murky waters defied easy classification. Its body possessed the sinuous flexibility of an eel, yet its scales shimmered with metallic properties that suggested the creature was as much construct as organism. Centuries of chemical pollution had forced life itself to adapt in directions no natural evolution would have chosen, producing organisms that existed at the boundary between flesh and mechanism.
That there's what we call a tessellated serpent. They fetch good coin from the artificers—scales can be worked into armor or components. Some folk fashion 'em into codpieces, if you can believe it. Just got to get measurements for whoever's buying.
The catch represented more than mere curiosity. Thronn's successful extraction demonstrated that even in Grizburg's corrupted environment, the ranger's skills retained value. The tessellated serpent's metallic scales would fetch reasonable price from artificers who understood their properties—a small victory that reminded the half-orc of his capabilities even while highlighting how far he had traveled from the jungles and forests where such skills had developed.
Quarters at Dreadmil
The six days of separation had yielded more than individual adventures. Slazgar had assigned each member of the party quarters within Dreadmil itself, transforming them from hired contractors to resident operatives. Fouk received an artificer's laboratory whose equipment exceeded anything he had previously worked with, the tools and components necessary for crafting positioned alongside supplies of materials whose origins bore careful examination. The facilities represented both opportunity and obligation—Slazgar's generosity always carried expectations of return.
The bastion they had been granted occupied a secured wing of Dreadmil's residential section, far removed from the industrial operations that filled the facility's lower levels with their constant rhythm of hammering and processing. From these quarters, the party could observe the comings and goings of Slazgar's workforce while maintaining separation from the more disturbing aspects of the goblin lord's business. The screams that occasionally echoed from deeper chambers served as reminder that their comfortable accommodations existed within a structure built for purposes that bore no examination.
The Mission Continues
With the party reassembled and Sherman's transformation explained—if not entirely understood—attention returned to the mission that had originally scattered them across Grizburg's districts. Mokresh Coppercoil remained unaccounted for, his debt to Slazgar unpaid, his laboratory continuing operations under circumstances that suggested either replacement or coercion. The three-circles gang whose symbols marked Barnacle Hill's elevated streets represented a variable whose influence extended beyond simple territorial control, their connection to the Eyes of Tezra hinted at by intelligence that Thronn alone fully understood.
The golem fighting pits of the Under-City beckoned as well, their brass-and-blood spectacles offering both entertainment and opportunity for those seeking to understand the soul forge technology that powered Grizburg's most sophisticated constructs. Captain Saltwise had provided introduction to the local betting operations, establishing connections that might prove valuable when the party eventually required access to piloting techniques essential for their descent into the Whispering Depths.
Outside, Dreadmil's thirteen smokestacks continued their endless exhalations, painting Grizburg's perpetual twilight with clouds of ash and chemical vapor. The Clockwork Titan watched from across the Sko River with eyes that some swore had glowed during the nights of Sherman's transformation, as though the ancient construct recognized kinship with one whose flesh had been remade by forces that blurred the boundary between organic and mechanical. The city continued its work of transformation upon all who dwelt within its corroded embrace, patient as poison, inexorable as rust.
The adventurers had proven their willingness to serve Slazgar Two-Eyes. Now remained the question of whether they could prove their capability—and whether the price of that proof would leave anything of their original selves intact.
Treasure and Items Found
Tessellated Serpent - A metallic eel-like creature extracted from Barnacle Hill's toxic canals. Its shimmering scales possess properties valuable to artificers for armor components or mechanical augmentation. Estimated value: 15-25 gold pieces depending on buyer and intended application.
Quarters at Dreadmil - Each party member has been assigned permanent lodging within Slazgar's fortress-factory, including:
Consumed Items
Six days of rations consumed (party-wide, during separation period)
Filter mask cartridges depleted and replaced (standard maintenance)
Medical supplies expended during Sherman's stabilization at Dreadmil
Canal taxi fare: Barnacle Hill round-trip for Fouk and Thronn
Cable car fare: Blackspire to Barnacle Hill for Valdin
Notes to Transcript
Rune Slave Mechanics: Develop level-appropriate abilities for Sherman's transformation, including:
Sherman's Physical Changes:
Sinkhole Ward Investigation: Valdin's observation of activity in the supposedly abandoned district warrants follow-up. Consider developing:
Twin-Headed Empire Political Development: The suggestion that a single puppet master controls both emperors through a senate of shadows opens significant worldbuilding opportunities for Valdin's backstory and potential future plot threads.
Timeline Adjustment: The campaign timeline has been retconned so that six days have passed since Session 40 (the Slazgar interview), rather than the originally suggested one or two days. This allows for Sherman's transformation to occur within a plausible timeframe while maintaining narrative coherence.
Golem Fighting/Soul Forge Technology: The brass pits and golem piloting remain important elements for future sessions, particularly as the party prepares for the eventual Whispering Depths expedition. Consider developing:
Source Material Reference: The Crooked Moon sourcebook was recommended for Dark Bargains mechanics that could inform Sherman's new abilities. This Halloween-themed D&D setting based on "Over the Garden Wall" contains boon/flaw systems appropriate for supernatural transformation effects.
Time Progression
Timeline Retcon: Six days have passed since Session 40 (Slazgar interview), not one or two as originally indicated.
Current Game Date: 14th day of the Bull, Year 13945
Session Duration: This session covered primarily backstory development, character transformation, and party reconvergence rather than real-time Events. The majority of action occurred "off-screen" during the six-day separation period.
Next Session Status: Party reunited at the Listing Merchant Tavern in Barnacle Hill, prepared to continue the Mokresh Coppercoil investigation. DM noted intention to run actual combat encounters in upcoming sessions.
Additional Treasure Assignment
No additional treasure beyond the tessellated serpent specimen. This session focused on character development, worldbuilding, and party reconvergence rather than combat or exploration that would yield traditional treasure rewards.
Memorable Quotes
Basically, the body looks like a pile of necronomicons that were stitched together.
The one thing that I forgot to say was whoever the sick bastard was that got hold of him has been stitching faces to his back of missing people, and the faces scream when he pulls off his robe.
There's certain doors you can't get through unless you have these runes on your body.
It could actually be like maybe the Roman Senate—there's actually a group of people that are just actually behind everything.
That there's what we call a tessellated serpent. They fetch good coin from the artificers.
Report Date: 13 Dec 2025
Primary Location: Barnacle Hill
Secondary Location: Dreadmil, Blackspire, Sinkhole Ward BöötMóöntch's detention by the Department of Intimidation, Cruelty, and Expulsion concluded within hours rather than days—though not through any recognition of native status. Born in the toxic borderlands of the northeastern Kanonos Region, across the River Sko from Grizburg proper, the corrupted Aasimar possessed no citizenship papers to shield them from the flesh-sculptors' interest. What saved them was credentials of a different sort: the weathered documentation of a Veteran Ghostslayer trained by Mara Duskbane herself, the Brass Pass Token from Kurgan's network that opened doors throughout Nolavor's criminal underworld, and most crucially, their specialized capabilities as an undead-hunter in a city built atop the Whispering Depths. When BöötMóöntch demonstrated their Hunter's Bane abilities and produced their meticulously maintained Undead Registry of Kanonos, the processing magistrate recognized value that transcended simple deportation quotas. Their corrupted celestial heritage—that unsettling radiance which drank light rather than shed it—resonated with the necromantic energies seeping through Grizburg's industrial foundations in ways the city's more clandestine agencies found intriguing. Rather than consignment to the laboratories, BöötMóöntch found themselves released into mandatory consultation with representatives from the Echo Chambers beneath Blackspire, where agents of the Eyes of Tezra maintained their surveillance operations. The meeting lasted three days and left the Blood Hunter with new contacts among Grizburg's supernatural intelligence networks, fresh intelligence regarding undead manifestations in the Sinkhole Ward, and the distinct impression that forces far older than the Rust Barons had taken professional interest in their unique corruption. Sharp Ida:
Rewards Granted
Experience Points Awarded
Sherman
Surviving Rune Slave Procedure: 1,500 XP for enduring transformation that would have killed lesser beings
Maintaining Identity: 500 XP for retaining self-awareness through incomplete rune slave conversion
Character Development: 300 XP for dramatic transformation with significant roleplay implications
Sherman Total: 2,300 XP
Valdin
Diplomatic Mission Completion: 800 XP for successfully conducting business with Council of Thirteen representatives
Intelligence Gathering: 600 XP for observing suspicious activity in Sinkhole Ward and reporting to Dreadmil
Worldbuilding Contribution: 400 XP for developing Twin-Headed Empire political intrigue
Independent Operation: 500 XP for navigating Grizburg's political apparatus without party support
Valdin Total: 2,300 XP
Fouk Shadim
Continued Investigation: 400 XP for maintaining surveillance position in Barnacle Hill
Street Contact Development: 500 XP for cultivating relationships with local informants through illicit substances
Mission Coordination: 400 XP for serving as intelligence hub during party separation
Reconnaissance Excellence: 500 XP for identifying Mokresh's replacement and three-circles gang territorial patterns
Urban Survival: 500 XP for successfully navigating Barnacle Hill's maritime customs and Rope Watch patrols
Fouk Total: 2,300 XP
Thronn the Cursed
Environmental Adaptation: 500 XP for successfully fishing in Grizburg's toxic waterways
Local Knowledge Acquisition: 400 XP for learning Barnacle Hill fishing techniques from street children
Resource Acquisition: 400 XP for obtaining tessellated serpent specimen of commercial value
Intelligence Support: 500 XP for gathering information at the Listing Merchant alongside Fouk
Eyes of Tezra Connection: 500 XP for recognizing potential links between the three-circles gang and his father's cult
Thronn Total: 2,300 XP
BöötMóöntch
ICE Detention Survival: 800 XP for navigating bureaucratic detention without transformation
Credential Leverage: 500 XP for successfully employing Ghostslayer documentation and Brass Pass Token
Echo Chamber Consultation: 600 XP for three-day intelligence exchange with Eyes of Tezra surveillance operatives
Network Expansion: 400 XP for establishing contacts within Grizburg's supernatural intelligence apparatus
BöötMóöntch Total: 2,300 XP
Session Reports
Report Date
12 Dec 2025
Primary Location
Secondary Location
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