Monster Party Book 3: On a blue Sunday morning lies a body just oozin' life.
Chapter One: It's a comedy of errors with the violence of Macbeth.
Half a dozen adventures strode through the otherwise empty streets of Vor Ziyden late one night. "You know Cal, you're an alchemist, and so is my dad... though of course he's not anywhere as good as you are..." Spoke the shortest of the group, a young man in a bright red jacket, with pants and shoes of a matching color.
He also had on a wide brimmed scarlet hat which covered his head near completely, though seen from the back it was possible to realize that his hair more or less matched the color of his clothing.
"You don't need to tell me James, nobody is as good as I am." Boasted Callan "Cal" Wright a dirty blond haired man in his late twenties. His icy blue eyes were made even colder by the pair of lenses that they lurked behind.
He was dressed in a brown cloak with the top of a red tie just barely visible as well.
James Firecat continued his line of conversation undeterred by the mild verbal rebuff.
"Anyway, I was just wondering if you might have any advice for him in the latest letter that I'm going to send home..." James inquired.
"Don't mix saltpeter, sulfur and charcoal while enjoying your evening pipe." Cal answered sardonically.
"You don't need to be so rude to my Kitten." Huffed a beautiful woman with enchanting ruby eyes.
She was dressed in a white jacket, white shirt, white gloves, and black pants all cut along masculine lines, though the figure beneath was anything but. Her hair was midnight black except for a streak of solid white that parted it down the middle, and in better light one might notice that her skin was more than a touch on the pale side.
"Well excuse me Mirri for not wanting to have my trade secrets put down in writing and sent galloping across the Core." Cal huffed.
Mirri Catwarrior didn't press the issue, besides other members of the group had suddenly noticed something much more important.
"Mists are rising Alex..." Announced a woman in a vibrant green leotard like outfit.
She had straw blond (and rather straw like) hair, green eyes, and her skin had an odd greenish tint to it. She gripped a stout wooden staff with one hand, while the other gestured at the curls of white fog that seemed to be rising to great them without any sort of visible source.
"You're right Florence, looks like we're going to have another of those months..." Reflected the group's leader Alexander Diamondclaw.
He was a tall man with long silver hair, a green left eye, and an eyepatch slung over the right. His outfit was a black coat cut along vaguely martial design with some manner of arcane silver runes emblazoned upon it.
"If it happens, it happens... not even worth bothering to try and run at this point..." Muttered Devi Skye.
Devi was a blue haired elf in a close cut blue dress along with blue gloves, with blue eyes and a flail coiled around one her right arm.
"Great lets just keep right on walking and find out what sort of delightful fun the Mists have in store for us this time..." Groused Cal.
Deep down he knew that it wasn't as if any of them had a choice in the matter at this point. Nobody on the Core could possibly know why or how the Mists rose, but more than a few of them were quite well acquainted with their implacable nature. You could no more outrun or hide from them than you could avoid a gust of wind while out in the middle of an empty field.
So, steeling themselves for the worst the group stoically pressed onwards. The only concession to this turn of events they made was that they quickly established various handholds on one another, not wanting to wind up separated by the ominous fog bank.
Before long it became difficult to see more than a few yards in any direction, and sounds began to change. Their very footfalls were different, as if they trod upon a road far more well furnished than the one they had been using a few moments ago.
As the sounds coming from the ground changed so did the ones which came from above, somewhere in the distance they could hear what must have been a gigantic clock sounding off
"Bong... bong... bong... bong..." The sounds continued one after another, until they had fully chimed out either midday or midnight, in the fog it was impossible to be sure which.
Just as that final "bong" was starting to fade its echo was disrupted by a woman's shrill scream of terror. The cry however was cut short by some unknown action, though one could guess given that its termination was accompanied by a low gurgle.
The group's steady pace disintegrated into a mad rush as they all dashed forward as fast as possible. They burst through the fog and found themselves standing on well cobbled streets of a large town. Their surroundings were faintly illuminated by a distant street lantern, but it was more than enough to make out a black cloaked figure who was crouched before them.
Lay at his feet was an unmoving woman.
The figure in black was male, his face splattered with blood, and under a high top hat his wild feral blue eyes were matched by a tangled mane of black hair and a thick beard.
Lantern light flickered off the bloody blade he held in his left hand, a wicked looking knife with an elaborately carved oval guard. With a guttural growl the man made made an implausibly long leap into a waiting carriage.
Alexander's keen eye was just barely able to make out that the driver had a dark broad face with a drooping mustache and like his passenger the coachman was wearing a black cape and top hat.
Then with the crack of a whip the carriage was off and running, and so was Alexander Diamondclaw.
It is a well known fact that over short distances at least a very well trained man can outrun a horse. Certainly an adventurer, his body honed by a life of do or die struggles weighed down by only his trusted sword and an armor that was quite far from platemail could outrun a pair of horses who have to worry about pulling a carriage.
At least he might have if the bearded man hadn't emptied a bottle out the carriage's window, its liquid contents splashing across the cobblestones in his wake. As Alexander's black boots trod upon the stuff his sure footing vanished and he end up falling awkwardly to the ground, rolling across the slick streets until he came to a stop laying in a heap against a the side of a building.
Florence Bastien having clearly seen the nature of this threat took the time to utter a quick incantation and headed over to Alexander's side. She walked at a calm sedate pace managing to avoid the treacherous liquid through the simple approach of walking across the air above it instead, her feet finding quite sure footing on nothing at all thanks to her mystical spell.
"Anything broken?" She asked tenderly as she provided him with something firm to hold onto as he regained his feet.
"My ego is a bit bruised, but it has been through worse." Alexander replied dryly, as he worked his way back towards those parts of the street that hadn't been affected by the magic mixture.
"Whoever those two were... this wasn't a crime of passion. Nobody is lucky enough to just happen to have brought a Potion of Grease along with them on the night they end up flying into a rage and killing someone by accident." The silver haired man growled as turned his attention to the corpse.
Before the group a young woman's body lay twisted on the cobblestones.
Her throat had been neatly slit, revealing the bone and muscle beneath. The deadly wound gaped like a second mouth. From the look on the poor girl's face she had been driven to the brink of insanity before death had finally freed her from all forms of suffering.
Alexander shook his head ruefully and his black gloved hands pushed down eyelids over a pair of green eyes frozen wide with fright, granting her a slightly more serene appearance. As he tried to adjust the pure blue scarf that she had been wearing to cover the wound it split apart in his hands.
"Well that could have gone better..." He sighed in a mix of irritation and genuine regret.
"What's the matter lad, lass not take kindly to your affections?" Inquired a voice from behind the group.
Emerging from the same direction the six had come (though the cloud of mist they had traveled through had vanished) were five figures. All of them were wearing chainmail armor and their outfits were far too uniform for it to be a coincidence.
The man who had spoken was clearly their leader, he was a well built human whose face might have been rather handsome if it was not for a disfiguring scar that ran across a broken nose.
His brown eyes were fixed quite pointedly at Alexander and the corpse at his feet.
"You know, being found leaning over the body of a recently murdered woman just so happens to be my favorite way to meet the local constabulary. Now then, why don't we talk this through in a calm and rational manner and nobody will say or do anything they regret later." Alexander offered.
"Fair enough, how about you lot stand with your hands against a wall real still like while we search you for the murder weapon?" The scarred man insisted.
Alexander casually unstrapped the black sheath and longsword held within it from his back.
"Her throat was only slit, if I'd killed her with Wolf Claw here she would have been decapitated." Alexander pointed out.
"Well of course, but all the same I'd like to make sure you don't have any smaller weapons on you that might have done the deed..." The brown eyed man insisted.
Alexander winced slightly. He knew that James carried a great many knives on him, and by sheer random chance one of them was bound to be more or less a match for the knife which had killed this woman.
That was when Cal Wright stepped forward and made a calming gesture in Alexander's direction.
"Don't worry Boss, I got this..." He promised before fixing their interrogator with a fierce glare.
"I'm going to tell you something important now, so listen up real close inspector Fancy Pants! It's one thing to try and kill me or my companions, lots of people do that. If you think that you're going to arrest us though... well once you get the law involved, that's another matter all together." Cal paused for a moment and then dramatically tossed aside his brown overcoat revealing a seemingly simple blue suit coat on underneath it.
"My name is Callan Wright, son of the greatest defense attorney who ever lived, JUST WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK I AM?" He yelled loud enough for the entire city to hear.
End Chapter
AN: One think I need to get out of the way first technically it should be "An Oil of Grease" given that you drink potions and apply oils to objects. However the line " Nobody is lucky enough to just happen to have brought an Oil of Grease along with them..." Read super weirdly to me, so I decided that correct D&D terminology could take a back seat to characters speaking like characters rather then encyclopedias, that's what these notes are for after all explaining things from an out of universe perspective.
More importantly, yes the particular Monster Party book is going to go EXACTLY where you should be thinking it is going at this point. I refuse to be ashamed of myself for that, it was like the book was CALLING OUT to me to do this to it!
If you aren't sure what the above means or who exactly Cal's father is, then we clearly don't have the same taste in video games.
Also Cal's alchemist advice is quite accurate if incredibly obvious since it boils down to "don't try to make gunpowder if you've got an open flame nearby."
Florence is busting out that Air Walk spell I talked about her using back in the first book again, and while using a 4th level spell to circumvent a 1rst level one like grease is a bit suboptimal, since it's midnight and she understandably prays for new spells with the dawning of the sun it's not like she expects to need a lot of magical firepower before she gets a chance to refresh.