RAVEN'S GAMBIT | Episode 60: Secrets in the Vat
The echo of their footsteps followed them like ghosts as the surviving members of the party crept back to the corridor marked before their strange and solemn night of rest. The group moved with practiced silence, wary now of what new horrors Keraptis might unleash from the shadows. Theron Blackroot led, Blackrazor humming low in his hand, its presence growing heavier, as though feeding on anticipation.
"I think we’ve all earned a little vacation after this," Bran muttered with dry humor. He kept his hammer across one shoulder and glanced sidelong at Tessa, who gave a quiet smirk.
The corridor twisted once, then again, before ending at another solid stone door. Elowyn’s hand brushed against its surface, her fingers tensing. Wave pulsed with a cool rhythm on her back like an ocean heartbeat.
“Locked?” Thalia asked, brushing aside a curtain of ash-blonde hair. The tension was thick, but her eyes still danced with the curiosity of a pyromancer denied a proper fire.
“Not anymore,” Tessa said with a flick of her wrist and the telltale click of tumblers obeying her touch.
The door creaked open to reveal a strange, stale chamber. Shelves lined the walls, jammed with decaying jars, cracked vials, and bottles filled with strange colored liquids, dulled with time. At the center stood a cluttered desk flanked by two workbenches. A mummified hand lay stiff and shriveled atop a pile of bone shards and herbs. Urns and clay pots sat broken along the floor. The air reeked of long-forgotten perfumes and embalming agents.
Elowyn approached the hand slowly, Wave guiding her thoughts. “It’s old necromancy,” she murmured, narrowing her eyes. “No longer dangerous… but this hand still remembers rituals."
"Can we collect any of this?" Lira asked, scanning the room with scholarly interest. "Some of these tinctures could be alchemically restored."
“Not likely,” said Sir Cedric, nudging a toppled urn with his foot. “Most of this is rotted junk. Useless now.”
Thog grunted and lumbered toward the trio of vats along the southern wall. “Smells like orc piss and old meat.”
The three vats stood like ancient tubs, filled with stagnant, opaque liquid. Theron moved beside Thog and peered into the westernmost vat. “This one’s just foul water.”
“Careful,” Elric warned, kneeling to examine the second vat’s edge. “They wouldn’t have sealed this place if it wasn’t hiding something."
Thalia stood by the middle vat and wrinkled her nose. “Smells like vinegar and skin burn.”
Tessa knelt beside her and dipped a small metal probe into the fluid. It sizzled lightly as she drew it back up. “Weak acid,” she confirmed. “Could strip flesh. Not lethal—but not pleasant.”
Bran leaned in over her shoulder and pointed. “There, at the bottom—something glinting.”
“A key?” Lira mused.
“Half of one,” Cedric said, his vision blessed by divine clarity. “There’s something else in the third vat. I sense movement.”
Theron nodded grimly. “I’ll go.”
But as he approached the third vat and reached to stir the murk with the tip of Blackrazor, a sudden pulse of movement erupted from the water. A grotesque, translucent cube surged upward—its form molded perfectly to the vat’s dimensions, revealing bones and dissolved remains floating within.
“Back!” shouted Elowyn, drawing Wave and stepping between the cube and Cedric.
The cube lunged forward unnaturally fast, snaring Bran’s wrist as he reached instinctively for the glint at the vat’s bottom.
“Ah, gods—!” Bran cried as he was dragged into the vat. His Colt Dragoon Revolver clattered across the stone floor.
“Gelatinous cube!” Theron barked. “Stay clear!”
Combat Begins.
Theron slashed forward with Blackrazor, the dark blade cleaving into the cube with a hiss of necrotic energy. The sword pulsed, trying to drink from the creature’s rudimentary life essence.
Thalia raised both hands and unleashed a burst of flame—but carefully arced it to avoid the vat and Bran within. The cube sizzled but held form.
Thog roared and slammed into the vat with brute force, jarring it enough for Bran to kick free. As Bran stumbled out, acid burns fresh across his skin, Elowyn threw her hand over him, murmuring a spell—Cure Serious Wounds mending some of the damage.
Cedric advanced, divine fury in his eyes, and plunged his blade into the gelatinous cube. Holy energy rippled through the goo.
Tessa darted in and retrieved the key half from the bottom of the acid vat, using gloved fingers and quick sleight-of-hand. “One piece down!”
Lira used a telekinetic thrust to disrupt the cube’s cohesion. The mass convulsed and collapsed, oozing inert across the floor.
As the last globule of goo hissed into nothing, Theron reached into the vat and retrieved the second half of the key. Blackrazor buzzed against his grip as the two halves clicked together and fused with an audible hum.
The First Key was whole.
“We need to move,” Theron said, his voice lower than usual. “This thing is getting hungry.”
He did not clarify if he meant the dungeon—or the sword in his hand.