Tristan got down the ladder and stepped foot onto the weird, bouncy stone surface just like the roof of the tower. It had a little bit of give, and as he cleared way for Obadai to come down, he took in the space he now stood in.

A dark room – which he could see thanks to his Elvish heritage – which was filled with bookshelves that were empty. A door stood, open, at the far end of the room. He could see blood, a small trail of it, leading through the doorway.

William looked back at Tristan, still illuminated by the light from above. "Do you happen to have a light, sir?"

Tristan shook his head, but held up his index finger, curling his fingers into the palm, and wrapping his thumb around the edge of his knuckles. Spinning his essence crucible, he pushed the essence into his fingertip. "Entzünde und lodere, finde ein Zuhause auf meiner Haut und verbrenne alles, was ich berühre." (Ignite and blaze, finding a home upon my skin, and burn all that I touch). A silver flame burst from his finger just above the gauntlet's tip; crimson, black, and blue sparkles crackled from it.

The silver glow gave off an ethereal light that illuminated the chamber to the equivalent of a torch, the flickering flame casting shadows across the ground. Obadai got down the ladder behind Tristan. "Well, lead the way, Pathfinder."

William smiled and began to lead the way. While they walked down the corridor and through an undecorated hallway, Tristan glanced back at Obadai and spoke in Demon's Tongue. "Quand pourrons-nous ouvrir une plongée dans le royaume des Fées?" (When can we open up a Delve into the Fey Realm?).

Obadai shook his head, "Nous ne pouvons pas le faire tant que nous n'avons pas atteint la terre ferme. J'ai besoin d'une grande surface pour exécuter le sort." (We cannot until we get to solid ground. I need a large area to perform the spell).

Tristan nodded and faced forward, hearing the light flapping of Felicity's wings as she came around a corner and landed on his head. "Welp, it's a dark tower that looks abandoned. I saw a few locked doors and did not open them, because they smelled…fishy. Like literal fish."

William led them down corridors, past rooms that were open and rummaged through. He was rattling off what they found in each; "Some candlesticks and wax in there. Something like leather in that one. A whole bunch of ink in that one, but it had all gone dry." He kept going, and their descent down the tower became quite a bore. Tristan kept his eyes to the floor and spotted tiny drips of blood until they faded away. He presumed from the attacker's weapon, and by this point they had sheathed it or cleaned it off.

Tristan smelled it. What Felicity had described. A horrible, stinking, rotten fish smell. "Do you smell that?" he asked.

"Yup!" Felicity replied.

"Smell what?" William replied.

Obadai shook his head, "I smell nothing. Either. What is it?"

"Rotten fish," Tristan replied as he drew his sword.

"And only the Elf can smell it?" William asked. "Weird. Well, we are almost at the point that we left off for the day. An intersection with closed doors." He led them down a set of stairs, and as they descended the scent grew stronger, to the point that Tristan had to breathe through his mouth to avoid retching. They reached a landing that was austere and had three doors leading in different directions – to the left, right, and dead ahead.

Felicity gently pulled on Tristan's hair, towards the left door. "That's where it smells the worst."

Tristan nodded and walked over to it. "Obadai, have a spell ready."

"Already on it," he replied.

"Remember, there's Pathfinders who are missing – three of them – and whoever stabbed William. Identify targets before striking them." Tristan reached towards the door and stopped as the hackles on the back of his neck stood on end. Instinctively, he pushed essence from his crucible and into his armor and weapon, increasing his defensive covering and increasing his reach. He took a step back and took up a defensive stance. Was that the Lucky Instinct spell? He thought.

Obadai cleared his throat, "What's wrong?"

"I got a weird feeling," Tristan replied. "William…open the door."

William looked at Tristan, and then his eyes went to Tristan's knife. "Mind if I use that?"

Tristan nodded, "Grab it." The young man did so, and flipping it in his grip, he walked to the door, gripped the handle, lifted the latch with his thumb, and then pulled it open as he darted to the side.

The wave of stench that hit the trio finally got to his allies, and both began making gagging, coughing sounds. Tristan's armor, surprisingly, seemed to suppress the bad smell, and he was not a victim to it. But he heard Felicity throw up and felt it splatter against the back of his armor. "I'm going upstairs!" she shouted as she flew off.

Tristan's light illuminated the dark space, but he did not need it to see the gruesome fate that befell those within. There were three bodies – distinct bodies, and they were absolutely eviscerated. They were covered with lacerations that were easily a few inches deep, and all seemingly along where their arteries were. They had been stripped of all their gear and clothing, and were strewn about the room as if they had been thrown across it – the blood splatters on the walls attesting to their grizzly fate.

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William let out a cry of sorrow and turned away, "That's them," he choked out. "Gods, what happened to them?"

Tristan walked in, but stopped in the doorway as the heckles on his neck raised again. Backing up, he peered all around the room. I don't see anything, he thought. But this doesn't smell like decay. The scent was fish. There has to be something else in here. He stepped back a little bit, "Archon, incinerate the room."

"Are you su-"

"Do it."

Obadai nodded and began muttering in Dragon's Tongue – barely breathing out the syllables and so quickly that Tristan could scarcely tell where one word ended, and another began.

A few seconds later an enormous, red, billowing flame burst from Obadai's hands and entered the corpse-pile in the room. Then, an explosion of heat and flame flickered out of the doorway. There was an ear-piercing, shattering shriek that caused Tristan to wince. But he held steady, and a creature rushed out of the pile of bodies, covered in burn marks, and Tristan impaled it through the head.

Yet it kept running forward – up his sword's length and impaling itself further. Tristan kicked it back and got a good look at it. A squat, pallid mass that looked to be Human, if that human was squished down to child size, covered in layers of fat and rotting skin, and had a vicious, snake-like face with a squat snout.

William got back behind Obadai, "What is that thing?!"

Obadai held his hand forward and rapidly fired off another spell. The creature that was impaled on Tristan's sword ignited; its eyes burning it its sockets as it lolled forward, dead. Tristan pulled his hand back and the sword was pulled out with a deft movement. The creature collapsed onto the floor. "That," Obadai said as he took a few breaths of the now-purified air, "Is known as a Buggorf. They are not of the heritages, like us, but rather are considered a species. A bit higher in intelligence than a fox."

"It killed three Pathfinders," Tristan muttered as he used his sword to poke at the thing. The body fell to bits, and then decayed away before his eyes.

"They were originally a species designed by an Archon who wanted to make an aquatic servant. They succeeded, but when they died these things spread. They're oceanic pests, though sometimes make their way up rivers." He glanced over at William, "You would have heard of them in Jewel's Point from sailors. They called them 'Boggers'."

A look of recognition flashed across William's face, "I-I have heard of them. F-from traders."

The Archon frowned, "I don't know why one would assault Pathfinders out in the open, or go into a Delve, or maim corpses and then bury themselves within…something is off here." He knelt and began making complicated spell gestures, "I will divine what I can. Please check the other doors for threats."

Tristan heard Felicity's wings flapping and she landed on his head again, "Bad smell is gone! Thank you for clearing that out."

"Let's check the right one, first," Tristan said as he walked over to it and pulled the latch, letting his flame cease as he did so. The corpses behind him in the other room gave off a light as they crackled away, casting flickering shadows across the room. The door opened, and he saw what appeared to be an ancient storeroom. Weapons were placed upon racks, but not any weapons had ever seen before. And the armor was weird, as well; completely foreign and did not look like it would fit any person's body.

Going to the last door, he opened it and as he expected found a landing with stairs spiraling downward. Judging the height of the tower from their journey so far, he figured that this must be the floor above the ground level.

Obadai stood up, "Your Pathfinder fellows were the victims of a horrific fate, and I am sorry for their demise. I have put together the events of the last night based upon my spell." He looked over to William, and then to Tristan. "The thing was under the thrall of a powerful spell. Enchantment. One that utterly bound it to a user's will." Looking back to William he frowned, "You were not attacked by this thing. This thing was stored in a flask; they are quite compact creatures, akin to octopi in their ability to compress their bodies into tight spaces."

He looked down the now-open hallway, "Whoever the assailant was, they had this thing inside a jar. They stabbed you, William, took your treasure, and fled down here into the Delve. This thing was left in a room as an ambush – and it most likely ate all of your companion's gear and equipment. These things are vicious bastards."

William nodded and tears were streaming down his face, "The-the sailors told me. Swarms of them w-would come up ships and tear them apart!"

"Pff," Obadai made a dismissive noise. "They aren't pack hunters. Tall tales, nothing more. They are artificial constructs that can reproduce." He gestured to the corpse, "This one was captured, subjected to enchantment, and used as a means of distraction towards an escape. Clever, whoever this assailant was."

Tristan looked to the hallway that descended further, "Then they may have gone deeper into this Lost Realm? Seeking further treasure?"

"Perhaps. In any event, we should get outside the tower and see if the ground takes tracks. We might be able to discern their location."

Tristan nodded and began striding down the hallway. The Archon held up his finger and used the same Ignite Flame spell as Tristan had, illuminating the space for himself and William. The trio continued their descent down the tower and reached the ground floor. The place was a wreck. Chairs and tables were turned upside-down and scattered to either side of a small corridor between the scrap leading to the open exterior door. Perhaps an ancient scriptorium, given the numerous niches along the wall full of shattered bottles of black liquid that had long since hardened.

Stepping down the length of the room, Tristan peered out into the Lost Realm. The grey skies were a dull pallor that cast a dim light out over the whole landscape; shattered rocks and stones, enormous floating islands tumbling in a tremulous display, lazily drifted. A huge chunk went floating by much faster than the rest, with a large city suspended upside-down.

Obadai exited behind him, "Well…Lost Realm. I wonder what it used to be a Realm of? Nothing innately destructive, given the status of the buildings. It's not untamed wilds like the Elemental Realms."

William walked up behind the two and gasped, "That's…wow, that's a sight."

Felicity tugged on Tristan's head and pointed to his left. Along the soft, bouncy-stone ground, there were footprints. Boot prints, with a slightly raised heel, judging from the indentation. "There!" she crowed triumphantly.

Tristan began following the steps, keeping an eye out on the edges of the shifting landscape. His essence crucible kept churning, and very slowly depleted as he fueled his sword and armor. Obadai was a good twenty feet behind him.

And they came upon a curve in the earth. Going up the small hill, Tristan froze in place. He saw blood – a smeared, bloody corpse that had been smashed against the ground over and over. And curled over it, painting with the remnants of an arm like a gory paintbrush, was a massive, hulking, humanoid monstrosity with spidery limbs sprouted from its back.

The thing hadn't noticed the four, and Tristan held up his fist for them to be silent. What is this thing? He thought.

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