VIII

In Distressing Recognition

The party's footsteps crunched against the dirt as they marched through the OneWood, save for Dez, whose wings flapped heavily a few dozen feet overhead, so he could keep an eye out for danger. They'd been searching for about an hour, and had already come across wolves, living vines, and other nuisances- all dispatched easily enough.

"Trees aren't supposed to be this- this linear!" Fletch hunched over and made parallel lines with his hands. "There's no natural reason why they would take this shape. Do you understand how unlikely that is?"

"Yes, Fletch, we know," Amira groaned, hanging her head back. "We knew the first five times ye told us."

"And we knew when Dominik warned us about it last night," said Artemis.

"Well you aren't acting like you know it! How are we keeping track of where we are? What if we get lost!? What if we end up missing!? Everything looks the same!"

"Dez is keeping track," Alikath pointed overhead. "If something happens, he'll have no trouble flying back to town."

"Oh, good." Fletch crossed his arms and droned. "The Aarakocra is going to rescue us, how original!"

"That wasn't even remotely what I was saying-" Alikath started, but he was interrupted by a shrill moan echoing from a distance.

The party halted. "Is that Viktor?" Rosellia asked.

"No, that was definitely a woman," Alikath reached for his dagger. "But keep an eye out, there could be som-"

Another piercing cry. Not a moment later, its source was known: a Banshee came soaring through the air, gliding between trees with its claws pointed at the party.

Her skin and cloth alike a ghastly white, the banshee resembled some disgusting imitation of an Elf, rotted beyond reasonable recognition.

It flew right into the group, reaching for Rosellia, and barely missing her throat. Rosellia swung her hammer to force the Banshee off her aim, earning a nasty gash along her ribcage for her efforts.

Amira swung at the Banshee, and missed. Fletch leapt away from the monster, covering his face despite being three feet away from it.

"What is that!?" Fletch cowered.

"Doesn't matter. Kill it!" Artemis yelled, drawing their bow.

As Alikath cast a Firebolt into the Banshee, Rosellia stumbled back, and touched her wound. The rips of her flesh were stained black the moment it met that thing's claws.

Artemis fired their bow, striking the Banshee in the stomach. It lurched forward and snatched at Fletch, who dodged and cut its fingers with his dagger. It spun off, and changed courses to Alikath.

Alikath readied his hands to cast a spell as the Banshee charged him. But just before the two collided, the Banshee stopped, the tatters of its skin-cloth lingering ahead like they were suspended in water. For a moment, it floated there, inches away from Alikath. Its eyes were tense, some emotion stuck on its face that was too mangled to make out.

The Banshee drifted back, and took a deep breath in. Before it could exhale, three missiles of magical energy shredded from the sky and struck it in the back, in quick succession. Losing its wind, the Banshee was stunned long enough for Amira to make another swing and take it out of the air, straight into the dirt.

The Banshee withered and died. Alikath looked up at Dez, holding open his tome, and smiling.

"How unsightly," Rosellia shuddered, healing her cut.

"Aye," Amira agreed. "Went down quick enough though, ah?"

"Mhm," Artemis lowered their bow. "Looked like it was already hurt when it found us. Think something else might have hurt it?"

The group stood still, and listened. Paying close attention, they caught another wail, and something else: a scream, but not that of a monster: A human scream.

"Over there!" Dez pointed. "It's coming from this way!"

The party rushed off in chase of the voice.

A short sprint away, they found something revolting. Three more Banshees awaited them, but they were not alone. There were two humanoids on the scene: One Elven bard with his feet on the ground, and one Satyr somewhere much worse.

Between the Banshees, easily taking up fifteen feet in diameter, a terrible pink mass of semisolid ooze struggled to stretch its suggestion of a body into the air. Littered with patternless stalks, eyes and mouths complete with sharp rows upon rows of teeth, the aberration pulsated its wet flesh and secreted a salivic slime. Its many, many mouths blabbered, rambled, and screamed meaningless gibberish and half-sentences to nothing and no one.

And there, halfway in a mouth, only his upper body and one arm protruding from the terrifying mess, was the Satyr. He futilely struggled to free himself from the bite of the Gibbering Mouther. He shouted at the Bard, who was frantically playing an energetic tango on his guitar while he dodged the Banshees.

"The teeth, you moron!" The Satyr barked. "Get over here and wedge it by the teeth!"

The bard kept playing and waltzing around the monsters, feeding red energy into the Satyr. "Which teeth are you talking about, it- it's got so many teeth! It's got all the teeth! You're almost outta there- I'm a little occupied!"

The Satyr slid a little deeper into the Mouther's throat. "Gh- you stupid slut, put down the guitar and help-!"

Amira whistled from behind the bard, catching the attention of one of the banshees. She swung her axe to the side like a bat, sending the spirit flying into a nearby tree. The rest of the Ambassadors spread to confront the beasts.

"Oh thank gods," the bard sighed. "Where were you all three minutes ago!?"

"A little busy!" Dez replied, flying in the way of a Banshee trying to flee. "But we're here to help!"

Dez summoned a shield to ward off the Banshee. As it scraped the surface of his translucent ward, he noticed something about this one: it was male.

Dez swiped away its claws with his staff. "What?" He briefly dropped his shield, but re-summoned it before the Banshee could take advantage. "I could have sworn you were all female..."

At the combat's center, Amira, Artemis and Fletch rushed the Gibbering Mouther to aid the captured Satyr. There was hesitation to engage from all of them; none had seen anything quite like this before.

Fletch jabbed his dagger in and out of the Mouther, getting away from it as quickly as he approached. Artemis kept their distance, and scanned for the eye that looked the biggest. Amira plunged the Dane Francisca into its flesh, delivering a nasty wound to the creature, sinking the entirety of the axe's head inside. She tried to pull the weapon back out, but the axe resisted, and held firm. Amira gritted her teeth, and plunged her hand into the wound to grab the edge of its handle.

The Satyr saw this, and bleated- "Wait!"

Amira managed to grab the handle of her axe, but felt the wet, warm flesh around her hand and wrist reform around her like slime, hiding its wound and catching her upper arm within it.

Amira shouted, and tried to pull back, but failed. Her eyes widened, and her heart raced. Her arm retracted from the flesh as she pulled, but sunk back in just as quickly, getting just a bit deeper.

"Gah! L- let me go! Let me go!" Amira grabbed her forearm and shivered. Fletch watched Amira lose her composure, and stepped away from the Mouther. He started rummaging through his coat, peeking in every fold and pocket with urgency. Artemis looked briefly at Amira, but shook her head, set their sights back on the Mouther, and shot it in the eye.

The Satyr looked at Amira, then at the bard. "Get her!" he shouted, his voice strained and breathy.

The bard nodded, and strummed his guitar. Continuing his song, faint red waves of energy emanating from his aura changed direction; once leading to the Satyr, now to Amira. She kept struggling against the Mouther's grip, feeling somewhat invigorated as she listened to the frenzied guitar between the Mouther's discordant voices.

Meanwhile, Dez and Alikath had just finished neutralizing the male Banshee. They both examined the scene; the Satyr and Amira were both being attacked by the Mouther, Rosellia was fighting a Banshee on her own, and the third one was making its way to Fletch.

Alikath whistled, and pointed at the Satyr. Dez nodded, and flew to his aid. Alikath took a moment to decide who he was going to help, landing on Fletch, who was too busy looking through his inventory to watch the Banshee. He snapped his fingers and punched his palm, casting a spell that sparked barbs of silvery light inside the Banshee's eyes, distracting it and making it miss Fletch. Alikath stood at Fletch's side, as he finally found what he was looking for.

"Got it!" He shouted, pulling out an ornate glass jar, with a pink whirlwind swirling inside.

"Got what?" Artemis asked, watching Fletch from the corner of their eye.

Fletch pointed the jar forward, and popped open the lid.

Dez flew up to the Satyr, grabbing his free hand, pulling him without touching the Mouther. The Satyr winced, sizzling acid singing his lower body as it stirred inside the beast.

"I don't think I'm strong enough like this!" Dez flapped his wings as hard as he could, not making any progress.

The Satyr grimaced, and shook his head with closed eyes. "Don't touch it! Just don't touch this thing!"

"What is it?" Dez asked.

The Satyr sucked air in through his teeth. "It's made of the melted skin of its prey. If it gets to you- kh-"

Dez couldn't keep himself steady at the angle he was pulling from. Dropping down, his talons pierced the Mouther's flesh. That gave him more leverage with which to pull the Satyr up, but meant he was caught as well.

Amira heard a loud whoosh as a pink light pulsed behind her back. She gripped her axe tightly and pulled as the bard's song added to her strength. As she pulled, she felt one more thing: a sort of silvery glitter sparkling around her head, which for some reason cleared her mind, and helped her ignore the Mouther's incessant ramblings for just a moment. She arched her back, dug her heels into the dirt, and yanked her axe back, tearing through the Mouther's flesh and forcing herself back out to freedom.

Amira laughed maniacally as she fell onto her ass, but frantically crawled away from the monster just as soon. She might have crawled all the way out of the OneWood, had she not backed into something firm and fluffy.

Amira looked behind her, and found herself face-to-chest with a Hippogriff; a beast with the wings and forelimbs of an eagle, the hind legs of a horse, and a face somewhere between the two.

Amira scrambled to her feet and got out of the majestic animal's way. As she got to its eye level, she noticed something peculiar: A sort of pink haze in its irises that was wholly unfamiliar to her.

Amira rushed to Fletch's side, who puffed out his chest, and pointed at the Mouther. On command, the mysteriously appeared beast screeched, reared its wings, and charged at the monster.

Artemis gawked, sagging their arms and nearly dropping their bow. "Fletch!" They shouted. "The hell did you just do!?"

Fletch clenched his fists and swung at the air as the Hippogriff leapt on the Mouther. "You like it? I call it Siren Song. A little mix of magic and medicine that lets monsters do the fighting for me!"

"That's what that was!?" Amira scoffed. "That's what you did to that Displacer Beast!?"

"Yep!" Fletch put his hands on his hips. "But I'm saving him for later. And this Hippogriff's been sitting still too long!"

Dez and the Satyr lurched as the weight of the beast crashed against the Mouther holding them in.

Dez laughed, and resisted the urge to take out his journal and record Fletch's invention right then. "That's incredible!"

"Amira, you free?" Alikath asked, still dueling with a Banshee. "Because Rosellia needs help!"

Amira gasped, and looked to Rosellia on the other end of the battlefield, struggling to fend off the last Banshee dead-set on killing her. She ran to her aid without another word.

Seeing her coming, Rosellia pushed the Banshee back with her hammer, and goaded the spirit to charge her, waving to herself with both hands. When it took the bait, Rosellia ducked, cueing Amira to leap over her back, and send the newly freed Dane Francisca into the Banshee's skull.

As the Banshee crashed against the dirt, Amira landed with a thud, landing with one arm out and one leg stretched to the side.

Rosellia curved one arm over her head, and held an open palm over Amira's back. "A little more than we bargained for, you think?"

Amira scowled, and let her vision go red. Her grip tightened, and she swung at the Banshee a second time.

The axe landed, and the Banshee let out a pained wail. It bared its claws, ready to swipe at Amira, but a wolf whistle beside them caught it off guard.

They all turned, and found the bard, standing not far away, arms wide open. "Y'know, this sounds stupid, but what are the chances this is all some big misunderstanding?" He asked, the curl of his messy bangs drooping over one haggard eye.

In the opposite direction, they heard the bard's voice again. They turned again, and found him also standing there, right next to Amira and Rosellia. "I'm just throwing this out there, who's to say the melting skin monster and the bedsheet ghosts aren't, I dunno, wandering moneylenders?"

Once more, a third copy of the bard spoke, inches behind the Banshee. He gently patted the monster on its back, smirking. "There's so many languages in the world, and we're not considering that some crowds just communicate through violence? Gasp- you are loan sharks, aren't you!?"

The Banshee growled, and swiped at the bard closest to it, making him vanish in a puff of red smoke. Amira took advantage of the distraction and struck the monster in the back, carving a sizeable gash in its shoulder blade. It sunk, floating ever closer to the ground.

The two remaining bards approached, only one of them speaking. "Now, bare with me, I know two of you ladies came here to save my life. But I forget- who's the outlier again?"

The other one slapped his forehead, and laughed. "Oh wait, I know! It's the one with the rotting- uh- th- everything."

The first bard shook his head and crossed his arms, smirking knowingly at Rosellia. "It's always the ones you most suspect."

A little twinge of red lightning sparked against the Banshee's forehead right after he made that comment. It clutched its head, shivered with seething rage, and let out a wail before collapsing onto its back, and dying.

The bard laughed, and held his hip. "Aw, I love it when that kills them!"

Back on the Mouther, the mighty Hippogriff was shredding its foe with awesome efficiency, but it too was getting caught in the sticky flesh of the aberration. Fletch wracked his brain, looking for a way to kill this thing faster.

"Wait!" He jumped, and pointed at the Satyr. "What did you say about this thing!?"

"Have to be more- AH- s-specific!" The Satyr growled, while he and Dez struggled in place.

"You said it's made of skin, right!? It's made of melted skin!?"

"Y-yeah!"

Fletch peered around the Mouther, and shouted at the other group. "ROSELLIA!"

Rosellia looked back.

"HEAL THE MOUTHER!"

"WHAT!?" cried Rosellia, Artemis, Alikath, Dez, and the Satyr all at once.

"DO IT! IT'S MADE OF MELTED SKIN, HEAL IT WHERE IT'S HOLDING THEM!"

"Don't do that!" The Satyr's voice quivered. "Don't you dare heal this thing, it's gonna swallow me whole!”

“I-I can't!” Rosellia pleaded. “I'd have to touch it, I- I can't heal at range yet!”

“Then take this!” Fletch reached in his coat, and pulled out a small glass vial with a red liquid bubbling inside it: a healing potion.

When Fletch reached her, Rosellia took the potion, but furrowed her brow. “You throw it.”

But Fletch was already running for cover, so Rosellia turned around, and gripped the vial.

"Trust me, Rosellia, do it!" Fletch assured her from behind a tree.

"No!" The Satyr hissed.

Rosellia could hear her own heartbeat. Try as she did to take deep breaths and calm herself, every nerve of her body begged for her not to throw that vial. "Buenos dioses arriba, I trust you!"

Rosellia reeled back, and threw the healing potion high in the air, arced just above the center of the Mouther's mass. As the vial made contact with a large tooth, the glass shattered, and the red liquid seeped into the mass of flesh. Immediately, it began to harden and abandon its pink canvas for messy hues of brown, peach, and yellow. The disfigurement and discoloration spread all the way around and into the mouths dragging the Satyr in.

Visibly irritated by this, the Mouther convulsed, the gibbering voices grew louder and more frantic. It swayed from side to side, shivering and pulsating until it shook hard enough to eject the Satyr, Dez, and the Hippogriff all out of its body. Dez and the Hippogriff, mostly unharmed, spread their wings and treaded air to keep steady. But the Satyr was shot out at considerable speed, and collapsed unceremoniously face first in the dirt.

"Yes!" Fletch cheered, racing up to Rosellia and running circles around her. "You did it! It worked!"

"Fletch, where did you learn that trick!?" Rosellia asked, in disbelief.

Fletch giggled like a schoolboy. "In the OneWood!"

The Gibbering Mouther, not yet free from its unpleasant splotch of strange, solid skin, made a torrent of sounds not unlike the wretching of someone about to hurl. After four seconds, it started seeping bright green acid out of its mouths and pores, covering itself from 'head' to 'toe' in the stuff. It simmered and sizzled and melted the healed skin away. But it didn't stop there; some of the bigger mouths spewed large balls of this acid out into the air, past itself and toward the party. The group all tried to dodge the stuff, some noticing it later than others.

The Satyr, thankfully, wasn't in the splash zone, and neither was Rosellia. The bard's remaining Mirror Image was hit by the acid, and disappeared. Fletch, Artemis and Dez dodged the acid, but Amira, Alikath, and the Hippogriff were all hit.

Amira hissed, and covered her eyes with her arm. Thanks to the Goliath's especially resistant skin, she wasn't hurt too badly, but found herself temporarily blinded despite her efforts.

Alikath, distracted by the remaining Banshee he was still fighting, screamed in pain, and broke his form, letting the Banshee take an easy swipe at him. He stumbled back and tensed up, expecting another slash from the enemy. But the whizz of an arrow and the sink of it hitting its flesh met his ears instead.

Though Alikath couldn't see, Artemis ducked behind his back and nocked another arrow, using him as cover should they not be able to fend the Banshee off quickly enough.

Dez opened his tome, and summoned an Earth Tremor, shaking the ground beneath the Mouther. The monster did seem to deflate as the dirt rearranged, but Dez was surprised to find that the terrain beneath the Mouther had already taken a sort of doughy texture that made the tremor less effective. The Hippogriff swooped in and took two more swipes at the Mouther, but in doing so, it was almost struck by another projectile flying in without warning.

Many feet away, laying on his stomach and pushing himself up by one elbow, the bleeding and dirty Satyr pointed two fingers at the Gibbering Mouther, and shot out a crackling beam of eldritch green energy. The beam sliced through the air at alarming speed, and tore a hole straight through the Mouther, large enough to see through.

The Mouther's many voices shrieked out bloody murder, and though the monster trembled, it did not die. Rather than wait for someone else to strike, the Satyr growled, punched the ground, and pushed himself up onto his shaking hooves. He pointed both arms forward, pushing his wrists together and forcing out another Eldritch Blast. Again, the crackling green beam shredded through space, piercing through the Mouther, ripping it nearly in half. Its voices screamed in terrible harmony, before it deflated and became a lifeless puddle of flesh in the mud.

The group watched in awe as the Mouther died. Everyone thought that the worst of it might finally be over, but their relief was snuffed out when the last living Banshee dodged one of Artemis' arrows, and flew higher into the air.

"What's it doing?" Artemis asked, as Alikath finally opened his eyes again.

"Stop it!" The Satyr collapsed to one knee. "Shoot it down!"

The Banshee took a deep breath in, as Artemis nocked another arrow. They pulled the string back, and the Banshee let out a wail unlike any that it had mustered before. Packed with all the insidious misery of its undead soul, the Banshee's scream verberated into the ears of the party, attempting to separate their souls from their bodies. A moment too late, Artemis' arrow soared and met its mark, taking a chunk out of the Banshee's neck and killing it.

As the Banshee slowly drifted to the floor, everyone there to hear the wail had their constitution tested, their souls forced to resist the crushing misery of the wasted spirit's cry.

Amira, Rosellia, the bard, and Dez gritted their teeth, but remained conscious. However, Alikath, Fletch, Artemis, and the Satyr were overcome by the attack, and collapsed. They all fell at once, hitting the ground long before the Banshee did.

Those still standing watched their allies drop with hopelessness in their eyes. When Fletch fell, the Hippogriff stared blankly ahead, shook its head in confusion, and tensed up. The pink haze Amira had noticed disappeared, and the animal cawed angrily at the party, before turning tail and flying away.

"Guys?" Amira called to the bodies on the floor. "Are y'okay!?"

Dez landed. "Ohh, that's not good."

Rosellia covered her mouth, and raced to Alikath's side, turning him on his back. "Alikath? Ali, are you alright!?"

No response, save for one shallow exhale. Rosellia looked frantically at the other three fallen friends. "There's so many...!"

She looked up at those who remained. "Can any of you heal?"

The bard raised his hand "Uh- a little. It's not my strongest suit."

"Then help me!" Rosellia snatched him by the cuff of his midriff-bearing shirt. The bard dropped to the Satyr's side and pulled out his guitar, gently strumming the strings.

"Hey Roland, really bad time to tap out on us, buddy. I'm gonna need you for the walk home, alright? C'mon, open your eyes…"

A few moments of song later, the Satyr, Roland, steadied his breathing, but did not wake up. The bard sighed, and shrugged to everyone else.

Amira and Dez dragged Fletch and Artemis next to Alikath, so Rosellia could reach them easier. Rosellia looked at the three of them, her hands shaking as her eyes darted from person to person.

"I... I don't have much left in me."

"Have y'ever pushed this hard before?" Amira asked.

Rosellia jerked her head to avoid eye contact. "Yes."

"So can you do it now?" Dez asked.

"Of course I can! I just… okay…"

Still on her knees, Rosellia held her open palms out to the side, and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath in, and started chanting.

"A la luz del sol, todos som-"

"Your healing magic needs a hymn to work?" Asked Dez, an excited curiosity in his voice. For a moment, he forgot the darkness he was in.

"Yes! ...No. Not really. It's mostly for show, but it helps me focus! So just-"

Dez backed off. Rosellia closed her eyes, and started again.

"A la luz del sol, todos somos iguales. ¡Libres de las garras de las sombras, que el calor del cielo honre nuestra humilde tierra y que todos seamos renovados!"

As the Aquatic spoke, a dim sphere of light glowed around her, stretching just far enough to cover the three stirring bodies triangulated around her. She held her arms straight, trying to keep this glow going for as long as she could, despite the obvious strain every second was putting on her body. Her head drifted back, her neck tense and aching.

Rosellia winced, and her arms shook. After about ten seconds, she let out a sharp breath, and dropped her arms. The light vanished immediately. 

As Amira, Dez, and the bard examined the bodies, Rosellia hugged her knees and curled into a ball. The bard held his chin and studied her.

“Thought you couldn't heal at range.”

"I think they're okay." Dez decided. "But they're not getting up."

"We'll have to carry them back, then." The bard sighed. "One per person?"

"What about Viktor?"

"Who?"

"We can't afford t'worry about Viktor right now. Woods're still dangerous. Let's pick up our wounded and get home."

Amira looked down at Rosellia. She was still in a ball, her hair casting a gloomy shadow over her face.

"Rosellia?"

She spoke in a whisper.

"...I'm tired…"

Amira nodded. "I'll take two. You just worry about yerself."