Alayne's Story: Part III

started to head back to his table of experiments but Callie and Tau’re clipped at his legs, keeping him from moving while Ger’alin and Ber’lon made their way back to him. Standing between the professor and his goal, they fought him, keeping one eye on the tanks on either side of the room which were slowly refilling with their noxious contents.

Putricide fought back. Though he had never been of much physical bent, his undeath had given him strength and endurance. Pummeling down on Ger’alin’s shield and trying to sweep the others out of his way while avoiding their attacks, the professor soon grew agitated.

Annoyance – the same annoyance the others had felt at the multitude of insect stings – animated his undead features. He reached into a pouch and pulled out a vial. Flinging it to the floor, he began running towards the table as the contents of the vial filled the air, rendering the Disorder of Azeroth blind and immobile. Even the healers could not dispel this toxic gas.

The group could hear the professor rummaging through his table, searching for something, muttering to himself all the while. The gas began to dissipate on its own and control of eyes and limbs returned to the fighters. Turning to see where the professor was and what he was doing, they watched as he quaffed down the contents of a beaker and then stood dumbly for a few seconds, confusion on his face.

“Hmm. I don’t feel a thing,” he muttered, disappointed. Then, suddenly, he writhed and two tentacles sprouted from his back. Waving frantically, they grabbed for flasks on his desk. He stared at them in confusion. “Whaa…? Where’d those come from?” he wondered aloud. Dismissing them from his thoughts, he ran back towards the group, seemingly glad to have two extra appendages to use in his attacks.

Ger’alin intercepted him and, using his shield to fend off the blows from the Professor’s right arm and tentacle, wove in with his hammer, smashing it into the mad scientist’s hip. A crunching sound accompanied the blow but Putricide gave no indication of having been wounded at all. The gashes forming on his pallid flesh gave him less annoyance than the insects had given the living. Something in the strange potion he’d drunk must have heightened his endurance, Ger’alin thought to himself as he redoubled his efforts.

The insane Scourge scientist continued his volley of attacks, throwing vials of poison on the floor, shooting noxious gas from his person, biting, clawing, hitting, and waiting for the ooze tanks to refill themselves. However, before he could cast the spell that would open them once more, Tau’re’s blade bit deep in his neck, nearly severing his head from his shoulders. Grabbing his flopping head with both hands, he cursed and produced more paralytic poison from his pouch. Rushing back to the table a second time, he poured the contents of a vial into the wound. He lifted the vial to his lips as the gaping wound sealed shut, tasting its contents. “Tastes like... Cherry! Oh! Excuse me!” he laughed as he let loose a belch that would have impressed any gathering in a tavern. Then, writhing, the professor morphed. The tentacles grew thicker and his shoulders broadened. His arms grew more muscular. His chest and shoulders beefed up as if he had taken in all of the potency of his pet Festergut’s toxin. He was forced to hunch over, using his arms and knuckles to propel himself forward like a gorilla. He charged towards Ger’alin and the paladin could see smaller tentacles sprouting from the professor’s thickened neck. When he reached the attackers, the professor stretched his arms far apart as if he were trying to embrace them. Ger’alin danced backwards out of the creature’s grasp. Callie, however, was not quick enough. One of the tentacles touched her. A stinger on the end of it pierced her skin and she screamed as some poison or infection was pumped into her by the professor. Whatever it was, it spread quickly to others. Ger’alin could feel fel shadows and flames trying to infect his own body, spreading from the others and from the stingers the professor wielded to try to infect the paladin and the tauren who bore the brunt of his attacks.

A shriek drew Ger’alin’s attention. He glanced over to see the tanks open and green ooze begin gushing out. Unlike the sticky goo that had given them trouble in Rotface’s 68