“... and that is the situation, as I know it.” Saren finished, as the rest of the room’s occupants stared at him. One pair of burning red orbs, a set of all-too-human eyes at the end of a crimson whip, and a disturbingly monstrous eye bordered by a metallic clasp. A metallic clasp on the cover of a book with many claws, whose story the paladin had yet to receive. 

“I realize this escalates the danger to all involved, so I will understand if you wish to recuse yourself from our previous bargain instead of making war against half the Spire.” The owlen made a point of making eye contact with each of his undead allies, Saren’s expression carefully neutral. “And if not, then I am open to some degree of renegotiation if you are.”

“Do we have any idea how strong this ‘commander’ of his actually is?” Sean asked Gel, after the slime had finished translating for him. “Because it sounds like he’s asking us to help him kill the guy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for feeding you corrupt local officials, but I’ve got a feeling whatever feathers has planned to resolve this here is going to be the opposite of stealth.” 

Sean didn’t voice his real concern, which was potentially missing the opportunity to explore all that Dervash had to offer, albeit under a disguise. He didn’t have to, though. He knew Gel was every bit as concerned as he was, and the slime’s response proved it. 

“My wobble says you’re right on the haunch of it, there.” Gel said, and Sean suppressed an amused twitch of his lips at the expression. His friend was still deeply entrenched inside the latest version of their wildheart stew, furiously slurping away as they stared down the owlen together. “I’m happy to help him if you really want to– provided we get our chance to explore the town’s foodstores first– but honestly? This is beginning to sound less and less like our problem.” 

Sean couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. Helping a friend out of an ambush was one thing. Helping a friend start, or rather finish a war, was something else entirely. 

Haven’t even gotten the chance to see the city yet, I’ll be damned if I’m getting kicked out of it on his account. The silence stretched on between them, interspersed only by the sound of draining liquid, as the geladin continued to consider the proposition. If Gel can make us a disguise out of anyone we eat, then there’s no real way they can keep us out for good. At least, none that I know of… 

There was always the possibility the city guard had some other way of detecting them. In fact, he would be surprised if they didn’t. Which is all the more reason not to alert them in the first place. 

“I’m guessing from your prolonged silence that you’re open to me just telling him no?” Gel guessed. 

“Yeah.” Sean didn’t see any other way around it. “At least for now. Maybe after we’ve had some time to see the sights and explore the city. Get our bearings. Learn the lay of the land. We don’t know what we don’t know here, after all. Did he even mention a timeframe for resolving this crisis of his? From what you said, it sounded urgent-ish.” 

“He did not.” 

“Then yeah,” Sean leaned back, folding his arms in front of him. Across the kitchen, he could see resignation flicker in the owlen’s eyes as the Saren recognized the conclusion they had just come to. “I’m still open to helping him, but not if doing so takes away our chance at everything we came here for.” 

Gel murmured his assent, and the former paladin leaned forward while raising one wing up as if in question. In response, a crimson whip pulled towards them defensively, sliding the massive silver pot the slime was still eating from back away from the owlen. 

“Fear not, sir Gel.” The paladin said with a small smile. “I do not wish to deprive you of any of your… ‘mystery leg soup’.” 

The story Gel had told of the leg’s acquisition had been a… colorful one. Sean didn’t recall it, and the slime swore they had found it somewhere in the sewers. It hadn’t matched any of the shop’s former inhabitants, and was in fact distinctly feminine. Also, slightly rotted. 

It’s gotta belong to someone. Who just loses a leg and forgets about it? The geladin still recalled, and regretted, the loss of his arm for so long. Arms*, really. He wondered if that little addition to the soup was going to come back at them. Gel certainly seemed to like it, and the Oomnomicon swore it would improve the dish’s effect.

Sean eyed the suspiciously silent book as he waited for the paladin to continue. Then again, with a name like that… 

“I do however, wish to bring up one other point for your consideration.” Saren added, and Sean could have sworn he heard an asian voice saying “One more thing!” in his mind. “Before you make your final decision either way, that is.” 

“And that is?” Gel said, expressing both of their opinions’ simultaneously. 

“Gold Spire has your weapon.” Saren’s expression went suddenly serious, and suddenly Gel’s tone was as well. 

“What do you mean, ‘has our weapon’?” The slime asked, pointing a suspicious whip at the former paladin as he continued giving Sean a real-time translation of the conversation. “I thought you were still having it made for us! And you’re saying you just gave it to the people who betrayed you instead?!”

“No! I didn’t give it to anyone.” Saren held up both wings in exaggerated defense. “Well, that’s not true. I had the ingot crafted into a fine weapon, just as we agreed. One made by the best smithes in the city! … that were available at the time. That I could afford.” 

The owlen winced a bit, clearly having unintentionally revealed that particular piece of information while glancing off to the side.

He’s nervous. No… ‘shaken’ is more accurate. Afraid. We’re his last resort, and here he is having to deliver bad news right after asking for our help. Sean had never seen the owlen ramble on like this. Normally Feathers was cool and composed, but right now... He looks like he should be sweating. 

“It was one of the items I was bringing you,” Saren continued, rubbing his hands together as if he didn’t know what else to do with them. “But it was stolen from me before I could deliver it. I am unfortunately… not sure how. It was stolen so expertly the Oracle had to bring its loss to my attention.” 

The owlen’s obvious shame at being unwittingly relieved of the valuable material they had entrusted him with was the only proof Sean needed that Saren wasn’t lying. Well, that and the fact the former paladin’s slowly rising heartbeat hadn’t jumped at all when he was talking. Pulse sense as a lie detector is definitely going to come in handy when we hit the markets.

As far as the theft itself, it appeared that both he and his living stomach/best friend were in complete agreement on their response. 

“WHAT?! You didn’t tell me Gold Spire had stolen from us!” The slime bellowed, shaking the pot’s contents by virtue of his volume alone. “Lead with that next time, because we’re in! You need a real plan first, and I want several new outfits – full outfits mind you, accessories included – but we’re one hundred percent in to consume one hundred percent of whoever is responsible. I want that weapon.” 

“Tell him we need some time first, too.” Sean added. “A couple of days, couple of weeks. Whatever he can get us. Then we’ll help him peel their traitorous, thieving faces off.” 

“Oh, you bet we will. Nobody takes our rightfully plundered goods and gets away with it!” Gel responded promptly, this time only to Sean through their connection. “Nobody!”

“... just like that?” Saren asked after Gel had translated Sean’s intent, the owlen’s expression one of confusion mixed with relief. As if he had gambled on the stolen item being his bargaining chip, but couldn’t believe it had actually worked.

“Just like that.” Gel acknowledged, and Sean nodded to show his own agreement. 

“I–... thank you.” The owlen inclined his head respectfully. “I can, of course, promise to provide you with additional outfits.”

“Full outfits.” Gel reminded him swiftly, raising his whip once more for emphasis. “With accessories.” 

“With accessories.” Saren agreed. “As far as a plan for how to handle this mess… I will indeed need some time. I cannot be seen in the city, either. Do you intend to stay here or…?” 

“We do.” Gel affirmed. “There’s too much food here we haven’t eaten yet to leave.” 

Saren looked slightly alarmed, but the slime quickly clarified his point. “Regular food, I meant. What the rest of the enlightened eat. Not the enlightened themselves. We won’t be eating any more of them.” 

Just as the owlen’s expression was beginning to relax, the one other entity in the room capable of speech suddenly piped up, sounding outraged. 

“What do you mean, you won’t be eating any more of ze enlightened?” The omnomicon asked in peasant, its formal tone coming out so quickly that it took Gel a second to translate for him. “Zat is not at all what I was led to believe! You said you had eaten all kinds of zem, and would again! I will not waste my time and talents on paltry dishes zat do not include ze barest hint of supple flesh or studied brains! Zat is how ze mind grows weak!” 

The former paladin went carefully still, and Sean couldn’t help it. 

He started laughing. 

—------------------------

It didn’t take long for Gel to pacify both Saren and the omnomicon. The first by promising that they would only eat the right people – while within the city limits – and the second by assuring the apparently bloodthirsty tome that they would in fact be eating people within the city limits. After that, Saren claimed one of the now-vacant bedrooms next to the kitchen in order to get some long-overdue shut-eye and promised he would begin proper planning for his revenge-arc in the morning. 

“How did you know it was Feathers rushing up the stairs?” Gel asked, after the paladin had gone. 

“Heartbeat.” Sean replied, polishing his shiny new pot with a cloth he had pilfered from a nearby drawer. “Well, more what his heartbeat does to the rest of his veins. I could ‘see’ all of it with my pulse sense as soon as he got up to the first floor. The network of veins inside him, I mean. It’s… unique, in a way. Like a fingerprint. Only easier to read and I don’t have to dust anything to see it.” 

“Why would you have to dust a fingerprint?” Gel asked, with earnest curiousity. “I’ve eaten enough to know those little swirly parts at the end are unique, but where does the dust come in?”

“People where I’m from figured out that you can tell who committed a crime by using dust to find hidden fingerprints on the murder weapon. Doesn’t work if they clean up after themselves.” Sean explained, holding up his now-pristine pot briefly to emphasize his point before setting it back down. “But it can catch the stupid ones.”

“So, you’re saying we need to examine the weapon that was stolen from us when we get it back, then go eat everyone whose filthy thief prints are on it.” Gel said, wobbling to himself in understanding. “Except for Saren of course, and whoever made it. They can live, too.” 

Sean hadn’t intended the conversation to go in that direction, but now that it had he was curious. “How are you planning to match them to the perpetrators, here? Most people aren’t going to just offer up their hand to be examined by a stranger.”

“True.” Gel acknowledged, trailing off. “We’ll have to be clever about this…” 

“So, what did you zink about my recipe?” The omnomicon interrupted. “Ze flavors were far superior, were ze not? You should have seen ze benefits as well, since you completed it with sufficient mechanical aptitude.” 

Indeed, to both Sean and Gel’s delight, they actually had. 

Congratulations, you have consumed a full portion of the dish: Gravigg’s Wildheart and Leg Stew, with meat variation: ‘mutated rat heart’ and ‘human female leg’! Your bodily health has been significantly fortified! As this dish is both superior in quality to the last one you consumed and provides a similar bonus, the prior effect has been overwritten! In addition to receiving a small boost to movement speed, the first 20 points of damage that you take in the next two days will not affect your health points. 

Note: The quality of your cooking has negated the chance for temporary random mutations due to the inclusion of mutated meat. 

“I think we need to be consulting you more often.” Sean said bluntly, trusting Gel to translate for him. “He… or she? It? Whichever. It managed to negate the mutation effect, double the damage block, and give us another bonus on top of that. All in one meal!”

“And all for the low, low cost of a random leg, some additional spices, and a few handfuls of those dune seeds we found.” Gel said brightly. “Just imagine what the book could help us make if we had a more stocked kitchen!” 

Sean lost himself in just that for a moment, before coming back to reality as the slime continued talking. 

“Pity it’s cursed.” 

“Wait, what.” Sean deadpanned, staring down at his friend. 

“Oh yeah, I didn’t share the prompt with you because you were so busy making me delicious food that I didn’t want to interrupt, but it is totally cursed.” Gel said, as if that were the most natural statement in the world. “I still think it’s worth keeping, personally, but here– see for yourself.” 

With a mental flex that Sean somehow felt, a prompt was indeed sent over to him through their bond. It appeared with the sound of dark, mocking laughter, its border twisting unnaturally and its text clawed into the background instead of written. 

You have willingly opened the Omnomicon and made use of its dark knowledge. You have been afflicted with the curse ‘Bloody Inspiration’, and thus 5% of your total flesh has been sacrificed to fuel the tome’s endless growth. Future uses will require the same sacrifice and if the book is willingly opened, this cost cannot be ignored or deferred. You are also now far more susceptible to any attempts by the Omnomicon to entreat you to utilize its knowledge once more. 

Note: As your very nature to consume all things closely mirrors the Omnomicon’s own purpose to consume all manner of life, you are inherently immune to any attempts by the tome to entreat you to utilize its knowledge. 

Note: As a creature lacking any sort of natural flesh, an equivalent cost of 5% of your total mass has been paid instead. 

We really need to work on our communication. Sean thought, reading through the prompt. He suddenly felt like Doctor Weevil holding a conference call amongst his henchmen: “I need to know these things! You can’t just discover cursed objects and not inform me!” 

Still, reading through it again, it was hard to see a downside to this particular curse. Especially for them. Gel was so bloodthirsty the slime was inherently immune to being convinced to slaughter and cook more living things in new and potentially unique ways, and his friend could just pay the ‘flesh tax’ of the curse out of excess mass. 

Forget curse, this baby is a win all around! Sean thought, eyeing the Omnomicon with considerably increased regard despite this new revelation. I wonder what else it can teach me… ‘us’... mostly me, really. If Gel can pay the cost… 

“How long do you think it will take you to recoup that much mass?” Sean asked, knowing that his friend’s mass generation rate had increased noticeably each time they had evolved. “Provided we have the food on hand, that is.” 

“A few solid meals.” Gel said easily. “Less if the hand you’re serving it on each time is particularly thick or meaty.” 

Oh yeah. Sean thought, nodding to himself and staring at the book. You and I are about to do great things, my little, leather friend. 

“... why are you staring at me like zat?” The Omnomicon asked, offense creeping into its cultured voice. “I do not like being kept out of ze conversation, geladin. Did you like my recipe or not?!” 

“Oh yeah.” Gel responded swiftly. “We loved it, and as we are about to go shopping soon we only have one, small question for you.” 

“What is zis?”

“How many more do you have?”