DD1 ASC - Chapter 5 - Misdeeds (Patreon)

As the dragon stalked the moonlit streets of Rhelea, there were no cries of alarm, roaring fires or sounds of trailing destruction. There was only the soothing quiet of a sleeping city on a hot, cloudless summer's night. While the green moon was starting to wane, there was still plenty of light to see by, not that Typhoeus really needed any, his [Sovereign's Perception] skill being more than enough to account for the near-total darkness. At this early hour, the roads were clear of all but those taking advantage of the night to commit their various misdeeds, and Typhoeus was well aware of more than a few footpads scurrying about the rooftops in the darkness. The intermittent guard patrols being laughably easy to avoid even without his perception skill, as the warm light cast from their glowing lanterns announced their presence long before they noisily stomped past in their creaking leather armour.

Even so, Typhoeus decided to keep to the backstreets and alleyways, wary that he might be spotted at any time by a curious citizen peeking their head out from a bedroom window. He was new to human civilisation and decided that it was better to play it safe, as he still only had a vague idea about the perception skills that might be possessed by the slumbering populace. So far, he was pretty disappointed with the showing that humanity was presenting. The average level for an adult in Rhelea seemed to be in the mid to high 30’s with only their combative classes and their elderly pushing past 50 and into their 3rd tier of power. Intellectually he knew that it was from the weaker ambient mana, with Rhelea being just far enough away from the confluence of ley lines that ran through the Dragonspines to make passive levelling a much slower prospect for the relatively short-lived humans. Still, given the numerous benefits that came with every level, it was hard for him as a predatory creature to understand why humans simply didn’t just hunt others in order to push their classes to the bottom of tier 4 before death finally claimed them.

It took Typhoeus some time to walk back to the Alchemist’s Guild, his short walk through town taking significantly longer as a result of his decision to avoid travelling on any major roads. When he finally arrived outside of the imposing building, he bent low to the ground, taking in deep lungfuls of air as he stretched his human lungs to capacity. He took his time inhaling the noxious bouquet of foul odours that were constantly leaking out from behind the closed doors of the Alchemist’s Guild headquarters. Ignoring how the fumes made his head swim, he tasted each one in turn and assessed their source. Azoth was an unfortunately clean human for his purposes, which was rather remarkable given that the only source of natural freshwater within the township of Rhelea came from the river, which was anything but clean. Even so, from their brief meeting earlier in the day, Typhoeus knew the man’s true scent, even if it was hidden beneath layers and layers of unpleasant chemical smells.

Typhoeus followed his nose, while his human olfactory senses were vastly inferior to what he was used to, [Sovereign's Perception], being a 4th tier skill was more than capable of doing the heavy lifting as he followed the old man's trail through the town's vacant streets. By the smell of things, Azoth had left the administrative building hours ago, likely before it had gotten dark, and in the intervening time, his scent had gotten muddled with those of the other residents of the busy town. Tracking the old alchemist would be a challenge, but not one that he couldn't overcome with the appropriate amount of focus. So intent was Typhoeus’s concentration on the scent trail that he was caught entirely off guard when minutes later he walked face first into a firm muscular chest and had to momentarily windmill his arms out to the side as his top-heavy frame struggled to remain on his two feet.

"What are you doing out so late little lamb?" A deep voice asked of him.

Typhoeus shifted his attention back to his surroundings as he found himself standing in a quiet cobbled side street with three other men, tagged as two warriors and a rogue, all low levelled at the beginning of their second tier. He saw the men’s threatening postures, the conspicuous bulges of their sheathed weapons coupled with the sharp tang of rusted steel and frowned. They obviously wanted something from him, and by the looks of things, they weren't above resorting to violence to get it. Which was odd as Typhoeus was clearly without belongings of any value as he was clad only in his ill-fitting clothes and a warm cloak without even so much as a pair of shoes on his tiny feet. He wasn't afraid, whilst remaining in his [Alternate Form] meant that he was much reduced in power; he was still more than capable of defending himself from opportunistic thugs such as these.

"That is none of your business, now what do you want?" Typhoeus demanded, eager to resolve this confrontation as quickly as possible.

"Now, now, there's no need to be so rude little lamb. Me and the boys here were just looking to have some fun." The rogue said, smiling wide to reveal a mouth full of silver teeth. His two so far silent ‘boys’ snickering loudly as they slowly circled around to surround Typhoeus.

"Well, I'm sure the three of you can make your own fun by yourselves, but I am in a hurry, and you are in my way, so I must be going," Typhoeus said, moving to walk around the well-muscled man who responded in turn by smoothly pulling a long knife from his belt. A blade which he then levelled at Typhoeus's throat, causing the dragon to halt mid-stride.

"You misunderstand me, little lamb. The boys and I are going to have our fun, and you are going to bend over and take it. Now, if you're suitably enthusiastic, then maybe we won't carve you up when we're done." The rogue threatened, pressing the tip of his knife into Typhoeus neck deep enough to draw a thin trickle of blood.

“Humans…” Typhoeus muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he resigned himself to the inevitability of what was about to happen.

“What was that little lamb?” The rogue in front of him asked, the knife's edge digging just a little bit deeper into his flesh, eliciting a spike of pain that Typhoeus promptly ignored.

“If you leave now, I promise that I won’t chase you, but if you don’t remove that knife from my throat, then at the very least, I will be taking those delightful teeth of yours,” Typhoeus said as he felt his mouth begin to salivate at the prospect of a well-earned meal.

“Silver ...I think something is wrong. Why isn't she afraid.” Said one of the warriors, surprising Typhoeus with his remarkably astute observation.

“Shut it, Balbeir. I’ll scare her plenty before I’m done.” The silver toothed rogue snapped, the knifepoint wavering at his momentary loss of concentration.

“I’d listen to him if I were you,” Typhoeus said, a wry smile on his face as he made a mental note of the human’s positions relative to his own.

“That’s enough out of you!” Silver said, backhanding Typhoeus across the face. “Why don’t I put something else in that pretty little mouth of yours to shut you up!” He said, removing some of the pressure with his knife as he fumbled with his worn leather belt with his free hand.

Typhoeus didn't appreciate being slapped, nor did he feel threatened at all, and he decided to use the time that it took for the man to expose himself to quickly run through some mental maths. It was his first time casting spells in this form, and he wanted to be conservative with his mana usage. They were all below level 30, which made it extremely unlikely that any of them had more than a 20 in vitality. They appeared to be unarmoured, dressed in an assortment of well-worn linens that probably wouldn’t provide them with any form of real protection and in the unlikely event that any of them did have a defensive skill, then he doubted from the apparent lack of weapon maintenance that they would have put in the required effort to ensure that it would be highly levelled.

With his vastly superior stats, he was confident that he could kill each one of them with only four mana apiece. Five to be safe. He crafted a manabolt, mentally incorporating the runes for impact and heat firmly into the substructure of the spell as he finished sculpting his working. Tugging gently on the energy in his well, he filled the construct with five points of mana that immediately condensed into a high-density projectile, his aspected mana causing the properties of the spell to shift until the manabolt was composed of equal parts kinetic and thermal energy. The whole process of forming his spell took less than a fraction of a heartbeat as he cast the first combat spell that he had ever learned.

The silver toothed rogue who went by the unimaginative monicker of ‘Silver’ was stood directly in front of the dragon with his trousers down around his ankles. The human's erect penis cast a sickly shade of green by the thin sliver of moonlight in the sky up above as the man gestured at Typhoeus with his long knife to get down onto his knees.

“Suck it.” Silver said triumph in his eyes as he commanded Typhoeus to satiate his lust.

“I’d rather not,” Typhoeus said as he instead raised a small hand as a golden streak of light silently rocketed out from his flat palm, followed in quick succession by two more as the dragon repeatedly cast his favoured offensive spell.

The warrior named Balbeir, who had the good sense to be suspicious of the unclassed and apparently undefended woman walking the streets alone at night was the first to die. His head exploding into a fine mist of vapourised blood, brain and bone as the first manabolt hit him squarely between the eyes. Typhoeus's second shot wasn't quite as good, taking the second warrior in the neck. Neatly removing the space between the man's collarbone and his nose, the exposed inner flesh still sizzling as the bodies fell to the ground.

Silver must have heavily invested in his dexterity score, for even with his trousers around his ankles, he was able to barely dodge the killing shot. The rogue twisting sharply on his heels so that the spell instead clipped him on the shoulder, neatly separating his upper arm from his torso as the man fell to the floor screaming, his one remaining hand clutching at the freshly cauterised crater that used to be his shoulder.

"Ssshhhhh," Typhoeus said, raising a single finger to his full lips as he hastily wove a ward onto the cobblestones around him to dampen the sound of the man's terrified screams as the human desperately tried to push himself away from the dragon on his back using just his legs, an action that was somewhat complicated by his still lowered trousers.

"What are you!" The rogue cried, his eyes wide and dilated with delicious fear as his body was pumped full of adrenaline as it tried to stave off the effects of shock.

"I'm hungry," Typhoeus said, a predatory smile on his face as he bent over the much larger man. "Now hold still. I don't want to get my clothes dirty while I pull those teeth."

*Congratulations you have defeated a level 26 Nightstalker Fighter // level 2 Scribe, experience is awarded.*

*Congratulations you have defeated a level 23 Dagger Bravo // level 7 Footpad, experience is awarded.*

*Congratulations you have defeated a level 29 Bandit Swordsman, experience is awarded.*

*Your class is at its level cap. Rank up to claim further experience.*

Typhoeus may have gotten a little carried away, manabolts were commonplace and would not attract attention, half-eaten corpses were presumably less so. He had to melt the remainder of their bodies down into a grizzly puddle with a relatively mana intensive spell that cost him far more of his reserves than he was necessarily comfortable with, especially when considering that he still had the main event of his night ahead of him. And that wasn’t even mentioning the absurd mana cost of condensing all that water from the air in order to wash the worst of the liquified gore away. In his defence, he was finding it to be quite stressful spending all of his time surrounded by adventurers who would very happily kill him if they ever discovered the truth, and after a whole week of being on his best behaviour, he needed to cut loose.

Finding Azoth’s trail again was a little tricky. In his earlier enthusiasm, Typhoeus had accidentally sprayed a fine coating of aerosolised blood all over the alley, which completely overpowered the relatively faint trail that the aged alchemist had left behind in his wake. He had to waste ten minutes sniffing around nearby street corners until he was once again able to pick up the old man's unpleasant chemical scent.

So far, the alchemist had led Typhoeus on a merry chase through the streets of Rhelea and considering the size of the town, he was starting to get worried that he would soon run out of roads to explore. Already the alchemist's scent had led him to a surprisingly run-down part of the inner town, closer to the western walls where the buildings were in a noticeably less fit state of repair. As he was starting to wonder if it was time to give up for the night, he turned onto a street that was considerably livelier than the others surrounding it.

Red paper lanterns decorated a variety of bustling premises along this stretch of comparatively well-lit road, bathing the cobbled street and stone buildings in a warm red light. As Typhoeus walked alone up the busy thoroughfare, his newly looted silver teeth and bronze coins clinking together softly in his pocket, he quickly realised from the sheer quantity of foot traffic that sticking to the shadows would be far more conspicuous than simply walking along normally. Despite the late hour, the road was almost filled to capacity by a wide variety of men and women who were for the most part heavily inebriated as they stumbled into or out of one of the many businesses that lined the streets, all the while men and women in various states of undress attempted to lure them into their respective establishments from the relative comfort of expansive stone balconies that overlooked the busy road below.

Typhoeus froze mid-stride as, for the first time [Sovereigns Perception] clipped one of the busier looking buildings, giving him an invasive eye inside what he now knew to be quite a profitable brothel. He had never really put all that much thought into human reproductive practices, but he was coming to realise that humans certainly thought about it a lot. As he slowly walked down the street, his education on the subject matter grew considerably as he tried his best to shrink down his moving sphere of perception. The sex acts that he was inadvertently witnessing causing his cheeks to flush with warmth and his heart to race as his very skin tingled with some form of unknown excitement.

Unsure as to what exactly was happening to him, Typhoeus decided to stop off in a quiet cafe to catch his breath, where he traded a good chunk of his recently stolen chalkoi for a hot drink and a plate of fried unidentifiable meat served with crispy onions. The meal was salty and satisfying, although it came nowhere close to the slices of fluffy perfection that he had enjoyed earlier in the day, which he supposed was to be expected given the drastic differences in their respective prices. The individual cake slices costing hard silver compared to his current meals meagre price of 7 bronze chalkoi, which said a lot about their relative value given the exchange rate of 1 single silver drachm to 6 bronze obol, which in turn could be converted down into bronze chalkoi at a ratio of 1 obol to 12 chalkoi. The cafe itself, despite its much lower prices, was pleasant enough, if a little sticky in places, but more importantly, there were no humans currently having full penetrative sex within range of his shrunk down sphere of perception, so he was more than happy to sit still and eat his food as he tried to ignore the multitude of biological scents coating the sides of his private booth as the near topless waitstaff moved about serving the few customers in the small establishment.

At the end of the day, human sexuality was fundamentally disgusting. Like most mammals, they simply had far too many hormones that they were constantly secreting and spraying everywhere and on everything. Dragons certainly had the better end of that deal, being largely sexless until such a time that they were ready to produce a clutch of eggs. As he sat in quiet contemplation, he found that his eyes were unwillingly drawn to the impractically large chest of a waitress in a bra several sizes too small for her while she precariously ferried a wide tray of drinks from one end of the cafe to another. This unfortunate realisation forced Typhoeus to acknowledge that his [Alternate Form] had cursed him with a human libido to go with all of his new internal organs and hormones. He continued staring and felt his pulse quicken and the incessant fluttering between his legs pick up right where it had left off as if his time away from the thoroughfare had done nothing to dampen his unwanted arousal.

“Fuck.” He said, the new word feeling oddly satisfying as he spat it from his mouth.

“Something wrong with your order, ma’am?” A tall waiter asked politely, the man's chest suspiciously shiny and smelling strongly of pressed vegetables.

“No, it’s actually quite nice. What is it again?” He asked, looking up from his seat.

“You forget or somethin’?” The man asked, furrowing his brow as he looked at Typhoeus’s drink quizzically. “That there despite what it says on the cask is the cheapest rye whisky money can buy, heated up with some sugar in the mix to disguise the fact that it tastes like burning and regret.”

“I think I might like burning and regret,” Typhoeus said wistfully as he swirled his cup a few times before taking another sip.

“Well, if that ain't the most depressing thing I ever did hear. So what are you doing here? You don’t exactly look like the titty bar type if you don’t mind me saying.” The waiter drawled, flashing Typhoeus with a flawless toothy grin that, against his better judgement, helped set him at ease.

“I’m not entirely sure, I came here with this grand plan of revenge, but I kinda got overwhelmed and came in here to catch my breath.” The dragon admitted, the harsh liquor burning his throat making it all the easier to open up to the tall stranger.

“Huh, your fella step out on you with one of the girls on the row?”

“Something like that.”

“What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?” The waiter asked, taking the opposite seat in Typhoeus’s booth.

“Typh.”

“Well, Typh, the name’s Ames, not that you asked.” The man said, extending his hand across the table, which Typhoeus belatedly shook.

“Sorry.” He said, feeling embarrassed for potentially missing out on some rather obvious human social cues.

“It’s okay, you're not a big talker, but that's alright. I can do enough of that for the both of us.” He said, chuckling at his own joke before leaning over the table where he helped himself to a sip of Typhoeus’s drink and immediately winced at the acrid taste. “Gods above, that’s some harsh stuff. So this grand revenge of yours, this guy deserve it?”

Typhoeus didn’t even have to think. “Absolutely, the man deserves an eternity of painful torments with his soul hung on tenterhooks suspended between life and death, and it wouldn’t even pay for a fraction of his many heinous crimes.” He said firmly, feeling his resolve reassert itself as he remembered the vivid grin on Azoth’s face as he described the near industrialised mutilation of Typhoeus’s kin.

“Okay then, well I think you know what you’ve gotta do. Just don’t go hurtin’ any of the women who work the row in your revenge now. I get that this guy disrespected you, but the girls out there are just doing a job, you hear me.”

“I hear you, although I’m surprised you're not telling me to forgive and forget.”

“Do I look like a priest to you?” Ames asked, the question confusing Typhoeus as the human clearly lacked a class of any kind.

“Yes?” He answered, feeling unsure of himself.

Ames laughed at that. “I don’t even want to know what the priests look like where you are from.”

“Who says I’m from anywhere?” Typhoeus said defensively.

“It’s your accent. It’s kinda archaic. You from Epheria or perhaps even Thesia? Never mind, you keep your secrets. Anyway, you need to tip me a few coins, or my manager is going to give me an earful for wasting so much of my time.”

“Uhh, right,” Typhoeus said, reaching into his deep pockets and producing a large handful of bronze chalkoi that clattered noisily on the table when he put them down.

“Well, that’ll do nicely,” Ames said, his eyes widening appreciatively as he quickly snatched up the coins from the table's surface and stuffed them into a discreet pocket around his waist. “Although it is a little too much, tell you what. I’ll have Opal bring you another one of those godsawful hot sugar whiskies you seem to like so much.”

“Thanks, uhm, who’s Opal?”

“She’s Opal,” Ames said with a suggestive wink as he gestured at the large breasted waitress who had caught Typhoeus’s eye earlier. “What? I get that things are different up west where you are definitely not from, but to me, it sounds like you’re recently single, and it's not like a woman enjoying the company of another woman is exactly breaking new ground in good ol’ Terythia.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” He asked, his eyes wandering over Opal and lingering for several seconds too long before returning his gaze to look at Ames squarely in the eye.

“Us unclassed folk have to look out for each other, you know, that, and it cost me next to nothing. You take care of yourself now, and do make sure to go get your revenge. Anyone dumb enough to scorn a beauty like you sure has it coming!” Ames said as he smoothly got up from behind the small table, bidding the dragon a friendly farewell.

When it eventually came, Typhoeus took his time enjoying his second drink and the brief if a little awkward interaction with Opal, who brought it to him. The dragon savoured the harsh burn of the cheap whisky that provided him with the closest sensation he had felt to having a fire in his throat for almost a week. He replayed Ames's words in his head as he carefully pondered the friendly waiter’s advice and found it to ultimately be without fault. He was here for a very specific purpose, not to mope about in a corner because his shapeshifting skill came with an unanticipated drawback. He was a dragon; he could do anything that he set his mind to, and tolerating being a sexual being for a couple of decades couldn't be too hard.

Feeling refreshed and refocused, he left the cafe and returned to the hunt, contentedly rubbing his hands over the gentle swell of his twice full belly as he walked along the length of the aptly named Red Row looking for an alchemist to kill. He was two whiskies deep into his evening, and the stars were burning just a little bit brighter as a result. His light buzz helping to take the edge off his perception skill as the flood of information it provided him with faded more easily into the background. He focused in on Azoth’s scent, finding it easy to follow, the harsh chemicals standing out strongly from the more mundane perfumes and odours of the night's revellers.

The alchemist’s trail eventually came to a stop at a much grander looking brothel than all the others on the Row. The facade of the building was covered in intricate carvings that were given an additional level of depth to them by the sprawling ivy that crept up the grey stone walls where it latched onto the open balconies and wooden trellises. The building stood alone with a wide alley separating it on all sides from its neighbours, which was an oddity in this part of town where most structures tended to back onto one another, as was customary in Rhelea where space within the walls was at a premium.

Unlike the other brothels on the row, no men or women were draped over balconies looking for customers. Instead, standing outside the ornate hardwood doors was a surprisingly high levelled warrior in her third-tier standing guard in thick full plate with a well made greataxe slung over her impressively broad shoulders. The woman took one look at Typhoeus in his ill-fitting clothes before making a dismissive shooing gesture at him, clear in her intent that he should move along, a course of action that he quickly obliged her in pursuing. Fortunately, while the guard kept her keen eyes on the street and the doors of her establishment, there appeared to be little concern given to the alley running around the perimeter of the building, which the young dragon exploited as he slipped around the back to where he was no longer being observed.

He checked his status, needing to double-check his mana levels before he committed himself any further and was surprised to see that his name entry had changed on his [Alternate Form] in order to better match his lie.

Name: Typh

Species: Human

Age: 18

HP: 360/360

SP: 360/360

MP: 4872/5040

Strength: 36

Dexterity: 36

Vitality: 36

Intelligence: 120

Willpower: 120

Charisma: 80

With his 36 strength, Typhoeus was effectively a little more than twice as strong as he had any right to be, but he had designed his body for its pleasing aesthetics, not for raw physical might, and being twice as strong as a small waif of a woman wasn't saying much. To bridge the gap between his reality and his needs, he was forced to weave another spell to temporarily bolster his attributes further. His mana dropping as his muscles visibly swelled, his baseline strength and his strength score essentially doubling as his mana supply was consumed at a rapid pace as he set to work climbing the outside of the building. He moved quickly, his spell enhanced fingers digging deep into the cracks in the stone, taking advantage of the plentiful ivy and decorative carvings as he smoothly dragged his small body up away from the ground.

The first balcony he passed looked in on a luxuriously decorated bedroom that put his small room back at The Huntsman's Rest to shame with its plush cushions, thick curtains and soft looking carpet. But from the cool air coming from the open window, he could tell that his target wasn't inside. Instead of aimlessly exploring the interior of the brothel, he once again relied on his enhanced strength as he pulled himself upwards to the next balcony and then again to the one after that, each time repeating his assessment of the smells exuding from each room. He finally caught Azoths scent once again on the top floor, it was obscured with all of the sex and incense that wafted out from the building, but being this close to its source, Typhoeus couldn't be mistaken.

He checked the balcony door for runes and found an alarm ward glowing softly in his skill enhanced vision. It was artfully carved, but while whoever had done the inscription may have been an expert stonemason, they were lacking in their knowledge of runecraft. It took Typhoeus only a moment to add another rune and link it to the narrow inscriptions, which adjusted the alarms and protective wards to only go off if freshwater salmon breached the perimeter. Confident with his sabotage, he quietly opened the balcony door and stepped inside.

Azoth’s suite was the most impressive room that Typhoeus had seen so far, which even after only one full day in human society was saying a lot. Given its prodigious size, it must have taken up most of the top floor of the large building. The man himself was sprawled naked across a large four-poster bed gilded with gold so low in purity that it was practically lead. He approached slowly on the tips of his toes, trailing muddy footprints along the fine carpet as he looked down on the old alchemist who was sharing his bed with two other humans who looked suspiciously similar to one another, both of them tagged as level 13 entertainers neither one of whom could have been a day over the age of 20.

He stood there at the foot of the bed, waiting in silence as he listened to the old man breathe for a time. There was a definite rattle present deep in Azoth’s lungs, and it quickly became apparent to him that the human was reaching the end of his natural lifespan. It was sort of anticlimactic Typhoeus mused that someone so feeble could be so deeply involved in the torture of innocent dragons. The man had to die, of that Typhoeus’s resolve was unyielding, but as he stood over the helpless alchemist, he didn't feel any sense of satisfaction or accomplishment from pondering the act.

He had fantasised about taking his time, about trying to inflict a small modicum of the same torments upon Azoth that he had in turn been a party to with his involvement in the Royal Alchemical Stables, but now as he watched the man slumber, the fantasy no longer brought him any joy. Worse, he realised that in order to do such a thing, he would certainly have to kill the two entertainers as well, something that just didn’t sit right with him, especially after listening to Ames’s kind words of approval. Whatever his reservations, Typhoeus had to get going. Azoth was a level 109 alchemist, so it would be extremely challenging to estimate the man's vitality. Fortunately, the human was naked, and none of the rings he was wearing gave off even a whiff of mana, so Typhoeus was confident that the only challenge lay in selecting a suitable spell form that would also leave his bedmates unharmed.

After pondering the situation for several long minutes as he watched the steady rise and fall of Azoth’s grey-haired chest, Typhoeus eventually settled on his tried and true flesh melting spell and poured 2000 points of mana into it. The construct of interwoven intents bloated and threatened to burst almost immediately as his aspected mana tried to twist the spell into a concussive bomb of fire and force. The air began to hiss and vibrate as Typhoeus forced the spell more suited to scouring biological material from the walls of his cave to descend down onto the sleeping alchemist. Upon contact, Azoth’s exposed flesh began bubbling noisily as it started melting into the bedsheets, the alchemist thrashing violently as he screamed, waking the two entertainers on either side of him who joined their voices to his in a chorus of primal terror and pain.

Typhoeus stepped back, deeper into the shadows of the room as he watched Azoth die. The young dragon feeling more than a little woozy from the sudden draw of so much mana, considering his comparatively low vitality. He frowned as Azoths screams continued for much longer than he anticipated, belatedly realising that the alchemist must have had some kind of anti-corrosion skill, one that was being sorely tested by Typhoeus's spell. Calls of alarm started echoing out throughout the brothel as the chorus of blood-curdling screams reached an ear-splitting crescendo, finally waking the buildings other sleeping occupants. Typhoeus hurriedly threw up a barrier spell around the doors to Azoth’s room to keep them closed as he waited in the shadows, the entertainers in the room too distracted in their panic to search for him as he silently reassessed his opinions on drawn-out torments.

*Congratulations you have defeated a level 109 Grand Vizier Alchemist // level 103 Bloodsoaked Vivisectionist // level 58 Inspired Haemotheurge, experience is awarded*

*Your class is at its level cap. Rank up to claim further experience.*

Typhoeus smiled at the notification confirming Azoth’s death as it also meant an end to his unseemly screams. Deciding that he had long since overstayed his welcome, he turned and ran back to the balcony through the open doors, where he jumped off the side of the building using the higher elevation and his impressive physical attributes to make the leap over the alley and land on the slate roof of the adjacent building. His bare feet skidding over the uneven tiles of the roof as he landed. He wasted a single moment to glance back over his shoulder for signs of pursuit before proceeding to run off into the night.