All the clues pointed to an obsessiveness. A compulsion that drove the deranged man, Carlenno, past the edge of insanity. What might remain of his experimentation down here was Quintin's most pressing concern. The odds of a transmogrified creature being both down here and alive were long, given the amount of time that appeared to have passed since Sozzelrift's collapse.

Quintin wore a ponderous expression as he cupped his chin in thought. The things both Carlenno and the 'nameless Dwarf' wrote about seem to coalesce here in the basement. Their diaries indicate the actors were unnerved by 'strange noises', prompting them to seek out an investigator. Of course, Carlenno was busy creating monsters.

As far as Quintin could tell, 'N.D.' held a grudge and Carlenno was his prime suspect. 'N.D.' got pretty far as evidenced by the two keys stuffed in the back of his journal, but the fact that the locked drawer was left intact likely meant he was unable to infiltrate the basement after all.

Quintin brought out the other two items and looked them over. One being the [Wand of Dispersal], which he guessed may have been prepared by 'N.D.' on the off chance of some ghostly or supernatural phenomenon. And the other, [Liquid of Transformations]; This stuff was, supposedly, capable of transmogrifying anyone unfortunate enough to be injected by it into a hideous monster, permanently.

The description of the Liquid is detailed, yet vague in all the wrong places. I guess that's what the 'random' part means. All things considered; were these experiments the cause of Sozzelrift's downfall? he sighed and patted himself up.

Well, there's no helping it now. Time to find out what Carlenno was up to in the basement, and complete this quest.

There was a respectably-sized antechamber at the very bottom. What caught Quintin's attention was not the room itself, but the state it was in. The room was a mess of bent and savaged implements, [Coblerite] stones, and broken chunks of glass that blocked easy access through. Past all the wreckage, a gaping, blasted-out hole made the idea of remodeling seem like an easy chore.

Quintin stepped around the blown-out pieces of debris very gingerly. His eye dilated as he caught a glimpse of things to come in the connecting room.

The familiar glow of [Starmoss] lit up the expansive space beyond. This place was a laboratory. Rows upon rows of lime-green preservation vats of various shapes and sizes that held piteous forms in frozen suspension. They were the damned, death-fisted bodies, all shoved inside shuttered glass envelopes—creatures in a postcard on insanity soaked shores from a mad mind out vacationing. Thick drainage tubes ran the length between test tubes, connecting to the fluid-full containers. Shards of glass were sown onto the dampened floor like forbidden Sprinkles lying in wait for unwary foot-traffic.

After minutes of standing at the entrance dumbfounded, he finally began to process what he was seeing. These were all people, with loved ones and people who cared about them... How could he? Did he never care, or was it ever difficult for him? Why-, he was at a loss, a loss that was resonated by a hundred silent test subjects.

Now's not the time. Maybe completing this [Quest] will give their lost souls here some small measure of peace. Many of the containers are busted out; perhaps some of them lived to regain a portion of their stolen lives back?

A numbness overtook his finer bodily control, his feet became stupid as he walked amongst the damned. The horror of stripped, and naked bodies; former men and women turned into both specimens, and perversions by an evil tormentor. He was too shaken up, and angry to [Identify] any of them—as if, somehow, he might be granting Carlenno's unhallowed soul some sick pleasure by viewing his trophies under a critical light.

On closer inspection, the drainage tubes were filled with highly viscous, black gunk with purplish specks. The filth caked around their seams and connection points. Thankfully, it appeared that the pumping system or some other device had died long ago, and with it the man-creatures as well.

Quintin paused to observe the liquid in more detail and found that it resembled the [Liquid of Transformations]. This cakey stuff is a bit different, but at the same time, it's similar enough to be a close relative. Though, the stuff in the syringe actually has fluidity, rather than being sludge-like.

At the other end of the underground laboratory was another smashed open doorway. Inside the trashed workroom, his [Quest] indicator drew his attention to a pile of bones on the floor. In between a toppled metal cart, a blackened humanoid skull peeked out at him. He clenched his jaw with mounting anger and [Identified] the bones.

[Bones of Carlenno]

-Dwarf Remains

-Corrupted Skull

-Transformation Remnant

These are the bones of the [Scientist], Carlenno T. Whitmer.

His ceaseless hunger destroyed the once Great City, Sozzelrift.

Very few remember the [Dwarven] city, [Sozzelrift Underhome].

Even fewer still know the story of how or why it vanished.

With no other target, and with no restraint strong enough to hold him back, he madly stomped on what remained. Over and over, until pulverized into coarse bone powder beneath his quaking feet. One man's insane appetites had snuffed out a whole population center of individuals, and the worst of it all; very few, if any, still remembered them. Even if he hadn't lived through it, he felt like he was a part of the tale now. After all he had seen, at the very least he would remember their story.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep, calm breath. As he exhaled, a slurping-sound rang in his ears. It was a song of moisture in his mind, the sonic equivalent to low-volume static or the steady, unpressured patter of rain on rooftops. A tiresome, but contented sigh caused Quintin to tense up. [Sinisphere] was picking up a presence that darted in and out of detection at random. As the seconds went by, he caught a glimpse of the wispy, ghostlike movement around a glass container, before it vanished, only to reappear a split-second later at another.

What. The fuck. Is that!?