As the bottle of Placating Brew sailed through the air in a graceful arc, Skrakch, Meekknuckle, and Zach all stilled as they watched it soar majestically. Skrakch grinned and complemented himself on his superior aim as the bottle crashed down onto the stone floor… missing the Shade completely.

In fact, it had veered so off course that even the splattering drops of the alchemical concoction went absolutely nowhere near its intended target. Not that that’s my fault, clearly. Skrakch told himself. He was tired and the events had obviously taken a toll on his mind and body.

“What in all the Hells was that supposed to be Squeakers?” Zacharias asked as he burst out laughing. He ignored the rather heated glare that the Ratling shot in his direction. “Me old Mam could’ve thrown it closer! I’d wager ten coins that Ornn could throw better than that and he’s got no fucking body!”

Feeling his fur begin to bristle and stand on end, Skrakch let out an annoyed harrumph as he pulled loose another flask. “Well actually Zacharias, I’ll have you know that that was merely a test throw. I need to make adjustments to the heft. It’s just common sense.”

Heaving backward once more, Skrakch really took his time to aim, concentrating as hard as he could on his target. With a grunt of exertion, he threw the flask in a beautiful arching shot and watched as it flew near perfectly toward the idling pile of fleshy tendrils that made up the Chosen Shade’s body.

This time, the potion bottle flew completely over the Shade and careened into the far wall of the Arena. The thick, green elixir splattered harmlessly onto the floor once more.

Freezing in place, Skrakch stoically chose to ignore the renewed burst of laughter that came from the Halfling. Instead, he glared at the Chosen Shade. While he’d completely missed on his thrown, the Brown Iskrin had taken note of the way the Shade had minutely adjusted as the flask passed overhead.

The tendrils had coiled together as one and turned to track the new object although they’d remained passively stuck in the center of the sand pit.

“Hmm, at no point have the tendrils turned to face us… Perhaps the Shade can’t see or detect us at this range?” Skrakch mused as he stroked his furry chin.

“Meek want to try!” The Goblin’s high-pitched voice pulled Skrakch from his musings. He turned to see the diminutive Goblin proudly puffing out his chest. “Me one of best hunters in whole tribe! Ornn help with that but me good at throwing rock. Weird green bottle not that different…”

It wasn’t very often that Skrakch was wholeheartedly behind rooting for Meek. In fact, this may be the very first time. Still, the idea of being forced to ask Zacharias to take care of it didn’t exactly appeal to him. The Halfling was already grinning at him smugly, hand outstretched for a potion bottle. Skrakch smiled back at him and happily passed the Goblin one of the many flasks he had stuck in his bandolier. Zacharias rolled his eyes and shrugged as Meek seemed to weigh the bottle in his hand before rotating his arms a few times to limber up.

“Meekknuckle got this!” The tiny Goblin yelled as he took a few steps forward to get into position. He let out a small grunt as he tossed the bottle. Surprisingly, his aim was actually very good. The vial made its way into the sand pit where it collided with one of the many bodies littering the ground.

As the potion bottle burst into shards, the Placating Brew splashed outward and covered the Chosen Shade’s body in the green liquid. Even from their vantage point, Skrakch could smell the thick, cloying smoke as the affected tendrils burst into black flames.

A sharp-sounding scream bubbled out of the Shade as it became a wildly flailing mass. The Shade reacted to the brew by repeatedly smashing its tendrils down to the ground near where the remains of the flask lay in a pathetic attempt to try and smother the flames.

“Not bad Goblin, not bad,” Zacharias commented from beside Skrakch, the Thief having clearly finished chortling at his misfortune. “I didn’t expect you to have the arm strength to reach the thing, but your control is definitely better than Squeakers.”

Lashing his tail to the side in anger, Skrakch couldn’t help his retort.

“Fuck you, Zacharias, I’d like to see you do any bette-“ Skrakch clamped down on the end of his sentence, but the damage was done.

With a wide grin, Zacharias grabbed two of the vials from Skrakch’s bandolier and gave them an appraising look and hefted them up and down. “Heavier than I thought. But with no wind down here, this is a piece of piss.”

Not bothering to even try throwing them once at a time, the Halfling deftly spun the bottles so that the stems were between his fingers before tossing them with a seemingly careless throw.

As the flasks arched perfectly toward the Shade, Skrakch couldn’t help but grind his teeth together in frustration.

As annoying as Zacharias was to have around in general, the drunken prick was always so damned proud of his bloody aim. The Halfling was even the champion of the annual Plagued Rat’s darts contest for six years running, and Skrakch…

Well, he’d stopped signing up after his third abysmal showing. He simply couldn’t afford to keep losing money like that. The Ratling was pretty sure that his inability to aim a crossbow or toss a dart was clearly something that all Iskrin struggled with. After all, there was no way it could just be him right?

It was hard to discount the results of Zacharias’ throw however, as both flasks collided and burst with the Shade’s tendrils, blanketing the creature in the Brew.

The unholy wailing rose to a nearly unbearable crescendo as the Shade’s inhumane form began frantically spinning in place. Skrakch could spot dozens of tendrils that simply burned to a crisp and fell to the floor in a disgusting heap of burnt flesh.

More importantly, Skrakch could tell the creature wasn’t recovering from the effects of the onslaught of the Brew. It was simply attacking the sand and the few remaining rotting bodies around it as though it was the floor of the Arena itself that was causing its pain.

Ignoring the shit-eating grin he spotted on Zacharias’ face, Skrakch just silently passed over a few more of the vials for the Halfling to toss. Hells, he even passed a couple more to Meekknuckle to throw as well. They might as well use their full might, such as it was.

With each flask that landed on or near the mindless beast, its size began to diminish more and more. Even though it was clearly in a state of panic, the Shade didn’t appear to realize that it could move from its current location. It was almost as though it was rooted to the spot, perhaps by some of its tentacles.

Skrakch didn’t know or care. Each of those tendrils would be plenty to kill them twice over. But, without being able to move? It was simply a sitting duck. Wujeeta had given him plenty of the flasks and while the price of each Placating Brew added up quickly, Skrakch had no intention of quibbling over material costs.

After a dozen or so throws, Meekknuckle let out a happy shout of triumph as he finally landed a flask directly on the Shade.

“Haha! You take that, Snake Lady! You not so scary now!” The Goblin exclaimed, doing a little victory dance on the spot. “Meek thought Chosen meant to be scary but Meek think this easy!” He chirped joyously. He was quickly silenced as Skrakch hit him upside the head, acting entirely upon instinct.

“Shut your mouth, you foolish idiot!” Skrakch practically hissed as he frantically scanned the Arena for any new threats. If there was one thing that he’d learned from his frequent bouts with Death, it was that the second you started thinking that everything was going well, it all turned to shit.

As the Ratling checked around the room, he was pleasantly surprised to notice that not much had actually changed. There were no waiting swarms of Ghouls, and Winifred still seemed to be holding her own against the massive Ghast.

The colossal Undead now seemed to be missing one of its arms, the tangling stump still twitching as the Ghast tried ineffectively to swat the annoying human attacking it, although Winifred had her fair share of nasty-looking wounds too.

Skrakch watched as she sidestepped the Ghast’s claws… but she didn’t react in time to avoid a bit of broken bone that was sticking out of the Abomination’s arm. It swiped across her stomach, causing a rather horrible-looking gash that started to seep blood. It looked as though the Chosen was struggling with the Undead’s unique frame, but so long as she wasn’t getting completely overwhelmed…

Turning back to watch as flask after flask of Placating Brew crashed down onto the Chosen Shade’s tendrils, Skrakch had to admit that the plan finally seemed to be going well, all things considered.

Fuck.

Wincing to himself even as he had the thought, Skrakch watched as the Chosen Shade finally began to move. With its tendrils still aflame, the center of the Shade rose above the rest of its now-blackened flesh. With each inch it moved upward, more and more of its tendrils pulled themselves loose from the pile of rotting bodies.

Before long, the Ratling could see a faint outline of a human form at the apex of the Chosen Shade’s mass of writhing tentacles, as the host body began to rise up among the mass of putrid flesh.

Surprisingly, Survix looked none the worse for wear considering her entire being had been taken over. It was clear that the Shade had treated the Demoness with utmost caution. At least up until this point anyway.

Grasping soot-stained tendrils began to wrap around her slim waist only to suddenly toss her comatose body to the side, letting her limp form collide with a nearby wall with a resounding thud.

Skrakch took in the shifting events with an open mouth before his sense of danger kicked in. Diving downward, the Ratling bodily hauled Meekknuckle along with him as he sought refuge behind a large pile of rubble.

“What in the Hells is going on?” He whispered out loud. “Everything I read about Shades and their host bodies… they never… the way it just threw her…”

He wasn’t really speaking to his Goblin companion but Meek nodded as though he understood anyway.

A few seemingly never-ending seconds passed and Skrakch began to think that he’d momentarily jumped the gun. Suddenly, a wave of Mana rippled over him, pervading his mind as he desperately tried to resist the sudden mental intrusion.

The foreign energy attacked like a battering ram, ripping apart the Ratling’s hastily summoned Mana defenses as a twisted cry sounded out from the center of the Arena.

Thirst…