[center]
[img]https://insulabaranaria.files.wordpress.com/2014/01/castle_on_fire.jpg[/img]
[h3]Let it be finished. 
This forced march into the very heart of mutation that you are the blame of. 
The hunger of your men, starved by your ambition to go forward unprepared for the storm forming around you. I pray when they find us, find our bodies bloated with your twisted ideas, that our deaths bring you the pain you have brought us. The Gods have no love for men without loyalty. 
-[b]Final words of the Seer Rozhok, loyal to the Warden.[/b][/h3][/center]


[hider=The Warden]
[center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/12/d5/fb/12d5fb466aef880e015cb78bf515b834.jpg[/img]
Known by a dozen different names throughout a life of violence and war, the man has cast off his name along with his humanity. The image above is merely a likeness to who they were, appeared to be, before the infection changed them. [/center]
[/hider]

At the center of the growing hive, below the first level of the prison complex he had spent a lifetime creating, was the hidden testing grounds of a demented 'king' at the seat of his power. A channeler of twisted and chaotic magic blessed by the unholy gods has created a virus that mutates hosts and transforms the living and dead into hideous abominations of insect and human appearance. This being who created the plague that has destroyed his home, his people, prisoners and soldiers alike, is the last victim to their own ambitions as they are carted like livestock to the foot of the bloated monster that was the first to succumb. 
The first to evolve.
They who incubated the magic that created the horde of insects, a prisoner of exceptional will and limitless defiance. At this things command they are ripped apart by the horde of insect beings surrounding its form and force their tormentor and creator into the viscous goo, regurgitating the bile and flesh of their dead 'hive leader' back into the newest victim.

Mere hours later, the warden was reborn from the terror that was the hives ruler. Reborn to be this worlds master. Like the first, the Warden is strong of will and strong of mind. Disciplined. Fearless. The mutation has given this formidable being all the blessings of its perfect mutation, purity of form and purpose. The stinging sword is felt in their mind for the briefest of instants and responded in kind, swarming the hated survivors with their growing brood. 
The call of the hive has even reached the waiting creatures the party had passed. The inmates on death row have been returned by the plague wasps, the fallen guards manning the barricades who took their own lives have returned as mindless husks caught forever in the change from man to insect. The dead members of Falcons claw return for revenge.
Step by shaking step they shrug off their old skins and sprout the demonic forms of the [url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c8/9e/bf/c89ebfb5ec5d9640b2fab65642b7bc15.jpg]perfect[/url] mutation. Barely 24 hours and the unrestrained virus had run rampant, rapidly altering itself and those it infected body after body. 

Massive [url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/89/7b/ae/897baeeb30ceb00828492340931e7869.jpg]flying insects[/url], large as a stray dog, buzzed their bulbous abdomens up the stairs at the party, their long proboscis dripping with carnage as they began to glow. Raw blood from their allies was reacting to some awful chemical in their bodies. Diana screamed her magic into the stairways and several of the flying creatures exploded into scalding oily death, the acidic compound in their glowing bodies eating away anything it came in contact with but evaporated quickly leaving only blackened scorch marks wherever they popped. 
Not that the attackers cared for their losses. Driven by the hellish will of the hive master they came clawing over each other, perfect strains mixed with the abominations variant that lacked their siblings' superior armor and offensive capabilities. The perfect strains were barely even recognizable as human anymore.

Several of the variants and one perfect strain straddled the ceiling to drop down into the midst of the party, the perfect strain pouncing at Hawkes [@Tim] unprotected flank. The others screamed and charged the back line with reckless abandon. 
Arguth stood at the frontline ahead of Hawkes, their smoldering blade separating chitin and flesh with each stroke. The only saving grace was that despite the width of the staircase, Dianas ice spell had created jagged terrain the imperfect variants could not easily navigate. Unfortunately that left the better armored creatures to lead the attack, scythed arms slashing in multiple directions attempting to pierce Hawkes defense.

In the back line, the twins were armed with their favored daggers. Etched with bloody red runes, forbidden words of a dead language that promised only death, they dealt quick damage with their blades but could not land telling blows so instead had settled for incapacitating the menace. Slashed legs, ruptures eyes, dismembered arms. Anything that could be a telling advantage for Kris, Diana, Scar, and Macey. 
The soft thumps of of more screeching mutants signaled that the imperfect variants had discovered the ceiling and had begun flanking. In moments Hawkes and Arguth would be overwhelmed.