You wake on the same stone slab. It is wet from the chamber's constant dampness. The air sticks to your skin like a second layer of clothing. It is thick and heavy. It tastes of salt and something older. Something from deep places where light has never reached.

Your clothes were once part of a fancy costume. The embroidered patterns are now hard to see under layers of mildew. They stopped being dry long ago. The stone beneath you is cold. Always cold. It doesn't matter how many months you have been here. Three months now? Four? Time moves strangely in these flooded places. You don't measure it by sun or moon. Instead, you measure it by prayers whispered in voices that bubble and rasp.

The Kuo-toa believe you are a god. They call you SHOOGBIMBHALD.

Each day their prayers wash over you like waves. They never stop. And each day something happens. Last night you raised your hand and the waters of the flooded hall parted. You had only wished it, and it happened. The fish people threw themselves on the ground. Their bulging eyes gleamed with worship. Their sticky webbed hands pressed to the slimy floor. You saw yourself reflected in those eyes. Something bright, something vast, something different.

But the memory of last night is not what wakes you now. Your breath comes quick and shallow. Your body is covered with sweat despite the cold chamber. It is the dream.

The statue.

You cannot remember its face, if it even had a face. But you remember the weight of it, the presence. It filled your sleeping mind, vast and silent. It was carved from stone so black it seemed to swallow the darkness around it. You stood before it in your dream. Though it did not move, though it did not speak, you knew it was aware of you. Watching. Waiting.

And you knew where it stood.

The forbidden chamber.

Your followers do not speak of it. That is what they are now. When you have asked about it, their bulging eyes look away. Their gill slits flutter. The priests croak warnings in their wet, garbled language. The warriors block the passage with their crude spears. Forbidden, they say. Sacred. Death.
The cathedral itself is ancient beyond measure. You have seen enough of the building to know the fish people did not build it. The graceful arches are now broken.

The columns are carved with ancient Elvish, though time and water have worn many of the words away. You can understand a couple of words, but the full meaning escapes you. The style is elegant, cruel, beautiful in its precision. The Kuo-toa whisper that the drow built these stones. The dark elves of Lunalis, before their kingdom fled west as the sea came creeping in. That was centuries ago. The waters have pulled back since then, but the deep remains close. The sea caverns open wide in the flooded depths below. The cathedral's towers hang upside down, like roots seeking sky. In their upside-down halls, the Kuo-toa have made their home.

And you, their god.

You swing your legs from the slab. Your feet find the always-damp floor. Your fingers brush the tarnished bells that were once sewn into your costume's hem. They are silent now, waterlogged. The costume you wore when the mind flayers attacked your mistress's caravan. The costume you still wore when you and your flumph companion stumbled upon this place. Somewhere in the twisted halls beyond, you hear the wet slap of footsteps. The bubbling chant of morning prayers. They will come soon with offerings: blind fish, cavern mushrooms, trinkets pulled from drowned places.

Your flumph friend drifts nearby, a soft glow in the darkness. It has stayed with you since that day. Since you led the gas spores to the duergar slavers. Since the Kuo-toa burst from these doors and saw what they wanted to see.

And you have always been very good at going where you were not supposed to go.

As you wake up, what do you do?

If he were to be completely honest, Leo Peterson had not needed the dream to know what his next move had to be. He had known it from the very moment the kuo-toa had declared it off limits. From the moment the divinity inside him howled in fury that his own followers had the audacity to tell him no. From the moment he realized that, deep down, the kuo-toa had actually wanted him to shout down their efforts to stop him and press on regardless. All the dream did was make Leo aware of yet another party that wanted him to enter that chamber. SHOOGBIMBHALD wanted him to go. The kuo-toa wanted him to go, though they'd never admit it out loud. And now, even whoever or whatever it was that awaited him in that chamber wanted him to go it seemed.

And go he would.

He needed to become more powerful if he wanted to free the ones he loved from the clutches of the drow. And to become more powerful, he needed to seem more powerful to his followers. More like the god they already to fervently believed him to be. And for the past few months he had called this cathedral home, a dangerous yet golden opportunity to do just that had been right here.

'That chamber... or whatever is in that chamber... the kuo-toa fear it.' Leo thought to himself. 'And gods, I think, should fear nothing at all.'

But all of that could wait for just a little bit longer. Before anything else, Leo needed breakfast. He also wanted to look over whatever trinkets had been scavenged up for today's tribute to see if there was anything of use to be found... And he'd be lying if he said he did not enjoy the worship and praise his cult would heap upon him every morning. And so Leo rose from the altar he'd been using as a bed, made his way over to the throne that the fish folk had fashioned for him when he first arrived, sat down, and awaited the arrival of his followers.

The morning procession arrives as it always does. It is a wet, shuffling mass of devotion. The sound reaches you first. The slap slap slap of webbed feet on stone. The gurgle of water being pushed from gill slits. The occasional plop of something dropping from someone's hands and being picked up quickly.

High Priest Blibdoolpoolp leads the group. His name sounds like someone drowning. He wears what might have once been ceremonial robes. Now they are just strips of rotting fabric held together by algae and faith. His bulging eyes fix on you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. Behind him, a dozen acolytes carry offerings on waterlogged cushions. The cushions squelch with every step. They leave a trail of murky water across the cathedral floor.

"SHOOGBIMBHALD!" Blibdoolpoolp's voice scrapes out of his throat like gravel being dragged across a fish tank. He throws himself flat before your throne. The wet smack of his body hitting stone echoes through the chamber. The other kuo-toa follow. They create a sound like a dozen fish being slapped against a counter. "SHOOGBIMBHALD! SHOOGBIMBHALD! SHOOGBIMBHALD!"

The chant builds. It always builds. Their voices bubble and rasp. They layer over each other in a rhythm that is not quite music and not quite language. Your flumph companion drifts a little closer to you. Its soft glow pulses in what you have learned to recognize as concern.
After what feels like forever but is probably only a few minutes, Blibdoolpoolp rises. Water streams from his robes. His gill slits flutter with emotion.

"Great SHOOGBIMBHALD," he croaks. He gestures to the offerings. "We bring tribute! We bring glory! We bring..."
He pauses. Squints. Leans closer to one of the cushions.
"...a boot?"

Indeed, among the blind cave fish (still twitching), the glowing mushrooms (pulsing with sickly light), and what appears to be a very confused crab, there sits a single leather boot. Just the one. It is soggy, worn, and has a hole in the toe.

"The boot was making speeches in the drowned market!" an acolyte pipes up. His voice is wet with enthusiasm. He is younger than the others. His scales are still bright. "Very powerful speeches! When the water moved, the boot said 'squooolsh' and then 'glorple' and we thought... we KNEW... that you might want to eat its power!"

The acolyte holds up the boot like it is a sacred relic. Several other kuo-toa nod hard. Their heads bob in that unsettling way that makes their eyes seem to move on their own.

"It spoke with great authority," another adds seriously.
"The finest authority," a third agrees.

Your flumph does what you have come to recognize as its "here we go again" float. It rotates slightly counterclockwise while dimming its light. This might be the telepathic jellyfish version of a sigh.

Blibdoolpoolp continues presenting the offerings. Each one is announced with grave ceremony.

"Seven fish of the deep darkness, caught in the coldest waters where the screaming stones dwell!"
The fish are pale and eyeless. Their mouths are frozen in permanent gasps.
"Mushrooms blessed by the Mother of Pearl, grown in the fertile waste of the drowned!"
The mushrooms glow faintly. You have eaten these before. They taste like wet dirt and make your tongue numb.
"A crab of great wisdom!"
The crab makes a break for it. An acolyte catches it, gets pinched, and begins bleeding from the webbing between his fingers. He does not seem to notice.
"And a tribute most precious... the speaking boot of power!"

The boot squelches as it is held high.

The congregation waits. Their bulging eyes are all fixed on you. They are completely still now except for the gentle flutter of their gills and the occasional drip of water from their bodies. The silence stretches. You can hear your own breathing. You can hear the distant sound of water moving through the flooded caverns below.

They are waiting for you to speak.
They are always waiting for you to speak.

Your flumph drifts closer. The kuo-toa stare. And stare. And stare.
Blibdoolpoolp's mouth hangs slightly open. It reveals rows of needle teeth. A thin strand of drool begins to form.

What does Leo say or do?

As he heard the morning procession begin its final approach, Leo's demeanor visibly changed as the actor settled into his role. A phrase that he found himself forced to use a little more loosely with each passing day. The hapless former slave turned warlock vanished. The trepidation Leo felt for the task ahead? Gone. The ever-present discomfort Leo felt as a result of living in the lair of a slimy fish folk cult where the concept of dry didn't seem to exist? Gone. Leo himself? Gone. And in his place sat not a man, but a being. A presence. An divine entity of unspeakable power. In his place sat SHOOGBIMBHALD, a god ready to receive this morning's offerings from His devotees.

As the worshippers made their entrance, SHOOGBIMBHALD regarded the offerings they bore speculatively. There would be a good breakfast this day at the very least, that was certain from the half-dozen cushions baring fish and mushrooms. SHOOGBIMBHALD looked on in satisfaction as His kuo-toa prostrated themselves before Him and reverently chanted His name. He basked in the adoration that served as proof that He was lord and master. Out of the corner of His eye, SHOOGBOMBHALD noticed a purple hue enter His peripheral sight. Nyphl had found the kuo-toa's worship concerning from the day it first began, even in the face of SHOOGBIMBHALD'S assurances that there was no cause for concern. The god reached out and gave a reassuring scritch to a spot behind the base one of the flumph's eyestalks where He knew it enjoyed such attention.

"Great SHOOGBIMBHALD," A voice croaked, causing SHOOGBIMBHALD to return his attention to the ceremony as the high priest commenced the presentation of the offerings. "We bring tribute! We bring glory! We bring..."

...SHOOGBIMBHALD quirked an eyebrow at this unexpected pause. A hint of curiosity entered his expression as he watched the priest squint and lean closer to one of the cushions.

"...a boot?"

The god's face tensed ever so slightly as He bit back a brief flash of mortal mirth at this discovery. As unsettling as they could be, the kuo-toa could also be quite amusing. SHOOGBIMBHALD did not permit himself to show such things on His face though, for that would be most unbecoming of a god.

"The boot was making speeches in the drowned market! Very powerful speeches! When the water moved, the boot said 'squooolsh' and then 'glorple' and we thought... we KNEW... that you might want to eat its power!"

"It spoke with great authority,"

"The finest authority,"

The kuo-toa never failed to do their level best to make that as difficult as possible though. The fact that they did so unintentionally simply made it even funnier.

Thankfully, the high priest was quick to continue the presentation ceremony, allowing SHOOGBIMBHALD to focus His attention on things that didn't threaten to make Him laugh.

He flexed the fingers of His left hand in preparation as He eyed the foodstuffs on offer. Slaves, even valuable ones, weren't exactly given a fine dining experience with every meal. And that was when they weren't being punished or when the mistresses weren't feeling mischievous or cruel. So Leo had long since gotten used to getting what he was given. But SHOOGBIMBHALD was given the best morsels His followers could find, even if the best food a cult of kuo-toa could find was only a small step up from the scraps a dark elf mistress would toss down to her slaves so that they wouldn't starve to death. But that only mattered for the first month, then the kuo-toa's devotion gave him the power of Prestidigitation. After that, everything they brought tasted much better by the time SHOOGBIMBHALD was done with it.

When the crab and the boot were presented, SHOOGBIMBHALD regarded them both with an appraising eye. In all likelihood, they were just a completely ordinary crab and boot. But then again, SHOOGBIMBHALD was just an ordinary escaped slave when the kuo-toa found him. His face tensed once again when the crab pinched one of the kuo-toa hard enough to draw blood. Despite all their faults, He didn't enjoy seeing his followers come to harm.

With all the offerings presented, the kuo-toa fell silent and waited. Waited for their god to speak. And their god let them wait. He let them wait just long enough to have the maximum dramatic effect without letting the silence stretch on for so long as to become awkward. And then He spoke. "The crab of wisdom and the fish of darkness. Bring them closer." SHOOGBIMBHALD commanded.

Both were within arm's reach of Him within seconds.

SHOOGBIMBHALD reached out and took up one of the fish from its waterlogged cushion. He studied it for a moment, then looked to the crab that still had its pincer clamped down on the hand of the kuo-toa holding it. "Be still." SHOOGBIMBHALD said to the kuo-toa holding the crab. He then took the fish in his hand and offered it to the crab in the hopes of befriending the nippy crustacean with food, or at the very least convincing it to release His follower.

The crab's pincer opens. It releases the kuo-toa's webbed hand and turns toward the fish you hold. Its legs click against the wet stone as it walks closer. It snatches the fish from your fingers with surprising gentleness. The crab is not friendly, exactly. But it is calm. That is good enough.

You keep your face still as a statue. Inside, Leo Peterson winces at the sight of the acolyte's bleeding hand. The webbing between his fingers is torn. Blood mixes with the water dripping from his scales. But SHOOGBIMBHALD does not wince. SHOOGBIMBHALD does not feel concern for such small wounds. Gods do not flinch at the sight of blood.

Your mask holds perfectly.

The congregation explodes into motion.

"THE ENCHANTER!" one kuo-toa shrieks. His voice cracks with emotion.

"BENEVOLENT! BENEVOLENT!" another cries.

"HE SPEAKS TO BEASTS!"

"THE CRAB OBEYS!"

"SHOOGBIMBHALD! SHOOGBIMBHALD!"

They begin to move in circles around your throne. Their webbed feet slap against the stone in a rhythm that might be dancing or might be chaos. You cannot tell. Their voices layer over each other. They chant words that are not quite words. Sounds that bubble up from their throats like water from a spring.

"Glooble shaa!"

"Bimthala gloop!"

"Shoogbim shoogbim HALD!"

Round and round they go. Faster. The water streaming from their bodies creates a ring of moisture on the floor. One of them trips. Another catches him. They keep moving. The chanting grows louder. Wilder.

Your flumph, Nyphl, dims its light further. You feel a pulse of concern through your connection.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it stops.

The kuo-toa freeze in place. They stand perfectly still, their chests heaving. Water drips from their bodies. The sound of it echoes through the sudden silence. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Blibdoolpoolp steps forward. He raises one webbed hand. The other kuo-toa begin to file out. They move in silence now. Their bulging eyes stay fixed on you until the very last moment. Then they turn. They shuffle toward the cathedral's far passages. The sound of their footsteps fades slowly.

Soon, only Blibdoolpoolp remains.

The high priest approaches your throne. He moves with an odd sort of reverence. Each step is careful. Deliberate. When he is close enough that you can smell the brine and rot that clings to his scales, he stops. He bows his head.

"Great SHOOGBIMBHALD," he croaks. His voice is quieter now. More serious. "Your faithful servants have news. Good news. The Mother of Pearl smiles upon us through You."

He pauses. His gill slits flutter rapidly.

"We have been excavating. Exploring the cave systems that branch from Your sacred cathedral. Going deeper. Always deeper, as You have taught us. To find the treasures of the drowned places."

Another pause. His bulging eyes gleam with excitement.

"And we have found them, Great One. Stones. Brilliant stones. Each one as large as my head." He gestures to his own skull. "They glow with inner light. They pulse with power. The chamber where they rest... it feels sacred. Holy. We knew immediately that this was Your doing."

Blibdoolpoolp prostrates himself again. His forehead touches the wet stone.

"You led us there. You, in Your infinite wisdom. You wanted us to find these treasures. And now we offer them to You. We ask... we humbly beg... that You come see what Your servants have discovered in Your name. That You bless this sacred place with Your presence."

He remains on the ground. Waiting.

The crab in your hands finishes eating the fish. It waves its claws slowly. Almost contentedly.

From somewhere in the flooded depths below, you hear the distant sound of water moving. A current shifting. Something large displacing liquid in the darkness.

Nyphl drifts closer to your shoulder.

---

What does SHOOGBIMBHALD say or do?

As the kuo-toa began to caper about their god's throne in celebration of His latest show of power. SHOOGBIMBHALD reached down and opened a backpack that leaned against the side of His throne. From it, He drew a mess kit and beckoned for the rest of the food offerings to be placed into the mess kit's cooking pan. Once that was done, SHOOGBIMBHALD began to make a series of esoteric gestures over the food while chanting along with the congregation. Soon enough, the fish began to sizzle and steam, while the glowing mushrooms began to dry up and glow brighter.

As he cooked and flavored his food through the use of Prestidigitation, Leo sensed a pulse of concern through his telepathic link with Nyphl. Leo sent a pulse of reassurance back and gave the flumph a few more scritches behind the eyestalks.

When He deemed that the food was sufficiently cooked, SHOOGBIMBHALD waved his hand over his breakfast to cool it down to an edible temperature. With that done, the god began to dine.

Under His spell, what should have been raw, subterranean sea creature instead was perfectly seasoned, properly cooked fish with a taste that felt both familiar and luxuriously elevated. The first bite was tender and flaky, yielding with almost no resistance. The flesh was moist, carrying a gentle natural sweetness that belonged only to truly fresh fish. The salt drew that sweetness forward, sharpening it just enough to make every mouthful vivid and distinct. The spices bloomed across the palate. Not overpowering, but layered. Warm notes drifted in first, perhaps pepper or paprika, followed by subtler aromatics that rose with the steam. Each element enhanced rather than masked the fish’s own flavor.

Meanwhile, where once there was the tongue-numbing taste of mud, now there were dried, candied mushrooms held a strangely enchanting flavor. At first bite, there is a gentle snap, the exterior firm but yielding, like a piece of chewy fruit that has spent time in the sun. The sugar glaze hits immediately: bright, sweet, almost crystalline on the tongue. But beneath it lay the earthiness of the mushroom, now moderated just so as to add to the experience rather than take away from it. The sweetness didn’t erase that umami core, it wrapped around it. The result was a duet of flavors. Caramel warmth paired with a subtle, almost truffle-like depth.

Soon enough, both morsels were gone. "A fine appetizer." SHOOGBIMBHALD proclaimed. "And now... the main course." With a gesture, the boot was brought before Him. Rather than place the boot in the pan though, SHOOGBIMBHALD slipped his hand beneath the boot and lifted it up to his eye level. He inhaled deeply then, causing the boot to almost immediately begin steaming. The steam was promptly sucked into SHOOGBIMBHALD'S gaping maw as he continued to inhale. And as He inhaled more and more of the steam, the boot began to lose more and more of it's moisture and color. When He was done inhaling, what once was a soaking wet brown leather boot was now bone dry and grayscale. SHOOGBIMBHALD then beckoned the young kuo-toa that had found the boot to stand before Him, where the god conveyed what was left of the boot back to its finder with a nod of approval.

With that all done, SHOOGBIMBHALD reclined back into His throne and observed the worship of His followers until it finally came to an abrupt end. He then watched as the followers all filed out until the only one left was the high priest, who reverently approached and bowed his head in the way he always did when there was something to report. "Speak." SHOOGBIMBHALD commanded.

"Great SHOOGBIMBHALD, your faithful servants have news. Good news. The Mother of Pearl smiles upon us through You." The exited goggler reported. "We have been excavating. Exploring the cave systems that branch from Your sacred cathedral. Going deeper. Always deeper, as You have taught us. To find the treasures of the drowned places."

"And you have found them." SHOOGBIMBHALD stated rather than questioned.

"And we have found them, Great One. Stones. Brilliant stones. Each one as large as my head." The high priest confirmed. "They glow with inner light. They pulse with power. The chamber where they rest... it feels sacred. Holy. We knew immediately that this was Your doing."

SHOOGBIMBHALD nodded at that last sentence. On the outside, He looked like He had known this news was coming all along. But on the inside? Elation surged through the telepathic link Leo and Nyphl shared. When the kuo-toa had fist set up a mining operation in response to an off-handed comment he'd made, Leo had never imagined that it would be this successful. Magic stones as big as a kuo-toa's head? Such a treasure trove would undoubtedly make him richer than he'd ever been in his entire life!

"You led us there. You, in Your infinite wisdom. You wanted us to find these treasures. And now we offer them to You. We ask... we humbly beg... that You come see what Your servants have discovered in Your name. That You bless this sacred place with Your presence."

After permitting Leo a moment to fully collect himself, SHOOGBIMBHALD rose to His feet and stepped down from His throne, half distracted for a moment by the waving of the crab before looking to His high priest. "Rise." The god commanded. "Lead on."

Magic stones as big as a kuo-toa's head... Leo just had to see them!

Blibdoolpoolp rises. His movements are stiff. He turns and begins walking toward one of the cathedral's side passages. You follow. The crab is still in your hands. Nyphl drifts beside you. A soft purple glow in the dimness.

The high priest leads you through halls you know well by now. The graceful arches stretch overhead. Their Elvish carvings are worn smooth by time and water. Your footsteps echo against old stone. The kuo-toa's webbed feet make wet slapping sounds.

You pass through what was once a grand entrance hall. The ceiling is high above. Lost in shadow. Columns line the walls. Each one is carved with script you can almost read. Almost. But not quite. The letters swim before your eyes when you try to focus on them.

Then the building changes.

The elegant drow stonework gives way to rough tunnel walls. These passages are new. Crude. The kuo-toa have been busy. Very busy. You notice support beams made from old wood. Tool marks scar the stone. The air grows damper. Colder.

Leo had never actually told them to start mining. He is certain of that. He had simply mentioned once that the deep places often held treasures. And the kuo-toa had taken those words and built an entire digging operation around them. They always did this. Always took his smallest comments and made them into grand missions.

It would be funny if it were not so unsettling.

The tunnel slopes down. Water begins to pool on the floor. First just puddles. Then shallow streams. Then ankle deep. The sound of dripping echoes from everywhere.

Blibdoolpoolp does not slow. He wades through the water with ease. You follow more carefully. The stone beneath is slippery. Uneven.

"Not far now, Great One," the high priest croaks over his shoulder. "Just ahead. You will see. You will see what Your wisdom has brought us."

The tunnel opens suddenly into a cavern.

You stop.

The sight before you is stunning.

The cavern is large. Perhaps thirty feet across. The ceiling is low. Barely ten feet overhead. Stalactites hang down like teeth. But you barely notice these details.

Because the stones are there.

They sit in the far corner of the cavern where the water is shallowest. A dozen of them. Maybe more. Each one is perfectly round. Or nearly so. Crystal orbs that catch and hold the faint light from Nyphl's glow.

They are indeed as large as a kuo-toa's head.

The surface of each stone is smooth. Perfect. You can see no cracks. No flaws. Just pure crystal that seems to glow from within. That glow shifts as you watch. Blue. Then green. Then back to blue. Soft colors that swirl beneath the surface like oil on water.

They are beautiful.

They look valuable.

The crab in your hands shifts. Its legs click against your palms. The sound seems very loud in the sudden silence.

Blibdoolpoolp spreads his arms wide. "Behold!" he croaks. "The treasures You led us to! The gifts of the deep! The Mother of Pearl's blessing made real!"

His voice echoes off the cavern walls. The sound bounces back strange. Wrong.

You take a step closer. The water around your feet ripples.

Nyphl's glow flickers. Just once. But enough that you notice.

"Are they not magnificent, Great SHOOGBIMBHALD?" Blibdoolpoolp asks. His bulging eyes gleam with pride. "Shall we begin harvesting them for Your glory?"

The crab in your hands goes very still.

---

What does SHOOGBIMBHALD do?

SHOOGBIMBHALD fought valiantly to keep a straight face while bearing the ever increasing weight of anticipation on His shoulders as He walked through the halls of the cathedral. All the sights He usually paid attention to, the Elvish carvings, the illegible script, the jarring transition from dark elf stonework to kuo-toa stonework, even passing by the way leading to the cathedral's forbidden place; all of them blended together as He resisted the undignified urge to dance like a happy prospector.

"Not far now, Great One," the high priest croaks over his shoulder. "Just ahead. You will see. You will see what Your wisdom has brought us."

"Indeed." SHOOGBIMBHALD responded, only half listening as He pondered the pros and cons of adding some sort of ceremonial mask or other form of face concealment to His everyday wardrobe.

When they entered the chamber containing the stones, SHOOGBIMBHALD brought His hand to His chin in a gesture of deep thinking to disguise the fact that He was actually doing so to keep His jaw from dropping.

"Behold! The treasures You led us to! The gifts of the deep! The Mother of Pearl's blessing made real!"

At least a dozen flawless glowing crystal orbs the size of a kuo-toa's head sat across the room. They were beautiful. They were doubtlessly of great value. They were... They were... suspicious.

The false gesture became true as SHOOGBIMBHALD as He noticed the reactions of Nyphl and the crab, recalled how dangerous a place the Underdark could be, and recalled also how dangerous unidentified magical objects could be as well. His mind turned to matters of of the arcane, but quickly hit a roadblock that only pondering on either matters of the natural world or surviving within it would solve. And even then, it would require getting a closer look at the crystals.

"Are they not magnificent, Great SHOOGBIMBHALD?" Blibdoolpoolp asked. His bulging eyes gleaming with pride.

"They are indeed magnificent." SHOOGBIMBHALD spoke before the priest could ask his next question. "Magnificent enough that I would enjoy getting a closer look at them." Setting the crab down beside Him, SHOOGBIMBHALD moved to inspect the crystals. Making sure not to walk directly underneath any of the stalactites as he approached.

You move closer. The water is shallow here. It barely covers the tops of your feet. You kneel down near the closest orb. Careful not to touch it. Careful to stay away from the stalactites hanging overhead.

Up close, the glow is different than you expected. It is not the sharp, clean light of magic. It is softer. More organic. Natural.

You lean in. Examine the surface more carefully.

There. Just beneath the crystalline shell. Tiny lines. Thread-thin. They branch and split like the veins in a leaf. Like blood vessels. They are so faint that you can barely see them. But they are there. Growing. Spreading slowly through the orb from some central point inside.

Your breath catches.

These are not stones.

These are not crystals.

These are eggs.

You study them more carefully now. The pattern of those tiny vessels. The thickness of the shell. The faint blue-green color that shifts beneath the surface. You have seen eggs like these before. Not often. But once was enough.

Your mistresses kept creatures in their menagerie. Dangerous creatures. Useful creatures. Guard beasts that could see in darkness and strike without warning. Gloom-Croakers, they were called. Massive toad-like aberrations with skin that seemed to drink in light. With tongues that could wrap around a full-grown drow and crush the life from them.

These are Gloom-Croaker eggs.

The knowledge settles in your mind like a stone dropping into still water.

The vascularization is so faint because these eggs are fresh. Newly laid. Perhaps only days old. Maybe a week at most. The mother would have laid them here in the shallow water where the temperature stays constant. Where predators rarely venture.

And the mother would return.

Gloom-Croakers are solitary creatures. They hunt alone. They live alone. But when it is time for their eggs to hatch, they come back. They always come back. Some instinct. Some biological clock that ticks inside them. They guard their young through the first dangerous days after hatching.

You count the eggs. Fourteen. Perhaps fifteen. All from one mother. A full clutch.

And the tadpoles...

You have never seen Gloom-Croaker tadpoles yourself. But you have heard stories from the beast-keepers. The tadpoles are worse than the adults in some ways. They are aggressive from the moment they break free of their shells. They attack anything that moves. Anything warm. Anything alive. They are nearly impossible to train until they mature. Even your mistresses, with all their skill and magic, lost slaves trying to domesticate the young ones.

The crab beside you makes a small clicking sound. Nyphl's glow dims further.

Blibdoolpoolp stands at the entrance to the cavern. Waiting. Patient. His bulging eyes fixed on you.

"What does the Great SHOOGBIMBHALD see?" the high priest asks. "What wisdom do the stones reveal?"



---

What do you say or do?

"What does the Great SHOOGBIMBHALD see?" the high priest asks. "What wisdom do the stones reveal?"

SHOOGBIMBHALD heaved a great sigh as He rose to His feet, channeling His disappointment at discovering the treasure was in fact dangerous monster eggs into playing the part of a beleaguered teacher whose students just weren't quite grasping the lessons He was trying to teach. "Oh my zealous followers..." SHOOGBIMBHALD lamented. "Your faith in me is strong, but you all still have so so much to learn." He turned to face Blibdoolpoolp before continuing.

"Things are not always as they appear to be." SHOOGBIMBHALD explained. "When I first bade you to mine, I knew you would come upon this place. For this was no gift, you see. No... It was a test. A test to see the extent of my flock's wisdom. These stones? They are not stones at all. They are the eggs of a Gloom-Croaker. They are freshly laid now, so it is safe to approach. But when they hatch? They will become a tide of bludgeoning violence and piercing aggression. And that is to say nothing of the mother that will return to guard them when the time of hatching draws nigh... AnD sO EnDs tHe TeSt oF My fOlLoWeRs' WiSdOm." That last sentence reverberated with eldritch power as SHOOGBIMBHALD made a occult gesture of Prestidigitation with one hand. When the hand stopped moving, there was a miniature version of one of the eggs now sitting on His upturned palm. "When you first discovered this chamber and what lay within, you believed you had found treasure." He clenched the hand holding the egg into a fist. "But in truth... you had found danger." He opened His hand again, revealing that a miniature kuo-toa skull was sitting on His palm. "And you would have eagerly brought it into the cathedral had I not been here to stop you."

SHOOGBIMBHALD allowed the high priest a few moments to stew in this revelation, then dispelled the skull and spoke again. "Don't allow yourself or any other among the congregation to judge themselves too harshly though." He said. "For I am a forgiving god and I am a providing god." SHOOGBIMBHALD gestured down at the crab. "It is for such reasons that I ordained for this crab of great wisdom to be discovered today." He continued. "Did you see how it clicked its legs and then went completely still? In its wisdom, it sensed the danger here. And in its wisdom, it will sense the danger in other places as well. Ensure this crab is well fed and well cared for, and you will always be forewarned of danger when you mine in the future."

Blibdoolpoolp stops hitting himself. His head snaps up. His eyes fix on the crab.

"The crab..." he whispers. "The crab of wisdom..."

He begins to crawl forward. Not toward you. Toward the crab. His movements are desperate. Reverent. Water splashes around him as he moves.

When he reaches the crab, he prostrates himself before it. His forehead touches the stone. His whole body shakes.

"Oh great crab!" he sobs. "Oh wise and blessed creature! Teach me! Teach this foolish fish-thing to see as you see! To know as you know! Grant me even a fraction of your wisdom so that I might better serve our god!"

The crab, to its credit, does not move. It simply stands there. Claws raised slightly. As if considering the high priest's plea.

After a long moment, Blibdoolpoolp raises his head. Tears stream from his bulging eyes. Or perhaps it is just water. It is hard to tell.

He turns to look at you. His expression is desperate. Pleading.

"Great SHOOGBIMBHALD," he croaks. His voice is raw. "What... what should we do with the eggs? Should we destroy them? Should we move them? Should we guard them? Please... tell your servants what must be done."

Nyphl drifts closer to you. You feel a pulse of something through your connection. Not quite concern. Not quite amusement. Something in between.

The eggs sit in their cluster. Glowing softly. Innocent. For now.

---

What do you say or do?

Leo had to suppress a wince when Blibdoolpoolp began flagellating himself for failing the 'test' and possibly even crying over it too. Leo didn't enjoy making people unhappy with his performances. Partially because his former mistresses had conditioned his every instinct to scream that unhappy audiences lead to impromptu post-performance displays of fire-eating, but mainly because he just liked making people happy when he performed. It was one of the few joys he had back when he belonged to the drow, and it was one of the few joys the other slaves who were around to watch him had as well. And he certainly didn't enjoy it when any of the kuo-toa hurt themselves whenever they felt they had displeased him. After suffering at the hands of his mistresses for even the most minor inconveniences, letting the kuo-toa punish themselves when they did wrong by him felt hypocritical.

But as much as he hated seeing it happen, it was unfortunately an integral part of maintaining his persona as SHOOGBIMBHALD. If he did not disguise his lack of knowledge as a test for his followers, if he did not distract from his own imperfections by getting the kuo-toa to focus on their own flaws, if he showed any hint of something that went against their warped perception of him as a divine being, doubt would begin to set in and he would lose power. Power he was going to need if he wanted to save his loved ones before whatever he was turning into consumed him. And if enough doubt set in? If the kuo-toa stopped believing? If they realized that Leo wasn't the god that they thought him to be...? Leo didn't want to think about that. Nor did he have time to. As Blibdoolpoolp finished speaking to the crab and turned his attention back to Leo, SHOOGBIMBHALD returned to the fore and ended the line of thought that the crab's distraction had allowed time for.

"Great SHOOGBIMBHALD, what... what should we do with the eggs? Should we destroy them? Should we move them? Should we guard them? Please... tell your servants what must be done."

"Leave the eggs be and seal the tunnel you have dug into this chamber." SHOOGBIMBHALD ordered. "Ensure that neither the tadpoles nor their mother can reach the cathedral from here. He had briefly considered trying to tame the mother. SHOOGBIMBHALD didn't doubt that such a creature would be a great asset. But that line of thinking brought up memories of the drow laughing about slaves that had died in the process of taming a Gloom-Croaker, which took Him dangerously close to the thoughts He had quashed moments before. And since the tadpoles were untameable, they'd have to be dealt with before they left their eggs if He wanted the mother. That wasn't something he was all that keen on either. No. It was probably best to just let sleeping spiders lie in this case. "Once the tunnel is sealed, have the miners dig in a different direction." SHOOGBIMBHALD continued. "With the fortune of my blessing and the wisdom of the crab, the next find shall be a safer one than this."

As the high priest bows his head in acknowledgment, you notice something strange. One of the crab's claws. The left one. It seems... different. Slightly larger than before. The change is subtle. So subtle you almost think you imagined it. But no. The claw has definitely grown. Just a little. Just enough to notice.

You file that information away for later consideration.

Blibdoolpoolp rises to his feet. Water streams from his robes. The wounds on his chest and head still seep that dark fluid. But he seems not to notice. Or perhaps not to care.

"It shall be done, Great SHOOGBIMBHALD," he says solemnly. "We will seal this tunnel. We will dig in a different direction. The crab of wisdom shall guide us to safer treasures."

He pauses. His bulging eyes search your face.

"Is there anything else you require of your servants, Great One? Any other wisdom you wish to impart? Any other... tests?"

The last word comes out carefully. Almost fearfully.

---

After yoo respond, there is a commotion from the tunnel behind you. The wet slap of webbed feet. Running. Fast. Stumbling. The sound of someone tripping. Getting up. Running again.

A kuo-toa bursts into the cavern entrance. Younger than Blibdoolpoolp. His scales are bright green and slick with even more water than usual. He is breathing so hard his whole body heaves. His gill slits flutter like they might fly off his face. One of his eyes seems to be looking in a completely different direction than the other.

"High Priest! Great SHOOG... SHOOG..." He pauses. Gasps for air. Tries again. "SHOOGBIM... SHOOGBIMBLAD... no wait... SHOOGBING..."

He stops. Takes several loud gulping breaths.

"GREAT BIG SHOOG!" he finally shouts in triumph.

Blibdoolpoolp's eye twitches.

"We have... we have..." The messenger bends over. Hands on his knees. More gasping. "We have captured... a thing! A person thing! An intruder thing! In the south! The south digging place! Where we dig! In the south!"

He waves his webbed hands frantically as he speaks. Water flies everywhere.

"We found them doing... doing intruder activities! Very suspicious activities! Like... like being there! When they should not be there! And... and having a face we did not recognize!"

He straightens up suddenly. Points dramatically back toward the tunnel.

"They are in the sitting room! The big sitting room! With the big sitting chair! Your sitting chair! We put them there! Well, not in the chair, that is YOUR chair, Great Big Shoog, we put them near the chair! Waiting! For judgment! Your judgment! The judgment of..."

He pauses again. Squints in concentration.

"...SHOOGBIMBHALD!"

He looks incredibly pleased with himself for getting it right this time.

"Please come! Please come judge the intruder! They are very... very intruded!"

SHOOGBIMBHALD had suppress yet another wince when He noticed the crab had been changed. He'd gotten careless, and now the crab was caught up in the kuo-toa's beliefs. SHOOGBIMBHALD didn't like that because that meant a small measure of empowering faith was being directed somewhere other than at Him. Leo didn't like that because now it meant the crab would be subjected to the same changes Leo himself was going through. That was something to worry about later though. SHOOGBIMBHALD watched as Blibdoolpoolp rose to his feet and had to suppress yet another wince when He saw the extent of the high priest's injuries.

"It shall be done, Great SHOOGBIMBHALD," The high priest said solemnly. "We will seal this tunnel. We will dig in a different direction. The crab of wisdom shall guide us to safer treasures."

He paused then. His bulging eyes searching SHOOGBIMBHALD's face. For a moment, Leo feared the worst.

"Is there anything else you require of your servants, Great One? Any other wisdom you wish to impart? Any other... tests?"

Fighting down the urge to sigh in relief, SHOOGBIMBHALD pondered the question for a moment. After 'failing' that last 'test', Blibdoolpoolp was understandably a little on edge. But if a good performance could cause a problem, then a good performance could solve it as well. And so SHOOGBIMBHALD straightened up and began to speak in sonnet.

"O children carved of scale and ebbing gleam,
Attend the pulse that hums beneath the stone.
For in the dark where sight forgets its dream,
The mind must weave the currents on its own.
Let echoes be your lanterns in the shale,
And heed the tremors folded in the ground.
Trust not the stillness, stillness oft will fail,
For predators wear silence like a gown.
Yet fear not dark, for dark is but a veil
That hides the paths which only faith can chart.
The drip of time may sculpt a safer trail
If patient fins keep steady in the heart.
So listen when thy faith begins to speak,
Its murmur marks the strong, and shields the weak."

Whether or not this did anything to soothe the high priest's woes, there wasn't time to tell for sure. A moment later, a young messenger came scampering in with a message.

"High Priest! Great SHOOG... SHOOG..." The messenger tried to start, but was to out of breath to properly get going.

"Take a moment, young one. Breathe." SHOOGBIMBHALD said gently.

The messenger paused, gasped for air, and then tried again. "SHOOGBIM... SHOOGBIMBLAD... no wait... SHOOGBING..."

"Breathe, young one." SHOOGBIMBHALD gently insisted when He realized the messenger was still a bit out of breath.

"GREAT BIG SHOOG!" The young kuo-toa finally shouted in triumph, causing SHOOGBIMBHALD to have to fight back a laugh rather than a wince this time.

Blibdoolpoolp's eye twitched, but SHOOGBIMBHALD raised a staying hand before the high priest could do anything else. "Speak." The god bade His messenger.

"We have... we have..." The messenger didn't need any prompting to take a breath this time. "We have captured... a thing! A person thing! An intruder thing! In the south! The south digging place! Where we dig! In the south!

Having not known dryness for the past three months, SHOOGBIMBHALD was unbothered by the water thrown about by the wild gesticulation.

"We found them doing... doing intruder activities! Very suspicious activities! Like... like being there! When they should not be there! And... and having a face we did not recognize!" The messenger continued. "They are in the sitting room! The big sitting room! With the big sitting chair! Your sitting chair! We put them there! Well, not in the chair, that is YOUR chair, Great Big Shoog, we put them near the chair! Waiting! For judgment! Your judgment! The judgment of..."

As the messenger struggled with the name of his god, Leo spoke to Nyphl through their telepathic link. 'Go to the throne room ahead of me.' He communicated to the flumph. 'See who this intruder is, how they are holding up, and if they are good or evil. If they are good, do what you can for them if they're hurt and tell them I'll get them out of here so long as they don't do anything to make the kuo-toa think I'm not a god. If they are evil, tell them nothing and have them blindfolded so they cannot see that I am not really a god. Once you have done that, come back and tell me what you could figure out about them.'

"...SHOOGBIMBHALD!" The messenger finally got the name right just as Leo finished his telepathic communication.

SHOOGBIMBHALD nodded in approval of the young kuo-toa's success and subsequent pride in the aforementioned success.

"Please come! Please come judge the intruder! They are very... very intruded!" The messenger implored.

"All in good time." SHOOGBIMBHALD said, quickly coming up with a way to give Nyphl time to check on and speak with the kuo-toa's prisoner ahead of his arrival and return to report its findings. "I will sit in judgement of the intruder, but it would not do to have them witness me enter in any sort of mundane manner. Blibdoolpoolp, prepare a procession worthy of my divine splendor. Once I am able to make an appropriate entrance, I will go to judge them then."

The rhyme hangs in the damp air, resonating against the stone walls. It seems to catch the very rhythm of the water dripping in the cavern. The panic that had seized Blibdoolpoolp vanishes instantly, replaced by a glazed, hypnotic look of adoration. He stops trembling. He straightens his rotting robes. The twitch in his eye ceases. Your performance has not just calmed him; it has rewired his anxiety into religious ecstasy.

"The words..." Blibdoolpoolp whispers, his voice trembling with awe. "You speak with the pulse of the tide, Great SHOOGBIMBHALD. The stillness... yes. We shall trust the stillness."

He turns to the chaotic mass of fish-folk behind him. He does not scream or flail. Instead, he raises his webbed hands with a newfound, eerie grace.

"Prepare the procession!" he commands, his voice echoing with dark authority. "Our God demands splendor. We shall give Him the march of the currents."

The Kuo-toa scramble to obey, smearing phosphorescent algae on their scales and lining up to form an honor guard of jagged spears. In the flurry of movement and bubbling chants, it is easy for Nyphl to slip away into the upper shadows of the cavern, just as you commanded.

You are ushered forward. The procession moves through the corridors, dragging you along in a tide of rhythmic slapping feet and low, thrumming hums. You pass beneath the broken arches, the "Great SHOOGBIMBHALD" carried toward judgment by the collective will of his flock.

Just before you reach the grand doors of the throne room, Nyphl returns. The flumph drifts down from the darkness to hover by your shoulder. There are no words—Nyphl seems to understand the need for discretion—but a powerful wave of emotion floods your telepathic link. It is a heavy, sinking feeling. A mix of profound pity and a sharp, stinging recognition. The flumph glows a soft, melancholy blue, projecting a mental image of a mirror that is cracked and dirty.

The doors groan open.

"BEHOLD!" Blibdoolpoolp intones, his voice booming. "HE COMES! THE LORD OF THE BLACK WATERS! THE KEEPER OF THE RHYME! SHOOGBIMBHALD!"

The throne room is vast and filled with the scent of salt and ancient stone. Your followers are already there, forming a wide circle around the foot of your throne. They part as you approach, bowing so low their noses touch the wet floor.

And there, in the center of the circle, is the intruder.

He lies in a heap on the cold stone, unconscious. His breathing is shallow, a ragged wheeze that speaks of rough treatment. He is a drow, a dark elf of the deep. But he is no warrior. He wears no armor of spiders or chain.

He wears silk.

Tattered, filthy, waterlogged silk. The fabric is sheer and impractical, dyed in garish colors that have since faded to mud. It is cut to expose skin, to titillate, to entertain. It is a costume.

He is a male drow. He is slight of build, lacking the hard muscle of a soldier. His white hair is matted with blood. His hands are bound behind his back with rough cord. He looks exactly as you did three months ago. He looks like a discarded toy.

The room falls silent save for the drow's ragged breathing. The Kuo-toa watch you, their eyes darting between their god and the broken thing on the floor.

Blibdoolpoolp steps forward. He gestures to the unconscious figure with a solemn gravity.



"The intruder awaits Your divine judgment, Great SHOOGBIMBHALD," the High Priest says softly. "He was found hiding in the rubble. He has no weapons. He has no fight. He is yours to command."

As the march of the currents led him to the throne room, Leo allowed himself to hope. Maybe this intruder the kuo-toa found was a friend. Maybe this intruder was a dwarf. An actual dwarf, not one of the duergar. One of the dwarves he'd only heard of in stories, who lived in mighty strongholds above the Underdark yet still below the surface. If it was indeed a dwarf and Leo was able to help them out, get them back home in one piece, then perhaps he'd be able to visit the dwarves from time to time. Take a break from being SHOOGBIMBHALD all the time. Have allies other than Nyphl he could be his true self around without running the risk of ruining his plans. Perhaps he might even be able to convince the dwarves to help with rescuing his loved ones if he was able to do them some kind of great service first.

However that hope was replaced with worry when Nyphl reported back with news. If the sinking feeling and profound pity were anything to go by, the kuo-toa had brought this intruder down hard. And while they did prefer to take prisoners, sometimes they would strike a little too hard by accident. Leo couldn't place what the recognition and the mental image of the filthy broken mirror was about though... Until he saw who the intruder was, that is.

Leo's worry soured into disappointment as he saw the drow tied down on the altar that Leo had taken to using as a bed. Considering what the dark elves had done to him over the years, Leo found it difficult to feel any sympathy for this one. But the intruder seemed to remind Nyphl of Leo as he had been when they first met three months ago... And to be fair, Leo could see why. Between the way he was built and the way he was dressed, the drow was likely a consort to some priestess of Lolth before fate brought him to the cathedral.

"The intruder awaits Your divine judgment, Great SHOOGBIMBHALD, he was found hiding in the rubble. He has no weapons. He has no fight. He is yours to command."

"Hmmm." SHOOGBIMBHALD hummed as He regarded the unconscious drow. The dark elf's breathing suggested the possibility of medical attention being required. Leo found it hard to care about that though. He was half tempted to just leave whether the drow lived or died just as much up to fate as his arrival to the cathedral was. But a soft blue glow out of the corner of his eye had him very begrudgingly open to the idea of giving the dark elf a chance. SHOOGBIMBHALD approached the altar and looked down upon the drow. After a moment, He took hold of a longer tattered piece of the drow's costume, tore it away, affixed it over the drow's eyes, and tied it around his head as a makeshift blindfold. "No outsider may gaze upon my holy throne until I judge them worthy of such an honor." SHOOGBIMBHALD decreed. "And no judgement may be made until the one being judged has been permitted a chance to speak in their defense."

With that said, SHOOGBIMBHALD began looking the drow over and inspecting the state he was in. While Nyphl was the more proficient healer, SHOOGBIMBHALD preferred doing things himself if he could. At least while his followers were watching. He preferred it because that way the kuo-toa wouldn't get any ideas about someone being better as something than He was. And Leo preferred it because that way the risk of Nyphl becoming altered by the kuo-toa's beliefs was reduced.

As he worked over the drow, Leo began sending mental images to Nyphl.

First came the images of memories. Memories of his mistresses lording over Leo and his loved ones. Memories of his mistresses looking down on them with smirks of malice and contempt and smug superiority. Memories of attractive drow males who hung from the arms of the women like living accessories and looked down on the slaves with just as much cruelty as the mistresses

Then came the images of fears. Fears that if the drow was spared and allowed to stay, he would take advantage of the god makers' abilities to take power for himself and usurp Leo. Fears that if the drow was spared and allowed to leave, he would bring word of Leo and the kuo-toa at what was once a drow cathedral to other drow, who would then come in force to kill and enslave.

Finally, there came the images of an idea. An idea that wasn't of Leo's design, but rather of the god that he was becoming. An idea of SHOOGBIMBHALD's design. If the drow were to be used as the centerpiece of a sacrificial ceremony performed by the kuo-toa, the potential danger he posed would be nipped in the bud. And if the kuo-toa did it right, SHOOGBIMBHALD's power would grow stronger from it.

All of these mental images served to make Leo's thoughts on the matter clear. He did not like the drow. He did not trust the drow. He believed that it would be safer to just kill the drow, and likely more useful to boot.

You kneel beside the unconscious form. The Kuo-toa watch in silence. They nod in agreement with your decree. Of course the outsider cannot see the throne. It is only logical.

You place your hands on the drow to inspect him. Your fingers tell you a story that your eyes missed at a distance. He is cold. His skin feels like ice against your hand.

You turn him slightly to check his back. The tattered silk sticks to his skin. You peel it back carefully. What you see makes you pause.

His back is a map of pain.

There are whip marks. Dozens of them. Some are old. They are just white lines of scar tissue that crisscross his dark skin. But many are new. They are angry and red. Some are still weeping blood. The flesh has been torn open repeatedly. This was not a punishment for a single crime. This is the mark of a lifetime of abuse. It is the mark of a slave who was broken over and over again.

You check his ribs. They stick out sharply against his skin. He is starving. He has not eaten a proper meal in weeks. Perhaps months. He is light. Too light.

Your medical knowledge is certain. This man is dying. His heart beats like a trapped bird in his chest. It is fast but very weak. It flutters. He has lost blood. He is dehydrated. He is in shock.

If you do nothing, he will be dead within the hour.

As you reach this conclusion, you feel a shudder through your telepathic link. Nyphl has received your mental images. The flumph does not like them. Not at all.

Your companion drifts closer. Its light shifts from soft blue to a sickly, unhappy green. It touches your mind. It does not send words. It sends a feeling. It is a sharp, stinging sensation of *rejection*. It pushes back against your fear. It pushes back against your idea of sacrifice.

Then Nyphl sends an image back to you.

It is you.

It is Leo from three months ago. You are wearing your costume. You are bleeding. You are terrified. You are running from the mind flayers.

Then the image changes. It is the drow on the floor. He is wearing his clothes. He is bleeding. He is terrified.

The images merge. You and the drow become the same person in Nyphl's mind. The message is clear. He is not them. He is you.

The drow lets out a soft, pained groan. His head lolls to the side. The blindfold you tied is already damp with sweat from his fever.

Blibdoolpoolp leans forward. He looks at the dying elf. Then he looks at you. His bulging eyes are full of eager anticipation.

He fades, Great SHOOGBIMBHALD, the High Priest observes. His spirit leaks out. Does he require the final mercy? Shall we crack him open to let the rest of it out?

He is not them. He is you.

Leo wanted to rail against that message. He wanted to throw Nyphl's *rejection* right back across the telepathic link. Within him, the part of Leo that had given itself over fully to the god he was becoming roiled furiously at the reminder of how he was once a slave and demanded a much more severe response to the flumph's impudence. But as his mind's eye beheld the mental images Nyphl sent him of how he and the drow weren't so different, and his physical eyes beheld the whip marks, the malnutrition, and the plethora of other maladies that were working to end his life, Leo couldn't find it within what parts of himself were still himself to do so.

"He fades, Great SHOOGBIMBHALD," Blibdoolpoolp observed as he joined in on looking over the drow. "His spirit leaks out. Does he require the final mercy? Shall we crack him open to let the rest of it out?"

"No." SHOOGBIMBHALD replied. "None may die beneath the roof of this cathedral unless I judge them deserving of such a fate. And no judgement may be made until the one being judged has been permitted a chance to speak in their defense." Only now did Leo realize the hypocrisy those words carried when he first spoke them. He had decreed that judgement could only come after the defendant was given a chance to plead their case. Yet as he spoke those words, he had already condemned the drow in his thoughts. Suppressing a shudder, SHOOGBIMBHALD turned to look at Nyphl and Blibdoolpoolp. "Nyphl, do what you can to preserve this one's life. Blibdoolpoolp, assist Nyphl in this endeavor in any way you are requested to do so." SHOOGBIMBHALD ordered.

While he was willing to spare the drow's life, he wasn't ready to have a direct hand in saving the drow's life. On top of that, Nyphl had actual proficiency in medicine and Blibdoolpoolp had the ability to cast Lesser Restoration and could call upon any of the cult's resources that were necessary for stabilizing the drow. With the two of them working together, Leo was confident that they could handle this task by themselves.

Which at last left Leo with a stretch of free time to finally get around to what he had been planning to do ever since he woke up.

"In one hour's time, I shall return to see how you have fared in this task." SHOOGBIMBHALD declared. "I know you will serve me well." With that said, SHOOGBIMBHALD moved to exit the throne room with a purposeful stride and make his way towards the forbidden chamber that called to him in his dreams.

Blibdoolpoolp bows so low his forehead smacks against the wet stone. He seems thrilled to have a new holy mission.

"As You command, Great One!" he croaks with wet enthusiasm. "We will seal his skin! We will keep the spirit inside! We will make him whole so You may judge him properly!"

He turns to the other Kuo-toa and begins barking orders for bandages made of kelp and poultices made of mud.

You feel a soft warmth in your mind. It is Nyphl. The flumph sends a wave of pure gratitude across your link. It feels like a deep sigh of relief. The floating creature drifts down toward the dying drow. Its tentacles begin to pulse with a gentle light. You know they will be busy for a while.

You turn and walk away.

You leave the noise of the throne room behind. You head toward the older, deeper part of the cathedral. The air here is different. It is stale and still. The wet slapping sounds of your followers fade away.

As you walk, the hallway changes. The stone is darker here. The carvings are sharper. And then you feel it.

It starts in your stomach. It is a sick, twisting feeling. You feel heavy. Your legs feel like lead. Each step is hard work. It is like the gravity in this hall is wrong. It pulls you down. It drags at your bones.

You feel nauseous. The world spins a little. You have to put a hand on the wall to steady yourself. The stone is cold and wet under your palm. The air feels thick and oily. It presses against your skin. You feel like you might throw up.

The sickness tries to push you back. But something else pulls you forward. It is a dark call. It comes from the deep.

You look down the long hall.

There is a door at the end. It is large and dark.

Two Kuo-toa stand in front of it. They are not like the others. They are huge. They have thick muscles and scarred scales. They are Monitors. They look strong. They hold heavy stone clubs in their hands. They stand perfectly still. They guard the forbidden door. They have not seen you yet.

It gladdened Leo immensely that the Monitors didn't immediately notice his presence. Out of all the kuo-toa that revered him, these two were the ones he wanted to look weak in front of the least. They were the biggest, toughest, most battle-hardened warriors in his congregation. The formidable stone clubs they wielded would have been intimidating too, if it weren't for the fact that Leo knew the Monitors were at their deadliest when they fought with their bare hands. They only ever used weapons when they wanted to reduce the risk of accidentally killing someone. The last thing Leo wanted in this moment was for the Monitors to see him visibly sickened and start doubting his divinity.

And so Leo mustered as much willpower as he could find. He fought down the sick, twisting nausea. He forced the heavy leaden feelings from his limbs and bones. He brazenly defied the strange gravity in the hallway. He willed the world to stop spinning and the air to stop pressing against his skin. And he actively denied even the slightest possibility that he would throw up. Once he had done all of this, SHOOGBIMBHALD moved away from the wall and walked with perfect steadiness and total confidence towards the forbidden door and the Monitors guarding it.