“What in the Nine Hells…” Skrakch stuttered out, staring at a scene of absolute carnage. The last thing the Ratling remembered was his amazing display of bravery as he blew up a building, a purely impressive showcase of his peerless magic. Of course, that was followed by a sense of falling then a jolt of pain, swiftly followed by darkness.

What he did not remember, however, was getting tied to a chair that was overlooking a half-dead Halfling, a comatose bruiser, or, oh right, a goddamn headless corpse. Twisting in his seat, the Ratling could also make out Ornn and Meekknuckle, both completely out of it. In fact, Ornn seemed to be minus his arms… for some bloody reason.

It took a moment for it all to register, but the furry rogue was nothing if not adaptable. Thankfully, Skrakch always kept a file taped to the inside of his thigh, which he quickly knocked to the ground. Scooping it up with his tail, he deposited it into his open palm. Immediately setting to free himself of the rope on his wrists, Sk`rakch hesitatingly risked speaking aloud.

“He-Hello? Are any of you awake? What in the fuck happened in here?” He called out, as he pulled one of his arms loose, and turned to the other. “And who the Hells is the corpse? Is that Sykes? Serves the prick right, but… How?”

“About time you woke up”, a coughing noise grabbed Skrakch’s attention, turning towards the source. “Picked a bloody good time to wake up, you did.” Zacharias grinned, the oozing flesh on his face pulling tautly as he did.

Yanking the last bit of rope off himself, Skrakch gingerly made his way over to the Halfling’s side. Looking him over, Zach’s face was slashed with over a dozen wounds of varying depths. Some of his flesh was ripped clean off, and a large chunk of his nose was simply missing. Worse yet were the remnants of his crushed eyeball, blood, and viscera oozing from the now half-empty socket.

“He dropped our stuff in that chest in the corner,” Zach said weakly. He seemed in weirdly good spirits considering he’d obviously been maimed, but Skrakch could see the anger simmering inside. “Any chance you have some kinda potion for me”, the bloodied fool added, his head rolling to the side as he tries to keep his good eye on Skrakch. “I could use a bit of a stiff one.”

“Fuck me Zach, I can give you a healing potion, but… yeah, that’s not gonna do much more than treating the surface wounds,” Skrakch answered. He turned away from the injured Halfling and started digging into the chest before pulling out his bandolier. “Maybe if you’re lucky Meekknuckle can help with the scars. But that eye isn’t coming back anytime soon.”

Running his claws over the vials, Skrakch swiftly unstoppered his sole Greater Healing potion and poured it into Zach’s mouth. Honestly, just the thought of how much gold he’d spent on that particular concoction… still, with the amount of blood loss Zacharias was no doubt experiencing, a Lesser Healing potion wouldn’t do near enough.

Giving the blood-soaked room another once over, the Ratling let out a small shudder, before freeing Zach from his bindings. He didn’t recognize the room at all but, judging by the various methods of restraint and the blood smears and splashes of varying ages, it was clearly Sykes’ torture room.

It was on the tip of his tongue to remonstrate Zach, after all, it was the cocky Halfling’s fault they were even in this mess to begin with. But, surprising himself by his weird feelings of sympathy, he figured Zach had been through enough. The umber Ratling sighed heavily. “Let’s get the rest of the crew a potion too, why don’t we?” He continued, barely able to tear his gaze away from the nasty injuries that now marred his companion’s face. “ And you can fill me in about what happened.” He went back to the chest and rummaged in it for Zach’s coat. Normally he wouldn’t even dream of fishing around in his pockets because he was all too aware of the horrors that he might encounter but this was an emergency.

Luckily, amongst other things he really didn’t want to think about, Skrakch quickly located a bandana. It wasn’t the cleanest and had definitely seen better days but it would do for now. Ignoring Zach’s attempts to weakly swat him away, Skrakch tied the bandana as neatly as he could so that it crossed over Zach’s injured eye socket, forming a makeshift eye patch.

“Sykes got what was coming to him, that’s what happened,” Zach replied shortly. He sat up slowly and gingerly, swaying a little as he did so. “Fuck me...this hurts...how long until your shit kicks in?”

“Give it a couple of minutes,” Skrakch answered. His attention was now on Meekknuckle, still tied to his own iron chair. The goblin was out cold but didn’t appear to be injured badly. Just a few surface wounds that would need a poultice or two.

“You might not like how though, Squeakers.” Zach continued. His voice was already starting to sound clearer as his dizziness started to ebb away. The potion wasn’t even close to any kind of miracle but it would at least give the Halfling enough energy to enable their escape. “I could be wrong but… I think Winifred invoked a Pact.”

Freezing in the act of pouring a potion down Meekknuckle’s gullet, Skrakch dropped the bottle he was pouring. It shattered on the flagstone floor, spraying its liquid up to his fur but the Ratling didn’t notice. He scurried over to the unconscious form of Winifred who was laying on her side near Sykes lifeless body. “She’s a fucking Chosen?” He squeaked incredulously. “Do you know what this means, Zach?”

“That you’re going to lose your shit with jealousy”, Zach chuckled but stopped short. He started down at his hands, some of his fingernails were missing. “Listen mate.” He added, his tone changing swiftly. “If she didn’t… if she didn’t save me, save us… Sykes was going to kill us all.”

“This isn’t about you or me!” Skrakch snarled, rolling Winifred onto her back. Her eyelids fluttered slightly but she didn’t awaken. “If she really made a Pact, the Powers that be are going to know about it. Since you’ve probably never read a damn book in your life, you wouldn’t know but anyone gets Chosen in the city? The Tombs-Makers know of it. You either accept their terms, or you disappear.”

Lifting the comatose woman’s left arm, Skrakch could make out a small rune engraved onto Winifred’s bicep that definitely wasn’t there before. While the structure of the rune was exceedingly simple, the dense mana packed inside made it painful for the Ratling to even look at it.

His quick glimpse was enough to confirm his suspicions, the rune a mess of squiggles and shapes, but through them all ran a stiff and unbroken line, powering through anything in its way. Just looking at it caused Skrakch’s vision to swim, and it took all his focus to tear his eyes away.

Tossing her arm aside with a groan, Skrakch stumbled across the room to the only door, before pulling it open carefully. If they were in one of Sykes’ safehouses or his base of operations, there could be any number of thugs waiting to attack them if they noticed their escape, but they didn’t have any time to waste.

As the door opened a crack, a cacophony of sounds burst into the clearly soundproofed room. Screams and shouts washed over Skrakch as he peeked out into complete carnage. Sykes had clearly dragged them back to his gangs’ hideout and surrounded himself with thugs.

As it happened, he didn’t need to worry about Sykes’ men. Thankfully, the Thugs who would be out for blood for Sykes’ death were currently being killed by the dozens by enraged Wraiths, the ghost-like beings scything into the dead Elf’s minions like wheat. Less thankfully, It was clear that the Wraiths were setting up a perimeter surrounding the building they were in, slaughtering anyone who tried to escape the residence.

Slamming the door shut, Skrakch retreated into the room with a gulp. “We, uh, might have a problem.” He announced, right as the roof of the building collapsed inwards in a shower of splinters.