As the various needles attached to several tubes running from the infusium are removed from Mustafa’s limbs, he felt the world start to spin.
“What did you just stick me with, you old lunatic?” he growled at Father Zastoran. He felt . . . strange.
“Oh, just something Undrella and I’ve been working on. It is a solution derived from several local plant roots I have been studying. Fascinating properties! I found a particularly intriguing species of . . .” The alchemst’s voice droned on.
Mustafa took a step towards the door. It felt hot in here. He staggered, going down to one knee. His stomach was churning violently. The Fist groaned. He felt Zastoran’s on his shoulder, and he shook it off and stood. The dizziness already seemed to be passing. But Gods, his stomach!
“I’m going to puke, you crazy bastard!” he croaked, looking for a bucket.
“My, my. That’s strange. It should not be having that effect. Come. Sit down and let me look…”
“It should be fine, Undrella interrupted. “I added a little something.”
“You did what?” an exasperated Zastoran gasped.
“Oh it’ll be fine. You were already in bed when I discovered this little tidbit in my notes while I was simmering the serum. It turns out it needed to be added at just after midnight and it binds well with the splinter drake root I suggested. You see…” Mustafa stops listening and continues to look for a bucket as Father Zastoran listens in fascination at Undrella’s lecture. As she speaks, she walks over to Mustafa and patted and prodded him as she makes various points.
“Bugger off!” Mustafa staggered towards the door. His head was clearing but something was definitely rising from his stomach. He lifted his hand to wipe his sweating brow and groaned at the sight before his eyes.
“My hand! Zastoran, why is my skin turning grey?”
“Well, look at that! Your skin does look slightly grey, doesn’t it?” the priest responded, sounding genuinely surprised.
“It must be the gorgon’s essence I added.” Undrella cheerily declared. “I felt that the serum needed a little punch. If all goes as pla…”
“What have you done?” His head was fine now. In fact, the Fist was suddenly feeling quite well. Better than he had in weeks. Stronger even. Except for his stomach . . . He reached for the door. It was coming up . . . he had to get outside before . . .
A thunderous roar exploded out of Mustafa. Zastoran’s entire room seemed to shake, and the door in front of him was blasted into a thousand shards. Through the opening, several of the mercenaries could be seen peering out from hastily-found cover, their hands clasped over their ears, their faces white with shock.
Mustafa stood there, stunned. He turned to see Zastoran cowering behind his overturned work-able, bottles and broken glass scattered in disarray and liquids splashed across the floor. Undrella was standing in the open, clapping and cheering.
Then in a seductive voice only a harpy could manage Undrella whispers close into Mustafa’s ear, “Come to my house tonight to see if the other benefit has taken effect.” She then steps out the door and takes flight towards her home.
“Well,” the old man said in a soft voice. “That was unexpected.”
(+1 hit point)