The sluggish current of the Reik carried whispers of decay alongside the usual river debris. Ahead, a vessel drifted listlessly, unnervingly close to the shallows near the bank. Dark shapes bobbed in the water around it, caught amongst snags – corpses, stark against the murky green. The Dandy Fraulein slowed its pace, the festive name a grim counterpoint to the scene unfolding.

“All hands, trouble ahead!” Qavitrae’s voice cut through the quiet tension from the helm. “Ready yourselves. Weapons might be wise.” Her command was sharp, honed by centuries, yet laced with the weariness of one who had seen too many such sights. With practiced skill, she maneuvered their barge alongside the derelict, the Fraulein’s hull scraping gently against the other boat’s stained timbers. Ropes were thrown, anchors dropped, securing them against the river’s pull and the treacherous sandbar that had claimed the other vessel.

Wanda donned her armor and hefted her shield, leaving her bow on deck but ready. Nora grabbed her swagger stick, her Blitzball instincts translating seamlessly into readiness for a different kind of violent contest. Felrick checked the mechanism of his pistol, a glint of professional interest in his copper eyes. Thindruk remained at the tiller of the Fraulein, tasking Torvald to stand guard while he oversaw their vessel. Even their mysterious passenger, the amber wizard Eusapia Balacañon, emerged from below deck, her bone-adorned cloak swirling. “Ah, trouble afoot,” she observed coolly. “I will join you, in case I may be of aid.” Qavitrae gave a curt nod. “You’re welcome to. I assume you can take care of yourself.” Eusapia’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You needn’t worry about that.”

As the group – Qavitrae, Wanda, Nora, Felrick, and Eusapia – prepared to cross the makeshift gangplank, a blur of motion erupted from the dense treeline along the riverbank. Leathery wings unfurled, launching a humanoid figure into the air. Horns jutted from its brow, and a crossbow was leveled directly at them as it swooped overhead. It was humanoid, yet twisted, demonic aspects marring its form – a mutant, or something worse.

“Hold!” Wanda yelled, instinctively raising her shield, attempting the language of parley even as the creature aimed. “We mean no harm!” Her words were lost to the wind, or perhaps simply ignored. The creature banked, the crossbow spitting its deadly bolt.

Qavitrae reacted with elven grace honed over lifetimes. A sidestep, a flicker of movement, and the heavy bolt thudded harmlessly into the gangplank beside her. “Demon spawn,” she hissed, fury flashing in her emerald eyes. As she danced aside, Nora surged past her, landing heavily on the deck of the derelict boat. Driven by an athlete’s explosive energy, she charged toward the stern cabin, intent on securing any potential ambush points. She hit the door shoulder-first, splintering the wood, and burst inside.

She skidded to a halt. The cabin wasn’t empty. A young girl, wide-eyed and startled, stood near a hulking, hairy beast-man clutching a thick, polished cudgel. He looked like something dredged from the deepest, most savage forests, his eyes burning with feral intensity. “I’ll eat the marrow from your bones,” the creature growled, his voice a low rumble, tightening his grip on the cudgel. Nora cautiously raised her swagger stick, glancing back over her shoulder. “Sorry for the intrusion,” she quipped, tension tightening her voice. “Bit of rain outside.”

Outside, Felrick had landed on the deck mid-swing from a rope he’d used to cross. Seeing the winged attacker wheeling for another pass, he didn’t hesitate. The gnome slid into position, pistol raised. The shot was deafening in the sudden quiet. It struck the creature square in the chest. A rain of blood spattered the deck as the mutant tumbled from the sky, bouncing off the ship’s railing before splashing lifelessly into the Reik. Felrick, already moving with practiced speed, began the intricate process of reloading his firearm, the smell of gunpowder sharp in the air. He then moved towards the cabin door Nora had breached, peering inside just as the girl unleashed her own unnatural assault.

“Go away! Leave us alone!” the child shrieked. But her voice was a horrifying cacophony, layered with deep growls, high-pitched whines, and warbling tones, all impossibly loud. It struck Felrick like a physical blow. He saw the beast-man, the winged horror he’d just slain, but it was this seemingly normal child, living amongst such monstrosities, whose unnatural voice confirmed his deepest fears. A wave of terror washed over him, chilling him to the core, leaving a residue of dread that felt like a stain on his soul. Nora, however, merely tilted her head, unfazed. “Aw, not you too,” she muttered, her dauntless spirit proof against such mundane horrors.

Just as Qavitrae stepped into the cabin doorway, seeing the standoff, chaos erupted elsewhere. A splash sounded from the river beside the gangplank. Slimy tentacles lashed out, wrapping around Wanda’s leg with crushing force. Before she could react, she was violently yanked off her feet and into the cold, murky water. More tentacles emerged, pulling her under, grappling her limbs. She felt a brutal, constricting pressure, a sharp agony that left her legs numb and useless. Thrashing, submerged, she saw the creature – an abhorrent fusion of ogre and octopus, its multiple eyes glaring with malevolent hunger.

Eusapia, seeing Wanda dragged under, knelt at the edge of the Fraulein. Whispering words of power, she conjured a dart of amber energy, launching it into the churning water. It struck the creature, but seemed to dissipate harmlessly against its thick, blubbery hide. Wanda, desperate, managed to free an arm. She couldn’t swing her morgenstern effectively underwater, the resistance too great. Instead, she drove the heavy spike of her shield upward, aiming for the creature’s throat. A choked gurgle, a brief struggle, and the creature recoiled, stunned. Wanda remained trapped, paralyzed, submerged, fighting just to keep her head above the surface amidst the thrashing.

Back in the cabin, the beast-man lunged at Nora. She tried to bring her weapon to bear, but he was too close, grabbing the haft of her swagger stick. They grappled, a brief, intense struggle of strength against agility. The creature, immensely strong, wrenched the stick free. Now unarmed, Nora lashed out with a bare-knuckled strike, but the blow went wide. At that moment, Felrick stepped fully into the doorway, his reloaded pistol leveled not at the beast-man, but at the terrifying child. “Drop them,” he snarled, his voice tight with fear and fury, “or I’ll blow her head off.” The beast-man froze, his feral eyes darting between the gnome and the girl. He glanced at the blood spattered on his fur – not his own, nor the girl’s. With a low growl that might have been despair, he dropped the cudgel and Nora’s swagger stick onto the deck.

Qavitrae seized the moment. “Ysapia! Control yourself!” she yelled towards the werewolf, hoping to jolt the wizard back to her senses. Then, retrieving the fallen weapons, she handed them back to Nora. “You two have got this,” she said grimly, stepping back out of the cabin. “I’ll go help Wanda.” She emerged onto the deck just in time to see a new horror – a man with a sharp, bird-like beak and feral eyes bursting up from the hold below, a short sword gleaming in his hand. Before Qavitrae could react, he charged, driving the blade deep into her back. She cried out, staggering from the unexpected blow. Torvald, Thindruk’s man, seeing his mistress struck, charged forward with a roar, sword drawn, trying to draw the attacker’s attention.

The bird-man ignored Torvald, turning back to the prone Qavitrae, ready to strike again. But then Eusapia, the werewolf, let out a guttural snarl. The primal energy that had overwhelmed her seemed to falter. She dropped to all fours, claws digging into the wood, and with a shuddering groan that tore through the air, her form began to shift, shrinking, the fur receding, bones reshaping. The terrifying beast dissolved, leaving the amber wizard kneeling, naked save for strategically tattered remnants of her dress, looking disoriented and utterly exhausted.

This sudden reprieve broke the stalemate. The hairy beast-man, seeing his chance, scooped up the multi-voiced girl and bolted, running pell-mell down the deck towards the bow, eyes wide with terror as he glanced back at the now-reverted Eusapia. He scrambled onto the bow railing, preparing to leap for the shore. Nora, seeing the ball-carrier making a run for it, reacted instantly. Ignoring the downed bird-man, she launched herself after the fleeing beast-man, crying “Doom!” as she charged for a tackle. The beast-man, desperate, managed to twist away from her lunge.

But Felrick was waiting. Still caught in the grip of fear-fueled rage, seeing the beast-man escape, he raised his pistol again. He’d told the creature to stay put. It hadn’t listened. Underestimate no one. The shot echoed across the water, striking the fleeing mutant in the back of the head. He tumbled forward, the girl still clutched under his arm, both splashing into the river. The girl’s unnatural, multi-layered shriek pierced the air. Felrick didn’t pause. He turned, walked back to the bird-man struggling to rise, and drove his own blade into the mutant’s chest, silencing him permanently. A grim satisfaction warred with the gnawing corruption in his soul. “Good mercy, Felrick,” Qavitrae murmured weakly from the deck. “As deserved.”

The sudden, brutal fight was over, leaving behind a wreck littered with corpses and drenched in blood. Qavitrae, staunching the flow of blood from her back, moved to help Wanda, who was struggling to stay afloat, her legs utterly unresponsive. Nora peered over the side, spotting the strange girl thrashing weakly in the current. Offering her swagger stick, she managed to haul the weeping, traumatized child back onto the deck. Eusapia, pale and trembling, offered no help, merely retreating to the Dandy Fraulein and disappearing below deck, clutching the remnants of her dignity. Torvald, having witnessed Eusapia’s transformation at close range, remained sprawled on the deck, unconscious from sheer terror.

With the immediate threats neutralized, Qavitrae turned her attention to the derelict vessel. Searching below deck, amidst spatters of gore that told of the initial massacre, she found another survivor – a young woman, bound and gagged, dressed in the colorful garb of the Strigany folk from the east. Qavitrae quickly ungagged her. “Mutants,” the woman gasped, her eyes wide with terror. “They killed my family… took the boat… I don’t know what they wanted with me.” Her name was Renate. As Qavitrae worked on her bonds, Felrick appeared in the doorway, his eyes still wild. “Another trick,” he muttered, raising his pistol. “Just like the little girl.” Qavitrae reacted instantly, knocking his arm aside, her own blade flicking out to disarm him before he could fire. The pistol clattered to the floor. “Take a breath, Felrick,” she commanded, her voice low and dangerous. “Think it through.” The gnome stared at her, then at Renate, before retrieving his weapon and stalking wordlessly back outside.

On deck, Nora sat with the rescued mutant girl. The child, voice still unnervingly layered, asked for her daddy – the hairy beast-man Felrick had shot. Nora, struggling with the brutal truth, explained he was gone, killed in the fight. The girl revealed their desperation – cast out, starving, taking what they needed to survive, a cycle of violence that had now consumed them too. “No one would help us,” she muttered, clutching Nora’s leg. “They threw us away.” The weight of the grim world settled heavily on Nora. As Felrick walked past, he glanced at the pair. “Fished her out, huh? Gotta toss her back. She’s not fully grown.” He offered a humorless chuckle and boarded the Fraulein.

The Dandy Fraulein crew had survived, but the cost was steep. Qavitrae bore a fresh wound. Wanda was paralyzed, the injury serious, requiring a skilled healer they did not possess. Torvald remained lost to terror. Eusapia was physically recovered but mentally shaken, her control over the amber wind proven dangerously fragile. Felrick teetered on the edge, his fear manifesting as ruthless paranoia. And now they had two survivors to contend with – Renate, whose family lay dead in the river, and the mutant child, orphaned by their own violent intervention. The Reik flowed on, indifferent, carrying them towards Kemperbad, but the shadows of the forest seemed to cling to the boat, heavy with the scent of blood and the chilling weight of corruption.