Prototype's Gate

As they crept closer, they spotted an altar where a dead kuo-toa lay, a bony sickle embedded in its chest. Surrounding it were dead myconids in various states of dismemberment and decay.

“Our blood will fill your oceans, oh blessed Boooal. Our bones will build your temple in the deep,” intoned a kuo-toa clad in rags, a fish perched on its head like a grotesque crown.

“This must be their leader,” Alex thought, eyeing the kuo-toa with suspicion.

Everyone watched in horrified fascination as from the pool of blood on the altar, a creature began to rise. It resembled a redcap, glowing red eyes glaring malevolently. A thin layer of moving blood cloaked its form, and Alex could sense a strange, faint energy radiating from it.

The creature looked around, and the kuo-toa fell to their knees.

“Great Boooal, bless us,” the kuo-toa leader with the fish hat cried out, prostrating himself. The blood idol raised its hand, and Alex noticed the glow of the kuo-toa's hands intensify. Some of that strange energy seemed to flow from Boooal to the kuo-toa.

Alex turned his head and locked eyes with Wyll. Wyll glanced at everyone, and seeing the resolve in their eyes, he prepared to order an attack. But he was interrupted by a deep, distorted voice.

“Come to me,” the voice commanded. They looked around, realizing the voice came from the being the kuo-toa called Boooal, who was now staring directly at them. The feverish prayers of the kuo-toa ceased, and they turned their fish eyes towards the party.

The kuo-toa leader approached, eyes glinting with fanaticism. “You! Our Lord of Murder demands sacrifice! You will be an offering for the great god BOOOAL!”

Wyll walked forward.

“Boooal? Bhaal is the god of murder.”

“THAT SO, CUTLET? I’M A GOD, AND I FANCY A BIT OF MURDER, SIMPLE ENOUGH,” BOOOAL said, displeased. “WELL, PRIEST? BOOOAL WANTS A SACRIFICE! BOOOAL WANTS BLOOD.”

Shadowheart leaned in to whisper to Wyll. “This presence is not divine but it is murderous.”

Wyll nodded, understanding.

Alex overheard Shadowheart and devised a plan. His insides shifted, and an antimagic field projected outward from him, enveloping Boooal. Gale threw Alex a glare . The blood around Boooal flickered, revealing that the so-called god of murder was just a redcap.

“Are your followers aware you’re just a rabid little creature?” Wyll taunted.

“LITTLE? I’M A GOD. AND I’M GONNA RIP YOU—TEAR YOU—WEAR YOU FOR A HAT,” Boooal said, angered by Wyll’s words. It pointed its long finger at him, then suddenly stopped and looked at its hands.

“Ah. Bollocks,” Boooal swore in a much thinner voice. “Don’t do anything hasty now. The fishfolk got plenty of power—we can share.”

The fishfolk leader turned to Boooal, confused. “...blessed Boooal ...what...?”

“Shut it, you! I’m talking to...” Boooal paused to think. “My Chosen! Chosen got power...”

“You want power, don’t you?” It asked, looking at Wyll.

Astarion stepped forward. “What kind of power are we talking about?” he asked, ignoring everyone’s gaze.

“That depends on the fishfolk, don’t it? But plenty to go around. Sacrifice one from your happy group and my blessing will be yours.”

Astarion turned to Wyll. “I want to wake up beside a handsome virgin every morning, but life doesn’t give us what we want. Can we kill this ‘god’ now?”

“MAKE AN OFFERING OR BECOME ONE.”

“I will not sacrifice my friends!” Wyll said, unsheathing his blade. Before he could take a step forward, something extremely fast flew past his ear. Everyone watched as Boooal fell to the floor, a knife embedded in its head. Wyll turned to see Alex behind him.

“You’ve slain the pretender! We knew in our hearts the god Boooal was false,” the fishfolk leader said, walking to Alex. “But you—we see you. We know you by your true name...MAHKLOOMPAH.”

Alex could hear a few chuckles around him and sighed , shaking his head.

“A god to the fishes. A dream come true, is it?” Lae’zel said with a smug smile.

“If they ask for sacrifices, I’d suggest virgins. Young and hot-blooded,” Astarion added with a wicked grin.

“A great deity needs a great name. Looks like you’re off to a good start,” Gale said seriously, but with a small smile on his face.

“PRAISE MAHKLOOMPAH!” Karlach shouted, raising her arms in mock reverence, followed by laughter.

Alex felt a pat on his shoulder.

“Oh hells, why not?” Wyll said, taking his hand off Alex’s shoulder and shouting with his hands raised, “All hail MAHKLOOMPAH!”

“If you’re expecting me to drop to my knees before you, forget it,” Shadowheart said with a smug smile.

“What is to be your first commandment, oh great god?” the kuo-toa leader asked MAHKLOOMPAH.

“A better name than ‘Mahkloompah,’ for one,” Alex replied.

“You are too modest, great one. This name perfectly captures your essence—your fury. We will spread word of Mahkloompah. Your glory will sing from ten thousand throats!” the leader proclaimed.

The leader rushed to the altar and brought forth the sickle that was embedded in the dead kuo-tao chest.

“This is yours, great Mahkloompah.”

Alex took the sickle and looked at it. He could feel faint traces of the strange energy he saw before. The sickle crumbled to dust as he siphoned the energy. The energy felt...bloody.

The leader raised its hands and started to pray to their new god. Alex could feel a strange, bloody energy slowly dripping and nesting inside him.

“Leave this place now, or death awaits you,” Alex commanded.

All the kuo-toa stopped their prayers.

“The great Mahkloompah has spoken,” the leader shouted.

All the kuo-toa started to run to a river nearby and jump in it.

“Well, that is one way to deal with them,” Wyll said.

Alex watched as the kuo-toa disappeared into the water, into frantic retreat. He turned back to his companions, who were still chuckling and exchanging glances.

“I have to say,” Karlach grinned, “that was quite the trow Alex. Or should I say, Mahkloompah?”

“Let’s not make a habit of this,” Alex said, shaking his head . “We have more important things to deal with.”

Gale stepped forward, examining the crumbled remains of the sickle. “Interesting . We might be dealing with more entities like this one. Pretenders, drawing power from belief and fear.”

“Good to know,” Shadowheart added. “Let’s stay vigilant. We don’t need any more false gods in our way.”

“Agreed,” Alex said.

“Let's look around for anything usefull and after let’s move on to the wizard tower. We need those ingredients if we’re going to get rid of these parasites.” Wyll said.

They found some gold and trinkets scattered around the cave, remnants of the kuo-toa's offerings to their false god. As they inspected the area, they stumbled upon a wooden chest. The chest was covered with various marks and symbols, its lock broken and hanging loosely.

Wyll opened the chest, revealing a single item inside—a small piece of paper. He picked it up, and as he read its contents, he started to laugh. His laughter echoed through the cavern, drawing curious glances from the others.

“What’s so funny?” Karlach asked, grinning.

Wyll handed her the note, still chuckling. “See for yourself.”

Karlach took the note and read it aloud. It was a prayer to the real god of murder, Bhaal:

"Lord of Murder, we offer our blood and bones,

In your name, we strike, we sacrifice.

Guide our hands in the dance of death,

May your shadows cover our path."

The group shared a moment of astonishment, realizing the irony of the situation.

“Looks like their devotion was misplaced after all,” Shadowheart said with a smirk.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Gale remarked. “Praying to Bhaal while worshipping a redcap pretending to be a god.”

Lae’zel snorted. “Foolish fishfolk. Let’s hope we don’t encounter any more misguided zealots.”

Wyll folded the note and slipped it into his pocket. “Well, at least we got a good laugh out of it. And some gold to boot.”

“Ready to move on to the wizard tower?” Wyll asked, looking at his companions.

Everyone agreed . Together, they made their way out of the cave.

As they walked, Lae’zel couldn’t resist one last jab. “Mahkloompah the mighty. Let’s hope your next divine decree involves fewer fish.”

Alex chuckled and shock his head.

...

Alex checked his internal clock, noting that the sun must have already started to fall.

The party entered the main yard ,Gale asked the group to stop for a few moments to investigate the arcane turrets.

“Whoever made this was a master at their craft. I can feel a strange energy running through it,” Gale said, marveling at the construction.

“It’s using sussur flowers as fuel to power itself,” Alex informed him.

“Sussur flowers? That is interesting. How much do you know about this place?” Gale asked, his curiosity piqued.

Alex turned and pointed to the uppermost floor. “There are a group of automatons up there. Below that is a bedroom. Ahead is a room with two turrets. Lower is a garden. Even lower is a room with a big boiler that powers everything. And at the bottom, there’s a secret basement full of books and notes.”

Gale’s eyes sparked with excitement as he listened. “What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go!”

Alex waved for the group to step onto the teleporting platform. "This will teleport us up or down," he said, pointing to the buttons on the floor.

"Controlled teleportation in the Underdark. Fascinating," Gale remarked.

"Up or down?" Alex asked.

“Let’s get the ingredients we need first,” Lae’zel said.

Alex nodded and pressed the button. A blue mist enveloped everyone, and they found themselves on a platform identical to the previous one but in a different room. This one was a greenhouse.

Different plants were planted in the room, somehow still alive. Some were small, while others were so huge that their leaves reached the ceiling.

Alex brought forth a small piece of paper from Omeluum with the ingredients it needed. Gale inspected every millimeter of the room while the rest gathered the plants needed.

“Now what?” Astarion asked, looking up at the huge plants that looked like orange tentacles.

“We...” Wyll stopped as he looked at Gale, who was examining a pipe in the wall.

“We can go after we check the basement.... the boiler room ....and see the automatons,” Gale responded.

“We have a parasite in our heads. We could turn at any moment,” Lae’zel said.

“If we haven’t turned until now, I doubt we will turn soon,” Gale responded.

“Tsk,” Lae’zel said, throwing a glare at Gale. He responded with a charming smile and turned back to inspecting the pipe.

Every room and floor they visited, Gale inspected every corner.

They found a necklace that allowed one to cast Detect Thoughts once a day and on one of the balconies, a chest that could change everything that was put inside into mundane items. Alex put Phalar Aluve in it, and it turned into a broom. Thankfully, once taken out, it returned to normal.

“What a magnificent design. Such a shame they were left to rot here,” Gale said, inspecting Bernard, the butler automaton.

Before they left, Gale inscribed some symbols in a circular pattern.

“You want to get this home?” Wyll asked, recognizing the patterns.

“Why else would I build a gate right here?” Gale replied.

...