Quoted By:
Where Second and Third came in riddle-rhymes, Fourth Moulting is in code: a block of words arranged gibberish, with the accented cadences of the Second and Third as selectors, bringing out the first part of the message, Piercéd Gentle, Embraced of Hooks (Rou2 Ci4 Yong3 Gou1 柔刺擁鉤), a hyper-aggressive take on the Carrionpede's movement-transformations, and this message <span class="mu-i">itself</span> being a selector - against the riddle-rhymes of the Second and Third, detailing a method of autopsychosis, rewriting your mind ter <span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-r">fink</span></span> as Carrionpede, and the countermethod for turning it orf.
Veeery tricksy. You'll need days to keep yourself under control while trainan Fourth Moulting.
The wordblock is especially difficult for YOU to remember, since you are racially illiterate, but Seafood manages: you find that your ability to memorize inchoate nonsense improves a hundredfold when there's a Binny Biggsord pressed to your neck, and yer googlies resting on Sordyfagg's sord. Gargantua's acrid sizzling sharpens you right up, it does.
Seafood calls up an unnatural mist before first light and brings the wagon in descent into a thick, pathless wood. There you bring out all the dedders wot you gibbt, to see if Seafood has any use for them and their stuffs.
The Gray Oggy's sometimes invisible goldy weapons, which materialized broken at his death, gets Seafood's attention.
The goldies he smelts right in his hands, somehow condenses it. Most of the lumpen ore he Pouches, for something else he has in mind. But a nicey lump he shapes into a gnarly Goldy noiff, just your size. The blade gets hott as you hold it. The hott it gives out is... sticky. It burns and stays.
"Balefire. A memory of home."
>GOLDIE getty!
>3Dmg, 3 Balefire
>Stacks 1 Balefire per hitpoint damage caused
>max 3 Balefire stacked per Attack, max 9 total
>Balefire diminishes 1 per turn after causing damage.
The Furface's stingy is also interesting. Seafood cuts up the bunched punchy head of it, approving of what he sees.
"Hmm. Fresh enough. Just so happens I have the perfect complement," he says, and waves a distracted hand at you.
The next time you blink you're on the forest floor, and your armpits are sewed up n <span class="mu-g">s o r e</span>. You sniff them. Yup: your pits fuggen <span class="mu-g"><span class="mu-s">STANK</span></span>.
>MODDED!
>MERCILESSLY!
>AGAINST YOUR WILL!
>Each melee weapon YOU use now cause 1 Noxic per Attack; does not apply to Dewclaw damage
>10 Noxic will cause a Blackout:
>victim loses the next turn
The kludged Dewclaws you made for yourself, to supplement the damage you do with Carrionpede when you're climbing on targets larger than yourself, have been removed.
In their place are ... thingies. Kindy like teefs, but hooky. They've been planted on your palms between your fingers, and your soles between your toes, and shins facing down and forearms facing up. Your elbows n knees each have a fang growing out of it; knees are larger. You flex em.
"Displacer teeth. Thank me later," he says.
