The lack of corpses does not imply a lack of bodies, however. Yodhblakat are strewn about in moaning or snoring piles around the fountain, where a table and several barrels have been set up. Two opponents face one another across the table: a green-furred Eeee woman costumed in decorated bandages, and a dark-furred counterpart with red-dyed hair dressed in a confusing patchwork of clothing and trinkets. Both women grab their mugs and down the contents, and slam them back down onto the tabletop to be refilled by Barba.

Alptraum picks his way carefully through the piles of drunken Yodhblakat. "Don't wake up, don't wake up, don't wake up," he thinks to himself as he tiptoes towards Phlagaea and Roogi. Nervously, he rubs his bald, makeshift bandaged, hand. "Sorry for interrupting," he says when he reaches the table, "But I was hoping to get a moment of your time, Phlagaea… "

"Bizzy," Phlagaea mutters, and rolls a bloodshot eye towards Alptraum. The bandages conceal the other one for now. Roogi tries to glare at Alptraum as well, but is wobbly about it. "Good evening, Barsunala," Barba says in greeting, and fills up the mugs with mead. "We are engaged in a drinking contest."

"Yes, you are," Alptraum says with a small nod of his head to Barba. With a sigh, he notes, "It's probably not important anyway. I had a minor reaction to my contact with the Shadow and was hoping to get Phlagaea to look at it for infection. But … I don't think she's in a good enough condition right now to help. So, which one is winning?"

"The Blessed One," Barba notes. "She has consumed almost an entire barrel on her own already, and is undefeated." "Hah!" Roogi barks at the mention of 'undefeated', and using both hands to guide the mug she quaffs her drink. Since quaffing involves leaning back a bit, though, she ends up falling out of her chair and passing out on the ground.

"I win again!" Phlagaea says, one fist up thrust into the air. "I have… to pee," she says next, and gets to her feet a bit dizzily. "I'll be… just fine… after that… "

Alptraum blinks a few times when Roogi goes over. "Well, if all else fails, you could make a living by betting in bars," he reasons and shrugs slightly. He wraps his left arm around the green Eeee and tells her, "Come on, I'll help you to a place to pee."

"Oooookay," the Yodhgorphat agrees. Barba looks over her fallen fellow Yodh, and nods in contentment. It's certainly one way to keep them out of trouble. "I think I will steal a bed now myself," the slakash leader notes.

"I won't bother you with my problem tonight," Alptraum whispers to Phlagaea, "Just please come by in the morning. I need your experience on infections." To Barba, he nods, saying, "Good night, Barba. Just please do not steal my bed."

"I'll be fine in a few minutes, just need to pee and get some water," Phlagaea claims, stumbling a bit despite Alptraum's support.

"I make no promises," Barba replies, and heads for the Inn.

Alptraum guides the green Eeee … over to the bushes. He leaves her behind them and stands nearby. Every now and then he can't help but look at his hand and flex his fingers; the earlier experience still quite fresh in his mind. "You're just paranoid, Alptraum. It's not numb now and looks fine," he thinks to himself.

Even as he thinks it, Alptraum's hand begins to itch a little, although it could just be from exposure of the bare skin to the night air.

Alptraum can't help but feel over the bare skin. "Eh, it's probably just my hair growing back," he rationalizes, trying to remain calm. He's had enough scares tonight. He does unwind the bandage on his palm, though, so he can check the wound … just in case he didn't get all the black ooze out.

The lips of the cut are a bit puffy, but nothing is oozing out or indicative of pustulence. The skin itself feels dry and a bit rough however.

"All done," the Yodhgorphat announces, emerging from the bushes and adjusting her bandages. "I need some water, then I can take a look at your hand."

The black Eeee. "I've got to be imagining this. I'm fine. Fine, fine, fine," Alptraum thinks as he prods at the puffy edges of the cut, pulling then back slightly with a claw tip for inspection. "Okay, he tells Phlagaea a bit distractedly, "I can just wait here if to want to go get water. The night air is refreshing."

"Once you get past the smell of drunken Yodhblakat," Phlagaea adds, and heads for the Inn. "I'll be right back."

"No worse than an unwashed, drunken, Arkold," Alptraum calls after the green Eeee, trying to find some humor in a rather freakish night.

Now that he's aware of it, it's hard to ignore the itching. Along with the bumpy roughness, it almost feels like an allergic reaction to something.

"Dagh take it," Alptraum mutters and moves towards more light so he can get a better view of his skin. He absently can't help but scratch at the itchy skin a bit too as he feels up along his arm, to the point where the fur begins again. "Surely I can't be still having effects from the Shadow?" he wonders.

The scratching helps a little, but the skin feels oddly disconnected afterwards. Phlagaea returns from the Inn, holding a pitcher of water the she drinks from now and then. "So, what is the problem?" she asks.

"Well, I had a reaction to the Shadow contact. Almost like I was burned by it. I had to lance a blister on my palm," Alptraum explains a bit nervously and holds his hand out, palm up. "But now it's itching like crazy and something odd is going on with my skin. Like I'm having a reaction to something. You might not want to touch my hand without some sort of protection, just to be safe."

Phlagaea takes a moment to shift her bandages, so that her right hand is completely wrapped. She takes Alptraum's hand then, and turns it this way and that, feeling over the black skin and examining the blister wound. "It is not a blessing from Gorphat," she tells him. "But your skin is dying, and I feel something unusual on the back of your hand."

"My skin is dying?" Alptraum says as an expression of horror forms on his face. He rolls his hand over now so he can see the back of his hand in the light. "Can this be fixed? I… " he starts to say, worried. Again he starts feeling over his own hand, particularly the back now.

It's very rough and loose along the back, and line of bumps extends from the back of the wrist up to the furred zone, along with a more pronounced mound on the back of the hand. "The outer layer of skin is dead normally," Phlagaea notes, and reaches over to prick the skin over one of the bumps. It parts like paper, and a tiny leathery triangle unfolds from the split.

"What the … ? " Alptraum says and brings his hand up so he can see it closer. He also can't help but start picking at the bumps along the back now, actually trying to see if he can pull the skin off while he splays his fingers wide as well so he can examine them for problems. "Well, if it's dead this shouldn't hurt … I hope," he worries. Beneath him, his toe claws dig into the earth nervously.

The dead skin peels away in large flakes, revealing new skin underneath. Or … new scales anyway. Tiny scales at that, and a few hard nubs that might be horn buds. Slowly, the hard lump on the back of the hand begins to look like a flattened, elongated head, as if one had been bisected at the line of the upper jaw, pressed down nearly flat, and then glued to the back of the hand. A dragon's head.

Alptraum's eyes go wide when the skin peels away and scales show. Somehow, they get even wider when then horn nubs and the head of a dragon are visible beneath his torn skin … and appear to be fused to his hand. He starts picking frantically now, trying to remove all the dead skin while whatever this is takes shape. For a moment, he glances up to the green Eeee, looking very worried now. "What is this?" he asks almost plaintively.

"It… looks like a dragon," Phlagaea notes, her one exposed eye going very wide, especially as Alptraum exposes the triangular ridge and the rest of the scales that have taken over part of his hand and forearm. "Like… um… didn't you use your dagger to turn the sorcerer into a dragon?"

"Well, Kaira did. She turned Dack into a dragon by using some of Vorg's blood in the blade," Alptraum says, worried. He turns his hand back over now and starts picking at the underside and even around the wound.

"You didn't get any on yourself did you?" Phlagaea asks, watching in fascination. Once exposed to the air, the draconic features start taking on more definition: two miniature nostrils appear behind the knuckle of Alptraum's middle finger, and the horn nubs are growing out. Exposing the underside around the wound reveals something that could be a chin.

"Not that I remember," Alptraum admits, "But it was pretty busy in there." He goes up to where the fur ridge is and pulls at it, making sure that whatever it is, at least stops there.

The fur is embedded in normal, living skin. The black scales stop right at the edge of it. "Your shoulder-dragon said something about it, right? The dragon body was needed to hold all the energy? So… maybe this is a way of protecting your hand from the Shadow, or absorbing the effects of your exposure or something," Phlagaea suggests.

"Yes, she did say the dragon was needed to contain the energy," Alptraum answers absently. He keeps turning his hand over and over, then feeling along the forming scales and horns. He also keeps checking that his fingers are intact. "So, this might be protection… " he mutters, not exactly sounding sure about it.

The fingers still work, at least. The little monstrous forehead rises up enough for the eyes to open, revealing little golden cat-slit orbs. The underside doesn't grow a jawbone or teeth, but a tiny slit does appear, from which flicks a miniature forked tongue. "Do you think it will breath fire?" Phlagaea asks a bit nervously, especially when the little eyes pop open and seem to look at her.

"I hope not," Alptraum says. He brings the small dragon face closer to his and says, "You don't really understand me, do you?" he asks it a bit timidly. "Because, if you did you'd blink twice at me."

The hand-dragon just stares at Alptraum, it's eyes unfocused. It blinks once.

"Well, it's not sentient I don't think," Alptraum admits as he closes his now scaled fingers over his palm as he rolls his hand this way and that, examining how far the horns now jut from his hand and forearm.

The horns are curving, so at least aren't likely to catch on anything. So far they've grown about an inch, which is about right to match the scale of the rest of the 'head'. There aren't any signs of wings or arms sprouting from his arm yet, at least.

"Sentient or not… it's really creepy," Phlagaea notes.

Alptraum rubs slowly over the scaling and even the strange dragon head, testing how much sensation he has in that hand, or if only the 'dragon' feels the contact. "Yes, it is," Alptraum admits, frowning. "I … think I see a need for a glove soon … until I can find out how to cure this. I wonder how dangerous it could be for others, too."

The dragon's eyes close at the rubbing, and there's only a ghost of the sensation coming through to Alptraum. He can feel the skull of the growth now, as a still-soft but resilient layer beneath the scales. "A glove would be good, yeah," Phlagaea agrees. "It certainly would present a danger to someone who'd just eaten, I imagine."

"Maybe… well, Barba does okay with just one hand," Phlagaea hints. "I'm sure we can find a good axe… "

"I don't feel as well anymore, particularly over the head and jaw. Those are nearly numb to me," he admits with a frown. He smiles weakly to Phlagaea, then says, "It really looks that bad to you? Without touching it, can you sense anything about it? Hmm, I wonder if I can … and no, we are not cutting my hand off! There has to be a way to fix it."

Alptraum pulls his hand back and holds it protectively to his chest. He can't help but roll and flex his wrist around, testing the range of motion and how much the jaw and top of the head will affect him being able to hold and grip things.

"It's not a disease," the Yodhgorphat says. "That's about all I can tell you. And that I'm not sure I want to be tasted if you hold me with that hand now."

"Tasted?" Alptraum says, eyes wide … up until he remembers the small forked tongue, "Oh, right. It's really strange … but it's still me, I guess. Would it help if I just wore glove around you? Or … do you want nothing to do with me now?" he asks, large ears flicking back a bit.

"You could bandage it," Phlagaea suggests. "If I don't see it I can probably ignore it."

"I probably should bandage it," Alptraum does agree. He opens his palm again and examines the jaw, looking for the small forked tongue. If it shows, he's going to try and grab it … to see if he feels it or not.

The tongue flicks again like a serpent's, but it's very quick.

Alptraum frowns. He grabs a leaf off the nearby bush and holds it in front of the slit in his palm now, to see if he can feel the 'taste' or at least the contact, of the tongue. "I'm sorry, Phlagaea," he says, "I guess this is my cost for containing something as powerful as the Shadow."

The tongue flicks against the leaf, but Alptraum doesn't feel anything from it, any more than he can see through the dragon's eyes.

"I wouldn't try any magic on it, or expose it the Light if I were you," Phlagaea advises. "At least, not until you learn more from Kaira about it."

Alptraum checks the leaf for any effects from the touch as well. "And I agree. I need to talk to Kaira about this quickly. It doesn't look like it's growing any more, does it?" he asks.

The leaf isn't even damp – the tongue must be dry. "If it's still growing, it's doing it a lot slower now," is all Phlagaea can offer.

Alptraum rubs two scaled fingers over his eyelids before he realizes he just did it. "I should try to contact Kaira again and at least give her a heads up on this," he tells the green Eeee. "Once she sees this, would you be willing to bandage it up for me?"

"Of course," Phlagaea says, smiling again. "I'm an expert at bandaging hands without limiting their usefulness."

"Let'sgo back inside, then. I'll try to raise her," Alptraum says, "And hey, maybe it's just a temporary issue. Might go away on its own, in fact." However, he doesn't sound exactly as hopeful as he probably intended to.

Phlagaea has brought some fresh, clean bandages for when the time comes to wrap Alptraum's hand. "It'll still show as something on the back of your hand, even wrapped," she notes, now that the skull of the dragon extends a good half-inch from the back of Alptraum's hand.

"And the palm a small bit," Alptraum says and turns it over to show the other section of the jaw. "I'll just have to … make up something, I guess. Some sort of infection or injury." He sits down on the bed and rests his scaled hand in his lap, looking down at the eyes. His normal hand goes to the dagger and he thinks, "Kaira, I know you're probably very busy right now … but I have a bit of an emergency out here. I think your plan had a bit of a snag."

There is no response at all from the dagger this time.

Alptraum frowns further. He draws the dagger out and actually pricks his finger on the it of it as he's done in the past to try and summon his draconic ally. "Kaira, please be there. I really need you right now," he thinks.

The room begins to blur, as instead of drawing out the dragon-spell, Alptraum finds himself being drawn into the dagger. The bedroom is replaced by a jumble of stone and other materials that might have once been the waiting room for the giant 'office' that managed the dagger-world before. The ground and walls shake violently for a few seconds, raising up a cloud of dust and knocking down more pieces of material.

"Holy … " is all Alptraum manages out when he lands in the collapsing office. He looks around frantically, the pit of his stomach sinking, when he sees the state of the room. He also brings up his right hand, to see if it looks normal in this work, worse that it looked in the mortal world, or the same. "Kaira, I think we might have screwed up," he whispers.

"You have no idea," a voice echoes in his mind – the voice of Vorgulremik. Alptraum's right hand is gone now, replaced by a fully developed dragon's head, which also matches the voice. The lips curl into a sinister smile. "I knew she would make a mistake eventually, just as her original did."

Alptraum's look of horror at his hand fades to one of a resolute clench of his jaw. "Idea or not, mistakes can be corrected," he growls at Vorgulremik. "Besides, you aren't free, are you? And as long as I live, you won't ever be free. No matter what it may cost me."