Lost Legends | Episode 3 - Octopus Incursion Part 1

A week had passed since the four unlikely legends had last been thrust into action. Octav Flutterwing, their peculiar owl-like keeper, had sent them back to their individual pocket dimensions to rest and recover — though rest, for each of them, meant something very different.

Morub, the nature-bound spirit, sat deep in meditation within his personal forest, surrounded by the soft rustling of leaves and the presence of his dream-born companions. His thoughts kept drifting back to the purple-clad woman who had called herself Carabossa, and her offer of freedom. Whilst Morub understood that Carabossa did not have pure intentions, he couldn't help but think that there was not such a big difference between her and Octav. Lost in these bitter musings, a faint sound broke through the canopy. Something was moving through his forest. At first he ignored it, chalking it up to one of the many spirit creatures that naturally wandered his realm. But as the noise persisted, his mood sharpened into irritation, and he turned to confront whatever had disturbed him.

What he found was not a spirit creature at all. Huddled against a bush and doing a remarkable — if unconvincing — impression of shrubbery, was an enormous octopus. Two wide eyes stared at him from between the branches. The moment it realised it had been spotted, it abandoned all pretence and scrambled away on its many legs. Morub, suppressing his frustration, reached out with a gentle wave of calming, natural energy, a wordless reassurance that he meant no harm. The octopus slowed, turned, and cautiously began to approach. But Morub's shifting demeanour confused it, and before a real connection could be made, the creature bolted. It found the door, Morub had fashioned between his and Hríd's pocket, wrenched it open with a tentacle, and flung itself through.

Meanwhile, in the magnificent bath house Hríd had built for himself — complete with a golden heated jacuzzi, attendants fanning him with large leaves, and a small pond stocked with fish — he floated on a raft, reading. He had spent the better part of the past week in growing, restless tension, alternating between poring over books and pacing his quarters. He knew more than the others about their true situation, and the weight of that knowledge sat heavily on him. He had heard Carabossa's words not just as temptation, but as information — and information had consequences.

The crack of Morub's door opening snapped him from his thoughts. He looked up just in time to see the octopus — a large, mottled, thoroughly panicked octopus — burst into his bath house and plunge straight into the pool. In the chaos that followed, Hríd lost sight of it almost immediately. He stood up on his raft, searching the water with furrowed brows, while Morub himself came tumbling through the door moments later, equally confused and slightly out of breath.

Across the pocket dimension, in the smouldering lava-pool library that Belial had claimed for himself, a similar scene was unfolding — though with considerably less warmth. Belial had retreated to his pool specifically to escape his three gargoyle officers and to think in peace. A book in one hand, the heat of molten rock lapping at his edges, a nearby weapon placed within easy reach out of habit — this was as close to tranquil as a demon warlord could get.

He had noticed something scuttling in the periphery of his vision for some time, choosing to ignore it entirely. When a tentacle finally draped itself across his shoulder, however, that patience ended. Without looking, without pausing, he reached for his blade and swung behind him. The octopus — which had apparently been attempting to investigate him from behind — took the blow and fled shrieking through its own door, disappearing into the mythical library-theater, minus one tentacle. Belial settled back into the lava without comment and opened his book again.

In between all the tentacled business, we switch over to Thordan's space. Here we find the ranger, relaxing in his newest addition to his calm, green vale and cottage: A sparkly new hot-tub. Whilst this happens, he eventually also discovers one octopus in his world, that slipped in. Awkward amusement follows, when the octopus jumps in the jacuzzi, where Thordan sits, without clothes. After befriending the octopus, leaving him in his pond, Thordan wishes to investigate this situation and heads into the main area of the Library.

Back in Hríd's bath house, he and Morub managed to locate their octopus — now hiding flat against the tiled wall, attempting and failing to blend into the stonework. Hríd changed the pool's water to saltwater to make the creature more comfortable. Morub, who had the rare ability to speak with animals, crouched beside the water and introduced himself with the particular gentleness he reserved for creatures. The octopus, still jittery, communicated simply and directly: it was frightened, it was hungry, and above all, it did not want to become food.

Morub gave it fish, and it relaxed considerably.

Around the same time, in the common theater space between all their dimensions, both Hríd and Morub caught sight of something: another octopus scuttling across the floor toward an open book that had been left lying in a puddle. Before either of them could react, the creature touched the book and vanished inside with a faint puff of purple smoke. That detail — the purple — registered uneasily in Hríd's mind.

There were trails of water on the floor, four of them. One leading to Belial's door. One to Morub's. One to Hríd's bath house. And one leading to Thordan's world. Which meant four octopuses had been here, and one had just walked itself back into a storybook.

Our four heroes gathered. Eventually, after some persuasion, even Belial joined them — irritated, still damp, visibly reluctant. Together they assessed what they knew: fouroctopuses, apparently not native to any of their realms, had been wandering loose in the theater. One had gone back through a book. The book in question was a cooking manual, and it was surrounded by a faint purple aura — the same unsettling energy they had encountered before.

When they showed the remaining octopuses the book and asked what they knew, the creatures described their home in simple, clear terms: a sea, a coastal town, ships, and the place where they eat. Morub noticed something that the others couldn't — small flickers of blue light, the same spectral quality that marked beings like themselves. Legends. These octopuses might be something more than ordinary animals.

With the creatures now fed and calmer, the group made a decision: they would send them back into the book, then follow themselves to investigate. Whatever had caused these escapes needed to be understood. And besides, Flutterwing was nowhere to be found, which — as Hríd noted carefully — meant they were on their own again.

The octopuses, guided gently toward the open book, disappeared back inside without resistance — though as they crossed the threshold, another brief curl of purple smoke drifted upward. Morub corralled his own octopus, which he had by this point named Octo, and carried it along. The group, with practiced if resigned familiarity, settled into the mannequin-like dolls in the theater, let their consciousnesses dissolve, and fell into the book.

They emerged blinking into bright sunlight, their feet sinking into sand. Behind them, a small but lively harbor town hummed with activity — the smell of salt and fish thick in the air, docks busy with sailors and vessels. Before them, perched on wooden poles over the water, was a building wearing a large sign advertising itself as a restaurant. Given that they had just entered what appeared to be a seafood cookbook, this felt reasonable.

Inside, the restaurant was immaculate — recently opened, pristine, and almost entirely empty. A small halfling woman appeared from behind the counter, delighted and slightly flustered by the arrival of four very large and unusual customers. She seated them at the bar beside a long conveyor belt system meant to deliver dishes, took their drink orders with admirable composure, and handed them menus.

The relative calm lasted approximately as long as it took for screaming to erupt from the kitchen.

A second halfling — the cook — came careening out over the conveyor belt in a state of absolute panic, shouting that the food had come alive. Before anyone could formulate a sensible response, the kitchen doors were thrown open and the situation became significantly clearer: the seafood had not merely come alive. It had come angry. Several enormous crabs, a large and furious octopus with a disturbing purple glint in its eyes, and what appeared to be a waterlogged animated corpse had taken over the kitchen and were now advancing into the restaurant.

The battle that followed was chaotic, loud, and smelled strongly of burning shellfish. Morub conjured storms and acid, Hríd animated objects and deployed disorienting magic, Thordan — who had apparently once been a pirate and was currently wielding a magical frying pan — set the crabs on fire repeatedly, and Belial, despite expressing contempt for the entire situation, eventually stood up and helped. The crabs had a notable weakness to fire. The cook watched from behind the bar.

When the last creature collapsed, the restaurant was a ruin. Bits of crab were embedded in the ceiling. The conveyor belt was damaged. The cook, surveying the wreckage of his brand-new establishment, wondered quietly why he had ever thought the restaurant business was a good idea.

A piece of wood from the broken crates the seafood had arrived in caught their attention. Stamped onto it, just visible through the splintering, was a name: the SS Sandpiper.

The cook confirmed it. He'd bought the morning's delivery from that ship, docked just down the harbor.

They left him to his cleaning and walked toward the docks.