“So… is she dead?”

Quinn’s question wasn’t a serious one, Sandra hoped. He was just anxious, and banter was a good way to quell that anxiety. For once, she didn’t shut it down.

“Tarja is only scouting the entrance,” Hadrian pointed out. “There’s no reason to think that it’s anything particularly dangerous. If she needs our help, she’ll send up a flare.”

“You really think we can get her out and run, if there’s trouble?”

Sandra pursed her lips. It was a tough question, because there wasn’t a good answer. Too many factors were at play. Too many possibilities that couldn’t be planned for. She’d done what she could, but when things were all said and done, they were a party of adventurers with barely enough experience between them to be threatening to anything remotely legendary.

Survival, without undertaking more curses, would be the best they could hope for. To that end, Sandra had made all of her preparations. Get in, collect information, get out.

“The last time we were at one of the Wizard’s old hideouts, he was gone and there was valuable information to be gleaned,” Sandra hedged. “The traps only got us because I got careless. Even if it’s worse this time, we’ll be fine.”

“What about the last guy?” Quinn asked. “Nobody’s even heard from him.”

“Adventurers go into hiding after they lose, sometimes,” Sandra said. Again, she was measuring her response. “Especially after a humiliating defeat. He might be working to get some curses removed privately, before taking up more work.”

Or he’s dead.

It didn’t seem like the Wizard’s style to kill, but it was still possible. She didn’t mention that possibility aloud.

“We’ll be safe,” Hadrian piped in. “And if we have to pull out early for reasons of caution, we will. There’s no reason to take any unnecessary risks, we can always return to this problem once we’re more experienced if it proves to be beyond us today.”

“Right.” Quinn grunted, looking back at the cave. “Caution. That’s my middle name.”

Sandra wondered if it was a good idea to be chasing the wizard at all, given the disparity between their skill levels, but she didn’t want to risk party morale. They were riding a high, and admitting their weakness would quash that.

Besides, we’re going to play it safe, remember?

Up ahead, at the mouth of the cave, Tarja skirted something on the ground and hurried back towards them.

“Cheap, obvious traps?” Sandra asked, once their ranger was within earshot.

“Cheap, obvious traps,” Tarja confirmed. “Misdirection, the same as before.”

“Well, we won’t let our guard down this time.” Sandra got to her feet, adjusting the large backpack full of supplies that she’d brought with her. Normally she’d let Quinn do the carrying, but in this case, she needed everything she had.

“Hadrian, do your stuff, and we’ll go,” Sandra whispered.

Their party wizard had a few things prepared. Spells with durations in the hours. False life, for Hadrian. A whole round of Greater Magic Weapon, cast from a wand. An Unseen Servant, for any edge case benefits it could offer.

That was their timer. If their spells ran out, they would leave, success or no.

No more excuses. It was time to get moving.

They struck out into the cave.

Sandra took point, moving slowly and carefully. Every fifteen paces, she scanned for magical traps, looked for physical ones, and made sure that their exit hadn’t been blocked off. Hadrian’s Ioun Wyrd floated next to her, the familiar providing an extra set of eyes to scan for magical traps.

It was tedious work, but she wasn’t going to let herself get sidetracked this time. Knowing what came next, she didn’t allow her concentration to waver. The early traps were a decoy, something to make adventurers think that there was no real threat going forward, and she wasn’t going to fall for it twice. Occasionally the Wyrd would chitter something back to its master, and Hadrian would point out something that she’d missed.

Even so, they both almost missed the first set of true wards. Disarming a pressure plate, she checked for any magical traps on the floor and walls, declared the next few feet safe, and stood.

A tingling at the back of her neck made her stop, and before stepping forward, she looked up.

There, suspended from the ceiling and hanging from strings, a construct was slowly spinning, painted wooden moons and stars hanging from strings that spun and bobbed, hypnotic, almost…

“Sandra?” Hadrian asked, concerned. She hadn’t moved for almost twenty seconds, staring up. “What are you looking at?”

He started to direct his gaze up, confused at what had caught their leader’s attention, until he spotted…

“What are they doing?” Quinn whispered, directing his gaze towards the spot on the ceiling. “Are they-”

Tarja slapped her hand over his eyes, obscuring his vision. “No!”

“What?” he said, pushing her hand away.

“Don’t look up!” Tarja shot. “It’s… Something is paralyzing them, like a glamour. If you look at it, you’d be paralyzed too.”

Hadrian’s familiar was bobbing around its master, concerned but unable to do more than hover and seem surprisingly expressive for what amounted to a lumpy bundle of rocks.

“Crap,” Quinn stated, glad he’d been stopped in time. “Uh… how do we stop that? Hadrian’s our counterspell guy.”

Tarja frowned. “I think… With math. You’ve got your hammer?”

“You need to do math with a hammer?” He tilted his head, not following, but he drew the earthbreaker anyways.

“Just give me a moment.” Tarja stepped away, looking at Sandra’s face, studying her gaze. After a moment of consideration, she walked to Hadrian, six paces away, inspecting where he was looking. “Alright.”

“Alright?”

She walked to him. “Don’t look. I’m going to point you in the right direction, and then I need you to throw.”

He shut his eyes, shifting his grip on the hammer. Magic sparked along his fingers, going into the hammer, and he felt Tarja’s soft fingers touch his arm.

“It’s…” she said, moving his hand so that he was aimed at the right spot on the ceiling. “Just at the edge of your range, I think. Don’t hold back.”

Hefting the hammer, Quinn aimed himself, gauged the throw blindly, spun his arm, and launched it as hard as he could.

Stone chipped, and then the hammer blinked out of his grip and returned to his hand with a glint of magic.

“Did it work?” He asked.

“... no,” Tarja admitted. “Here, I think you’re throwing a little high. Like this…” Guiding his hands with her own, she moved him subtly, aiming down a little more.

“Alright.” Flexing, Quinn pulled back, judged the throw, and launched the hammer a second time.

This time, it whistled through the air, finding nothing except the floor of the cave forty feet down. With another flash, the hammer returned to his grip.

“Dammit,” Quinn grumbled. “I can do it, I just might need a few more tries.”

“It’s hard to tell,” Tarja conceded, “But I think you’re getting close. Meet it in the middle.”

He readied his hammer, pulled back, and prepared to throw.

The enchanted mobile fell from the cave ceiling before he could.

Eyes widening, Tarja ran and lunged at Sandra, tackling her out of the way, the back of the mobile crashing down just inches behind them. The stars and moons launched up, then, breaking free of their strings and shooting off at random directions, exploding wherever they struck.

If Sandra had been underneath the mobile when it fell and had taken all of those explosions directly, there wouldn’t be much left of her to bury.

As Sandra shook her head and fought off the stunning effect, Tarja held them both low to the ground, as small a target as possible. Across the cave, Hadrian was shielded behind Quinn, who hadn’t thought to get low, but whose heavy-duty pink frills kept him safe from the worst of the damage.

Spluttering, Sandra got clear as the explosions settled. “What in damnation was that?”

“The first real trap, I believe,” Tarja said, looking back at the charred space on the floor where a dozen explosions had just left a crater. “It appears that the Wizard has escalated.”

“Double caution, then, going forward,” Sandra declared.

Hadrian cleared his throat. “Are you sure that’s wise? To keep going?”

Sandra looked around at her friend. “Was anyone seriously hurt?”

“No,” Tarja supplied. “Barely.”

“Then we keep going.”

With a barely pronounced waddle, she pushed deeper into the dungeon.

After exchanging concerned looks, the rest of the party followed.

In comparison to the hypnotic mobile, the next ambush was a simple one. The wizard’s attack teddy bears swarmed out of the walls in force, throwing themselves at the party with reckless abandon. Sandra’s new knife blurred, flying through the air and slicing out bits of cotton and fluff as they approached.

With Quinn out front as a blockade, Hadrian’s familiar hovered back to safety, and the rest of the party made quick work of the fluffy, adorable constructs, and to be absolutely certain, Sandra went around and cut each of the bears apart limb from limb.

“Anyone hurt?” she asked, once the grizzly work was done.

“One of the fluffy bastards bit me,” Quinn said, raising his arm, “But it’s just a flesh wound. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Keep moving.”

They did. Marching in a line, they worked their way deeper into the carnival of juvenile traps. Fifteen minutes passed, with nothing eventful beyond a few cheaply rigged pressure plates, and then Sandra noticed something… unsettling.

“Hold it!” she called, looking down at the floor. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Quinn asked, looking back over his shoulder.

Sandra crouched, touching the ground. “The floor just moved, a little. Almost like a pressure plate, but we’re not on a pressure plate. Unless…” Something in her heart sank, as she looked around. “Oh, gods, I’m a fool. Run!”

They knew here well enough not to question the panicked order. They ran, and Hadrian shouted as they moved, “What is it?”

“The whole floor is a pressure plate!” Sandra filled in, as behind them, something began to rumble.

Sandra stole a look over her shoulder, wincing. Behind them, a hundred feet away but gaining, was an unstoppable avalanche of colorful blocks. Each was half again as tall as Sandra, square, painted with letters and numbers and easily heavy enough to crush any one of them should it catch up. And there were dozens, maybe hundreds, pouring down the corridor behind them.

And, up ahead, there was a massive, uncrossable pit.

Getting closer, seeing the object built deep into the floor, Sandra corrected herself. No, not a pit, a cage. Then, it clicked, and she corrected again. Not a cage. A crib.

Thirty feet deep, fifty feet across, and Sandra could tell by the magic glimmering in it that if they went into that crib, they wouldn’t be coming back out.

They skidded to a stop at the rim, looking around in a panic. Behind them, the blocks were getting closer. They had only seconds, and then they’d either be crushed or trapped.

Sandra stared at the pit, out of ideas. She hadn’t planned for this, and nothing she could think of would get them across in time.

It was good, then, that she wasn’t the only member of the party. Behind her, Quinn roared, and she spun in surprise to see that he’d been enlarged to double his height and eight times his weight. Swinging his hammer, he struck the foremost block with all his considerable might, and though it didn’t stop, it crashed to the side and made a little room.

Throwing out his hammer into the next block and diverting it just enough, he discarded weapons and threw himself forward, hands turning hard and stony with magic as he simply punched another block, massive form and mass countering the violent tidal wave of wooden cubes.

His defense wasn’t perfect. One of the blocks clipped his shoulder, and another nearly took out his legs from beneath him, but it was enough. Within thirty seconds, the throng of blocks had passed, and Quinn still stood, panting as his rage left him.

This time, they hadn’t made it out scot-free. Though enormous and powerful, Quinn hadn’t been indestructible during his rampage, and though he insisted he was fine, Sandra called a stop to the procession.

“Hadrian,” she said, simply, and the wizard brought out his component pouch, dabbing a drop of unholy water on his wrist and setting Quinn up with some infernal healing.

Even with that, Sandra was ready to press on a moment later. There had been no curses, no permanent injuries, and the blocks had helpfully filled up most of the crib and created a bridge for them to cross.

They moved deeper into the cave and, finally, came upon an opening and a camp.

Sandra held up her hand. “Shh.”

There wasn’t any movement, but a faint smell of smoke lingered in the air. A campfire had been burning recently.

The camp looked similar to the last one they’d found, if more extravagant. A few tents, large and spacious, along with a workbench and crafting station. Over the dead firepit, a cauldron sat, ready for potion brewing.

By the looks of it, and the smell, it was an active camp.

He’s still working here.

“We should go,” Tarja whispered, coming to the same conclusion.

“In and out, it’ll only take a moment,” Sandra insisted. “He’s not here now, or we’d have been spotted.”

“It’s too risky. If he catches us-” Tarja started to say.

“I could use those scrolls,” Hadrian muttered, pointing to the workbench. “It’d be quick-”

“And what if we get hit again?” Quinn piped in.

From within one of the tents, a baby’s wail rang out, loud and distinct in the cavern.

That made up everyone’s minds. For personal profit, risk could be debated, but someone was in need of rescue.

That left no room for questions. They were going in.

…

The night before.

“So, Hadrian,” Sandra said, fiddling with her new knife as they sat around the campfire. “You’ve been studying the Wizard’s writings. How’s that coming along?”

“Slow and steady.” Hadrian held out his hands, warming them over the fire. “It’s like learning a whole new school of magic. It’s got principles from all over, but they’re unified by a concept of using specific effects to maximize potency.”

Raising an eyebrow, Sandra asked, “What’s the biggest whammy you think you could put on someone, if you had to?”

He scratched at his chin, considering the possibilities. “Long term or short term?”

“Either.” Sandra shrugged. “Both.”

“Long term, it’s about layering effects more than the power of any single curse. Like tying up an orc with a thousand pieces of string; even if he could rip through the individual layers easily, all together they bind him and hold him down. Like… okay, anything we have individually is pretty bad, but consider if it all got stacked on top of each other, with half a dozen more effects besides.”

Sandra didn’t need to consider it. “We’d be helpless.”

“More than helpless. My magic could be taken away through half a dozen methods. Quinn certainly couldn’t fight while trussed up like a baby’s dolly with frills and lace.”

“You’d be surprised,” Quinn grunted, smirking.

“No, I wouldn’t be. Don’t underestimate this stuff.” Hadrian shook his head. “We got lucky, spread out the traps between us. If the Wizard had his hands on one of us and all the time he wanted to lay down curse after curse, he could probably render even the strongest hero harmless.”

Sandra chewed on his answer. “And you could do that, too?”

“Give me enough time and a passive target, I could do some nasty stuff, but the Wizard’s hardly going to lay down and take it.” He popped his knuckles and sat back. “I could do a lot of damage, but it’s still a couple orders of magnitude down from what he can pull off.”

“Okay, what about a short term whammy?” She watched him, her gaze dancing in the firelight.

“That’s easier. He’s got this real doozy of a spell that knocks out higher cognitive functions, he calls it 'Maturity Fog’. I could make it last maybe... thirty seconds or so, he could extend it to a couple minutes, maybe longer with metamagic. Blanking out the target’s ability to think, to put words together, to remember what they’re doing…”

“He turns them into an infant,” Tarja supplied.

“He makes them as helpless as one, at any rate,” Hadrian shrugged. “If I tried it, you’d probably feel confused and weak in the knees, and you’d have trouble thinking past whatever you were doing right in the moment.”

“Still really useful for pacifying a target,” Sandra replied.

“Hadrian’s already pacified, half the time,” Quinn chuckled. Hadrian shot him a dirty look but rolled his eyes, ignoring the slight.

Sandra didn’t skip a beat. “Is this all theory, or have you tried these spells out?”

“Mostly theory, a little practice. It won’t be any good in a fight against the wizard, he’s just too strong.”

Sandra smiled. “It doesn’t need to be.”

…

They crept into the cave, spreading out cautiously. Nobody was looking to be ambushed, not again.

“Wait here,” Sandra finally decided. “I’ll scout ahead. If I scream, run. If I scream ‘help’, come get me.”

The party obeyed, reluctantly. Nobody was going to leave her behind no matter what she said, but they weren’t going to argue orders to her face.

It wasn’t as hard to be stealthy as Sandra had anticipated. Though there weren’t too many obvious hiding spots, much of the cavern was cast with deep shadows, pockets of darkness left behind by the uneven firelight. While not invisible, Sandra was difficult to make out in those pockets, granting her a modicum of obscurity that made her more confident as she slipped ahead of the rest of the party.

Another infant’s wail pierced the air, loud and shrill and innocent. Sandra didn’t know what the wizard would be doing with an actual child, but she didn’t trust that it was anything good. Magic involving infants was always the blackest and most evil sort.

Ducking behind the nearest table, Sandra scooted forward on her hands and knees, staying out of most sightlines until she got up to the tent, raised the gently magical entrance flap, and peered inside.

No wizard. The tent was an expedition pavilion, bigger and more luxurious on the inside, and decorated like a nursery, with a playpen, stuffies, and a high, large changing table. Across the tent was a pale blue crib, with a small figure huddled behind the bars in a fetal position, but that was the only living being Sandra could detect.

She stepped inside, and realized her mistake. The only living being didn’t account for any enchanted guardians.

The largest of the stuffies, a plush anthropomorphic rabbit as big as Sandra, lumbered to life and dove towards her, remarkably quick. She barely had time to roll out of the way, her new knife blurring as she drew it and twitched her wrist.

Lodging itself in the bunny’s cotton chest, the knife buzzed and then returned to her grip, doing minimal damage.

She opened her mouth to call for help, but as she did, a swarm of pacifiers lifted up at the bunny’s command, swarming towards her. Recognizing the danger, Sandra clamped her mouth shut before any of the rubber bulbs could lodge themself between her lips, fending off the swarm as the bunny charged.

They went down in a heap of cotton and floof, rolling for dominance in the grapple. Her heavy, large backpack threw off her weight, making it difficult to stay in control. Sandra lost her knife in the tussle and found herself pinned, held down at the wrists by soft, fingerless paws.

No. I am not going to lose a fight to a cute, fluffy bunny.

Growling in annoyance, careful to keep her lips sealed, Sandra tucked her weight and rolled, accepting a glancing blow to the shoulder in trade as she rolled and took the dominant position in the grapple, pinning down the enormous rabbit. She had it in a compromising position, vulnerable, easy to strike, but her new knife was too far away, and the returning magic didn’t work after such a long period.

Good thing it wasn’t her only knife.

Raising her hand, black, umbral energy twisted and took shape as a lengthy dagger, which she brought down on the stuffy, sinking the dark blade into its throat.

It was a deadly blow. Stuffing sprayed and the bunny writhed, one of its legs thumping the ground as the stuffy went into shock.

Sandra didn’t relent. As she took another pathetic blow to the shoulder, weak from fluff loss, she drove the knife down towards the stuffy’s chest.

One satin paw caught her hand, pushing back, struggling as the knife pushed down. The bunny resisted, last gasps of strength holding her off as cotton continued to pour out of the gash in its throat. Her hands shook, its paws trembled, and then with a heavy groan of strain she overcame the stuffy and pushed the blade down.

With one last shudder, the bunny’s ears twitched, and then her umbral weapon cracked its candy heart and it lay still.

Sandra rolled away, panting for air through her nose. The fight couldn’t have lasted more than thirty seconds, but it had taken a lot out of her, and she needed a moment to recover before she got to her feet and retrieved her new dagger.

The pacifiers in the air scattered once she took one out with the blade, leaving the tent empty once again.

Chest heaving, she shuffled over to the crib, looked inside, and then almost fell back with shock.

It was no infant. Though the figure in the crib was only a couple feet tall, it was clearly an adult who’d been shrunken down. A sodden, heavy diaper clung to their hips, while a outfit of lace and pink frills seemed to wrap all around them. Their hair was in pigtails, feet in booties, and a pacifier was in their lips, all glowing brightly with magic.

Sandra recognized the face. She’d seen it in a sketch.

It was the last adventurer who’d gone after the wizard.

He wasn’t the tall, handsome, strong warrior he’d been. Not only small, his frame had become slender and dainty, feminine, helpless. He could almost have been mistaken for a toddler, save for the proportions of his head to his body, and if Sandra didn’t recognize him she’d have assumed at a glance that it was a girl.

“Oh my god…” she whispered, and the adventurer’s eyes snapped open.

A dozen expressions flashed in his face. Fear, and hope, and uncertainty. He shook his head and pointed towards the tent flap, and Sandra had to try not to let his panic build in her.

“It’s okay, we’re here to rescue you,” she whispered. “Can you speak?”

Sitting up, he shook his head.

“Okay. I’m going to get you out of there.” Bending, Sandra moved to pick him up despite his urgent expression.

She yelped and fell back as the ribbons on his outfit lashed out, snagging around her wrists and the bars of the crib, holding him down and binding her hands. The ribbons even dove at the sleeves of her shirt, fabric seeming to knit together, as though the curse was trying to infect her own clothing. She jerked away and came free, dropping the adventurer. Little strips of fabric clung to her shirt, but seemed to fade away once disconnected from their host.

He shook his head again.

“So, you can’t get out of the crib?” she asked. He nodded, and she pursed her lips. “Fine. We’ll take the crib, too.”

Walking to the tent flap, she stuck her head out and called, “The coast is clear! Quinn, Hadrian, I need you!”

The two of them hurried over while Tarja watched the entrance. Snapping to readiness outside the tent, Quinn asked, “What is it?”

“Hadrian, do you have ‘Ant Haul’ prepared?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Always,” he replied.

“Cast it on Quinn. Quinn, you’ve got some carrying to do.”

He blinked, but reached for his component pouch and readied the magic. “What did you find?”

“Our predecessor,” Sandra replied. “Quinn, he’s stuck in a crib. Can’t get out, but the crib isn’t fastened down. You’ll have to carry the whole thing.”

“Alright, I-”

Outside, three sharp whistles rang out, followed by a whimpering scream.

Shit.

That was their signal for serious danger, and Tarja wasn’t one to jump the gun.

Feeling her back go cold, Sandra whispered, “Quinn, get in here! Hadrian, buy us time.”

“How?” She could see the fear in his expression, overwhelming his usually rational exterior.

“He’s a wizard. Get him monologuing,” Sandra whispered, as their half orc pushed past her and stepped into the tent.

Hadrian turned and marched out, and Sandra was certain she heard his voice quaver as he called, “Wizard of Paraphilia! I’ve come to bargain with thee!”

Inside the tent, she whispered to Quinn, “Get your expeditious retreat potion ready.”

He already had it out. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find out if this bastard bleeds,” Sandra replied. “On my signal, start running.”

Outside, she could hear a booming voice responding to Hadrian. The exact words were indistinct, but the tone was clear. How dare you come to my domain, yada yada.

Dropping onto her belly, Sandra shimmied out from beneath the side of the tent, coming around the back. Shucking off her backpack, she dug inside, digging for the potions and oils she had prepared.

She could see the Wizard out of the corner of her eye, dressed in robes that were such a deep purple that it threatened to hypnotize her just looking at them. As she downed the first potion, reducing her size in half, he glanced her way and she gasped.

Ducking behind the tent, she panted. Maybe he didn’t see me. Maybe he didn’t see what I was doing.

She’d have to hope, as she continued doing shots of magical beverages like she was back in the thieves guild celebrating a good heist.

“You’re barely more than an apprentice,” the wizard boomed, scoffing. “A plebian, dabbling with daddy’s magic books. You think you can challenge me?”

“I didn’t come to challenge you,” Hadrian replied, matching the wizard’s tone. “I came to bargain. Your evil ways have gone on long enough, and though I know I’m no match for you alone at this time, your end will come sooner or later.”

“Nobody’s stronger than me,” the wizard replied. “None can match my power, nor my wits. What force do you suggest could end me?”

Hadrian laughed. A genuine, cackling bit of mockery. “You haven’t even spotted the flaw in your spells?”

Sandra peered around the corner again. She couldn’t see Tarja at first, until she spotted the figure on the ground, hips arched off the ground as the ranger writhed in… That’s not pain.

The wizard had out a hand, holding a simple component - what looked like a dab of something moist on the tip of his finger. “There is no flaw in my spells!”

“You fool,” Hadrian said. “You’re so powerful, so high and mighty, but even a ‘plebian apprentice’ can see the gap in your armor.”

Behind the wizard, a figure reduced in size, rendered invisible with an enchanted oil, began creeping out from behind the tent towards the exit. The Wizard didn’t seem to notice, too focused on Hadrian. “Tell me!” he roared.

“Surrender and give up your arms, and I will,” Hadrian shot back.

“TELL ME,” the wizard roared, twisting his hand up and sending another shot of magic down his wrist. Tarja moaned and squirmed. “Tell me, or I will render this pathetic ‘adventurer’ down until they’re nothing more than a helpless, dribbling thing.”

That made Hadrian hesitate, but he knew the plan. If they didn’t stick to it, they’d all be at the wizard’s mercy. “Like a child, throwing a tantrum,” he said.

Anger flashed from the wizard, palpable and all consuming. Hand blurring over his component pouch, a little sample of fabric came out, and from his wrist a blur shot towards Tarja, wrapping around her and shooting up her body.

I’m sorry, Tarja, Sandra thought. Invisible, a few feet away from the wizard, her plain steel dagger got ready to strike.

“You think you’ve got the upper hand,” the Wizard of paraphilia scoffed, as Sandra’s dagger grew closer to his throat. “But you’ve got nothing. I know your rogue is behind me.”

Spinning, sudden and furious, he unleashed a ray of magic towards the invisible form behind him, dropping the spell that was keeping Tarja occupied. Sandra’s vision blurred from all the magical power in the air as his spell, a curse more intense than anything she’d seen, struck home and drove through every last magical defense in its way.

The invisibility dropped, and on the ground, wrapped up in a heavily cursed diaper, onesie, and pacifier, was… a doll.

A ‘Baby’s First Dolly’ doll, enchanted with six simple phrases, and walking, talking toddler action.

It had only been fifty gold at the nursing store, and with a little enlargement was almost exactly the same size as Sandra when she was shrunken down.

Sandra, who was shrunken down, had a potion going to suppress her magical auras, and who’d been relying on her natural abilities of stealth to maneuver herself around to the far side of the Wizard.

The trap had worked. He’d blown one of his most powerful spells on a dummy, and now it was Sandra’s turn to hit back with everything she had.

She dove at the wizard, screaming, ‘GO!’. Mighty and powerful he may have been, but he was no brawler, and they went down together. She slugged him in the face with a closed fist, and he winced. It felt good. The revenge was petty, but it was so, so satisfying.

Behind her she heard Quinn start to sprint towards the exit, unnaturally fast as his potion propelled him forward, looking like a character in a farce as he carried the wooden crib overhead while running at upwards of thirty miles an hour, faster than most horses. Hadrian dove to Tarja’s side and got her upright, feeding her another potion so she could flee herself.

That left Hadrian, standing by while he drank his own potion, and Sandra, grappling with the wizard.

He tried to concentrate on a spell, reaching for his component pouch, but she grabbed his shoulders and slammed him into the stone and his magic broke off. She hit him again, a sucker punch in the throat, and he spluttered.

This time, when he went for his bag, he just accepted a strike across the chest in trade and went for the spell. With a pinch of baby powder thrown in Sandra’s face, magic burst, and the Maturity Fog spell overtook her.

She fell back, legs splaying as she hit the floor. “H-huh? Whe- wea…”

The wizard got to his feet, dusting himself off and facing Hadrian. “Just you left then, little dabbler. Your standing allies fled, and even if they make it out, they won’t be rescuing you. I lost my last prize captive, but you two will make excellent playmates.”

He looked back at Sandra, who was suckling on her thumb, a dazed expression on her face. If there were any thoughts rattling around in her brain, they were so suppressed as to be invisible in her face and body language.

“Little mage, tell me, what was the flaw?” the wizard asked, reveling in his success. “Be honest with me, and I’ll let you both keep a fraction of your minds.”

“I…” Hadrian started to say, eyes growing wide.

“You didn’t lie, did you?” The wizard took a step closer. “If you did, I would have to punish you.”

Before Hadrian could respond, there was a glimmer of magic as his pacifier reappeared, thoroughly muting him.

The wizard laughed. “Still a child, playing at adulthood. I will remove that for you, if you tell me what silly little ‘flaw’ you think you’ve found.”

Cheeks pink, body trembling, Hadrian nodded. All he could do was buy time, now, for the others to run.

Stalking forward, confident in his total superiority, the wizard gloated with every trembling, twitching flinch in Hadrian’s expression. He got close enough that he could reach out, and said, “First… get on your knees.”

Eyes wide, Hadrian obeyed, looking at the wizard.

“Now, plead,” the wizard said, lording over him. “Beg me to take out the pacifier, so you can apologize for your arrogance.”

Hadrian clasped his hands together, only able to make whimpering sounds as he threw himself at the wizard’s mercy.

The wizard let this go on for most of a minute before deciding it was enough. Reaching out, he took the pacifier and pulled it free. “Now, tell me.”

“There are two flaws,” Hadrian said, once his voice had returned. “Not one.”

“Oh?” the wizard raised one of his eyebrows, looking down at Hadrian with clear contempt.

“First, you’re an arrogant fool,” Hadrian spat, getting to his feet. “And second, all your spells use material components.”

…

“Best purchase of the day,” Sandra said, speaking quietly to Hadrian in the wee hours of the night. “The shopkeeper didn’t even know what he had.”

“What is it?” Hadrian looked down at the tacky, striped ring. “Just a lead ring?”

“Take a closer look,” Sandra said. “Underneath the lead paint, there’s magic. Hard to detect, but I saw it gleaming through a chipped part.”

He stared, then caught wind of the faint enchantment. “A ring of spell storing? That’s a great find for how cheap it was, but what are you going to do with it?”

“Not a ring of spell storing,” Sandra countered. “A ring of counterspells. Now, about that ‘Maturity Fog’ you said you could cast…”

...

Sandra, all her faculties completely intact, threw with perfect accuracy. Her knife sailed through the air against an unaware target, striking perfect and true.

If she’d wanted, she could have hurt the wizard, but that wouldn’t help them. He’d recover, heal himself, and hit back with cosmic fury.

So, her knife sailed right through the wizard’s component pouch.

Materials spilled to the ground. Glass vials of liquids shattered, a puff of baby powder made a cloud on the ground, all of it out of the wizard’s grasp for a few seconds. He’d have to scramble to get anything, the components that were still in one piece and usable.

His eyes widened as he looked down, and in that same moment, Hadrian kicked him in the balls.

The wizard dropped.

Sandra’s knife returned to her hand. They weren’t going to get another chance. She had one more potion, except it wasn’t a potion - it was an alchemical weapon. Flinging her bottle of alchemist’s acid, she splashed it across the pile of scattered material components, rendering them impotent.

Then, without another thought, she ran.

Hadrian sprinted next to her. With the potions flowing inside them, they flowed over the ground like water, feet barely touching stone as they glided towards freedom.

Tarja was stumbling when they caught up, and Quinn was puffing under the weight of the crib. Hadrian helped the former and Sandra aided the latter, and together they escaped the cave and bolted towards the road.

They'd timed their flight well. The scheduled merchant caravan was right on time, passing along the wide dirt path with guards and security.

"Sanctuary!" Sandra exclaimed. "The adventurers guild requests sanctuary!"

Guild agreements were as good as gold. They were accepted in without question, placed behind the spears and spells that the caravan guards wielded.

A moment later, the wizard soared above, his glare burning down on them. They'd made it with seconds to spare.

Sandra stuck her tongue out at him.

He was clearly doing the math in his head. He could burn the whole caravan, and probably come away unscathed.

That's the thing about guilds, though. He wouldn't just be fighting one caravan, he'd be making enemies across the empire, and Sandra's party was under that caravan's protection.

Even the Wizard of Paraphilia knew better than to tangle with the Merchant's Guild.

Glaring down at Sandra, he scoffed, turned, and flew away.

The guard watched him go, bristling and ready for a fight, then relaxed and moved to fall back in line. It was a long enough caravan that they could stand in place for a good, long while before reaching the end, so they had time to recover.

"Party, check in," Sandra said. “Is anyone hurt?”

“I’m-” Tarja said, leaning heavily on Hadrian. Her knees were shaking, and they looked just about ready to buckle beneath her. “I feel like… Whatever he hit me with…”

“We’ll figure it out,” Sandra said. “What else did he do?”

She blushed, and shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sandra didn’t like that, but she didn’t argue. “Alright. Quinn, can you give her a hand and take care of things?”

At that, Tarja turned bright pink. “What?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Sandra said, having a strong suspicion what else the wizard had been doing to their ranger. “Hadrian, did he hurt you?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Hadrian said. “No curses as far as I can tell, though…”

“Though what?”

Blushing out of sympathy, he pointed at Sandra’s waistband. “Your, em…”

She looked down, surprised to see that the hem of her shirt had lifted about two inches, and that the waistband of her diaper was poking out visibly from the top. She tugged it down, but it sprung back up.

Frowning, Sandra went for her bag, taking out a jacket and wrapping it around her waist so that it’d cover the elastic waistband better.

That… technically worked, but as soon as the waistband was covered, her pants seemed to shrink at the same time that the diaper puffed out. Very visible, distinct lines were formed showing the silhouette of her padding beneath her pants.

Sandra groaned at the new embarrassment. “Dammit. Okay, fine, whatever. It could be worse.” She glanced at the crib, which Quinn had set down a few paces away. The adventurer was trying to hide his face with his hands, but the ribbons of his outfit wouldn’t let him, holding him up so that everyone passing could clearly see both who he was and exactly what he was wearing. “It could be a lot worse.”

“We got out alive, and we rescued a captive. That’s a good day,” Hadrian said.

“Not much of a scouting mission,” Sandra sighed. “Obviously, the rescue comes first, but we didn’t learn much. Maybe he’ll be able to give us some information, but I’m not holding out for that.”

“Well…” Hadrian smirked.

Sandra recognized that expression. He had a trick up his sleeves. “What?”

“You weren’t the only one making secret plans to trick the Wizard.” He looked up, in the direction of the cave, and smiled.

Sandra followed his gave, and blinked. Bobbing towards them in the air, its small stature granting it natural stealth, was Hadrian’s Ioun Wyrd. It was carrying a simple burlap sack, held in its rocky appendages.

“What… is that…” Sandra said, blinking.

“While the wizard was chasing after us,” Hadrian smirked. “Dwayne stayed behind and… shall we say borrowed some things from the wizard’s work table.”

Sandra was caught off guard by Hadrian referring to the little ball of rocky outcroppings with a name, but she rolled with it. Raising an eyebrow towards Dwayne, she eyed the bulging sack it was carrying. “How many things?”

Hadrian made a few chittering sounds, his familiar replied, and he said, “I guess, most of them.”

“So…” Sandra considered that. “Good scouting mission?”

She held out her fist at waist height, and Hadrian quietly bumped his own knuckles into hers. “Good scouting mission.”