The Poison Totem
Sir Viktor smelled it before he saw it. The stench was like a rotting carcass floating in sour milk. For a moment, he considered turning back as his breakfast shifted in his unhappy stomach.
The wind shifted, bringing some relief, so he continued toward the ruins.
"The old wizard conjured something he couldn't control," a woman selling apples in the village had told him. "I heard he built a totem to some arcane goddess, and he was conjuring one night to summon her to his aid."
Sir Viktor, sword out, picked his way through massive fallen blocks until he reached the totem. The village woman had called it the "Poison Totem."
"Don't touch it. The ooze coming from the...thing is deadly." A pained look had crossed her face. He had thanked her and bought a dozen of her overpriced apples.
The "thing" that oozed from the top of the totem looked like a massive green, spiky ball. The spikes glistened with fresh venom that eventually pooled and dripped down the totem like putrid green wax. It was impossible to see what, if anything, had ever been carved or painted on the wooden pole.
Sir Viktor had not let on to the apple seller, but he knew this thing. Or, at least, he knew what the old stories said about it. The stories called the creature a "slixer."
He picked up a stick and touched the congealed ooze that had hardened like pine sap as it had slithered down the tall totem, leaving a wide ring of dead grass at the base. The stick began to smoke, and the stench of the fumes was even worse than the ooze.
"Well," he mumbled, "let's see what happens now." He climbed up to a higher vantage and tossed an apple underhand high enough to land on the spikey slixer. The apple rolled off, smoking, onto the ground.
He tried again. Missed. Again. This time, the apple impaled itself on a spine. Sir Viktor smiled. He had the range now.
By the time six apples adorned the slixer, Sir Viktor started seeing a green tint to the smoke coming off the apples. The remaining apples all landed true. In moments, the slixer was almost invisible within a green cloud of fumes.
Time to go.
If the stories were right, he needed get far way. Quickly.
The stories were right. After he had put the ruins a hundred paces behind him, a tremendous, fleshy explosion erupted from the totem. The slixer, it's spines clogged with juuust enough apples, had built up sufficient pressure to detonate like wheat dust in a farmer's silo.
He waited a day for the fumes and stench to die down. Then he returned to the ruins. Green goo, guts, and spiky skin had splattered the nearby stone walls, and the top third of the totem was missing.
He smiled. Now, was the rest of the story true?
It took another day of searching, but he finally found it. He was using a large stick to explore each reeking chunk of slixer flesh. Oddly, the gooey innards did not make the stick smoke.
Finally, he levered a particularly large slab of slimy carcass out of the way.
And there it was!
A large green gemstone the size of a goose egg, covered in slime, was lying at his feet. It was the "heart" of the slixer made from an apple seed, the spell component needed to summon the slixer to life.
He searched through his pack and pulled out a bottle of vinegar. He carefully rinsed the gem, and, with a thick burlap rag covering his hand, picked it up. He wrapped it carefully and put it in his pack.
As he turned to leave, he did not notice the goo-covered wizard robe embroidered with stars and moons that lined the inside of the putrid skin.
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