With the news that the dying Enteritis had poisoned the whole room, it immediately became apparent that whoever could kill Karl and take his blood would survive, the rest perishing. Not willing to abandon their friend, the companions attempted to defend him as the Drow attacked.
Surprisingly, Great-Grandmother Ebola was quickest. She stood, her flesh deforming and sinking, distending into a shapeless mass that oozed forwards. One loose, flabby arm swung round, flailing at Aengus but swooshing over his head. Taking discretion to be the better form of valour, unsurprisingly, Enteritis himself backed into the darkness, reloading his crossbows. One more bolt bounced off the table near to Thunder, but a Drow curse indicated that the other bow had jammed .
Taking his fate into his own hands, Karl launched a furious counterattack on the sheet-like furl of flesh that was Great-Grandmother Ebola. Weaving through the legs of the table he was under, he got behind her and stabbed deeply with his sword, his face lit up with glee as it always was in time of battle. A second later, Iben arrived and crashed into her as he raged, trying to knock her prone. The Kindraeder brandished his axe at the other Drow, snarling at them.
“A Kindraeder does not abandon his friends!” he shouted. “If you want Karl’s blood, you’ll have to spill mine first!”
From across the room, Cousin Malaria turned to her sister Distonia and said “What spirit! He’ll make a fine slave, once he’s broken in.”
Replying, the other said “And I’ve got just the collar for him. Lovely.”
Thunder, on the other hand, found himself in greater trouble. Throwing back her hood, Grandmother Rubella revealed another Fleshwarped face, this one scarred in neat lines. Her cheekbones almost pushed through, and the tops of her ears, normally pointed as all Drow ears were, had tiny blades attached to them that glinted slightly in the light. Involuntarily, Thunder took a small step backwards at the sight, and as he did she hissed and leapt upon him. Caught off guard and being unable to get his shield up in time, her long claw-like fingernails were able to gouge into his body.
Aengus, dueling with Ebola, was distracted for a second as his niece Roseola rolled smoothly from the chair that she had been occupying. Landing neatly on the floor, she scuttled backwards on all fours before beginning to climb the pillar behind her, her eyes fixed on the face of her Uncle. Whetting her lips, she waited for a chance to pounce.
As the clash of blades, noise of spells and screams of the Drow echoed through the chamber, on the far side, Distonia and Malaria, the two pregnant Drow, stood in unison. Glancing at each other, their flesh deformed and changed, running down into the floor and separating into small piles. Seconds later, the piles grew upwards, forming into several new creatures that looked like black-skinned minions, displaying long claws and fangs.
Aunt Chlamydia also rose out of her chair, gesturing. Her hands wove the shadow around her into an attack, launching a bolt of darkness towards Karl that crashed into him and lit him up, preventing him from hiding in the pervading gloom. A second later she followed it with a bolt of necrotic energy that hit Aengus, and the Eladrin found himself hard pressed to keep his concentration against the attacks of the oozing Ebola.
Surveying the situation, Sigurd realized that things were getting worse, quickly. Marshalling her arcane power, she decided to thin the numbers of the groups opponents with an Icy Terrain spell. The dark-skinned minions were caught in the radius, several of them keening in pain before collapsing to the floor. As they did so, the gibbering noises they had been uttering quieted for a moment, before the others took up the cry and made it louder.
Still grappling with Rubella, Thunder felt her digging in, reaching essential parts of his interior. Marshalling his own forces, he broke the grip with an abrupt wrench, and with a word his sword lit up with radiant energy that crackled along it’s length. The pure light spread in a small pool around him, and it was Rubella’s turn to step back a moment.
“In the name of the Storm God!” cried Thunder, and attacked.
 A one on the attack roll, in other words