Vaasth lashes out with his tentacles, ripping and tearing the protoplasmic beast to shreds. Were it anything of nature's design, its huge guts would splatter the floor, but all it has to bleed is ooze and ichor. By the time Vaasth is finished, there is not a fragment of slime large enough to survive on its own.
They begin to shudder, and then to change. Each hunk of ooze transforms, taking on a twisted mockery of the little girl's shape they once wore. Each of the twisted little sisters is no more than a foot high, and they are freakishly deformed. Some are covered in eyes, others wriggle with tentacles, still more have faces - Vaasth's face, Quentin's, even the draconic snout of Hector's wyvern form. There is a flash of silver, and the little sisterlings have teleported away...onto you. Each one, save for George and Mister Bones, is covered in wriggling, demented little sisters. Before you can act, they dissolve into protoplasm, and seep through your pores, entering your flesh.
The sensation is sickeningly disturbing, but not painful. In fact, you now feel refreshed and relaxed, every muscle calmed, every pain dulled. Even withered old Irmaet feels like a young man, his sore joints free of the faintest trace of arthritis.
Battle over. Everyone gains 2150 XP from the battle, plus an additional 1000 roleplaying XP, for a total of +3150 XP. In addition, you've all gained 150 ADAM from your little protoplasmic infusion.