A vague feeling presses against Prasitis’ memory. Could she have entered the asylum willingly? At least, partly? She seems to have lost track of time, but she has a vague sense that she’s spent longer here than she expected or wanted. She chooses her next words carefully, the aristocrat beginning to creep up from behind the soldier.
"Well, this is Briarstone Asylum. No, I didn't bring you here, but I don't know who you are or why you're here. All I know is that people are turning into monsters, and those that don't turn are killed or go crazy."
“I just needed a bit of a rest,” she reassures the guard, almost cheerfully, given the circumstances. “I’m sure I’ll be right as rain presently.”
Of course, that’s the sort of thing a cunning inmate downplaying her malady would say, and on some level she must know that. Veda’s words give her a moment’s pause before the group of madwomen sets off, and again, the witch twists words into somewhat misleading politeness.
Wait a moment, can you proof you aren't a doppelganger? Maybe this is just a conflict between different doppelganger factions. Or a trap.
“I don’t have any spells today that would help with that, I’m afraid,” she admits. “And further, from the doppleganger we encountered below, it seems their spirits work too differently from ours for … some of my other talents.”
Spells are bad enough, and Prasitis is a bit wary of coming right out with hexes, in Ustalav. Nonetheless, there are chilly undercurrents to her remark that anyone could pick up on, like competing breaths of winter wind against the walls of a house. She’s clearly not sure she and the others have much of a choice, and admitting that some of her tricks are of no use against the monsters is a display of weakness that invites the trap, if it is one, to spring.
Just a heads-up that dopplegangers are apparently immune to charm effects, so one of the pre-packaged tricks of my character’s archetype isn’t going to work. I also suspect we may just have to take our chances with these fellows, for now.
|The GM in Yellow|
Your Sense Motive check doesn't reveal anything other than what you already know.
"That is actually...a very good point that I hadn't thought of. I suppose you don't have a way to-"
His words are interrupted by the sound of loud footsteps coming from behind the barricade, as someone from the other side cries out in panic.
"Captain York! Baisily is missing again! She wandered out last night apparently and we can't find her anywhere in the chapel."
The Captain, as you now know him, turns to you and looks at the group with an exhausted grimace on his face.
"Ms. Baisily is an elderly woman that liked to sleepwalk throughout the asylum before everything went to Hell and back. If you could keep an eye out for her, or what happened to her, I would be much appreciative and may even be able to scrounge together some form of reward." he says with a sigh, eyeing your obviously higher quality gear, and seeming to assume you're adventurers of some kind.
You're either real professionals or real, can't tell at the moment. We will find a way and take a look for your grandma. You don't have some potions or scrolls for us to help right now? You heard our honey bunny here, we're in a tight spot as well.
Veda tries to give the old captain an innocent and cute face, but it's kinda hard to believe from her.
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10
Is that me? I wouldn’t want to presume… Oh, the joys of a Wis penalty. ;)
Prasitis waves off the suggestion as graciously as she can, though even as she does so her fingers twitch experimentally towards the start of a spell’s gestures, just to try to remind herself of how her gauntlets are likely to interfere with the necessary movements.
“Only some of,” she says obliquely. “It will have to be cold and steel, then.”
“We’ll try to find Ms. Baisily and your doppelgangers first,” she reassures the guards. Somewhat less reassuringly, she adds, “Do you know how many other people might still be trapped inside since – whatever happened? We’ve been rather removed from most of Briarstone, lately.” Read: we’re twitchy enough to have been kept in solitary. :)
With that, unless other objections are forthcoming, once she gets her answer, Prasitis will lead the way down the long hall on the relief and rescue mission.
Kioku sighs dejectedly. "So we have no way to know if you are a doppleganger, nor a way to know if someone else is a doppleganger."
The doppleganger we killed downstairs, did it's form revert when we killed it?
"If there is no way to tell a doppleganger from one of us, how would you even know if we killed one and not just the first three people we find?"
Seeing Prasitis start to head down the hall, Kioku just shakes her head. "This is a fools errand," she thinks to herself as she follows Prasitis.
|The GM in Yellow|
Apologies, missed the form question. The one you killed downstairs did, in fact, revert to the grey skinned featureless face form. Killing more will likely make them revert as well.
The captain listens to Veda's unfortunately quite dry words, and replies in a more distressed voice.
"Unfortunately the chapel is running quite low on supplies, and we can't afford to share any with someone who isn't proven yet. Come back with those dopplegangers, and then we'll talk."
The hallway has three doors on either side, and the far end opens up into an open room with what appears to be piles of rubble visible from your side of the hall.
I know it's hard to see the doors on the map, but they're there! One on the left, two on the right.
One hand free for spells, the other closed tight around the hilt of her longsword, Prasitis advances cautiously down the hallway, trying to keep alert as she notes the various doors that open onto the passage.
It feels a bit like being caught in a riddle, and, feeling the others’ frustrations, she spares an apologetic look over her shoulder. “At least there aren’t any other guards, it seems. You know, ‘This one always lies, this one always tells the truth, and this one tries to spear people who ask tricky questions?’”
Her attempt at humour, while perhaps suggesting her basically good heart, does not encourage credence in her overall sanity.
I’ve a rubbish sense of direction at the best of times, which is handy for avoiding metagaming right about now, anyway. Though I think I get what you’re saying, why don’t we try the door on the left, then in order going down the right, unless/until something jumps out at us (perceptually, or literally). :) Unless someone's got another idea they're committed to.
|The GM in Yellow|
No worries, although I suppose that's hardly thematic. :)
Anyway, let's try Door #1, and hope for the best. Goats, not neh-thalggu, say.
I'm with you ... left is always right :P
|The GM in Yellow|
The first door on the left opens easily, being unlocked and all, to a room full of darkness.
Mighty iron boilers crowd here, their pipes piercing the walls and ceiling. Shadows and rust fill the narrow gaps between the cold tanks.\
However, illuminating just a tiny sliver of the room is a small cone of light poking out from under one of the metal pipe sections.
Wonder what that is....
No, i don't know that. Sounds weird.
Veda motions for Prasitis to open the door.
“An old riddle,” Prasitis admits, her brevity acknowledging that it’s nothing important as she opens the first door along the corridor.
Mighty iron boilers crowd here, their pipes piercing the walls and ceiling. Shadows and rust fill the narrow gaps between the cold tanks.\However, illuminating just a tiny sliver of the room is a small cone of light poking out from under one of the metal pipe sections.
Wonder what that is....
Blinking a bit into the darkness within, she asks, “I don’t suppose anyone prepared any light-producing cantrips? It’s been a while since I’ve done any exploring on my own, so…”
“I think I should be able to turn up a torch, though,” she adds, rummaging in her pack a moment to do so. Once she’s got it lit and her sword in hand again, she steps cautiously into the room, taking a quick look about for anything untoward before heading to what looks like a poorly-filled gap between a bit of pipe and a wall, maybe? Let’s find out!
To any odd looks or questions as she prepares her torch, Prasitis responds with a shrug. “Something on fire to thrust into any lurking monster faces might be an idea, too.”
It’s not hard to see the jumpiness under her attempt at bravado. Part of what's throwing her off, and that she doesn’t mention, because she can’t quite remember a reason for it, is that she’s sure that, of all things, she couldn’t conjure so much as a true spark for the life of her. Light, yes, given time, but not fire. It's strange.
"Light? Hmmm. I don't remember learning it, but it seems...." she mutters an incantation, and the blade of her sword begins to glow with an eerie violet light, "Apparently I do. Interesting." she waves the blade back and forth, "Once we get somewhere safe, I need to do some serious looking through my spellbook to see if there's anything in there." she notes.
Kioku is puzzled by the others. She can seem to see clearly in the dark. As Aoife's blade begins to glow and Prasitis lights her torch, Kioku turns and blinks her eyes as they adjust to the new light sources. When her eyes recover, she can see Prasitis moving toward the gap of light. Kioku grips her crossbow just to be ready. "Careful ... not sure what can be back there." She then attempts to peer ahead looking for any bits of danger.
Perception looking for traps/threats: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18
|The GM in Yellow|
Kioku's perception is enough to notice that the cone of lights is actually some form of small creature hiding under some of the pipes in the dark room.
The creature, for lack of a better word, appears to be an amalgam of beast parts that has luminous eyes, a rat’s tail, simian appendages, and tendrils extending from a mole-like nose. Beside the thing are two unusually large rats, which shriek and launch themselves out from under the pipes when the beast cries out and points at you.
Fight time! Initiatives rolls coming!
Kioku: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Aoife: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13
Prasitis: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
Veda: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
Monster thing: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
Rats: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13
As Prasitis looks to examine the light, a small bit of movement catches her eye. "Prasitis, Look Out!!" she calls as a bizarre creature stirs. The shock at seeing the oddity of the creature causes her to grip the triggering mechanism of the crossbow releasing a bolt wide of the creature.
Crossbow Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
damage: 1d8 ⇒ 7
Aoife reacts in a flash, blade shining as she raises the tip using muscle memory she didn't even know she had, drawing it in an arc as she tries to stab the rat closest to her. However, relying on skills one doesn't remember is challenging, and her blade goes very wide.
Thornblade: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 51d8 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
I’m sorry for the delay, everyone: unusually, I got called in to work on Saturday this weekend for a special event, which threw off my schedule for the whole weekend.
Prasitis hears Kioku’s warning just in time, jerking back before anything can jump onto her while she peers into the darkness. Bringing her torch around in attempt to keep the rats from ganging up on her, the witch tries to identify the strange beast that urges them on. Know (arcana/planes/nature): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21 If any of those apply.
Even as she defends herself, Prasitis keeps an eye out for an opening to keep the mole-rat creature’s attention off the others, lashing out when she can. Basically, if she can safely get within reach of the mole thing, she’ll attack it for preference, otherwise, she’ll attack the nearest enemy within reach while moving or 5’-stepping to avoid opportunity attacks as she tries to get closer. Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20 Damage if hits: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
|The GM in Yellow|
So Arcana was the right one. It's a Zoog, a CE tiny magical beast that does occasionally feed on the flesh of the living (or dead) when it's hungry enough. Often mistaken for otherworldy beings, its actually not an outsider, and has no sort of planar travel at all.
Its' companions appear to be just dire rats, although even these specimens are about as large as small dogs, and eagerly jump at the chance to bite you!
Bite, rat 1, Kioku: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3 Damage: 1d4 ⇒ 2
Bite, rat 2, Aoife: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10 Damage: 1d4 ⇒ 3
Bite, Zoog, Prasitis: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10 Damage: 1d3 ⇒ 1
Claw 1, Zoog, Pras: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26 Damage: 1d2 ⇒ 1
Claw 1, Zoog, Pras: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21 Damage: 1d2 ⇒ 2
However, in their surprise at you bursting into their newly founded home, all of their sharp fangs fall short of drawing any blood. And yet, the Zoog's claws dig into Prasitis's skin, cutting it slightly and dealing 3 points of damage.
we don't have a Combat t map, right?I'm not sure if there is even place to attack. 
Veda watches Prasitis open the room and ask for light, as she sees the creatures,slightly confused.
Light? Why light? It's all clearly visible?
In her confusion why the others don't seem to see she reacts slow.
Eewwhh! What's that?
She draws her thornblade and if as by reflex invokes her luck.
thornblade attack on the next thing: 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 5 + 2 = 101d6 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 1 + 2 = 7
[ooc]using archeologists luck, attacking the next possible foe. 120 feet darkvision and detect magic going on.
|The GM in Yellow|
Aoife narrowly manages to defend herself from the marauding rat, and strikes back at it, pouring her magic into her blade and watching as the glow changes slightly, becoming a more violet shade of magical lighting, and her blade becomes keener.
"Won't ya jus' die, already?" she demands of the rat, managing to finally score a hit on the vermin.
+1 Elven Thornblade: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 211d8 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Dodging past the rats to what she remembers is called a zoog, of all things, Prasitis manages to avoid a bite but leaves an opening for the thing’s claws.
Would fit with the derro in the sewers back … home, if there’s any truth to the stories. The irrelevant thought flickers through her mind, threatening to throw off her defense.
Incidentally, just for next round, did Prasitis manage to hit anything in the first round? Whether rat or zoog? If this little critter’s pushing a 20 AC, I might have to change my tactics! But for now, we’ll try the ‘Wave metal at it!’ approach, as barbaric as that may be.
Focusing on the zoog, Prasitis brings her sword around for another swing. Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9 Damage if hits: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
She manages to reverse the blade's momentum well enough, but not quickly enough to avoid making it easy to predict its direction and jump back. All the while, the more serious, witch part of her brain screams at her to drop the torch and stop fooling around.
"Have you gone mad?! Are you a witch or not?" as that obnoxious Weasley kid might say. :)
|The GM in Yellow|
We'll just have Kioku hold her action, and move on.
Also, sorry Prasitis, you did deal damage to the zoog. It is not , in fact, holding on to a 20+ AC!
In between Prasitis' swipe at the zoog that manages to connect and Veda's wild swing that clearly misses just about everything, Aoife swiftly and accurately cuts one of the two rats down, her thornblade finishing the job quite easily.
That leaves the remaining rat on Aoife, and the Zoog attacking Prasitits.
Rat bite: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16 Damage: 1d4 ⇒ 2 plus one bleed.
Zoog bite: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19 Damage: 1d3 ⇒ 3
Zoog claw 1: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9 Damage: 1d2 ⇒ 1
Zoog claw 2: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14 Damage: 1d2 ⇒ 2
The bite of the Zoog punctures Prasitis' skin, and she notices the wound is unusually deep, blood running out of it more freely than normal.
Aoife recoils at the profusely bleeding wound, and lashes back, "Ah! Bloody' rats!"
Thornblade: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 101d8 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Is bleed damage taken on my turn, or the turn where it was inflicted? I can never remember.
Aoife easily takes care of the rat while the other strange creature continues to harass Prasitis. Kioku glances down at her crossbow feeling slightly worthless and unable to help when she sees the strange creature bite down on Prasitis. "STOP IT" her mind screams at the creature.
Psychic Strike on the Zoog (5/6 uses remain) DC 13 will save failure deals 1d6 ⇒ 4 and is shaken for 1 round
Veda scuffs at her swing going wild before, this time trying to stab with more precision at the zoog.
Stab with thornblade: 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 5 + 2 = 101d6 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 1 + 2 = 7
Oh wow. This is manipulated! The zoog hexed me!
Hold still you scum so i can skewer you!
Through the adrenaline haze, Prasitis notes the seriousness of the bite, but can’t seem to quite focus on it as the rush of combat sets something else off inside her.
Without her quite meaning to, she drops her torch, as a rush of words, gestures, and effort call for that hand. Trying to cast touch of fatigue. Concentration to cast while avoiding AoO, DC 16: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7 Oh right, and for the bleed, vs. DC 10?: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16 Gosh darn it, I forgot about that bit. She briefly feels a sheen of magic on the tips of her fingers, but loss of blood and the need to avoid giving the zoog an opening mean it melts away just as quickly.
Wait, I'm confused. I thought I'm the only one bleeding (condition-wise), and Aoife just got bitten? Or don't wait, and carry on, and I'm sure that will make sense of things. :) Memo to self: bleed 1
|The GM in Yellow|
Clarifications: Only Prasitis is currently bleeding. The zoog has the bloody bite, not the dire rats. For bleed damage, I feel like it'd be easiest to have it happen on your turn instead of the monsters', just to make things easy on all of us. Make sense?
Will save, Zoog: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
The zoog fails to resist the psychic magic damaging its brain, and the weight is enough to cause it to fall. It collapses to the ground with an evil sounding wail, its body crumpling against the cold stone floor.
The dire rats quickly scurry away after their master dies, leaving the room cold and quiet once more.
Prasitis quickly sheathes her sword and tries to stanch her bleeding, another sort of magic breathing through her mind and heart. Concentration, vs. DC 11: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25 ASF, rolling to beat 15%: 1d100 ⇒ 2 Casting cure light wounds: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6 The dice gods give, and the dice gods take away. :(
For a moment, a thin blue light looks like it might condense to something more substantial, but the way she has to hold her arm throws off Prasitis' gesture, and it fades to no effect, leaving the elf looking paler than ever.
"I'd hate to ask for that wand we found," she says demurely, "but I'd greatly appreciate it, unless someone has other means of healing."
As far as i remember Veda has the wand.
You mean this one?
Veda produces a curled wand form her backpack.
I can try it on you.
She goes over to Prasitis, looking deeply into her eyes and slowly tracing down her chest to where the wound is with the wand, speaking a magical command word.
CLW: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6
Expectantly, she asks:
How does that feel?
“Lovely,” Prasitis says, pinking a bit, or at least as much as she ever does, given that she looks as visibly cold as she always is, in absolute terms, even if she now rarely feels it. “Thank you.”
She considers the wash of blood that now decorates her front, and the small body of the surprisingly fierce monster. She murmurs to herself, her identification of the thing stirring other memories, “They tried to train some of us, those with the … spark, to better wear our armour, but by the time they caught me, there wasn’t enough time…”
A soldierly frown crosses her features as the training she did receive kicks in and she explains curtly as she rummages in her equipment before unslinging her shield from its baldric. “So, that’s a zoog. I’ve never seen one before, but I know they’re not summoned from anywhere, believe it or not. Carrion eaters, mostly, though I wish they’d taught us about what’s in the bite.”
After a bit of fiddling with things, Prasitis retrieves her torch and manages to attach it to the front of her shield – conveniently as far away from her as possible while still providing light and a possibly useful flame. As dorky as it is, I actually bought a shield sconce for her, of all things. :)
“I’m sorry. I’ll do my best, but armour interferes with my spells, and if there are any more of these things around while we’re hunting doppelgangers… If we can get someplace safe to rest, I can prepare healing spells to cast out of armour.” It’s only fair, she thinks, to let people whose lives might depend on her know her limits.
Kioku lets out a deep breath as the fight ends "I... I think I killed it... with a thought..." she thinks and puzzles to herself. She then rises herself from her stupor realizing she needs to focus.
"Prasitis! Are you-" she cuts herself off as she sees the wand stitch up his wounds. "I guess you are ok. I believe I have something that maybe of use as well. I believe I saw a spell in my book that will slowly heal you over time Infernal Healing. I can prepare it when we rest if you would prefer something different."
Kioku then looks briefly around the room. perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24 If there is nothing else, perhaps we should move on?"
Aoife leans against the wall, "Well that was terrifying." she notes, and cleans off her bloodied blade with a quick spell, keeping the blood on it from casting shadows on the wall, "Everyone alrigh? We should keep movin' before that thing returns."
I think I'm alright.
Veda looks around consideringly.
How does it look for everyone else?
I found that terrifying too. Such a small thing but so fierce. And quick.
A stunned look on her face gives away her troubled mind.
Why do I have this feeling I've seen and made deals with worse? And this wasn't so bad?
|The GM in Yellow|
Kioku’s sharp eyes quickly reveal a small leather sack underneath the pipes and boilers that make up this room, in which she finds two discarded sun rods. Most likely useful later on down the road.
Beyond that, the room is empty save the corpse of the Zoog, and yourselves of course.
Where to next, adventurers?
From behind her strange contraption to manage shield and torch at once, Prasitis gives a determined nod. Through the weird shadows cast by the arrangement, she looks like a woman who will be much happier once she can prepare her own light magic, rather than having to rely on flame, or the others.
Still, with her shield ready, Prasitis presses on boldly, leading the way in the hope that if there are more monsters lurking nearby, there’s a better chance that she can weather the blows better than the more lightly-armoured among the group of madwomen. She quickly crosses the hall and tries the next door.
|The GM in Yellow|
Assuming everyone else is fine with moving on...
The hallway continues further past the boiler room, with two doors breaking up the right wall before the entire hallway opens up into a larger room that appears to be somewhat covered by rubble.
The opening, from where you’re at right now, seems to have another door on the left side, and also opens into another room on the right.
Time to stop at the two doors on the right before the end of the hallway?
Yes, that sounds about right. Erring on the side of paranoia and opening every door we see seems like a good idea if there are shapechangers lurking about. Though if there’s a mimic, Prasitis might scream. :)
Though the origins of that training are perhaps best left forgotten, Prasitis is grateful that something takes over as she reaches for the handle of the nearest door. The inner commentary keeps some of the menace of the barely remembered, and now apparently decrepit and infested, asylum at bay. Angle yourself to minimize your profile. Push the door hard: don’t give them more time to brace or react than you need to…
Kioku follows behind with the group gripping her crossbow tight. As Prasitis stops at the next door, she gives her a friendly nod. "We can do this. Show them we are not changelings, then we can figure out what is going." she thinks to herself pushing up all the courage she can muster
|The GM in Yellow|
The first door on the right opens up into a simple storage closet. The shelves, apparently having fallen off of the walls, lay strewn about the floor along with the former contents of said shelves.
A quick search uncovers a lantern full of oil, three warm winter blankets, a hammer, and a particularly well made (read: masterwork) short sword. Upon closer inspection, the short sword is caked in a red flaky substance, and has inscriptions in an unfamiliar language covering the entire blade. Wonder whose this is?
The second door awaits opening, once you’re done looking around in the first one.
Aoife studies the short sword, turns it over in her hands, and cleans off the stuff covering it with a gesture. She offers it to the others, and if none of them particularly want it, sheaths it at her her waist opposite her main sword.
When Aoife proffers the short sword, Prasitis spares it a long look, focusing on the unfamiliar script of its inscription and the red stuff coating it, which she gingerly brushes before lightly rubbing the faint traces that come off from her fingers. Unpleasant shadows of other forms of rust and crimson coatings on blades flit behind her conscious thoughts, but nothing much is forthcoming. Know (nature?): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12 Is that just blood? Or something organic that Prasitis might be able to recognize? Also, is anyone trained in Linguistics, if that would help identify what language it is at least, even if none of us can read it?
Her frown at the strange substance turns into a smile as she shrugs slightly and apologetically to Aoife. “It looks like it might be a good blade once whatever that is gets cleaned off, but I’m afraid I don’t recognize the language…” I guess if it’s not vegetable or really really cold, Siti isn’t really the person to ask. :)
With that, the elf turns to the next door.
"If I may? I believe I have some skill with language" When offered the sword, Kioku takes hold of it and her eyes glow briefly. cast detect psychic significance and detect magic She brushes off the red flaky substance as best she can and runs her finger over the text while examining the writing underneath trying to decipher anything she can.
Linguistics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13
If there is any psychic significance attempt a Psychometry (appraise) occult skill unlock
Psychometry (Appraise): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20
|The GM in Yellow|
The material on the blade does in fact appear to be blood, dry enough to have been stained only days ago, if even that.
The language on the sword isn’t recognizable, as it doesn’t seem like any language you have ever seen before. Upon closer examination, the inscription appears very haphazardly spaced on the handle and blade. Almost as if it doesn’t belong there. How curious.
Kioku, upon holding it in her hand and using her divination magics, recognizes it as a *+1 short sword*.
Her psychic magic, however, grants her a bit more insight into how it was last used, as a vision of a man in what appears to be a guard uniform (similar to those guarding the barrier in the hallway) fighting off some sort of beast. The vision isn’t clear in what exactly he’s fighting, but he is clearly overwhelmed and eventually killed by whatever it is in an obviously brutal way as his body drops heavily and the sword clatters across the floor.
The next door is unlocked as well, and seems to be easily opened.
Kioku audibly gasps as the visions assault her mind. Taking a few deep breaths to try and calm herself, she begins, "The sword... belonged to the one of the guards... I think... He was fighting... something... I'm not sure what... it wasn't a changeling... it was more creature than man... The guard... the creature... it slaughtered him..." Her eyes then quickly dart around the room as if searching for something. "His body... its gone. Why would the creature take the body?"
Kioku then hands the blade back to Prasitis, not waiting for an answer. "I'm sorry, I don't recognize the language at all, however, the blade itself is magical. Perhaps it is best used by one of you?"
Kioku’s words, and the moment it takes Prasitis to cross over to the next door, are just enough to loosen at least a small mental block, and the witch suddenly braces herself against the portal as what the rusty coating must actually have been sinks in and wakes an awful memory.
Here, she is the guard, or one of them. She holds the line with her sisters in the narrow street, late afternoon light raking across crimson and steel, faceless plumed helmets and long shields. Too late, the rebellious rioters try to blend in, hastily throwing away improvised weapons, pleading innocence. Her captain’s command sounds the advance, her voice clear and cold. “For the Queen!”
“The blood…” a murmur escapes the witch before she’s able to pull herself together. As Aoife takes the sword back, Prasitis continues more coolly, “Let’s hope it's gone, whatever the thing was that could make such a mess of a weapon.”
Without further ado, she pushes hard to open door, the force of the gesture the only lingering sign of her discomfiture.