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After a few moments, Chaïa’s ears twitched, as she anxiously strained for any sound of something amiss in the others’ descent. Turning to Saeri, she asked, “Am I imagining things, or did it sound like they stopped for a moment?” She hesitated for only another instant before leaning cautiously – well, as cautiously as Chaïa ever did anything – over the shaft and calling out softly into the stillness of the mine, “Everything alright down there?”
Chaïa stopped for a moment with a meaningful glance. She strained to hear, too, anything that sounded like signs of life, in particular, Lu's casual reference to undead having insinuated itself into her thoughts. Murmuring a quick incantation, she made sure that she had some protection beyond her reflexes in place before continuing.
“Let’s try more swords, then,” Chaïa said, stepping forward lightly. “If it is infested with zombies down there, I’m not sure how much of a difference it will make between getting dumped all at once or having to figure out how to fall back with only a couple of us able to ascend at a time.” “We’ll just have to hope Sehanine isn’t in a hurry to embrace us just yet,” she quipped.
As the platform rocked gently under the pair’s weight, Chaïa furrowed her brow. “That thing will definitely only take so much weight, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t want to risk anyone’s life as to how much that might be … yet.” After a moment, though, she brightened considerably, as a mitigating factor sprang to mind. “Say, Saeri,” Chaïa positively sparkled, “you haven’t had the misfortune of misplacing that ring we found in the cairn, have you? Because I’ve still got a casting of feather fall ready, which would catch three of us, so, with that ring, the worst of the to-ing and fro-ing should just be climbing back up, if those planks do give way.” “Or shall we just wish the two of you bon voyage, and join you momentarily, taking it in turns?”
Darn, I'm sorry I was too late! Just getting back to civilization at last and settled back in to my regular schedule. And to top it all off, managed to catch a bug on the flight home that I'm only just starting to shake off. Ah, well. Anyway, going forward, if ever Chaïa has spell slots left at the end of the day and we need healing, folks can just call dibs and help themselves, I think.
"Hmm," Chaïa cast a practiced eye over the contraption, gauging the condition of the ropes and pulleys and everything. "If this was ever a proper shaft to work and haul ore out of, I should hope it would be more than a few adventurers." "But in the worst case, we could try one mage, one warrior at a time?"
“Does that really work?” Chaïa asked, hands on her hips as she examined the sign and tried to figure out how easy it would be to get past the barricade. “No ‘Danger!’ ‘Enter at own risk!’? Or are they confident tempting all passersby’s curiosity?”
Hi, folks. I'm afraid the internet is down in my part of the world this weekend (I can't believe I'm actually writing this - in San Diego, of all places!), so I may not be able to post again until Monday, when I'll be on the road but might be able to find a place with WiFi. In the meantime, I'm trying to avoid blitzing through all the data on my phone for work too, and making kitten eyes at baristas and such in places where I'm able to vamp someone else's connection, where they opted for a more reliable provider than the place I'm staying.
Chaïa slunk away from the window towards the mine proper. As much as the multiply-locked chest called to her curiosity, there would be time later for mischief, if the group was lucky. Still, though she nodded her agreement with Janus’ recommendation, Chaïa grinned at Saeri’s suggestion too. “A mass knock spell would be useful, wouldn’t it? Or even just the regular one. I’m afraid I’m confined to the old-fashioned way for the time being.”
“Office first, just to see if anyone’s around who would kick up a fuss later?” Chaïa suggested. “If not, then we can stick our heads into the mine as such.” She indicated the chained blockhouse with a dramatic gesture. “If that means what I think it means, and if we move quickly enough, we could try opening that up on the way out, see if anyone cares to join us. A bit more chaos mightn’t hurt, and it ought to liven up the day – er, night – of anyone kept locked up.” Despite her light tone, there was an undercurrent of eagerness that revealed just how distasteful the wizard found the idea of such wretched conditions. She hurried over to the office, heading for a window to peek into for preference, but the door otherwise.
Chaïa had to stifle a giggle at Lu’s impersonation of the disconsolate guards, now spirits-sodden on top of everything else. Losing no time, she gave the gate an experimental push and looked to see if it was particularly carefully secured. As she checked for locks or the like, she considered whether she ought to gird herself in her mage armour as well, before deciding to wait at least until she saw what was on the other side of the gate, and if it seemed like a good idea to press on into the mine proper.
“Now that’s what I call worth my while!” Chaïa gloated , a gleeful grin brightening her features. Quickly turning to the others, she asked, “Do we have any rope left? Otherwise… just how snug do gentlemen wear their trousers these days?”
I kind of like that, now that you mention it. I do think I'd like to hold on to Acrobatics, just in case, but I'm not averse to the idea of taking Extra Traits as a feat choice at some point.
Under the continued leer of the guards, Chaïa didn’t need to force a blush. “Wait!” she squeaked, both her hands dipping to the pockets and pouches of her robes. After a moment of fumbling, her hands rose up again, one closed around a small fistful of gold coins, and the other – well, there was certainly something that glittered yellow there, but also a bit of red and blue and…
For what it's worth, if we can land a colour spray, these guys will drop whatever they're holding as part of being stunned. I think I might be tempted just from the principle of the thing. :)
“Surely you wouldn’t be so cruel!” Chaïa cried, sweeping in in an attempt to salvage the situation. “We’ve come so far to find dear Fulvia’s brother! We know, his debts… but their old parents! And me an orphan! We don’t have much gold to spare, but what we have-” She reached for one of the numerous pouches on her robes, trying to place herself so that she could hit both guards with her enchantment if necessary, still hoping that quick words would be enough. Her attitude wobbled between pathos and, as she tried to defend Lu’s honour, gallantry, but somehow, and even as she also made up an alias for the swordswoman on the spot, it struck about the right note of desperation. She wondered if they would end up fending off or flirting with every living man in Daggerford – and maybe some dead ones, like that silly boy ghost. A series of aliases was beginning to look like a very good idea. I beg your pardon? You must be thinking of some other adorable elven priestess / cute human warrior/witch/healer. As the case may be.
Sorry, folks, I fell off the face of the earth last week with work: last night was the first I’ve had in the past seven that I got even a full six hours of sleep. How decadent! This week still has a nasty bit of running around before things get back to something closer to normal before the hols, but this week I think I should be able to post again, starting this evening.
“If it were only a question of reliably producing an explosion,” Chaïa mused, “wild magic would be less alarming, in some ways.” Without a beat, she continued, backtracking and weighing the possibilities of Janus’ original plan, “That’s as likely a sort of peaceful as anything that springs to mind right now. It’s just a question of whether they have one of my people in there. Although I suppose one of us could have been adopted.”
“As possible, of course,” Chaïa said cheerily. Despite her airy tone, she brushed a hand through her loose locks rather fretfully, the gesture showing how seriously she was considering the various options. Her eyes swept the palisade, trying to gauge if it would be at all possible to climb it more or less unobtrusively, even as she tried to recall the story Janus had concocted as a plausive excuse to gain access, and what to do if the guards didn’t buy it. “Alright,” she added after a moment, keeping her voice low, “We might try to sway these fellows with pretense and persiflage too, if you like. If it goes badly, I have one spell prepared that might be good enough to take those two out of a fight without doing any permanent damage. But only the one, and that leaves whoever’s inside.”
Seeing that she wasn’t about to be stopped, Chaïa pulled herself together for one last effort, and took her leave with what she hoped was a sensual drawl and a slink to her step, “Not tonight, then? Well, cheers, boys. See you around.” Once safely outside, though, she shook off her persona with a shudder. Not that she minded the idea as such, exactly, but places like the Happy Cow tended to cheapen the whole thing. Why couldn’t they have started with Dragonchess, at Lazare’s, with a glass of something nice, and a bit less reliance on the merely physical? Especially if – though she would blush to admit the consideration – the physical didn’t suit her inclinations. Ah, well. Planning for choosy elven mages was hardly something conspirators like Smenk or Filge would worry about. Chaïa turned to Janus with a wan smile. “So. Since we seem to be burning the midnight oil, shall we see if Master Ironeater does have something troubling his mines? I can’t wrap a mist around us tonight, if we want to be subtle, but I suppose we could trust to the dark.”
Chaïa’s stomach lurched as the likely next step in the group’s investigations sunk in – or perhaps it was the innuendo. She tried to keep up, but as her human counterpart’s voice grew cold again, she couldn’t help thinking she had missed something.
She tried to soothe ruffled feathers while keeping in character, cursing inwardly the while. “Or throw daggers, as well as cards. It’s not all Dragonchess all the time,” she said, remembering the Happy Cow’s entertainment from a few nights ago. Even as she spoke, Chaïa regretted mentioning cards. She could have spared Saeri the indignity. Quickly, she focused on keeping the thugs on their toes. Somehow, she managed to pull herself to her full height and shimmer a seductive step or two around the table. “Though maybe we could talk strategy some time. Openings, defenses… Whatever your game,” she purred to – Marovinn, was it? And then she stepped back, poised to saunter off into the night like a born darling of the Dragonchess set. She shot Lu and Janus a look that gave a little scream, You owe me one!
“That would be a good idea,” Chaïa chimed in. “It’s an easy thing to overlook, if you’re in a hurry, and just assume it’s a whole family, but you’d be surprised where an odd body can turn up. Whole other tomb, even.” Her eyes were bright with what was probably educational and not actually unholy glee. “Now, suppose you re-bury the poor fellow properly. He might be happy, as far it goes, but he has other ties… And even a little ghost is a nuisance to settle permanently, unless you know enough of planes-lore to really master the ethereal. Have you ever seen it in action? You have to sleep, it doesn’t, and accidents happen, and he rejuvenates…” Seeing the half-orc’s attention wavering but the human wizard’s crystallizing, Chaïa focused her charms on the latter, but tried to include the whole group. “So what we want is not just to tie off loose ends,” she said, cheerfully, but pointedly, “but stitch up the whole hem, sort of.” Belatedly, she considered that the fashion metaphor was likely wasted on this bunch, and that altruism is probably also not a hugely familiar concept to them, so she continued, cheekily, “Save your skins – we have better uses for them, no? – and ours, though we’re ahead one burial and no un-burials.”
Chaïa smiled too. “Fair enough, for gold, or magic, or even-” She panicked a bit, trying to stay in character and more or less on topic, “-beautiful people in shadow, alabaster, and crimson, delicate in fang and claw. Or the more sensitive sort of spirit.” Goddess, did I actually say that? One and Three, forgive me! She fought back a blush as her assumed role took her closer to blasphemy and the embarrassing limits of her imagination, and she got to the point painfully abruptly, “But an old farming family, surely that’s a bit much?”
Chaïa was grateful for the others’ support: it gave her a bit of time to think, and her thoughts raced. “Well, man, singular,” Chaïa said, airily indicating Janus, but keeping her eyes on Kullen. She wasn’t quite batting her eyelashes yet, exactly, and wasn’t sure he would respond well in any case, but for now the mage-priestess was very definitely keeping the possibility alive. She continued trying to subtly steer the conversation to drop the right hints. “There’s a lot of fun in those hills,” she continued, cheekily, “considering how old they are. Too much for one wizard. Although there are a few things that maybe … should stay buried, you know?” Her tone shifted abruptly: not in an unfriendly sort of way, yet, but certainly suggesting that she was suggesting something much more serious than her previous banter.
Chaïa’s eyes widened in mock hurt, as her lips curved into a moue. “Just a bit of friendliness. No reason a professional relationship can’t be … cordial.” “We’re new in town, and you know the bosses,” she continued, after a moment. “All intense-like and all, and, sure, they’re good at what they do, but a girl wants more than what comes out of an old tower, or mine, or other hole in the ground. We’re more than just muscle – ” She beamed at the half-orc despite his sullenness… “ – or wands,” (continuing on to said gentleman), “though we do those very well, as may be. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Her gaze swept round all the men at the table again, and Chaïa leaned forward. She wasn’t at all sure that it was to any advantage, given her elven frame, but as the tilt of her head let her locks swing back from the curve of her neck and, below, her robes’ neckline… She continued her conversation with artless indifference. “Why, you wouldn’t believe what Filge had us dig up the other day…”
Chaïa didn’t find the barkeeper’s words particularly reassuring, fretting as she still was over Janus’ previous remark. If there was “a fine line between tipsy and bar brawl” at the Happy Cow and crossing it was de rigueur, well, that was all the more reason to try to arrange things so that the group could spend some more time at Lazare’s the next time a vigil was called for. At least the troublesome Waterdhavians seemed to be amusing themselves elsewhere. Chaïa wasn’t sure she could handle two groups of boors at once. As everyone moved to collect their own drinks, she hesitated under Saeri’s appraising gaze. After a moment, she found her courage. “Alright,” she said quietly. “I’ll introduce us as friends of a friend, I presume?” Filling her hands with the glasses, it was obvious that she would be more at home with flutes of finer vintage, but a gentle smile came easily to her, and she was wizard enough that it didn’t take her obviously long to estimate distances in case throwing spells around proved to be in order. She glided towards Kullen and his lot with all the grace in her command, doing her best to anticipate what opening they would best respond to. Setting the glasses down, she pitched her voice lower than usual, and purred, “Hi, boys. Compliments of yours truly and friends.” She gestured languidly towards the others back at the bar, her hand continuing effortlessly on to rise into a gentle motion to cut off the thugs’ curiosity as to who this strange elf was. “Filge has told me so much about you. Thought we could get to know one another: I’m Chaïa.” She extended a slender hand. That’s right. Let them feel it’s their choice to engage.
The trush is a shrewd player, but his efforts to bluff is hampered somewhat by the fact that he cackles with glee on good hands and sing requiems on bad.
Chaïa watched the game in quiet amusement. She wasn’t much for such things herself, but as far as she could tell, Lu’s familiar had the soundest strategy overall. It was almost enough to make her sorry that she had never looked into summoning her own, but she was self-aware enough to realize that even if she hadn’t plunged into the mysteries of wild magic instead, she would probably have chosen a doodad of some sort. Familiars and a family of obsessive wizards living in the shadow of as huge and delicately balanced a work of magic as a mythal were a most inauspicious combination.
Chaïa settled down to watch, dividing her attention between the game and her spellbook. There was no sense in not thinking ahead at least a little bit, for infiltrating the mine yard once they were done with Filge’s borrowed muscle, and she flipped through her chaotic pages to her notes on the conjuring of mists. She waited for a lull in the game and until the group was left alone before asking quietly, “Speaking of convenience, what do you think we can expect when we find our men? I’ll try my best, but we may probably want to expect trouble. Even if they confess they’ve dug up our poor restless spirit’s family, I doubt they’ll go on to tearfully offer prayers and other expiations for their wickedness.”
"Nobody ever does, do they? Except maybe mages.", Janus responds thoughtfully, with a wink, then throws a gold piece towards the bartender.The coin vanished and the bartender promptly looked the other way. “Trouble, no, but isn’t it more interesting when things don’t go exactly as expected?” Chaïa asked, teasing. “After all, that’s what makes it an art, rather than mechanism.” Looking down at the cups on the table, she doubted that simply purifying the drinks would make them palatable. Safe, certainly, but if even that was asking a bit much of the bar… As the prospect of a longer stay at the Happy Cow loomed, Chaïa found herself uncharacteristically musing as to the possible advantages of a brawl. Consciousness didn’t seem to be the best way to enjoy the place, but then again she wasn’t sure that things would stop at getting the worst of a beating, if they went pear-shaped. She sighed. “So,” she said, beginning to wonder now, when it was already far too late, just what would satisfy the group’s promise to Alastor, “Shall we kick about, see how we can do a good turn by our little friend –” (She held her arm up at about the height of a human child, the unspoken question heavy on the air.) “– or back to work belowground until we can catch Kullen and all at a better time?” Saeri’s murmured reading hardly seemed auspicious, at least to a mage like Chaïa, whose knowledge of divination was sketchy at best.
“Oh, we’ll take our chances, then,” Chaïa bubbled, getting into the spirit of things, though she gave the others a look to let them know that she could be dissuaded. “Mother always shushes him, but get him in the right mood and my father has a wonderful story about how a couple of bottles of Cormanthyrii wine helped them and a few friends get through a particularly tangled abjuration when they were students… That is to say, suitably well-oiled wizards are sometimes a good thing when we put our heads together.” "Anyway, we won't keep him long. It's mainly Kullen we want, to give him Filge's regards," she spoke quickly, trying to piece together what she could from the conversation. So far, she guessed Smenk would have directed the necromancer to the leader of his own minions.
Chaïa was letting the dwarf’s words sink in when whatever the others did provoked a vociferous reaction at the bar, and she hurried over to see what was doing. She had nothing against Lathander, but any good temple education encouraged imaginative sectarian blasphemies. She kept the possibilities that sprang to mind politely to herself, naturally. Chaïa admired Saeri’s aplomb, but was rather less sanguine about the possibilities of anything nice forthcoming. Making the best of it, she tried to match the diviner’s cheeriness. “Sorry about that! You seemed rather the worse for wear, and our colleague was afraid you might not wake at all! Apparently folks ruffled the feathers of a friend of a friend earlier this evening, and the wands almost came out? I’m afraid mine business has got us all on edge these days, at Ironeater’s, Smenk’s, the lot… Strange times, and hard.”
Despite how the evening already seemed to be taking shape, Chaïa wasn’t yet desperate enough to brave the Happy Cow’s liquor. Before joining the more adventurous others to at least keep them company, she asked the jaundiced dwarf one last question: “That wizard – is he new? I didn’t think they go in for spell-sparring much here.” If he wasn’t new, was he keeping his Art under his hat or in his sleeves? Or what need did the mines have for Filge that Smenk could introduce him? Vague memories of legends of magical ores and such chased themselves around Chaïa’s head, but outside of the most fabulous seams rapidly seized on for intensive exploration, she could hardly think that a small mine in a place like Daggerford would have much call for hiring even one wizard. What were they doing down there?
"Might be worthwhile to visit that barracks with enslaved miners. They might be able to tell us about what is going on in the mines...and I dare say if there's a chance the place gets shut down and they regain their freedom, they are more than willing to cooperate even if it involves a risk for them.", Janus suggests, shrugging. "Maybe we're just some siblings and a fiancee, looking for a brother of ours, following a rumor we heard saying that he got enslaved...we could probably bluff our way into the barracks with some palm grease for the guard..." What a vivid imagination the young man has. Chaïa met Janus’ glance levelly. “It’s an idea. A worried young woman, fiancée and one brother in tow, another missing, enslaved over some recklessly accumulated debt… And the most responsible one of us to play the chaperone, of course, whatever everyone’s comfortable with. Though I’m not sure how easy it would be to appeal to Ironeater’s heart, or those of his guards. It might have to be gold after all.” She thought back to her own family. Growing up, she had never thought of it as remarkably comfortably off, but then leaving Evereska for the wider world had come as a bit of a shock. It had been a while since her last visit, but Chaïa could certainly recall the attitude, if it came to that sort of bluff. “First things first, though,” she agreed. “To that ghastly place, avoiding poisoning ourselves with swill, if possible, to see if we can learn anything useful before knocking on the mine’s gate with who knows what pretext else, or magic, or an undead worm to throw in their faces!” She grinned mischievously, ever so slightly.
“Back to the Happy Cow, then?” Chaïa offered, putting Lu and Saeri’s suggestions together. “We could try charming our way through the guildmasters’ thugs before trying to force our way into the mines. Although…” The wizard hesitated for a moment, trying to phrase the range of less gentle strategies of persuasion as tactfully as possible. “Do we have access to more … compelling fascinations? Sadly, it really doesn’t seem like the sort of place whose regulars would be moved by a winsome smile and energetic persiflage.” She resigned herself to another ghastly evening, unless Saeri would be able to draw out information by means of one of her readings, tacitly encouraging the mine guards to offer something useful to interpret her predictions. Trying to consider all the options, Chaïa weighed the contents of the group’s newly pilfered spellbook. More aggressively, they could try to put the fear of the gods into the guards , though that wouldn’t make them any friends in the long run. Still – she glanced at Lucrecia with a small smile that wavered between worry and a rueful acknowledgement of how much Yellowknife’s band of talented amateurs enjoyed getting stuck in, despite everything, “We might find goon heads that need butting after all.” All the same, it would be nice if the situation didn’t call for or provide her two weakest schools of magic. Divination and necromancy. Of course. Why can’t more solutions call for planar geometry or raw magic? The thought does raise another marginal possibility, actually, based on conjuration. “If all else fails – though it would probably get messy quickly – we could try to break into the mines under cover of darkness. It wouldn’t be particularly subtle, but I could try to call up a mist on top of the night, to cover our approach.”
Hello, everyone, So much for the start of semester being relaxing. I’m so sorry to have imposed on your patience as I have these past weeks. I’m still recovering, and it turns out (who knew?) going from medical leave back to full-time when one still has two and half hours of physical therapy to deal with every day, split over two inconvenient sessions, requires some adjustments. Basically, on top of everything else, my ideal daily rhythm is impossible at the moment, and I’ve finally realized that I’ve got to bite the bullet and take my opportunities when I can to do absolutely everything, including things that are fun. On that note, I hope I can finally start posting again, if more slowly and less exuberantly than I would like for the next little while. We’ll see how it goes? *Grumble, grumble.* Life-changing events and all that. I’m getting a better appreciation for the problem of qualia than I would like. What registers cognitively when one’s doctors say, “This is what we’re going to need to do…” and what that actually means can be two alarmingly different things. Fingers crossed, I’ll at least get my nine-to-five back in eight weeks, and start getting used to more or less living it again. In the meantime, it's grabbing each moment as it races by.
Hello, everyone! Yay for the forums being up again! Just a quick update on my end as well: on top of the technical issues, a couple of other people’s medical emergencies in the past week and other accidents have left me the only person able to help my mother in a move from the big city to the boonies for a new job, even though I’m still recovering from my own business earlier this summer. That’s going to take up most of my time between now and Wednesday, though hopefully after that things will settle in to closer to normal, and I’ll be able to post regularly again. It’s shaping up to be a strange year, when going back to school for a new semester is a relaxing prospect in comparison!
“Fascinating, as you say,” Chaïa said, voicing her agreement with Lu’s assessment. She was relieved that Saeri knew something more about the things, but it was exciting too, to think she might be on the trail of something rare even in the annals of her own people. “That is a very old name, from very far away. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone even maintain with any certainty that Kyuss was a real person.” Chaïa tore her eyes away from the little monster. “Still, at least we know where to go next. Shall we?” She spoke with unconvincing briskness, too obviously coveting the shelves full of Filge’s notes and wondering just how much further she could rifle before it was too much even for the currently cowed necromancer. She knew how much it would annoy her to have her own private papers pillaged.
Chaïa nodded in agreement with Lu’s offer, which sounded more than generous for someone of Filge’s ilk, but she was obviously distracted by the worm in the box. “This is a – or part of, at least – a spawn of Kyuss,” she said, staring at the thing in fascinated horror. “Funny. I thought they’d be bigger,” she added, giving the box a mischievous shake and keeping her tone light in an effort to disguise her nervousness. All the same, her eyes were wide as she looked around the room, and her next words, though still calm, indicated just how seriously she took the situation. “Someone will have to poke around in those mines. Kyuss spawn are rare, and we should make sure they stay that way.”
Giving its still form a close look, she reasoned out what it must be in just a few breaths: once part of a rare sort of undead known as the Spawn, or sometimes Sons, of Kyuss. The latter term, she knows, arises from ignorant adventurers believing any undead lacking adequately pendulous endowments must have been men in life.
Chaïa quickly dropped down and deposited the bit of dead people she had got hold off as gently as she could. Trying not to shiver too much, she shook her arms as clean as possible before turning to where Filge said he was keeping the worm. As she reached for the box, she gave the tanks one last look back, and asked, “Janus, you’re the best of us at this sort of thing. Do you think you could spare the energy to give this room a burst to ... purify it? If we want to do what’s right by what’s left of these people, we should stop everything from moving that shouldn’t be.” Don’t say pieces. Don’t say pieces. It’s bad enough that that’s how you have to think about it. Trying to keep her stomach from lurching too badly, Chaïa thought she might as well take a look at the last of Filge’s little beasties before she lost her lunch and they had to decide what to do with the necromancer and all his bizarre gear. She lifted the lid and looked curiously into the container in her hands.
Chaïa looked up from where she was elbow deep in awfulness, trying to heave what felt like a larger bit of something out of the muck in the tank she was examining. Trying to ignore the feeling of what she had in and on her arms, she followed up on Lucrecia’s encouragement to the necromancer to keep talking, “Right. So what is it about these worms, really, that Smenk wants someone to ‘take care of it?’ If that means what I think you’re insinuating, why not alert the town, convince everyone to send in the guard, or for help from Waterdeep, say?” Treachery, then, most likely? Or does whoever had that worm that found its way to this one have some hold on Smenk? She glanced back down at what she had hauled up out of the tank’s fluid. “While you’re at it, just what – or who – have you got in these things? Be so good as to save us a bit of trouble, would you?” The veneer on the fastidious mage-priestess’ patience was evidently beginning to run as thin as the goop on her arms wasn’t.
Chaïa’s glance flickered over to the indicated shelf, but despite how easily distracted she was, she stopped her rummaging at Filge’s next words, and her jaw dropped. As absurd as it was, from what she could tell of the necromancer, she could well believe that he would take a corpse from anyone, no questions asked. Rules might be meant to be broken, but she could hardly believe that the people of Daggerford happily dealt in the bodies of their dead, as opposed to letting them rest in peace. It wasn’t even a rule, just the way things were! The worm in its box could wait – in the meantime, as Janus made his way back after his fright, she moved to open up the remaining tanks, on the off chance that Filge had indeed acquired the bodies of the family they were looking for. Eyeing the yellow fluid dubiously, and unsure if she was strong enough to easily lever the contents out from the tanks, Chaïa rolled up her robes’ sleeves and tried not to think of eggs as the corner of her eye took in the remains of the other tanks. With a shudder, she reached in.
“I don’t think it normally works like that,” Chaïa said, trying to dredge up what she knew about spells to induce fear, but then again she was the last person to talk to about necromancy. With her limp, too, it was unlikely that she would be able to catch up with Janus before the spell wore off, but it shouldn’t be too long. In the meantime, as Lucrecia asked her first set of questions, Chaïa wandered over to peer into the intact tanks. Remembering what S. – could it even be Guildmaster Smenk, based on Filge’s boasts? – had written, she narrowly resisted the temptation to tap on the glass before Janus shook off his fright, and continued on to start poking about in the papers piled on the shelves either side of the dais. As she browsed, she casually added another couple of questions to stress how dubious the idea of two groups of necromancers competing in Daggerford was. “Well, isn’t that interesting. Your friend S. – Master Smenk? – mentioned something about unkillable zombies. I suppose by some standards that might count as an improvement.” “Also green worms, one of which he managed to ‘nick.’ Now, that sounds like a double-cross to me, or an insurance policy. Honestly, with all this, it doesn’t look very like the guildmaster hired you to investigate skullduggery out of a sense of civic duty. It doesn’t look very good at all, really.”
I’m sorry I haven’t posted sooner: my convalescence continues to be annoying, and I now have a gloomily more realistic view of how the next few months are likely to go. Nothing too drastic, just frightfully inconvenient for someone who multitasks as poorly as I do. And, on top of that, since the end of last week I got sucked into work that I couldn’t put off, medical leave or no. I think I’m more or less back to slacking off for the rest of the summer, though. Anyway, more importantly, I wanted belatedly to join the others, Samnell, in wishing you all the best and asking you not to worry about us. It’s wonderful to have you GMing for us, and we want you to have fun too, whatever pace that means. Take care of yourself first! |