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Nyx walks in silence for about a minute, but eventually the awkward silence drives them nuts. They blurt out a question, mostly just to fill the dead air. "Is it true the Emperor used to run Exemplary Execrables?" They flinch, mentally chastising themself for drawing attention to them.
Nyx scowls. Bullies. They hate bullies. And Golloriel wants to talk to them?? But after they give it a second, they realize what she's doing. The Emperor runs things, or thinks he does, in Old Korvosa. He might have information! Why didn't they think of that? Because she's smart and you're dumb, they remind themself. With a sigh, they shrink into the background and try to be as unnoticeable as possible.
Nyx gives a sour look at the Kuthonite priestess when Andakos includes her, but nods curtly. "Let's go."
"I dunno," Nyx mutters with a raised eyebrow at the many muddy tracks on the floor. "Could be a mob. Could just be one really enthusiastic Basilisk player on a bender." They involuntarily shudder at the mention of Exemplary Execrables. "Ugh. A couple years ago, some friends and I went there on a dare. Some weirdo had made sculptures with actual sh*t. Glazed and fired in a kiln and everything. Worst part? They were actually good. Guy had real talent and spent it on... that." They shake their head, mystified. "Makes me kinda glad all's I got is shiny rocks in a metal circle."
If offered a look, Nyx tries to decipher what it is.
They frown and shrug. "No idea, sorry. Definitely magical though. I wonder if this is why his paintings are so popular?"
Nyx also follows, feeling a little mollified by the fact that neither Andakos nor Golloriel seem to trust her, though they're still uncomfortable with being this close to her regardless. They keep their eyes open for trouble too.
Nyx scowls harder with every word, clutching unconsciously at the wooden holy symbol tucked under their tunic. They don't trust a word of this garbage. A Kuthonite! Trying to help! Bullsh*t. They glance over to see if their comrades are buying any of this, and to their dismay, they see polite smiles and friendly faces. And--is Lune swooning? "This is insane," they grumble irritably.
Nyx eyes the holy (unholy?) symbol warily, and says nothing.
Nyx, who is spectacularly bad with people, wisely keeps their mouth shut and tries to make themself look casually unnoticeable, leaning easily against the side of the house, but they're so terrified that they end up stiff and straight, kind of like a human board.
Nyx moves around to get a clear shot, then lobs a beam of magic that lights up the night sky for a moment, making everyone (including Nyx) flinch.
Nyx yelps something along the lines of "HOLYHIBIDYJIBIDY" and then, mostly on instinct, frantically flings a little red bead of energy out to the middle of the three creatures. The night is briefly illuminated like a miniature sun, leaving scorch marks all over the three attackers.
DC 18 Ref for half dmg
Behind the Screen:
Nyx takes another hit off their wand of mage armor, then nods, keeping a little behind the investigator to provide everyone with light from the burning gauntlet.
Nyx makes a face at the mask, then realizes they're making a face, and tries (unsuccessfully) to stop. "Uh, thanks, I'm good." They really, really don't wanna wear something worn by the recently deceased. It feels squicky. Also it clashes with their outfit, but that's sort of a distant second to the other thing. When Andakos suggests visiting Salvator's house, they nod enthusiastically. "Yes! Let's get out of here." They just barely manage to stop themself from adding that the place now reeks of burnt wood and chemicals. "Hopefully there aren't any more assassins waiting for us there, those guys were jerks."
"Hey Andakos, can I see the stuff in the bag again? I got a hunch." They perk their ears up. "Is Golloriel talking to somebody?" They poke their head into the hallway. "Oh. Uh. Hey Golloriel. Who's that?"
"May I?" Nyx reaches out for the bag.
After a moment of consideration, Nyx mutters, "Well, there is one other method we can try. Not a smart method, but..." They shrug, then shove their hand into the bag.
Nyx waves Andakos away. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Yeah, fire doesn't hurt me unless it's like... really hot."
They sigh and stare despondently at the cloak. "I liked that one, too. Oh well, at least my clothes didn't burn this time." They color a little at the thought. "HEYLETSGOLOOKOVERHERE"
Nyx stamps out the last of the fires, then wipes the sweat off their forehead with their un-gauntleted hand, leaving a smear of flames licking their skin. It suddenly registers what Golloriel said a few seconds ago, and they cry, "GACK!" before throwing off their cloak and stamping on it frantically. When the flames go out, little is left but a few charred scraps of cloth. "Not another one!" they groan. "Mama is going to k--" They freeze. Close their eyes. Sigh. This night just keeps getting worse and worse. "Sorry I wasn't much help," they mumble.
Nyx grumbles to themself about invisibility and the assassin's mother, then readies another spell to blast them with another searing light when they reappear.
Nyx spits a bunch of curse words in Varisian. Most of their combat magic is fire-related, which seems like a reaaallly bad idea when the goal is to NOT burn down the house. Well, there's always the classic. They wiggle their fingers and four darts of pure force slam unerringly into the assassin.
Nyx looks very annoyed at the fire popping right back up, and very alarmed at the deadly assassin going invisible. They stamp at the fire again to put it out...
... and their robes immediately become engulfed in flames. But for some reason, Nyx appears completely oblivious, and the fire doesn't seem to sear their flesh. They then ready a spell for when the assassin eventually reappears.
Nyx rushes upstairs and cries, "Okay let's see what we're working w-oohhhhhh no." Nyx, unfortunately, is not the "douse the flames" kinda sorcerer. They are, in fact, the opposite of that. "YOU GUYS THERE IS SO MUCH FIRE UP HERE HURRY!" they bellow, and rush over to try and put out some of the flames, appearing unbothered by the extreme heat washing over them.
They stamp out a bit of fire and do not get touched by the scorching heat.
Nyx cries, "Upstairs!" They quickly tap themself with the wand, sending a small disc of protective force in front of them, and rush up the stairs.
Nyx is hesitant to let Lune in at first, but finally decides to allow it. You're strong. If she tries anything, you'll be ready. It's not as confident as they'd have liked. After watching Andakos go full Mr. Hyde, Nyx stares wide-eyed and whispers, "That was so cool." They have no group protections to grant, they realize with some embarrassment. Their magic is a little too focused, they suppose.
Nyx doesn't like the look of this place--mostly because they can't see it. The dim light from the streets doesn't reach this far back. They pull out two wands and tap themself with one of them. A shimmering aura of pure force surrounds them.
They put the first wand away and grip the second tightly. "I couldn't see," they mutter. "Need light. Sorry." They pull out a battered old leather gauntlet banded with pitted lengths of steel and slip it onto their right hand. They then touch the gauntlet and murmur words of power, and it begins to glow with flickering yellow light. Then, as if that wasn't enough, the gauntlet bursts into orange-yellow flames that dance and twist silently. Nyx shrugs apologetically, holding the gauntlet aloft to spread light around for everyone to see.
Nyx leans in to Lune conspiratorially. "Yeah. Kinda like old cheese."
Nyx frowns, chewing their lower lip for most of the conversation. Nobody mentioned a dwarf... ... but two people have mentioned an emperor, now. If it had just been the crazy old man, they'd have passed it off as gibberish. But his neighbor lady mentioned it, too. "Excuse me sir," Nyx pipes up. "Who is this 'emperor' you mentioned?"
Nyx shrugs, their face contorted in a mix of displeasure and curiosity. As they pass the threshold, they mutter, "Smells weird in here."
Nyx is small and lanky, but they are also ungainly and have no experience being sneaky.
Nyx was somewhere else, ruminating on everything the ghost said. They're not so quick to dismiss the power of the Harrowing; they've grown up around Harrowers their whole life. While most of them practice it as a way to fleece a few coins off hapless tourists or entertain nobles, there are those whose readings hold power. They've seen it before. Auntie Tonya could do it, they know that. Mama called it her "gift." But then Auntie Tonya died. Their parents never talked about it, but the Karelas stopped coming over after that. Papa started referring to them as "ilk." Now two of them are dead from the blood veil, last Nyx heard. That gods-cursed plague took so many. Too many. And now maybe more? Gods, what is the world coming to...? About twenty seconds after Andakos spoke, Nyx realizes someone asked them a question. "Huh? To what?" Then the rest of the conversation registers in their brain. "Oh! No, that's fine. It's a short trip, right? On the boat? I get seasick." They try not to think about the trip to see Mama's sister in Absalom, think about it anyway, and shudder.
Nyx blinks in surprise. Andakos died? They feel a momentary pang of vicious jealousy, and have to wrestle the feeling down hard. The obvious questions of why you? why not Mama or Papa? are not useful, nor are they fair. Losing their parents wasn't fair either. Nothing is fair. Life isn't fair. They feel themself starting to spiral, so they shift the topic, turning back to the ghost. "Okay. Um. Why are you here?"
Nyx grits their teeth at the misgender, but reminds themself that this woman doesn't really know them. And besides, what's the point of correcting a ghost? Still, they can't help but respond waspishly. "She does no work now. She's dead." Even before the words leave their mouth, they regret them. It was disrespectful to Mama's memory. But you just can't help being a disappointment, can you? The thought makes their cheeks burn. They sit back down and force themself to unclench their jaw, but they don't release their grip on the holy symbol. They were brought up to believe undeath is an abomination. This feels wrong.
"Radiant Prism protect me!" Nyx cries, frantically brandishing a battered wooden holy symbol of Sarenrae.
Nyx yelps. "GAH! What the Hells?!"
Nyx scratches their chin. "Do you have a way to get us in there? The Maidens have destroyed all but one of the bridges in, I heard. And that one's guarded."
"She's okay," Nyx says quickly. "She and I managed to avoid getting sick, thankfully. We were worried, her being so young, and with all the other health problems she's had. But she avoided the blood veil. Anyway she's staying with our cousin Polovene now."
Nyx waves, avoiding eye contact. "Hi Miss Kroft! I mean--h-hello, Commander. Um. I'm here to help."
Nyx stiffens at the the hug, but smiles politely. No need to rub their awkwardness off on new people. They are eternally grateful for the investigator's bow, though, and return it, then follows after the pair, happier than they've been since before the plague hit. They feel another pang of grief, but they tamp it down. Plenty of time to cry more over their parents later; for now, they want to make a good impression. Maybe they've made new friends...?
Nyx's eyes light up like bonfires. Literally--there's little gouts of flame behind their pupils. It makes the joy on their face a little off-putting. "OHMYGOSHYES!" They clear their throat and say, "I would like that very much." As Andakos hustles off after Lori, they cry, "Hey wait! The thing!" They catch up to the duo outside and open the box with as much ceremony as they can muster while out of breath. Inside are the two rings, but both have been significantly altered. Before, they had been plain bands with an insignia of a shield on them, one silver and one gold. Now, the gold band features a twisting serpent around it, its fanged jaws grasping a small orb of pure crystal quartz. The silver band is now engraved with tracery of ivy vines, with tiny flecks of ruby dust inlaid on the leaves. "I didn't get them exactly how I wanted them," they say sheepishly. "I wanted to put more detail on the leaves and add silver dust to the scales of the snake but there wasn't enough time." They shrug apologetically.
Nyx fidgets from foot to foot, waiting for Sister Golloriel to finish reading so they can show her the thing. They are very, very bad at being patient, but dangit they're trying!
Nyx is absolutely crestfallen at the initiate barging ahead of them, but they try to be a good sport about it. The initiate is clearly in a hurry, so it's probably important. They bow their head slightly and wave the initiate forward, letting them go first.
Nyx gives a pained expression. "No. Sorry." They're quickly discovering that they don't really have much to offer for aid, at least at the moment. For all their 'gifts,' they certainly don't feel like they're being very helpful. "I wish there was something more I could do. I want... want to do something. To not..." They stop and take a deep breath. This isn't Golloriel's problem. She's got her own problems right now. Nyx clears their throat. "Sorry I wasn't more help. I don't know if it's important or not, but the spell was strong. Not a dimension door or something close-range. I think it might have been a plane shift, actually, but I can't be sure." They rub their arm through their wrinkled, threadbare tunic. "I'm... gonna go see if I can help with the search. If you need anything, just let me know. I could use the distraction. It was nice meeting you. Sorry it was under these circumstances." They give an awkward, muted half-smile that they hope is reassuring but probably just looks weird, and shuffle out to go find the Dawnbreakers.
Nyx shakes the hand tentatively and mutters "Nyx." Gods, can't you even look her in the eye when you say your name? Despite their self-admonishment, Nyx still looks down at the floor. They wish Golloriel had given a more concrete answer. They've never been particularly good at parsing implied meanings or double entendres. Well, she did say she'd welcome the help. That's going to have to be enough. "I... don't really have much to do. My skills aren't, uh. Well, Papa said they weren't 'marketable.' I guess he meant they're not much good for making money. I can't read the cards like Mama or Aunt Tonya or cousin Katia. But I can do things. Magic, and stuff. I don't want it to go to waste. Mama said I have a gift. She--" Nyx stops, a sudden huge lump in their throat blocking words. They croak feebly, but after a moment of monumental battle for self-control, they swallow and finish, "She's gone now. And... Papa. I don't... I need something to do. Please." They hate how much desperation is in their voice, but they can't quite seem to wrestle all of themself back under control. One tear drips down their cheek, leaving a clear trail through the grime. Nyx closes their eyes, takes a deep breath, and when they open them again, says in a slightly steadier voice, "Let me at least look around. Four eyes are better than two. Right?"
Nyx glances around awkwardly, not making eye contact with the armored warrior in front of them. Even in her heightened state, they find her very majestic, and majestic people intimidate the hell out of them. Well--to be fair, most people intimidate them. But especially people with charisma. Yet they don't leave. They want--no, they need to help her, if they can. They understand that she just lost a parent, and that... Nyx understands that pain all too well. They squeeze their eyes shut to hold back the tears; it's far too soon to even think about. Mama and Papa were only buried two days ago, in a mass grave in the Gray District, because there just weren't enough grave sites to accommodate the numbers of dead from the plague. It's so unfair... They manage to avoid sobbing in front of the stranger, but only just. In a meek voice (but at least louder than the near-whisper of when they first came in) Nyx says, "C-can I help? I dunno what else I can do, but... I wanna help. If I can."
Nyx flinches slightly, but forces themself to square their shoulders and talk louder. "No," they almost yell, but then blush and lower their voice slightly. "Not by magic. No enchantment, so no compulsions. No transmutation or necromancy, either. Just conjuration, and only the one spell. But it's powerful enough to still leave a trace, so whoever made the portal was a very strong caster. Even stronger than me, and I don't know many people who can do what I do, aside from a few of the teachers at the Academae." Their mouth twists a little when they say it; clearly they don't care for the institution.
After a few moments of concentration, Nyx shudders and turns to Talia. "Teleportation. Really powerful."
A short human of indeterminate gender shuffles hesitantly to the doorway. Their shaggy black hair and long, greasy bangs partially cover their gray eyes, which peer timidly into the room. They look young, though not quite a child--perhaps in their mid- to late teens. Tell-tale scars from blood veil blisters mark their pale neck, though they show no signs of current symptoms. Their rail-thin body is wrapped in a plain gray tunic, charcoal breeches, and a ratty black cloak with the hood down. Yet for all the drab colors, a bright purple sash can just barely be seen poking out from under their tunic's collar. No weapons adorn their plain leather belt, and the only armor that you can see is a scuffed leather gauntlet covered in rusted iron plates covering their left hand, which grips the door frame uncertainly. In a raspy voice even smaller than they are, they mutter, "C-can I come in? M-Miss Morrigan asked me to look for magic." They look like they might fall apart if you so much as sneeze in their general direction. |
