#50ws

The string of her lute had snapped. This should not have been a problem, her dad had taught her how to change them, and how to tune the instrument. Still, Heidi had been sitting here for an hour. Her big hands were just not made for fragile work like this.

A quick and painless death was what Myr’s religion stood for, what the priests had taught her from a young age; no need to prolong suffering, a quick death was better than a painful recovery. And yet people put flowers on graves, visiting them again and again. It was as if the pain the dead were spared, the living wanted to inflict on themselves.

Armor on, armor off, armor on. Tis was not stealthy, she knew that, so she had figured hey, this one’s definitely a trap, I’ll just walk through and if I get hit, it’s better if I do wear the armor this time. Gouda and Chadriel had looked at her with concern when she had announced that plan. Now that she was almost bleeding out, Cheddar frantically tending to her wound, she realized she probably should have just stayed home.

Gouda had not expected death to come for him today. When he was honest, he had not expected it at all, not for another seven hundred years or so. He had rolled his eyes whenever his parents had alluded to him being but a child with his 18, 19, 20 years, but now that the hole in his stomach was about to rob him of centuries to come, he was inclined to agree.

He had not really made it his mission to be an element of chaos wherever he went, it had just sort of happened. When you thought about it, nothing about Ithelan’s life was truly chaotic. He did have clear goals, he knew what he wanted, took what he needed. The chaos he left in his wake, though, well, was that really part of him once he left it behind?

Mahandrir wanted to scream but no sound was kind enough to leave his mouth, he was not granted that relief. He was no stranger to being paralyzed, but the excruciating pain radiating through his body, making him unable to move, to breathe, was enough to make him want to pass out. He was not granted that, either.

Myr’s warhammer had taken many lives. Well, not many, but it had done its job. Hit, smash, done. Puddle of blood, death, no pain. Unfortunately, this time she had missed her target (why did these goblins have to be so short?) and hit a barrel of explosives. Welp. This one would not be painless. Good thing she still had a spell slot to fix herself afterwards.  

“Kill it with fire” was an overused line and usually a vast overreaction to whatever the situation calling for that phrase happened to be. With spiders, though, Naeris did have a tendency towards overreaction. This inn would need some new interior design. But hey, at least they no longer had a spider problem.

Peperoni did not want to complain, seeing as he was on an important mission, and honestly, the people he was trying to help here had much more serious ailments than him, so he just shifted uncomfortably. Being a dragonborn with an itch between the shoulder blades was already bad enough, what with the scales and all, but a dragonborn in full armor? Today was going to be a long day.

Her best friend growing a featherbeard would not have surprised her – though it would have been a pain in the neck, seeing as she was allergic – and even an accidental burst of flames would have been something she was used to. This, though… Well, Tis mused as she sat down in front of the flowerpot once known as Gouda, she was just gonna have to wait here until he turned back.

Peperoni’s kind was often associated with the elements, which made sense, of course, as many of his kin stemmed from dragons that controlled fire, or ice or lightning. As such, people often assumed him impervious to the weather. If only that were true, he thought, as he hid his snout deeper inside his scarf. The cold sure stung.