>>5516183>>5516185>>5516205>>5516320>>5516453>>5516466>>5516578>Maybe you’ll be able to cut your way through the front by bluffing.Would they really hold such a great witch as SIGRID DE HAUTDESERT susicious of murdering some random schmuck? Especially one shes known and been a customer to for many years.
“I’ve got it, my lady!” You snap your fingers, abreast with pride. You move for the door. “These meager constables daren’t question the sworn word of a great witch! If you’d spell out our intentions here, we can leave them to their work and make for the chapel before sundown.”
“Snuff, wait–” Your master barks, but it’s too late. You shunt open the door and step outside, the thick scent of magic-broil porcine heavy in the smoky air. Your great big moss-woman companion glances at you. You motion for the police, who’ve taken to your abrupt appearance with less-than-kind glares.
“Your attention, pigs.” You enunciate clearly and loudly. “You needn’t waste your time with the insipid rigamarole of questioning and interrogating and other constabulary nonsense. This is all a great big misunderstanding. My master can explain this whole situation!”
You motion for her with a twirl of your hands. Your master does not step forth. You perform another perfunctory twirl. And your master yet remains.
“..I don’t mean to question you, my lady, but–..” You look back to your lady and realize it all at once–gone is the master you’ve come to know and worship, and back in her place is the half-pint. Her face is red hot, her once form-fit dress now slunk about her body like drapery. You look back to the police, who perceive no great witch but some slutty hobbit.
>What do you do? 