>>5541907>>5541916>>5541920>>5541952>>5541959>>5542007>>5542166>Tell her about yourself and your god given WILD MAGIC>Ask her about GNOMISH MAGICKS“Well.. I don’t believe we’ve had much of a proper introduction yet, have we?” You run a coiffe through a dry rack. “My name is BOBB–er, SNUFF SIGURDSÖNN. I’ve been with LADY SIGRID for about half a year now–was a student at SAINT AUGUST’S CONSERVATORY before. My pa–ahem, father, is SNORII DUCKWORTH, and my mother was MILADY DU-SAINT-WINIFRED.”
“Du-Saint-Winifred? Weren’t she a bigshot elven witch?” The gnome prods you.
“Well, that was her nom du sorcellerie–her common name was MOLLY DUCKWORTH. She was a professor of some import and was in serious consideration as the school’s headmistress, but I didn’t really know her that well. I think she taught LADY SIGRID at the academy..?” You shrug. “My dad, though, is a CARPENTER and a BAKER. He likes to carve ducks in his free time. Isn’t that cool?”
“Yes, very cool. Well.. I’m Bredbeddle.” She smirks at you. “We can leave it at that.”
“Yes. Bredbeddle. Understood.” You meet her taciturnity with a salute. “So.. you seem somewhat familiar with the GNOMISH magicks, are you not? How different is that from HUMAN..?”
“Your human magic–or, common, universal, standard, proletarian, whatever you’d call it–mangles reality to its whims, whether that be calling up plumes of fire or bending steel into golem automata. Our gnome magic implores spirits and fae to adjust reality–with careful prayers (so as to not to piss them off) they will act on our whims and grant our wishes.” She responds idly.
“So–telling versus asking?” Your familiar with gnomish magic, but it’s seen more as a novelty to the wider academic world than a field worthy of study.
“Yeah, sure. In a way, you could say human magic is about breaking rules while gnomish magic is about following rules.” Bredbeddle continues. “There’s all sorts of awful, annoying rules we gotta follow so as to not piss spirits off with our wishes. But if you can manage it, it’s got its own unique boons that human magic can’t manage.”
A sudden violent rocking disturbs your conversation with the pickpocket, sending a sewing needle near tearing into your throat. You rush to the laundry room window, to peer out the vast sea of green–the DUNGEON is within sight of the chapel, but still a fair walk away. You doubt you’d be stopping now, surely..?
>Continue your chat with BREDBEDDLE. Maybe you should leave this to your master–she’ll call if you’re needed.>Leave Bredbeddle here. Go check on what the commotion is about.>Bring her along with you to investigate. What’s the matter?>Write-In. 