>>6282147Your mind starts working overtime. The buyers… Well, lots of people would want to buy the services of your Regiment, once they’re all suped-up—that’s the whole point! But a thief? Could it be Meadowgrass or one of the Delver? One of your own crew?? And what’s all this about losing it all without any benefit… The destruction of the forge, maybe?
(Fuck… You’ll need to think on this.)
<span class="mu-b"><span class="mu-s">Bonus gained:</span> both CZ and ZZ gain 1 rank in Sense Motive!
<span class="mu-s">Synergy bonus:</span> CZ’s rank changes to a rank up in Mentalism!</span>
For a while, you try asking follow-up questions. You even offer an additional coin, but the fortune-teller refuses one, then two, thena dozen coins, until finally she impatiently thwacks you with the pipe once more.
“You waste my time! Hold up line! I no know any more. Get out!”
You and Carazzi get up to leave. Before you go, though, CZ turn around and asks one more question:
“Hey, if you can see the future, why aren’t YOU rich?” she asks. “Shouldn’t you be, like, a big high-up wizard or whatever? Don’t they have Mage’s Twoers or anything like that ‘round here?”
The fortune-telelr just smiles her silver-edges smile again, and taps her long nose.
“I always know exactly how much money I need, and never have enough pay tax, or get rob, or anybody ask hard question. I doing juuuust fine.”
With that, the two of you exit the back of the tent: just two more customers with vexed expressions to join the throng.
Murbal is leaning forward, face in her hands and expression somewhere between angry and apathetic, when you round the corner from the woman’s tent. She hops down when she sees you, and your other companions take heed.
“Done?” asks Xoldur.
“Yeah,” you say ambivalently. “Yeah, I guess so. Now come on, let’s get goin’. We got a zombie ta see about some drugs.”
“What is ‘zombie’ meaning?”
<span class="mu-b">Rolled 86 on random encounter table…</span>
You all jump—even Ayla—at the unfamiliar voice. Almost as one, you wheel around to face the source: a male human, gaily attired in fine robes of dark blue, bearing brighter bleu flowers, with his hair done up in a bun like Ayla’s, but decorated with a blue flower slipped through the centre instead of a more conventional pin. His face is painted with white make-up, his eyelids in—again—blue.
Your rad-saber is in your hand, but unlit. He looks down at it with a thin, manicured brow lifted. You consider putting it away altogether before he asks question about it, but for all his effete affectation, you know how dangerous a twink can be… And this one has a long sword on his hip, you notice, in—of course—a dark blue sheathe.
How do you respond?
>Fuck off, we weren’t talking to you.>Who wants to know?>It’s a type of undead.>You ever heard of a guy named Ziwei Bo?>Write-in 