>>6153023In the end, you decide not to invite the Maladoo Gang along on this next leg of the journey. They did well enough in the Lake Monster’s lair, but this is REAL cave-crawling, and humies don’t even have low-light vision, let alone proper DARKvision. What, are you going to venture into the bleak and black unknown, facing who-even-knows-what, with you position broadcast to ever netherworld ne’er-do-well by a bunch of burning torches? Thanks, but no fucking thanks.
“I know you’ve been getting’ pretty tight with their Gang ‘n all,” you start to say to CZ, hoping to cushion the blow.
“No, no, that’s totally okay!”
You stop short, staring hard at your increasingly-sweaty ‘twin’, who fidgets in her fancy new skin.
“…This about whatever you ‘n the shaggy one were getting’ up to below-decks?”
“Y-yeah!” Cara-Zi lies.
You KNOW she’s lying, or at least agreeing too easily and with too little embarrassment. You just don’t know WHY, or what the whole truth is. You’re not sure you like this whole notion, of a part of you—even a sliced-off, demon-infested part—keeping secrets from the rest. But, well… Maybe that’s a good thing, her gaining independence or whatever? You let it slide, and set about business.
<span class="mu-b">You have <span class="mu-s">28 points</span> left/</span>
There are some that would say your refusal to buy more supplies, or even clean and hole-free clothes for your crew, is a mark of goblin green, a sort of coin-clasping tendency which foolish, vapid city-folk attribute to your former kin. Well, fuck ‘em—you’ve heard worse. You buy what you need: rations to carry you through your travels, arrows for Yeb-Uit to light up whatever is unlucky enough to cross your path and too far away to stab properly, and more supplies so An-Yii can treat whatever stabbings YOUR crew might acquire. Nobody bitches about the lack of fancy new duds, neither: they’re all goblins, or in Khorine’s case a feral beast-brat, and none of them vain enough to care.
The Delvers, on the other hand…
