>>5576187>>5576215>>5576247>>5576271>>5576359>>5576388>>5576455>>5576487>>5576577>>5576951>Pass upstairs to a bedroom. Look for a soon-to-be thrall to upset the execution outside.“I’ll pass upstairs, then–see if I can’t find a useful slave up there.” You stow away any indecorous thoughts toward the wolf as you ease your heel up onto the staircase. You take one step, then another, then another–the staircase winds in onto itself in a gentle clockwise corkscrew to the second floor.
You find yourself stood in a small hall. The warm sheen of torchlight from the streets below glints off the window that coronets the hall’s end. The foyer is studded by three vast oak doors in the walls–two to the left, one to the right–twice your breadth and thrice your height. The doors, each, carven with intricate features of worship, all opportunities for new, loyal thralls.
You were once quite the huntress for the church, potent magic and a good eye for the crossbow, but years of disuse have not proven kind toward your ability. You do, however, yet have some recourse against the creatures of the night–that being your amazing talent for using people, your blood magic rune bending minds to your will and your casts amplifying their strength and health. You need only find a soldier to use..
“Hello..?” A voice echoes from whence you came down the hall, past the stairs. You swing around just in time to catch sight of a small figure crest over the stairway banister–a small, slight young girl in sleepwear, she raises the wick of her brass candlestick to you. The light catches you and her face pales. “Who–.. who are you?”
>Bluff the situation.>Reason with her. Children are famously reasonable. >Play dead. (?!?!?!)>Call for Morne. >Thrall her. You’d rather not, but you can’t risk her screaming for her parents.>Write-In. 