Rolled 2, 2, 8, 16 = 28 (4d20)
>>5836595>15 vs 13Imprecise and brief though the ice elemental’s sojourn was, it did its duty. It bobbed and floated towards you, where you reclaimed your flask and quickly dismissed the elemental with a gesture. You surveyed your prize ta s you exited the unclean water-hole. Not bothering to leave your <Free Mvoement> form, you breezed by the Paladins and their gryphons, who only half-perceived you—a winter breeze blowing by—a strange vibration in the cobblestones that set them shivering and glancing about, ready for battle that never came. You only shucked your fairy-form once you were before the Tower, to greet Logan Pearce who tonight stood guard.
“Tips!” he almost shouted, still taking a step back and raising his hands to conjure a defensive spell in trained response. “Gods Above, where the hell did you come from?!”
You smirked a little bit—you couldn’t help it—and shrugged.
“Fairy secrets,” you told him.
“Creepy is what it is,” he muttered, though more embarrassment than malice; even that gave way to curiosity when he saw your flask.
“What have you got there?” he asked.
“Archmage Apprentice secrets,” you replied, smirk widening.
He glowered at you, crossing his arms… The n rolled his eyes and grinned.
“Fine then,” he said, “keep your secrets. Bloody knife-ears.”
“Hey, that’s our word,” you chastised him.
“What, I don’t get privileges yet?” he asked, pretending at offence. “After all this time.”
“Shut up,” you laughed, and patted his arm as you passed him.
“Drinks this weekend?” he asked, hopefully.
“We’ll see,” you told him. “It looks like I might have my work cut out for me.”
Pearce pouted slightly—an expression that didn’t suit his solid, bearded face, whatever his (ahem) romantic proclivities. You snickered at the faint absurdity of it, and promised to try your best, which brightened his spirits somewhat.
Then, you descended into the Tower’s depths, to set yourself to work.
Chimericism roll, graduated DC 12/17