>>5882089>>5882090>>5882109>>5882111>>5882121>>5882123>>5882233>>5882238>Demand Bredbeddle PROVE, without a doubt, that she is Bredbeddle.>Go see your lady. You had best alert her of the situation.“I see.. then, we may have a situation on our hands.” You had ought to see your master posthaste about this situation–but first.. you cast your gaze back down to the scullery maid. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are the <span class="mu-i">real</span> Bredbeddle–not some gnomish impostor in her skin.”
“Huh?” She stares agape at you. “What? You think there’s a faker or something around here? Like, a shapeshifter? Then–uh.. how am I supposed to prove that I’m the real deal?!”
“Hmm–.. tell me something that only the real one would know. Like, a memory between the two of us, or..” You begin, but catch yourself. “Ah. No. Wait a minute. That won’t work–doppelgangers have some minor thought reading capacity. We’ve only been traveling for a couple nights, so they’ll be able to scoop memories between is from my brain like icecream.. You’ll need to do something only the real one could.”
“Well, I can do some crazy stuff, but.. definitely nothing you ought to know about.” She folds her arms and shuts her eyes. “Ah, wait. Here. This’ll work, right?”
The gnome raises a finger in the air and twirls it–and with it, a few stray burls of wood from the planks beneath your feet curl up beneath your sabots. You feel them lick at your heels as you raise your boot in surprise. “See? Gnomish magicks. Little wood growth.” Bredbeddle observes. “Doppelgangers can’t copy magic, right?”
“Ah–true enough.” You nod, hand on your chin–doppelgangers can copy physical strength, agility, and flexibility to an impressive extent, but not at all magic. “Then, you’ll have to excuse me. I have to see my lady.”
[...]
Your find your master stood at her study, staff in one hand and pipe in the other–she appears lost in thought as she stares out at the endless expanse of green outside. You knock first.
“Lady Sigrid.” You bow your head as you approach her. “I came to–ah.. you smoke, Lady Sigrid?”
“Hm. I try not to do it too often–it’s a foul habit.” She glances back at you, coils of a hazy fume curling up about her lips. “Only when I’m very, very stressed. Like now, for instance.”
“I see. Then, my lady, I–..” You catch yourself. You can’t quite be sure if your theory even has grounding, but still–you can’t be entirely sure if your master is your master at the moment.
>Just play along as if this was your master for now and ask about the final ingredient. Maybe you’ll catch a slip-up.>Ask her if she can perform some magic for you.>Surreptitiously ask her what her thoughts on doppelgangers are. Does she think they're awesome?>Trust the figure before you and tell her about what you think may have happened.>[Write-In.] 