Rolled 540 (1d1000)
>>5404342>>5404337>>5403983>>5403875>>5403849>>5403818>>5403807>>5403804>>5403742>>5403712You are torn between warring urges to tease and appease, to taunt or apologize. Uncertain how best to response to this uncharacteristic show of affection from your tutor, advisor, and one-time bully, you… Ignore it.
“What became of the loot?” you ask instead.
Jazkarmel, understanding True Speech, bursts out into her sparkling laughter, drawing looks from all the others present—yourself included.
“You truly are a dragon, Copper King,” she remarks with evident amusement at your priorities.
“Most of it is worthless,” the Novice replies dourly.
“Not… Exactly,” Ivno corrects, flinching at the Novice Fleshweaver’s glare.
“It is tarnished crushed, corroded and molten,” she corrects. “It is as good as worthless. But the sample you secured…”
>+affectionThe Novice releases her iron grip on you, belatedly, giving you room to breathe but also leaving you strangely disappointed. She looks at you with a curious expression, almost… Admiring.
“THAT has value. It was… Thoughtful of you, to secure it.”
You look urgently to the Throat-singer, who catches you meaning, and nods. The ‘sample’ is still frozen, or otherwise contained.
“The magical taint left on the metals and minerals secures from the wreckage-remains of the big-big shoggoth,” Ivno interrupts. “They may still be valuable, in a strange-weird way.”
“It is outside my discipline,” the Novice admits, with a tone as if to imply it is as good as worthless if SHE cannot find the value in it, immediately and without aid.
“There was one more thing,” the Throat-singer chimes in.
You all look to him, most surprised. The Novice and Ivno, in particular, seem to glare with grave offence. The Throat-singer offers no explanation for keeping the secret to anyone else, instead producing the relic and presenting it to you and you alone without words.
It is…
