Her companions stare in silence at Lyssa’s demeanour, shifting from infuriated to carefully listening.
The Enochian gem continues. “Second rule: each of you can choose one out of two items. After you choose one, you can never own the other, ever. If you somehow find it somewhere in your life, it will just turn into dust. Greed comes with a sacrifice. You can also choose to pick none. Somewhere, at some point in your life, you will find both objects. That could be tomorrow, but it could also be the day before you die. In your case, that could very well be the same day, lassie!” The voice inside her head laughs and coughs shortly afterwards. “Third and last rule: only you can pick up the prize that belongs to you. No cheating or smart ass thinking. If the enchantment thinks you are tricking it, it will take everything away. Everything.”
“So, if I understand correctly”, Bruq says after listening to Lyssa’s summarization of the gem’s message, “Alexander and I get nothing? I mean, Dargothoth, I guess? Whatever.”
The cleric shrugs. He stares coldly at the satyr. From the moment he met him, he couldn’t look away from the scarred tissue around his eye. It has something tragic. He likes tragedies.
“I suggest we go get our crystals immediately”, the priest suggests. “I would like some kind of reward for all the shit we have to put up with.”
Bruq nods in agreement. Lyssa takes a few steps towards the pedestals.
“Before we collect all these things, can we inspect them very carefully? I don’t want to run into another mimic. I know, I know, I was too impatient to examine the chest - rookie mistake - but I have become a better person through making mistakes all my life. I will survive.” Briefly, her thoughts travel far away, back to when she stole a ship for the first time, to the time when she finally escaped the city that marked her body and spirit with so many bad decisions.
Mero walks over to her and taps her on her arm. “Before we do that”, he says with a broken voice, “can someone help me? Before I dissolve completely, please?” He raises his arms and shows how the acidic saliva has corroded his vulnerable skin.
The dragonborn quickly presses his hands on Mero’s body and arms, covering half of his entire stature. The subtle blue glow restores his body as straws and patches grow back. The sorcerer feels the burning sensation vanish into nothingness.
“I don’t feel very well either”, Oslando says with a soft voice. He is still worn down by the almost lethal blow to the head.
Lyssa shakes her head. “Yeah, me neither.” She clears her throat and coughs shortly. She closes her eyes, lifts up her arm, while blood keeps dripping out of her wound, and sings.
“As blood crawls back and wound start to heal,
I bid you, skin, for your holes to seal.
No more sorrow, no more pain,
until the next cut, we shall not meet again.”
The few drops of blood that still crawl across her tanned skin reverse their course and crawl back, safe and secure in the blood vessels they were never supposed to leave.
“I’m happy your wounds are healing”, Oslando says with a thin smile, “I truly am, but I can’t sing my problems away. Can you do the same thing for me?”
She stretches out, cracking multiple joints in the process, and nods. “I can give it go, but I can’t keep doing this endlessly. A bit of rest afterwards would be great.” She tries to suppress the yawn she feels coming up.
“Same case for me”, Merodius says, making shorter steps than usual. “Being a spellcaster has a toll if you push it too much. I don’t know how often I have tried to set our opponents on fire, but I don’t think I have much left in me at the moment.”
The others can’t disagree with them. They fought several undead cultists, their leader and his witch servant, two ogres and a mimic, all in the last day after traveling long distances to get here.
“We will rest after we’ve made sure this room is safe”, Bruq says, almost whispering in case someone is hearing them. “I will look around so you can get your rewards. I can’t take mine, yet.”
The siren massages her throat shortly. “I will heal you first and then I will take me treasure, matey.” A spark of appreciation appears on the half-elf’s face, intrigued by Lyssa’s way of dealing with everything.
“Brains scrambled by a club to the face.
Now, let’s move everything back to its place.
Splinters of bone and swelling in his head,
restore yourself; I don’t want Oslando dead.
Yet.”
She winks at him teasingly and the residual pain disappears almost completely. Now, his mind is clear enough to make sure his memory will not forget the last word she sang to him with her spellbinding voice.
The cleric shrugs. He stares coldly at the satyr. From the moment he met him, he couldn’t look away from the scarred tissue around his eye. It has something tragic. He likes tragedies.
“I suggest we go get our crystals immediately”, the priest suggests. “I would like some kind of reward for all the shit we have to put up with.”
Bruq nods in agreement. Lyssa takes a few steps towards the pedestals.
“Before we collect all these things, can we inspect them very carefully? I don’t want to run into another mimic. I know, I know, I was too impatient to examine the chest - rookie mistake - but I have become a better person through making mistakes all my life. I will survive.” Briefly, her thoughts travel far away, back to when she stole a ship for the first time, to the time when she finally escaped the city that marked her body and spirit with so many bad decisions.
Mero walks over to her and taps her on her arm. “Before we do that”, he says with a broken voice, “can someone help me? Before I dissolve completely, please?” He raises his arms and shows how the acidic saliva has corroded his vulnerable skin.
The dragonborn quickly presses his hands on Mero’s body and arms, covering half of his entire stature. The subtle blue glow restores his body as straws and patches grow back. The sorcerer feels the burning sensation vanish into nothingness.
“I don’t feel very well either”, Oslando says with a soft voice. He is still worn down by the almost lethal blow to the head.
Lyssa shakes her head. “Yeah, me neither.” She clears her throat and coughs shortly. She closes her eyes, lifts up her arm, while blood keeps dripping out of her wound, and sings.
“As blood crawls back and wound start to heal,
I bid you, skin, for your holes to seal.
No more sorrow, no more pain,
until the next cut, we shall not meet again.”
The few drops of blood that still crawl across her tanned skin reverse their course and crawl back, safe and secure in the blood vessels they were never supposed to leave.
“I’m happy your wounds are healing”, Oslando says with a thin smile, “I truly am, but I can’t sing my problems away. Can you do the same thing for me?”
She stretches out, cracking multiple joints in the process, and nods. “I can give it go, but I can’t keep doing this endlessly. A bit of rest afterwards would be great.” She tries to suppress the yawn she feels coming up.
“Same case for me”, Merodius says, making shorter steps than usual. “Being a spellcaster has a toll if you push it too much. I don’t know how often I have tried to set our opponents on fire, but I don’t think I have much left in me at the moment.”
The others can’t disagree with them. They fought several undead cultists, their leader and his witch servant, two ogres and a mimic, all in the last day after traveling long distances to get here.
“We will rest after we’ve made sure this room is safe”, Bruq says, almost whispering in case someone is hearing them. “I will look around so you can get your rewards. I can’t take mine, yet.”
The siren massages her throat shortly. “I will heal you first and then I will take me treasure, matey.” A spark of appreciation appears on the half-elf’s face, intrigued by Lyssa’s way of dealing with everything.
Now, let’s move everything back to its place.
Splinters of bone and swelling in his head,
restore yourself; I don’t want Oslando dead.
Yet.”
She winks at him teasingly and the residual pain disappears almost completely. Now, his mind is clear enough to make sure his memory will not forget the last word she sang to him with her spellbinding voice.
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