Lyssa’s song almost gave way for them to discuss her drinking behavior, but she almost immediately changed the topic of the conversation.
“I only have drinking problems when I can’t drink”, she said laughing, masking any truths her companions spoke to her. “I hate to admit it”, she continues, changing the subject quickly, “but I’m quite curious what the Way of Blood holds for us. I can’t really imagine it’s something positive. I guess it won’t mean we’ll regain the blood lost in the past battles. If it does mean that, well, I’m glad we saved it for last.”
(Intelligence 7) (History 20) (Intimidation 8)
Mero pulls the white robes of Alexander, gaining his attention. He slowly turns his head and looks down, raising his eyebrows in a questioning manner. “Why is it that you can shapeshift? You’re no druid, no transmuter, you’re a cleric. Also, you’re a dragonborn, not a changeling or shifter. I don’t understand.”
Dargothoth sighs and closes his eyes for a second.
“That’s because he’s a sivak”, Oslando says, making them turn around to see his serious face. “The sivak dragonborn were created by the evil dragons to serve as their soldiers. Coming from a slightly more pure bloodline than the regular dragonborn, they have additional powers, like shapeshifting, but he only gets to shapeshift into someone if he has killed that person before, which means we are basically looking at someone who has died long ago.”
The priest squints his eyes, displeased with the information the half-elf is providing, but it doesn’t stop Oslando. If anything, it pushes him to share more of his knowledge.
“Like most dragons, magic can’t put them to sleep and they have some kind of magic resistance, although I haven’t really noticed it in our past encounters. Why is that? Is it because you don’t serve an evil dragon god? No Garyx? No Tiamat? The sivak dragonmen, in contrast to their fellow draconians, are one of the few who remained the capability of flight, making them the perfect scouts, but, somehow, this one got away.”
The priest walks towards him, his eyes and voice turning back to their original nature.
“You forgot a couple of details”, he hisses from deep within his throat. “For example, we don’t require a lot of food, but we are always hungry. Right now, I could really eat something that isn’t a fucking purple berry. Something mixed, like a half-breed.”
The half-elf looks back at him, dead straight in the eyes, not moved by his threat.
“Too bad I am not a child.” Oslando steps to the side and walks past him, through the waving surface of the mirror and into the Way of Blood.
“Sorry”, Mero says, “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I was just curious.”
The priest shakes his head slowly. “Well”, he hisses, softer than before, “now you know.”
Dargothoth and Mero follow Oslando through the portal, but Lyssa and Bruq still remain in the main room.
“Well, that was intense”, the satyr says. “I could almost taste the tension in the air.”
Lyssa nods. “He was right about one thing, though”, she whispers, not knowing if they can hear her through the glass. “I could really use some proper food instead of these transformed mistletoe kernels.”
“No you don’t”, he responds. “You should be grateful that I give you these. Doesn’t wine come from these type of fruits? It’s almost solid alcohol and you’re complaining about them?”
She looks absolutely flabbergasted. “You are totally right”, she stammers and is silent for two seconds. “Can I have another one?”
The Way of Blood. The room is dimly lit. A couple of torches hang on the wall and a faint blueish light glows at the end of the fifty feet corridor. From where they stand, they can just see the door all the way in the back. They are in the area before the hallway, a small and claustrophobia-inducing space they can barely fit in all together. The only thing noteworthy, ignoring the mold on the dungeony walls, is the chest in the corner, covered in dust.
(DC 11 versus strength 3)
“I claim the treasure”, Lyssa exclaims, her voice echoing throughout the entire corridor, and she pops open the lid. An eerie crackling noise sounds behind her. The others see how a glowing sigil appears on the wall. It lights up the entire room with a purple glow as the noise grows louder and louder. The siren turns around and she’s pulled harshly towards the walking, crashing into it with speed. A thin bolt of lightning, coloured by a mixture of white and a deep magenta tone, shocks her body. She falls down on all fours and coughs.
“Dear gods, are you alright, Lyssa?” Bruq rushes to her and gets on his knees. He reaches his hand to her and, after she has shaken her head fiercely to numb the pain, she grabs it.
“Well, shiver me bloody timbers”, she swears and gets up. “You guys owe me for taking the blow. The treasure is mine!”
Oslando shakes his head. “You should’ve been more cautious. You can’t just run to every treasure or shining object to still your obsession with riches. I thought you learned from the last time you were near a chest. You know, when a mimic almost bit of your hand. I’m not going to buy the hook to replace your hand next time you do something stupid.”
She pouts and looks at him with puppy eyes. “I’m in pain, Oslando, can you give me a break, please? I know you’re right, just calm down.”
He walks over to the chest. “I am calm”, he says softly. “I don’t want you to get hurt, especially when we can prevent it so easily.”
He goes through the few things the chest contains and shows them to Lyssa. She observes the items and is rather disappointed. A piece of paper with a big square drawn upon it, a blue quill, a grey stone with a blue symbol on it and rolled up piece of parchment, sealed by red wax with a celestial symbol on it.
“Well, at least this one sparkles a bit”, she says as she takes the small rock. While she ogles at it, Oslando breaks the seal and scans through the piece of parchment.
“What does it say?” Bruq awaits the half-elf’s response and sees how Oslando’s eyes shiftly move from left to right.
“There are rules and instructions on it and they’re supposed to help us get through a deadly maze.”
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