Snippet #1581741

Fan-bloody-tastic. Here she was, underground and running for her life, only for the thing she was running from to get up and out of its... tank and follow them. Because if there was one thing Gwen needed, it was more danger in her life. Spy missions and conniving comrades were not enough, apparently, and neither was simply wandering around in a foreign location with at least one person who probably wasn't going to let her actually get out alive, much less share the loot (that one being Hellion, and probably his little bodyguard too).

No no, surely just a boatload more mortal peril would do, she thought to herself. She wasn't exactly sure what was up with the swordsman, because the guy's brain seemed to be working at half-capacity. Was she faster than their employer? Yes. Was that enough to prompt her to try manhandling him? No it most certainly was not. Sure, the guy was attractive, but people liked personal space. And having control over themselves. And surviving. "You know," she remarked to the half-orc next to her, "I think I'm going to take you up on that offer of yours."

The group slowed to a stop, the faceless creature on the other side of what appeared to be a clear barrier. For some reason, it seemed to focus on Gwen for a moment, and at its peculiar utterance, she blinked. Cousin? "You've gotta be kidding me," she deadpanned. Of all the aqueous species she knew about (which was quite a few), she'd never heard of anything that looked quite like that. At around this time, Sek pointed out that it was probably feeding off their fear, and she shrugged. Deaden fear. She could do that. Not completely, but enough so that it was functionally irrelevant. That was generally how she went about life anyway.

Out loud, she was considerably more skeptical. "Pretend giant faceless monstrosity didn't just eat Scaly and doesn't want to eat us and never talked to me in that creepy voice. Gotcha." She gave a halfhearted grin, though, enough to show she understood. The creature seemed to disappear from their sight, and the diminutive one prudently suggested they resume the fleeing, so she was off at a lope again.

"Oh, hey, Duke Hellion. If that thing thinks it's related to me, it's got an affinity towards water," she pointed out. Mages liked elemental Rochambeau stuff, right? What bothered her was that she had not immediately sensed as much. It must be corrupted beyond reason for that to be the case. She'd observed that clean water was easier to sense, and she had some ability to purify the dirtier stuff, but to not be able to figure it out? Either she was slipping considerably, which was an alarming thought, or that was some damn unholy water.

Something occurred to Gwen as they sped down the passageway: did Hellion even know where they were going anymore? It wasn't like 'frantic speed' was helpful in a map-studying situation. What if they were headed towards some kind of dead end? That'd be rich.