It was a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, but Otis wasn’t the type to blink.
Alright, then they’d advance in that direction.
With Chunji still gone and Davil proving that his own ability to manipulate essence hadn’t been completely lost, the Strigidae moved with purpose. The plan was clear then: restore Davil’s consciousness and mental faculties and have him use this as an opportunity to pause the poison’s progress until professionals could be bothered to take a look at it. Separation from the world, separation from exterior influences. That would be the stopgap measure to take.
Stepping off towards the cabinets, Otis raided it with impunity, coming across various potions and concoctions ranging from ‘numbs sensation’ to ‘staunches blood’ to ‘smells really bad’. He applied the staunching salves first upon the wound, then found a syringe with which to push the numbing agent into Davil’s bloodstream. Finally, with a quick spell, he cast a lick of flame on the bottom of the smelling salts, intensifying its pungent aroma within the glass container, before popping it open right in front of Davil’s nose. The stench was tidal, and even Otis grimaced at the unpleasant scent (even as he tried to analyze the individual components of the odor). If Davil woke up, enough to drink a potion, Otis would proceed to jam one that sharpened and steadied the mind (usually taken by surgeons rather than patients) down his roommates throat.
Davil otherwise should know what to do from there: learn how to manifest a Personal Barrier or die trying.
Which left Otis free to attend to the other problem in the room.
That rat, Iraleth, had brought the Principal here, of all things.
Without turning away from Davil, Otis spoke up to address her.
“Leave Ciara for now, Principal. Davil here was specifically targeted by an Umbralist. I recommend you assisting in removing the poison from his blood if you want proper answers, or at least to disrupt the schemes of that cult.”
Humanoid monsters, eh? I mean, I wouldn’t go so far as to call the neighbouring villagers that, but well…50 bucks and a lighter is 50 bucks and a lighter.
Name: MacKinnon Age: 17 y/o Gender: Female Race: Human
Height: 5'1 | 155 cm Eye Color: Green Hair Color: Grayish Brown
Personality:
Greedy and jovial, MacKinnon lives to dig for the riches within the earth. She has a sharp wit and loves to chat with others, a sociable miner who always has an ear out for rumors and stories of hidden treasure. Perhaps the girl is bewitched still, by that rush of euphoria when she had uncovered the treasure that changed her life and bought her freedom. But perhaps she was always like this. For one born into poverty, enough is never enough, after all.
Yet even street urchins had their principles. Her pickaxe isn't used to mug travelers on the road, nor is she about to dig graves to wrest family heirlooms off the necks and fingers of the recently-deceased. Skeletal remains adorned with jewels? Fair game! The great-grandmother of a noble family? Naw, she'll let 'em go, no matter her personal thoughts on the generationally-wealthy. And while she can be stingy when her purse is empty, she is paradoxically as generous as she is greedy when she strikes a mother lode. After all, MacKinnon isn't stupid! Only idiots expected to grow their money by letting it rot in some dusty old metal box. If you wanted to have good fortune, you had to spread a fortune.
And what was a treasure hunter without Lady Luck on their shoulders?
Quirks:
A compulsive gambler, MacKinnon can't resist taking anyone up on a game of chance, and the worst the odds, the happier she is.
MacKinnon has a surprisingly good memory for music, and lives her life with a melody (or even just a few bars) on her lips.
She spends money like water, but hoards food as if it were gold. Nothing gives her more security than a cellar full of preserves.
Brief History:
The children yearn for the mines.
Not because they liked the persistent risk of getting crushed by falling rocks, breathing in toxic gases, or crawling into holes that they couldn't crawl out of, but because at least there, urchins and orphans could work for some coin, have a straw mat out away from the elements, and be guaranteed at least one meal a day. If they got older and their bodies were still intact, they could become a proper miner, making more money just by pushing carts in and out of the caves, or hammering away with pickaxes in nice, roomy tunnels. And the boss always told them too: he used to be one of them, so if they all worked hard, they could afford a house of their own, three meals with meat a day, a pet dog, and a loving family!
MacKinnon might have been one of them. MacKinnon was one of them. Her earliest memories were that of the mine and the pickaxe, of digging away in search of ore veins for the adults to blast open. Her hopes were pinned to the mine, to honest work, to gradual growth and pay raises while keeping her body as uninjured as possible.
That changed though. At eleven years old, in a tunnel that she had to slither into the depths of, her lamplight reflected off a gleaming emerald. The green flame blinded her eyes, and from that day on, nothing was the same again.
It was a process, of course. Breaking off chunks of the gemstone, swallowing it, then vomiting it back up. Collecting the pieces until she had a small fistful. Hiding it desperately from the overseers, the anxiety crossing over into excitement at night. It was a gleeful, taboo thing, doing something only for her own sake. It was exhilarating, even, a liveliness in her steps as she got to work every day to chip away at her little project!
And when emeralds were traded for coin?
Well, even though she knew she was getting ripped off, MacKinnon still ended up with more money than she could have ever imagined! Thus, the miner was gone! Thus, Treasure Hunter MacKinnon was born! She brought new clothes, new equipment, and a whole night at a proper inn. She threw a whole feast at a restaurant for her miner-buddies, giving them a taste of 'luxury' that they would never forget. And then, before her sins could catch up with her and the overseers could drag her back to cut off her hands or something like that, MacKinnon skipped off out of town, with a pack full of food, her trusty pickaxe, and a broken compass.
Six years later, that compass lead her to an empty village and the promise of new findings!
-- Skills/Spells, Stats & Items ---
Occupation:Miner Treasure Hunter
Social Status: Urchin
Skills:
Treasure Hunting (Expert): Either incredibly capable or incredibly lucky when it comes to searching for buried 'treasure'. Increased chance of coming upon rare materials or artifacts when digging through caves.
Gambling (Adept): Either fairly good at calculating odds and counting cards or simply lucky when it comes to games of chance. The more dicey the situation, the more excited one gets.
Appraising (Apprentice): Either intelligent and analytical or just plain lucky when it comes to ascertaining the value of something. For MacKinnon, appraisals become more accurate with higher-value items than with lower-value items.
Until the RP actually starts and you guys get a feel for what the village looks and feels like, please leave this section alone.
Location:Where in, or outsde, the village is your home located. Type:Is it just a residence? SOme kind of shop? A facility of some kind? Floors:Is it a single or multi-storey building?
Description: Here you can describe the out and inside of yoour building, along with any special or notewrothy aspects of it. If you're feeling articularly creative, you could even include a floor-plan for others to look at, if you're into the artsy drawing biz.
Megatron
ErosSense
Aku the Samurai
The Savant
Nani
Kronshi
LanaStorm
Alisdragon911
Animal
