milliways, the lurking thereof
A few years ago, Deekin would have been very cavalier about this weird demiplane that just inserted itself into the Underdark, much as he was about basically everything. Times have changed, though; now Tynan is a factor, so instead of skipping merrily towards the bar, Deekin keeps his crossbow high and his stance low, even as the baby pokes his head out of his rucksack and babbles merrily.
...This place doesn't seem to be dangerous in any way.
This is intensely suspicious.
But after a quick casting of See Invisibility, a nip of Barkskin potion for Tynan, and a nice loud Curse Song in case someone's still hiding somewhere, Deekin feels comfortable enough to sit at the very polite bar and get free drinks. (Tynan gets some kind of strange black milk, which he obviously enjoys. Deekin gets something he thinks might be apple cider with a shot of cow blood, which is very nice even if it does kind of remind him of Tymofarrar.)
...This place doesn't seem to be dangerous in any way.
This is intensely suspicious.
But after a quick casting of See Invisibility, a nip of Barkskin potion for Tynan, and a nice loud Curse Song in case someone's still hiding somewhere, Deekin feels comfortable enough to sit at the very polite bar and get free drinks. (Tynan gets some kind of strange black milk, which he obviously enjoys. Deekin gets something he thinks might be apple cider with a shot of cow blood, which is very nice even if it does kind of remind him of Tymofarrar.)
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"What is this," she says. It's phrased like a question, but sounds more like a general demand of the universe.
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"Bar, apparently? Deekin check for traps and murder, but none apparent. Unless you planning to be murderous, in which case please let Deekin finish drink."
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"I am not planning to be murderous," says the woman, looking warily at Deekin.
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He appears to be distracted.
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Interesting. That's a long list of species that she's never heard of in her life. Something very strange is going on.
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Tynan finishes his bottle of shadowmilk and crawls energetically towards the scary-armor lady. Deekin looks very intently at this interaction, hand twitching on the stock of his crossbow.
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"I see. Do you have holos of some of these species? I don't recognize the names but I might recognize them by sight."
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He pulls out three sets of steel plate armor, one axe whose head is the size of his torso and set with twin fist-sized rubies, and a flaming sword before finally arriving at a leather-bound tome which looks like it weighs significantly more than he does. He lifts it without much trouble and slams it down on the bar, opening it to a lovingly drawn sketch of a snow-white dragon.
"That dragon," he clarifies. "Deekin have other pictures, if you want."
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"... I don't recognize it. May I see the others?"
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"That demon boy," he says absently. "Deekin sort of wish he had paint, his hair really red."
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"Hm," she says. "Something very odd is going on here."
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Deekin looks uncomfortable, but flips to a page with a slightly faded picture of a heavily armored male human posing heroically, infant in one hand and sword in the other. Tynan burbles delightedly. "Aaand that human. You know human, Deekin know human, Tynan obviously wasting everyone's time."
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"I'm afraid I don't understand how he would be wasting time, if he were wasting it. Would you explain?"
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"Dada," Tynan contributes.
Deekin winces. "Also that."
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She sits, leaving an empty seat between herself and Deekin.
"I see."
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