Irish shook his head ruefully, and made an attempt to brush some of the vomit off his sleeve. His effort just resulted in ripping the already tattered garment, and he just ripped the whole thing off. Shirtsleeve, too. “Aye, I … Continue reading
Irish laughed a little at my indignation, and knelt down to rummage through Damian’s pockets. He might find a few things, but nothing that’d be useful to him. The only thing the homunculus would be carrying would be focal objects, things Damian had set up to be the terminal points for spells or tags for scrying in greater detail. Huh. That might be bad, now that I stopped to think about it. Continue reading