Jancis sat in the little room provided to her in Thanalan and bathed with a bucket and cloth. Once the last of the pilgrims had moved on to their places of rest for the night and the grounds cleaned, she had the chance to heal, peeling off the bandages from her shoulder and arm.
The wounds stun almost as much they did the day before, the potent aether energy digging in to burn and destroy flesh still tenderly healing.Â
And that didn't account for the other bruises and cuts that result from a large plate-armored man being hurled through the air then landing on top of on the stone street below. Jancis' skin was an artful display of yellow and green bruises spotted with purple spots.
Moraby Bay Docks were, luckily, not as bad off as the warning bells called. The locals and citizens of the dock were tough souls and were quick to deal with the fire and rubble on their own before more Maelstrom and Yellow Jackets arrived. Beyond the warehouse building, that was a burnt pile now, only the adjoining wall behind it had been damaged, crumbling along the length of it a few yalms.
Injuries were mostly minor, mostly cuts and scraps, though one woman had a broken arm and shoulder from the initial explosion. Jancis had stayed in the town all night tended to the wounded and reporting to the officers who came with questions.Â
She had never seen an explosion like that before. Quite different from Master Chuchukepa's abilities or any other caster. She didn't recognize the miqo'te "mage" (as she thought), but she knew Lady McBeef with her surefire grin. She recognized Cici's tone, the woman she ordered to lay down her arms. The two arcanists that attacked Jancis she did not know, but their words and their books were vivid memories.
Now one she recognized was departed, Jancis recalling the squall of tears that rained down from Sir Iron's eyes. Had Lady McBeef been injured? She had trotted out of the warehouse office quickly enough. The only other, her dear friend and kin, had answers that Jancis wanted to hear.
It wasn't fair. Cici had mentioned something about enemies and protection. What had they been there for? Surely not the same confiscated wares that Jancis sought, a painting and some old china, at least not for Ul'dah's sake. What had Cici been dragged into? What of Sir Iron and the house he spoke of? The Sworn and their reputation? What of the Maelstrom and their required response?
How could one woman cause so much to go so wrong, and yet not be the reason for her own demise? Only Thaliak knew the truth; it would be a dishonor to fathom other doubts and thoughts.
The wounds stun almost as much they did the day before, the potent aether energy digging in to burn and destroy flesh still tenderly healing.Â
And that didn't account for the other bruises and cuts that result from a large plate-armored man being hurled through the air then landing on top of on the stone street below. Jancis' skin was an artful display of yellow and green bruises spotted with purple spots.
Moraby Bay Docks were, luckily, not as bad off as the warning bells called. The locals and citizens of the dock were tough souls and were quick to deal with the fire and rubble on their own before more Maelstrom and Yellow Jackets arrived. Beyond the warehouse building, that was a burnt pile now, only the adjoining wall behind it had been damaged, crumbling along the length of it a few yalms.
Injuries were mostly minor, mostly cuts and scraps, though one woman had a broken arm and shoulder from the initial explosion. Jancis had stayed in the town all night tended to the wounded and reporting to the officers who came with questions.Â
She had never seen an explosion like that before. Quite different from Master Chuchukepa's abilities or any other caster. She didn't recognize the miqo'te "mage" (as she thought), but she knew Lady McBeef with her surefire grin. She recognized Cici's tone, the woman she ordered to lay down her arms. The two arcanists that attacked Jancis she did not know, but their words and their books were vivid memories.
Now one she recognized was departed, Jancis recalling the squall of tears that rained down from Sir Iron's eyes. Had Lady McBeef been injured? She had trotted out of the warehouse office quickly enough. The only other, her dear friend and kin, had answers that Jancis wanted to hear.
It wasn't fair. Cici had mentioned something about enemies and protection. What had they been there for? Surely not the same confiscated wares that Jancis sought, a painting and some old china, at least not for Ul'dah's sake. What had Cici been dragged into? What of Sir Iron and the house he spoke of? The Sworn and their reputation? What of the Maelstrom and their required response?
How could one woman cause so much to go so wrong, and yet not be the reason for her own demise? Only Thaliak knew the truth; it would be a dishonor to fathom other doubts and thoughts.
![[Image: hpThOka.png]](http://i.imgur.com/hpThOka.png)
