Date: 27th of Vhalar
Weapons: None
Status: Aw fuck
Weapons: None
Armor: Platelike Leather
No Current Magical Effects
After over a season of guarding the kitchens without incident, Prae had to admit they'd all gotten complacent. Not a single 'headernickle' had appeared in all that time, and there was no sign that any more would. So though Prae still kept an eye on the elements as he watched the rharnians cook, he'd stopped inspecting every flame as it was lit, and the kitchen staff had stopped making sure he was nearby as they cooked. He'd even taken to leaving the kitchen to help them cart ingredients and rations back and forth, though he was never so far away that he couldn't run back at a moment's notice.
Prae had been doing exactly that, trotting back from the storeroom with two sacks of grain under his arms, when he caught a glimpse of a commotion down the hallways, people piling out of the kitchen doors with white faces. He wasted no time at the sight, dropping the sacks in the middle of the hallways and immediately setting off on a dead run towards them.
As he got closer though, he saw that the paleness he'd glimpsed wasn't fear or pain, but instead a fine sheen of powder that lightly dusted their faces to give them a strange complexion. And it wasn't just on their faces either—there was powdery residue over the hands, aprons, legs and hair of almost everyone emerging from the kitchen, coughing and wiping their faces.
"Everything alright?" Prae asked, peering into the kitchen to find half of it also smeared in that powder, the very air somewhat hazy with it.
"Peachy." Marius snarled, aggressively dusting off his hands. "Some bloody idiot must have mislabeled a sack, and now there's flour everywhere. Damn lucky it didn't explode on us."
"Explode?" Prae asked, alarmed. Marius just shrugged, and Prae sighed. "Well, at least it's just a mess. For a moment there, I thought it was a—"
"Fire!"
Biting back a swear, Prae whirled around, scanning the kitchen—and saw nothing but a messy kitchen. And then there was another cry from behind him, and he turned back, just in time to see the flame on a nearby torch peel away, its shape twisting unnaturally as it began to take on the visage of a skull.
Fates be damned.
Prae had been doing exactly that, trotting back from the storeroom with two sacks of grain under his arms, when he caught a glimpse of a commotion down the hallways, people piling out of the kitchen doors with white faces. He wasted no time at the sight, dropping the sacks in the middle of the hallways and immediately setting off on a dead run towards them.
As he got closer though, he saw that the paleness he'd glimpsed wasn't fear or pain, but instead a fine sheen of powder that lightly dusted their faces to give them a strange complexion. And it wasn't just on their faces either—there was powdery residue over the hands, aprons, legs and hair of almost everyone emerging from the kitchen, coughing and wiping their faces.
"Everything alright?" Prae asked, peering into the kitchen to find half of it also smeared in that powder, the very air somewhat hazy with it.
"Peachy." Marius snarled, aggressively dusting off his hands. "Some bloody idiot must have mislabeled a sack, and now there's flour everywhere. Damn lucky it didn't explode on us."
"Explode?" Prae asked, alarmed. Marius just shrugged, and Prae sighed. "Well, at least it's just a mess. For a moment there, I thought it was a—"
"Fire!"
Biting back a swear, Prae whirled around, scanning the kitchen—and saw nothing but a messy kitchen. And then there was another cry from behind him, and he turned back, just in time to see the flame on a nearby torch peel away, its shape twisting unnaturally as it began to take on the visage of a skull.
Fates be damned.