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Claithe Alonne: HP = 38, PP = 53, EP = 41, Status = Fine
Games. Always with the games.
The silver chain woven multiple times around her neck, soft and supple and seemingly decorative though it might be, compelled her to obey, to do exactly as her master ordered. On a thought from the dragon to which it - and she - was bound it could do or make her do any number of things. Compel her to speak or act however she wished, force the chain to lock her magic and prevent her from using her only defensive options, or even squeeze until her breath was cut off entirely. Neither she nor anyone else could remove it without his permission, not without setting off a magical burst that would likely leave her cleanly decapitated and the offending hands blasted into useless gore. Luckily it naturally clung to her, and wouldn't accidentally fall off.
However Claithe might feel about the constant reminder of her present situation, she had no choice but to obey her master's wishes. Some days, Syrriolth would make her run demeaning errands better suited to a common servant than she, an elven sorceress of noble lineage. Some days she would be made to wear one of the skimpy maid outfits preferred by her mistress and wait on her every whim. Some days the dragon would amuse itself in other ways, ways more often attributed to demons than dragons but that the fiery titan enjoyed nonetheless. Still others the dragon would send her off "adventuring" with some fool goal in mind, uncaring of the condition that she came back in so long as she came back. Sometimes she would add conditions, additional requirements to make her life in service even harder or more unpleasant than it already was.
Luckily, today lacked any such conditions, though she had been sent out on a most unpleasant mission. She was in the Northeast quarter of Acheron, the portion now often referred to as Old Artmirst. It was a wreck, abandoned save for squatters and criminals and monsters. It was that middle entity she sought now, a very specific gang of goblins that had been pilfering things that didn't belong to them with surprising skill for such diminutive creatures. Rather than bring them to justice, however, Syrriolth had sent Caithe out to procure them for her own service and barter for an item they had taken from another noble's demesne only a few days prior, with the caveat to defend herself if anything attacked her but to ensure that she didn't eliminate the thieves themselves unless she had no other choice. It hadn't been said, but there was little doubt from the dragon's tone and expressions upon delivering her orders that failure to deliver anything less than exactly what she'd demanded would result in a severe punishment, regardless of the circumstances she wound up in.
Unfortunately, her leads were.... Limited. The city guard knew they were somewhere in the old city, that there were at least seven of them of mixed gender in unknown ratios, that they wore black bandanas to cover the lower halves of their faces and black clothes, and that they seemed fit enough to run along the roofs while carrying sacks laden with loot. Several "adventurers" had already been sent to find them, of which three had come back with nothing, one hadn't come back at all, and one had come back warning of an ambush that they had barely evaded... At the cost of the one who hadn't made it back.
There were worse things than goblin thieves hiding among the ruins, of course. Former humans twisted by magic and driven insane, left as raving aggressive mutants still roamed the ruins. Criminals of all sorts, from mortal bandits to demons who had run afoul of the city guard or a noble, tended to use it as a place to hide. Even more unsavory things were sometimes spotted there as well, monsters beyond description that drove hardened warriors mad at the sight of them. All of this and more... And Caithe had to wade through it in a likely vain search for a band of goblins, of whom there were many rumored to live among the abandoned shacks and factories and apartments.
For the moment, at least, she could concentrate on her immediate surroundings. She was still in the mostly abandoned section of the city, bordering the populated slums that were slowly reclaiming the ruins at the Queen's request. She walked now down one of the larger streets, though it was still barely as wide as a residential row ought to be, heading deeper into Old Artmirst. Up ahead the road split, one way going more North and the other going almost straight East. At the split was a collection of small, squat buildings created from some sort of plaster-like material used in Southern Badaria, and though it had many an opening for windows all of them were dark and seemingly empty, and more than a few sported broken glass. The door itself had been smashed in and lay buried in rubble and dirt a few feet into the yard directly in front of the building.
The road itself ran North, paralleling the edge of the factory district that was well patrolled by the city guard as it was revived and either put back into service, harvested for materials, or repurposed. It would likely keep her in the mostly abandoned section, where she could look for clues, and would thus be safer... But likely less fruitful as well. The other route would take her closer to the edge of the city, to the old road leading up to the mines, but would undoubtedly split into the many winding avenues that webbed chaotically through Acheron's still abandoned sections. The farther North and East one went, the more dangerous those sections became, but Caithe had access to her magic for the moment, and no reason to suspect that her mistress would rob her of it now. How she would go about seeking her quarry, however, was ultimately up to her regardless of Syrriolth's orders.
