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[illithidnapped]

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2/2

[illithidnapped]

Also quite easily: all it takes is hooking my wing round the bottom, then fastening it with my thumbclaw at the top. Et voila, as the Orlesians would say back home.

Now writing beautifully is another matter entirely, but we all do what we can.

[doggish]

hmm. show me, when i come find you. i want to see it in action. though i think you rank yourself too poorly; your handwriting among bats must be among the finest.

but i assumed you were out to eat, though how you can stand the scent of fish is your own business. why are you out so far, then?

[illithidnapped]

A fair guess. My appetite is ravenous these days.

But alas no, not tonight. The stench of fish and seamuck is only made tolerable by the copious amounts of treasure the Bitch Queen's seafaring crew drags back from the depths with them.

1/2

[doggish]

[Oh.]

a FAR better venture, well done. we could use a boost in income— and i can bring you to a tailor so you can buy more clothes. it's been too long since you've had a treat.

[doggish]

though







how much treasure can we carry back as a dog and a bat?

[illithidnapped]

Not as much as if I'd waited diligently for nightfall on my own, but a great deal more than you'd expect.

Most of her worshippers are in the lucrative trade of plunder, after all. Stolen jewelry. Necklaces. Silks.

Rings.

[doggish]

it gets better and better. though we can still wait for nightfall, especially since then you'll have to carry me home.

besides: your skinny bat legs can fit at least a dozen rings alone, never mind all the necklaces we can drape . . . you're going to clank quite a bit on the way home.



would it be unromantic if i suggested we find two rings for ourselves among the loot?

[illithidnapped]

On the contrary: robbing a dangerous goddess known for exercising her venomously lethal wrath? That makes it a great deal more romantic.


Ah but then again, if we wait too long, you might change back.

[doggish]

[. . . hm.]

how realistic are gods' wrath here

is it more of a chantry-based, "the Maker will damn you after you die" which means that it's all human-made propaganda that will not have any real-world effects, or will this actually curse us?

[illithidnapped]

Don't be such a worrier. What harm is a little old curse or two in the grand scheme of things?

We're world traversing renegades - there's nothing we can't handle.

1/2

[doggish]

just because we can handle it does not mean i wish to

a quiet life sounds relaxing after our lives, and i do not wish to have to try and kill a god for a second time just to keep you safe when we can just steal from a noble

[doggish]

then again, it might disrupt the sea trade, which would mean less fish and more steakhouses in the city. so perhaps you're right.

(it reeks here even as a dog).

[illithidnapped]

That's the ticket, love. Courageous as ever and awash in perfect taste.

Besides, I'd imagine a fickle goddess who favors plunderers and knaves would actually enjoy a pair of thieves daring to risk it all across her shores.

[doggish]

it does suit, i will admit. but if your curls start to lose their luster and it starts raining saltwater, we're getting a different set of rings


you never told me being an animal changes your perceptions

no wonder the pups go wild whenever the barkeep wears aftershave, everything smells so MUCH

[illithidnapped]

Hah! A precious catulus in his truest form at last.

Trust me darling, it's all fun and games until you start smelling the worst this city has to offer. Even less so when your instincts find it fascinating. But perhaps the treat bin taught you that already.

Tell me something little hound. What sort of beast are you? Fluffy? Small? Primped and pressed with a precious curly tail and floppy ears?

[doggish]

you're teasing a great deal for an elf currently both fluffy and sausage-shaped. but now you owe me a story. what did your instincts lead you? it cannot be much better than the treat bin (and I do not regret that for a moment).



but i am medium-sized, with predominantly black fur with white accents. and my ears are floppy, so get your teasing out now. i'm simply grateful i don't look like the pups.

[illithidnapped]

[Maybe (yes) he just wanted to goad you into giving away a description before you got here. ;>

It sounds adorable.]

No interest in carrying on the familial resemblance, oh grand illustrious sire?

[doggish]

i might be more invested in claiming them if they hadn't spent the afternoon hissing and spitting at a mirror over and over. have you ever tried to see a kitten bark? it's somehow both very loud and particularly pathetic.

but don't let that stop you. you can turn into a wolf; surely a Mabari-like dog cannot be that difficult.

[illithidnapped]

I expect it's a great deal less aggravating than the usual shrill yips, but I look forward to being proven wrong.

Anyway you would think— and yet somehow vampiric ability still limits itself. I've tried for crows, cats, dazzlingly breathtaking cervids, and still

nothing.

A wolf or a bat is all that rests within my reach.

Well. All right. Due confession: I haven't yet attempted shifting into a hollyphant but I don't care if the power somehow ironically sits open in laid wait: I'd rather choke than be one.

1/2

[doggish]

i would divorce you without a second thought

[doggish]

fortunately, you have your head on correctly. you flatter any form you change into, but a hollyphant is an abomination, one not even your good looks could course correct

a pity about the cat, though. it would suit you. thought i do enjoy you as a bat; you're particularly adorable when you're tired and try to burrow into my chest.

(and it's aggravating in a different way. the same way salt and sweet are both flavors but distinct; it's less about shrillness and more about endless repetition).

1/2

[illithidnapped]

And yet you'd come running right back once I was restored. Don't you dare try to outfox a

erm

flying fox.

2/2

[illithidnapped]

Although puppish talk aside, you're making me long for that magic to actually wear. The temptation of huddling in close under your blouse, awash in the steady beat beat beating of your heart.

Then again, I bet your fur makes for a cozy den indeed.

[doggish]

we can tonight. i would like that, in fact. you speak sweetly when you're drowsy and unguarded, and i like getting to read to you that way. besides: i cannot imagine this magic will last for much longer.

but you can find out soon enough if my doggish [hey, that's the name of his journal!] form is a suitable substitute. i  . . . suspect i am nearing where you lay.

[Maybe. Possibly. Baldur's Gate is large and sprawling and confusing even as an elf, never mind as a dog. It's hard to read posted signs when your eyesight is suddenly monochrome, and anyway, scent is easier to navigate by; it's just a matter of associating one with the other . . .

Which is why Leto is currently furiously investigating a pile of offal outside a butcher a few blocks away from one of the nearby piers, his nose telling him only that it smells delectable— and that it's near seawater. That must mean he's very close. Almost certainly it does. Add to the fact a small mammal was recently nearby . . . yes, he must be close.

(It's his first time as a dog, no one can blame his tracking skills).]

where ARE you?

[illithidnapped]

[They wrote the thing!!]

Can you see the temple yet?

[It's part of this, he swears.]