“What can you do?”

The woman glanced down towards me, though her eyes remained nervous. She appeared human, with a normal height of around one hundred and seventy centimetres and without the sharp ears that made me think of an elf.

Conventional wisdom placed her face somewhere between seventeen to twenty years old, though there were unknowns. I don’t know if my knowledge of human ages would translate well here.

“For one, humans aren’t the only race in this world, and breeding between species seems to occur on a regular occurrence.”

“Which indicates that either genetics are screwed here, or most species belonged to the same taxonomical family,” I replied to my Declan self. Pale skin was somewhat normal, but green hair, no matter how dark was not a natural human hair colour. Unless you considered genetic or cosmetic implants to fall under the definition of natural, but few people did.

Wait, I was rambling again.

“Is it really rambling if someone responds?”

Probably not.

The woman began talking, nervous at first, but slowly gaining stride. “I umm… am an alchemist. I have prepared potions and know some spells.” She pulled back her cloak, revealing a bandolier of potions.

Those weren’t there before. She swapped them out?

“Do you remember what she had there before?” I asked Declan.

“I do,” he replied. “Weird looking dolls. Like voodoo or something.”

“What kind?” I asked her.

“There are multiple types of alchemists. See if she’s a combat one.”

“Don’t backseat game,” I chided. So annoying.

“I heard that.”

“You were supposed to.”

“Erm… I specifically specialise in herbalism, though I do dabble in some primal material transmutation. Of course of the Trizian School, with some small inspirations from Gimetris! I like how they handle complete transmutation of non-pure materials and their theories on balancing equivalent exchange in favour of the transmuter, of course only minor inspiration, otherwise the Gimetris Law of Bellariuan Disposition would clash with the Trizian’s Theory of...”

She slowed her passionate speech as she looked around, realising that none of her audience were looking at her with comprehending eyes- not that I had any. “If that’s satisfactory!”

I shrugged. “It’s fine. How do you manage in a fight?”

“Oh… Umm… I can throw and supply potions?”

“What kind?” I asked.

“Don’t those cost money?” Naukoth interjected at the same time.

The three of us glanced at each other, and I shrugged, “Him first.”

“They do… But I gather most of my own ingredients and I usually get by with just spells.”

“But you still pay out of your own pocket for them?” I asked incredulously. She shouldn’t be able to break more than even then. Unless potions were ridiculously cheap.

She hesitantly nodded.

Naukoth bared his teeth as he growled, “And what of the undead?”

She noticeably seemed to flinch back, “It’s my familiar…”

“It’s been cleared…” she hesitantly added in response to Naukoth’s bared tusks.

“Few things are clear with necromancy,” the orc snarled.

Utoqa placed his hand on Naukoth’s shoulder, “If the legalities do not believe it a threat then it should not be.”

Interesting.

So undead could be cleared with law, hmm… That opened up several class skills I had dismissed before… but back at the conversation at hand.

The orc simply snorted in response, crossing his arms. His teeth stayed bared in an animalistic display of displeasure, but he did not contradict what was said.

Noam curiously leaned in.

“So are undead a big deal?”

Surprise flickered across the face of the alchemist for the briefest moment.

“They are,” Naukoth answered, still glaring at the alchemist. “How are you not aware of it?”

“I’m a Traveller, so I only got around here recently.”

There was a brief moment before their brains caught up with capital in the word. I sighed, there wasn’t a need for him to pass that along. It wasn’t a big deal but it was another hidden card revealed for no gain.

“Traveller… as in the Grashetars?” Naukoth asked in awe.

Noam awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, “Erm… I don’t know what that means.”

“The Khartoci word for Stubborn One. I’ve heard tales of your kind,” the orc shuddered. “Great songs of warriors who refused death. I am glad to have one with us.”

“... Does that mean you are one too?” the alchemist asked me.

My vision shifted to her. Ah, so that was what Noam wanted. Naukoth had shifted out of his aggressive stance, his curiosity of Travelers outstripping his hostility towards the undead. Overall not a complete loss, I just need to play along to move the subject away from her familiar.

That idiot with his bleeding heart, I thought with a smile.

“Yes,” I answered, reaching out with a hand. “My name is Dustin, yours?”

“... Celine,” she accepted my hand with some hesitation. “Celine Kakoph.”

Noam smiled, also reaching out for a handshake. “Noam.”

“Utoqa,” the lizardfolk said as she took it.

The orc grunted, crossing his arms before saying, “Naukoth Stoneback.”

“Great,” I began. “Now, onto what I can do…”

The Traveller group was the last to set off. Having spent the time discussing what they were each individually capable of. Maz noted with some approval, that they each seemed to keep a card hidden.

Dustin’s familiars scanned the surroundings with cognisance that was… unusual for what should be low-level magical constructs, and his staff had changed since she last saw him. Motes of divine energy, not enough to conceptualise but enough to hint at something. Most notable however were his eyes, which he now covered completely with the strange fungus growing on him in an odd woody mask.

The tiefling Noam spoke easily amongst strangers and moved quickly to defend others. He carried the unmistakable aura of someone experienced. For one, when they first entered the building, encountered the hostile environment. He disappeared. His heartbeat slowed, his footsteps no longer made sound and his presence seemed to fade. As another one skilled in hiding, Maz recognised that this was near the peak of what could be achieved without dipping into magic, aura or having an innate gift like the alchemist seemed to have.

Naukoth, that unreasonably strong orc, who was casually lugging around a grand piano that was at minimum five hundred kilograms like it were an empty travel sack, was a demented man seeking a fool’s quest. What a waste of such a sculpted body. In terms of physicality, he would rival even a Silver Plater.

The last two were the strangest. The lizardfolk Utoqa was tough like most of his race, but even from her perch, he was grating on her senses. That lizard carried enough magic to fit out an entire adventuring party and wasn’t particularly good at hiding it. You’d think he was about to face an entire raider encampment by himself.

Whereas Celine… She was an alchemist for sure, but it was not her primary Path. Not a necromancer, those had a distinct feeling which she lacked. Maz didn’t think she'd ever even encountered her type of school. It was grasping… cursed… threading and… incomplete?

What Maz wouldn’t have done to gain an aspect of divination right now, but then she would be too scattered. While it was nice to have multiple focuses, the universe will always get its due.

Instead, she weaved a working. The illusion milling around the camp was set to a pattern to repeat, and Maz soundlessly fell from her perch. Following the group a few dozen steps behind as they entered the caverns.

The first enemies the group encountered, were utterly eviscerated.