Before setting out, the group had stocked up on equipment from Lyra’s guard armory. Though she hadn’t brought any proper arms along with her, Alexandria had opted to use the opportunity to acquire medical equipment for the group’s use, so as to allow for greater flexibility in the boons requested from her patroness. With the born-steel in abundance, more esoteric powers would be a far more beneficial measure. Which was why she had made the point of communing with her patroness before they were to set out on the expedition proper. 

And thus, here they were: The Wilderdeep. 

It was a subject of taboo, spoken of in hushed whispers, as if its malevolent shadow would reach out and claim whoever had uttered its name. Or at least, that was how one of the stories went. Like any good, cultured Aabranian citizen, she’d heard the eclectic - and often contradictory - tales. Tales of horrific monstrosities, of things beyond the veil of mortality. She’d even heard some outlander claim it to be the underworld itself, leaking into the mortal coil as a punishment against Aabran for tampering with powers beyond their ken. 

Indeed, to delve into its depths was a frightening proposition, but in Aabran, an individual was nothing but their word. And the Belladonna were [i]nothing[/i] but their word.  While the reward of gold had its place, there were debts to be paid first and foremost. Having the Pesh and the Pernn indebted to her would be quite useful for delivering her family from the fate of bonded labour that had plagued them. So as odd as it was, this place of fear had no place for fear. 

And after all, one cannot appeal to the nature of her mistress by being afraid of the cold, hard truth. Granted that wasn’t necessarily 100% correct, Alexandria supposed, but it was not 100%  [i]incorrect[/i] either. Irregardless, satisfying the Maiden of Poison Flowers was the second bird in the metaphor. Correction: the first bird; putting the terms of an ages-old infernal contract second was a very poor business decision.

But if her predecessors had known that, she wouldn’t have been in this situation now, would she? 

"It takes more than a rustling bush to frighten a diabolist, outlander. If there's anything to be blown in such a situation, it's the bush. To smithereens."

With that response, Alexandria leaned against her staff, tapping her fingers restlessly against it as she looked to the people she would be entrusting her life to in these coming days. They were foreigners, the lot of them. There was the halfling hedge-witch from the north, admirably faithful but woefully uneducated; the outsider in strange silk and jewels, with a subdued eroticism that was just polite enough to make it socially unacceptable to call out; and….

Alexandria’s ears rang with a metal ding that made her head ache. [i]’Oh Mistress have mercy.’[/i] Her fingers stopped the rhythmic drumming and tightly wrapped around the wooden staff.  “...Quite,” she answered in response to the halfling’s restless grunt. It was best to get moving before Alexandria started pointing.

[b]Acquired:[/b][list]
[*]Antitoxin
[*]Bandages
[*]Dog(?) Whistle[/list]
[b]Spells Prepared:[/b][list]
[*]All Rotes
[*]Magic Missile
[*]Bless[/list]