Day 3: Dig through the Liches and burn through the Witches!
The pace of the journey to the Lichyard was one that even a child could keep up with. Well, a super-powered child, admittedly. It had taken half a day's hike, a night's rest, and a morning's journey for them to reach the graveyard in question, the very air itself thick with a pungent miasma that made the air feel humid and foul, as if the very ground around them was cursed. Probably because it was. Nimoa's tiny wings would flap in excitement, eyes shining as she looked at it. "I've never seen a real live lich before...do you think they're smelly? Or maybe they smell like embalming fluid? Or maybe they eat spices to make their bones smell nice?"
Charlotte thought about that for a moment, before noticing C-3's rapid departure. "H-Hey! C-3!? Wait up!"
the demon princess would call out, dashing after her bestie to try and see where the hell she was actually GOING. She was able to keep pace with C-3 up until she found her foot snagged on a gnarled root, causing her to fall and skid against the ground for a solid thirty or so feet. Getting up, she would wince and rub her chin. She was durable, but still...ow. C-3's newly gained headstart would mean that Charlotte would only find her after she'd received her gift. Putting her hands on her hips, Charlotte was getting ready to scold C-3 for robbing someone's offerings, but saw just how happy she was munching on that metal. She'd only ever seen her core glow that bright after she'd managed to steal a pure ruby while they were on the road for her to eat.
Charlotte chuckled behind C-3, beaming. "What'd you run off for? We've got to clear that vampire brat's little side-quest to get the hero moving to the REAL quest. Did you smell something nice?"
Unbeknownst to C-3 or Charlotte, a slight rattle of bones would vanish from the scene, out of earshot...
Nimoa would watch as Charlotte and C-3 ran off, looking a bit perturbed. "...Will they be okay on their own?"
she questioned as she watched them go, before a hacking cough echoed out from a nearby building on the Lichyard. The "houses" that were here resembled grand mausoleums, with grand brass braziers that had long since stained green from rain carrying violet flames that didn't sway in the wind. Powerful magic echoed from this place...and powerful coughs that continued to echo from the nearest Housoleum. Nimoa would gulp, timidly stepping forward to knock upon the door.What would answer would be a mockery upon life itself,
the very air around the being darkening as Nimoa's eyes focused upon it, the fine fabrics enshrouding the skeletal figure were adorned with grand magical items, gems containing powers unbeknownst to mortal minds and..."KITTY!"
Nimoa squealed, taking note of literally none of that, instead focused on the lich's apparent familiar in the form of a cat made out of darkness itself. Shaking her head and slapping her own cheeks, Nimoa would look up at the skeleton man that was staring at her, eyeless skull unflinching as it rasped, the very air shuddering as it escaped the most horrifying type of spellcaster known to all the realm. "Hi, My name is Nimoa, and I was wondering if-""We don't buy girl scout cookies.""I-I'm not a girl scout, I'm just trying to-"No timeshares either!"What? No, I'm not trying to sell you anythi-""GET OFF MY LAWN!"
the lich would yell, not at Nimoa, but at a racoon that was making off with what looked to be a half-animated dead fish that flopped and gasped as it was dragged off. Running out of his home with a pair of pink fuzzy slippers on, the lich would pull out his staff and begin casting an unknown beam type of spell, that seemingly rotted whatever it touched, judging from how the already sickly looking patches of grass just outright blackened, withering to ash. GO ON! GET, YOU VARMINT!"
The lich would screech as the raccoon got away, leaving the lich with naught to do but sigh and return to his doorway."Where was I...oh yeah, we don't buy girl scout cookies. No stomach to put them in."
the lich said, before coughing heavily."I'M JUST LOOKING FOR AN ALCHEMIST!"
Nimoa would eventually shout, fed up with being half-listened to."Oh. Why didn't you just say so!? Grimsby down the block, third building after you turn left."
The lich would say, helpfully pointing out the direction of said alchemist, before turning his back and heading back inside. The lawn now looked like an arcane war had been waged upon it, with Tristan and Valkira barely missed by any shots.
...Senile liches were terrifying. Perhaps moreso than fully sane ones.