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Considering her brush with death earlier, Lujayn should be more than ready to leave. But, as she lies on the ground with her cheek to the cold floor, she contemplates the sting of failure and the promise she made to the homunculi.
"What if clues disappear when we leave? Or we try to come back and we end up in a different castle or something?"
Lujayn rolls into a sitting position.
"I know this probably sounds really stupid, but this place seems to work more like a... puzzle, or something. So long as we don't mess with anything or go anywhere new we could probably just nap on the floor."
Brugal didn't even vote for the rest, he just sat down on the floor, back lean on the wall and arms crossed and prepared to take nap. His body was full of cuts that the swods caused him and due to Lujayn being in a worse condition, the Dragonborn pushed his companion's healing over his wounds, leaving them open and bloody for longer that he wanted.
Also, having to go to the rescue of the worst doctor he had ever met, carrying him back with the others.
Right now, Lujayn was feeling like the world's biggest loser.
Having contributed very little to the earlier skirmish and subsequently functioning as a very inconvenient sandbag for Brugal would be a life-crushing blow to anyone's ego, but for her, it was just... fairly depressing. Where most would dig themselves into a pit of self-pity, Lujayn recounts the events in her brain and decides that maybe using the spells she'd been avoiding using would have prevented a near-death experience. The lantern probably won't mind in light of recent events.
Hopefully, her other less waist-adjoined companions won't mind that she's currently marching up the staircase in search of something to set on fire. Preferably the trophy room.
She's going to set the trophy room on fire.
So really, things hadn't been going that bad. Falwyn was actually feeling pretty good.
The only real casualty so far was a piece of formalwear, which had so much blood on it that prestidigitation might just clean the cloth part off it instead, but aside from that nobody had any lasting damage and there was some progress made towards clearing the manor house of traps. Still, though, he didn't have anything really tangible to hand off yet. An odd painting wouldn't cut it; it was too early to get too carefree, otherwise he'd be the next person full of holes here or even out of chances.
He stood up. Hm. Did something smell like burning?
With long (for her short legs) strides Lujayn waltzes the door and looks around. True to its name, the walls of the trophy room are lined with the heads of various game. None of that appeals to her, so she gets to setting things on fire.
The first things to earn her ire are the currently inanimate and broken swords. Its rather difficult, on the account that metal isn't necessarily flammable, but Lujayn access to very effective fire lends success to the task. She then sets fire to the game trophies for judging her silently. Bastards. Not her fault that she's susceptible to swords. Besides, by the looks of it, they have no right to judge, being severed heads and all.
The lantern rattles and the impression of 'getting angry at taxidermies isn't very constructive' permeates the surroundings for a split second. Lujayn ignores this wisdom like a tantrum-throwing toddler.
After somehow setting the fireplace even more on fire, she moves over to the stacks of books lying on the table. Is there anything worth preserving here? Maybe even "borrowing"? Not that she'd never give it back, but maybe one or two particularly good books would be compensation-