Patting yourself down, you tried to remember what had happened before the man with five arms shoved the needle in your arm and you kissed reality goodbye. Hair, check. Arms, check. Legs, check. Torso, check. There was something you were missing, though. Something really important.
Feeling the draft in the stone room you had been locked in, you were seriously tempted to hit yourself in the head. You were naked. A quick and gentle check confirmed that they hadn't tried raping you. Of course, that wasn't outside the realm of possibility for later though. Kept on a raised dais run round with razor wire and stone stakes, you quickly did the mental math that ended with the thought that a running jump was a fool's gamble. Taking the time to stand, you walked the perimeter of your open-air cell and frowned. The dias was about eight and a half paces wide at the diameter, and you knew you had a long stride- call it thirty inches. So, if you were willing to play fast and loose with the napkin math, make it twenty one feet wide.
Now, you were a smart girl who did math for fun. More importantly, right now you were a smart girl whom was also bored out of her skull. Seeing as decimals are horrible for napkin math, make pi twenty-two sevenths as per the Babylonians. Twenty one feet times twenty two, call it… four sixty two. Now divide by seven. Big number, so let's frac it. Does it divide by two? Yeah, but that's ugly. Three? Yeah, into one fifty four. That breaks into two, so seventy seven. That breaks into seven and eleven, so huzzah! Now, cancel the divide by seven with the seven you factored out, and the answer was three times two times eleven!
Which was sixty six. 66.
You weren't willing to call that a good sign.
"Is she awake yet, Brother Martillius?" a smooth voice asked pleasantly.
"We believe so, Brother Baptiste. Unfortunately, we must maintain the wards or the First Stage will be wasted. If we still had the Serheim chapter, then we could find out in person."
"It is always about those damn fools! We lose one chapter fifteen years ago and it's bitch and moan oh no we lost our brethren! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I will not have my work tainted by those morons! How did they fuck up basic wardings to corral the two most common summons in our order so bad they all fucking died?!"
Well, you weren't a psych student, but that sounded like a textbook case of division in the ranks. More importantly, you had names to work with; Baptiste and Martillius. Now, though, was an excellent opportunity to work on getting some confusion and flailing going.
"I'd rather you not." A distinctly male voice said, behind you and slightly to your right. "I've already done the legwork in making sure that this attempt to summon ol' flashlights and niter is going to fizzle like a wet firework, and pull the rest of me in instead."
Spinning around, you looked, but there was nobody there.
"As I was saying, just sit down and look like the anesthesia is still wearing off. In about a minute those lightly-retarded cultists are going to come in here, fire up my summons, and you can figure out who you're sharing ritual space with."
"Who are you?" You asked, flicking your head around back and forth. "Or, more specifically, what do you want?"
The voice laughed lightly, and sounded slightly pleased. "Good questions, little lamb. Very good questions. The first would be a breach of contract, but I can tell you the second: I want to win, and these little shits called me to a football game expecting a nice little badminton match. Counterpoint- what do you want?"
The answer came to you quickly, almost too quickly. "Revenge. They attacked my home, killed my fellows, and are using me for things I neither know nor consent to."
"What would you do, then, to get revenge?"
You smiled faintly. It was not a happy smile. "They destroyed my livelihood foot and branch. I figure I can do the same."
Now that laugh boomed. "Then I'll offer you a deal, littlest shield-maiden! I'll give you the tools needed to turn this laughingstock of a ritual into a ruin, and in return you agree to carry my banner for a short while elsewhere!"
At this, your ears perk up and you sit down carefully. "What kind of tools, then? I'll tell you now, I need to know what my options are."
"A real merchant are you, then!" the voice cried. "My first boon, a power derived from myself or my family. My second, a weapon of might to break apart this cage. My third and last, an armor to preserve you so you might take my standard and carry if for the full term of service. Now, listen close, because I will only say this once."
"My first boon, the power, can be one of three choices. The first is the power of wolves, of eternal warmth and fierce strength. You will be given strength in great amounts, the ability to understand nature as you never have before, and as payment for it all the never-ending hunger. The second is the power of death, of knowing the fine line between life and unlife and some rudimentary control over it. You will be given sight to know how the life is in a person or beast, the ability to move the inherent death in a person, and as payment your beauty shall be halved now and forevermore. Finally, you could take my powers; the power of the shapeshifter. You will be able to change your form as if water, and also speak to the fires within. However, you will need to serve me twice as long, and I cannot guarantee that in the second half of your service you will live."
"My second boon, the weapon, is again one of three. The first is simple, the Dane's Axe. It will never break, dull, or fail you in battle, but against magery such as this it will be weaker than any of the others. My second is a Greatsword of the Flames. Unlike the Dane's Axe, it will hew through magecraft and wizardry without thought or heed, but in construction it is not nearly as sturdy as its companions. My last choice is the Heartswood Staff- a balance between magical potency and physical resilience. Be warned, though, it is and always has been a tool of war; and furthermore it also is no answer to every situation- it can only amplify what you yourself can do with magic. As little as that might be now, though, I am certain that with tutoring it will increase."
"Lastly, your armor. My final boon may not be the greatest, but it will be the most-used. Your options are, however, more limited. My first option is the Scarlet Hood, which may be used to conceal yourself or reveal your presence. Be warned, though, that in combat it is no great shield or protection from harm. The second choice is the Varangian Hauberk, made of fine Dwarven ringmail. While it will protect you from most anything meaning harm, I do not doubt it will be noticeable nor will you want to leave it unaugmented. Lastly, I can give you the Mantle of Warmth, a set of Master's Robes atuned to fire. Much like the Scarlet Hood, it is useless against blade or maul, but against magework it is a device without peer."
Off in the distance, you heard a cultist yell. "Soon, we will begin the ritual!"
The voice laughed, and you could almost feel it's smile. "So, what do you choose?"
First Boon
[] Power of the Wolf
[] Power of the Death
[] Power of the Change
Second Boon
[] Dane's Axe
[] Greatsword of the Flames
[] Heartwood Staff
Third Boon
[] Scarlet Hood
[] Varangian Hauberk
[] Mantle of Warmth
Who are you speaking to? (Bonus, write-in only, no penalties if incorrect. Hint: Not Mab.)
[] (write-in)