A few years ago, Deekin would have been very cavalier about this weird demiplane that just inserted itself into the Underdark, much as he was about basically everything. Times have changed, though; now Tynan is a factor, so instead of skipping merrily towards the bar, Deekin keeps his crossbow high and his stance low, even as the baby pokes his head out of his rucksack and babbles merrily.
...This place doesn't seem to be dangerous in any way.
This is intensely suspicious.
But after a quick casting of See Invisibility, a nip of Barkskin potion for Tynan, and a nice loud Curse Song in case someone's still hiding somewhere, Deekin feels comfortable enough to sit at the very polite bar and get free drinks. (Tynan gets some kind of strange black milk, which he obviously enjoys. Deekin gets something he thinks might be apple cider with a shot of cow blood, which is very nice even if it does kind of remind him of Tymofarrar.)
"What is this," she says. It's phrased like a question, but sounds more like a general demand of the universe.
Deekin peers at the color and style of her armor, and elects to keep his crossbow close to hand.
"Bar, apparently? Deekin check for traps and murder, but none apparent. Unless you planning to be murderous, in which case please let Deekin finish drink."
"I am not planning to be murderous," says the woman, looking warily at Deekin.
"Deekin also not planning murder!" he reassures her. "Just wary, because for past few years Deekin has been wandering underground cavern system full of real dickbags, and Deekin have baby on board so crossbow finger gets kind of twitchy. But your ears not pointy and your skin not grey, which is good sign. You human?"
"... Yes," she says.
Deekin nods. "Good, good. Humans still frequently dicks, but drow really take cake on statistical likelihood. You get one free drink at bar, incidentally. Unless you really like to stand up and and look suspiciously at perfectly innocent kobold."
"Standing around looking suspiciously at people is one of my very favorite hobbies," she says dryly.
"Armor lady get along well with demon boy," Deekin notes. "Many shared hobbies."
"'Demon' boy?"
"Boy who have demon for dad," Deekin explains. "He fight devils for very long time in Abyss, then come to Prime Material Plane when he not want to fight devils anymore. Then he get kind of creepily obsessed with protecting least terrible drow lady, so he spend lots of time glaring at people to protect her. Deekin not sure how glaring protect drow lady, but Deekin not tell demon boy how to do job."
"I have," says the woman, "no context for any of that. Abyss? Prime Material Plane? What part of the galaxy are you from?"
"Deekin not sure what galaxy is, so we pretty much even, Deekin thinking. Abyss infinite hole full of infinite demons, demons being awful monsters who love torture and war and death. Prime Material the place where normal people live."
"I think everyone considers their home normal and everywhere else very weird, so that doesn't narrow it down, exactly. What species live on the Prime Material?"
Deekin makes a face. "Lots? Um. Human, elf, orc, kobold, dwarf, dragon, goblin, gnoll, bugbear, stinger, medusa, werewolf, giant, naga, tiefling, aarakocra, illithid, vampire, lich, demilich, elf with wings, drow elf, duergar dwarf, svirfneblin gnome - no Underdark kind of human, weirdly. Deekin wonder why there no Underdark kind of human?"
He appears to be distracted.
Interesting. That's a long list of species that she's never heard of in her life. Something very strange is going on.
"Well, it theoretically possible, but Deekin been wandering Underdark with lots of people shooting at him for very long time, so Deekin think he meet just about everybody. Plus, Deekin know lots of stories, and there plenty of stories with drow elf, but no stories with Underdark human. Not even story from Old Master about dragon eating Underdark human, and usually if species exist dragon has tried eating it."
Tynan finishes his bottle of shadowmilk and crawls energetically towards the scary-armor lady. Deekin looks very intently at this interaction, hand twitching on the stock of his crossbow.
"I see. Do you have holos of some of these species? I don't recognize the names but I might recognize them by sight."
Deekin shrugs off his rucksack and begins rummaging around in it.
He pulls out three sets of steel plate armor, one axe whose head is the size of his torso and set with twin fist-sized rubies, and a flaming sword before finally arriving at a leather-bound tome which looks like it weighs significantly more than he does. He lifts it without much trouble and slams it down on the bar, opening it to a lovingly drawn sketch of a snow-white dragon.
"That dragon," he clarifies. "Deekin have other pictures, if you want."
"... I don't recognize it. May I see the others?"
Deekin flips around, finding sketches of a beautiful though irritated drow maiden, a sneering orc ("only half-orc, but took after dad," Deekin notes), a sour-faced dwarf girl, and a glaring tiefling.
"That demon boy," he says absently. "Deekin sort of wish he had paint, his hair really red."
"Hm," she says. "Something very odd is going on here."
Tynan burbles inquisitively.
Deekin looks uncomfortable, but flips to a page with a slightly faded picture of a heavily armored male human posing heroically, infant in one hand and sword in the other. Tynan burbles delightedly. "Aaand that human. You know human, Deekin know human, Tynan obviously wasting everyone's time."
"I'm afraid I don't understand how he would be wasting time, if he were wasting it. Would you explain?"
Deekin looks slightly even more uncomfortable. "Well, um, no new information gained by looking at picture of human, so. Wastes time."
"Dada," Tynan contributes.
Deekin winces. "Also that."
She sits, leaving an empty seat between herself and Deekin.
"I see."
Tynan clambers back up onto the bar, crawls into Deekin's pack, and returns with a small gold coin clutched in his hand. He deposits this onto the bar and receives a rusk, which he gums appreciatively.
"So, what about Human Lady plane? No elves, no kobolds; what kinds of people you got?"
"Many. We'd be here a while, if I tried listing them all. ... Do you have just the one planet?"
Deekin cocks his head. "Well, Prime Material only be one plane. Abyss, Celestia, Nine Hells all different planes, lots of others too but Deekin not remember." He considers. "Deekin guess Negative and Positive Energy plane, and Elemental Planes, but most of them just infinite expanses of light or fire or air or whatever, so they not really count in Deekin's opinion."
Tynan babbles reproachfully. Deekin rolls his eyes. "Also Plane of Shadows, yes, thanks Tynan. Plane of Shadows mostly just like regular Material Plane but darker, though. And full of slightly worse people."
"And planes are? Different - dimensions?"
"Yep! Portals and stuff get you between planes easy. Pity there not more of those, really. Or Plane Shift scrolls. Deekin would pay lots of money for Plane Shift scroll."
"I see. And you'd go... where?"
"Somewhere less people try to shoot Deekin and steal baby be nice," Deekin suggests drily. "Deekin mention Underdark not very nice place? Underdark not very nice place. Very low-rent neighborhood of Prime Material. Deekin go to Sigil and find portal to nicer part of Prime Material, maybe first visit outsider baby doctor to find out why Tynan not aging, find way to free ghost from sword so he can be golem instead, sidequest stuff."
"There's a ghost in a sword?" she asks, because what.
Deekin retrieves a sword from his pack, displacing several more objects which really should not fit in a bag that size.
"Ah, once again my services as a party trick are called for," the sword(?) says. "How very dignified. Who is that woman and what in the world is she doing to her life force?"
"What I do with my life force is entirely my business, thank you," she sniffs, without even a surprised pause, even though internally she's wondering what. "Is it hurting you in any way?"
"No," the sword sniffs back. "I'm just making conversation, I'm sure."
"Human lady is nice, don't be mean," Deekin chides. "Taste in armor may be questionable and Drowy but otherwise totally not evil."
"Thank you," says the human lady who is apparently nice. ... She probably shouldn't break it to him that she's a sith. "I apologize for accidentally summoning you as a - party trick. Deekin mentioned a ghost, I was curious."
"I'm not a ghost," sighs the sword. "Well, sort of. I'm the soul of a human, Enserric the Grey, contained in the blade that killed me. Ghosts aren't people; they don't grow, they hardly ever even remember anything beyond what's relevant to their haunting. I, on the other hand, form memories, opinions, and have even been known to occasionally change my mind. As far as I can tell, I'm as much of a person as you or the nanny here."
She'll leave off the 'Lord' for now. She's trying not to be scary.
Deekin grins toothily. "Deekin Scalesinger. Pleasure acquaintance meet etcetera."
"I didn't know you had a surname," Enserric says, nonplussed.
"Deekin made up surname few weeks ago," Deekin says. "'Scalesinger' sound cool."
"I've definitely heard people sincerely call themselves much worse names."
"Demon boy name 'Valen Shadowbreath,' also chose himself. Lots of bad names in world."
"... Shadowbreath?" she repeats, amused. "Well. It doesn't beat Kallous. ... Spelled incorrectly, of course, because how else do you prove that you are scary and tough."
Deekin nods. "Calluses very tough. Notable feature of callus. Not so scary, though."
"I think it was more in line with callous, for uncaring, but - yes. Not very scary."
"A man who wants an intimidating name should check for homophones beforehand," Enserric drawls. "And ideally, he should also check that it doesn't make him sound like an idiot."
"Quite."
"So," Enserric continues, "what do you do that brings you into contact with men with stupid names and calls for black armor? Are you an adventurer, or is that more of a local phenomenon?"
"I believe that's more of a local phenomenon, though - what do adventurers do? Maybe there's a comparison point."
"Descend into tombs, dungeons, ruins, et cetera. Retrieve treasure. Slay monsters who have made themselves inconvenient to nearby populations. Dodge questions about their line of work."
Her? Dodge questions? Never.
"Mm."
Never has a sword looked quite so unimpressed. It's a mystery how he manages to convey body language without anything even resembling a face or, for that matter, body.
Callida just smiles innocently.
"Deekin, would you give some musical accompaniment to this awkward silence? A 7-chord on the Ganadon Lyre would be much appreciated."
Deekin rolls his eyes at the sword, but begins rummaging through his bag. "Always wanting specifics."
She shifts a bit, ready to bolt. And grab her lightsaber, of course, but she would like to dodge an attack first. Being able to block it is not guaranteed.
Deekin comes up with a beautifully crafted lyre. He strokes its strings and accompanies himself with a melodious humming.
In a wash of strange energy (not like the Force, but something), the runes inscribed in the wood glow a pale, greyed-out blue. "Deekin tell you," the kobold grumbles.
Enserric makes a frustrated noise. "Oh, shove it."
"What was that," she demands, standing abruptly.
"Checks for evil," Deekin says mildly. "Magic stuff. Sword is paranoid jerk."
"And what would have happened had it said I was?" she snarls.
Deekin waves a hand. "Some of Deekin's best friends evil. Deekin maybe have to leave, but unnecessary murder not great life policy."
"If I were 'evil,' by whatever bizarre definition a fucking lyre has," growls Callida, "Why would you think it a good idea to piss me off by invading my privacy with an artifact?! If I were evil, I'd shown you no hostility, just a desire for privacy! Which you just invaded!"
Deekin shrugs. "Sword?"
"You were being evasive!" Enserric complains. "I didn't reach the age of eighty and then get murdered by a skeleton king by trusting people!"
Deekin nods. "Sword. Paranoid dick. Keep Deekin and Tynan alive for several years of Underdark nonsense, but paranoid dick. Deekin not think you were evil anyway, just indulging dumb sword. No privacy invasion except evil or no, though, glowiness not very information-dense communicative metric."
She breaks out the air quotes. "'It's not privacy invading except evil or no' oh, I'm sorry, do you know my life situation, do you understand that certain questions getting magical affirmatives could literally get me killed? No? Then don't! fucking! assume!"
Deekin is beginning to look tense.
"Sorry. Rude to do unfamiliar magic, Deekin understand. Not big spell back home, nobody get mad about detection, Deekin not think about it. Deekin know for fact impossible for spell to explode or be allergic, though. And questions getting magical affirmatives very privately, considering we only people here, so unless question getting answered kills you instantly Deekin not think it huge concern. And Deekin not know about evil-baggage, so Deekin not think it very fair to blame him for not knowing other-universe human ladies got some kind of trauma history with evil, when back home nobody think like that!"
Tynan climbs atop his head and starts rubbing his spines. Deekin exhales and starts tapping his fingers on the table jerkily. "Deekin not liking interpersonal conflict much. Sorry shouting."
"... Apology accepted," she huffs, after counting to ten in her head and reminding herself that she can use this to extort useful items out of him. "Do not do anything like that to me ever again without my express permission. And I do not recommend just assuming other people's cultures are like yours and that means it's okay to do whatever you want. Understood?"
She sits. Fuming.
"Deekin not planning on it," he snaps.
"...Sorry," he adds, after a bit. "Sorry again, sorry better. Hard to apologize right when yelling happening. Used to apologize too much when Old Master angry, now just get angry when shouting happening."
"I apologize for yelling," she says, with a surprising degree of sincerity for how upset she is. But that is what happens when you casually cast magic on me without my permission, she doesn't add, because that is not helpful.
Deekin smiles shakily. "Nice of you."
He gets a bottle out of his bag and knocks back the blue-green liquid inside. There's a strange glow to it, and when he's finished he himself seems for a moment filled with sunlight.
He shakes his head vigorously, and turns back to Callida with the light returned to his eyes. "Blessing potion. Good stuff; calm down, feel better, not scared, not sick, no bad stuff. Want some? Very good for Deekin, maybe good for Callida too."
She takes deep, steadying breaths, and carefully focuses on the crystals in her lightsaber. They are soothing, they are familiar, they are hers. She's done this sort of thing before, because - well, she's a sith. She has been angry before. A lot.
She systematically zaps her anger without repressing it. It is valid, it isn't incorrect, but it is inconvenient and unhelpful, and she won't solve anything by being angry, and if she demands nothing else of herself, she will demand that she be more than a mindless rage monster.
(Enserric quietly notes that her weird life force thing is doing weird shit. And that cylinder thing is... some kind of focus?)
Tynan goes over and attempts to lick the hilt of her lightsaber. Tynan is a bastion of good life decisions.
Her anger's just about zapped, the last bits of it will just have to fade with ordinary conversation.
"Hello there," she says to Tynan.
Tynan burbles genially at her.
Enserric wonders aloud, "Do you fight? I would be fascinated to see that life-flow... thing... in action. I preemptively volunteer Deekin as a sparring partner."
Deekin shrugs. "If lady wants."
"... I do, but no. I would rather not."
Enserric sets about pouting, quite a feat for a sword.
Deekin fiddles with the teeth on his necklace absently. "Deekin kind of wondering about human lady magic now. Not like Toril magic, but Enserric say interesting, plus sparks... Just sparks? Other stuff?"
Because, you know. Grievous privacy invasion.
Deekin frowns thoughtfully. "Toril magic lots of stuff, but for some reason most of it for killing things. Deekin got three scrolls in bag for kill somebody with lightning but none for build a table? Deekin think that very strange, personally. And then song magic, not really magic but with songs Deekin make people strong and fast and good at things. And Enserric eat life force and Deekin got other weapons in bag with fire or ice power and stuff. Plus berries. Berries still for killing things though. Very strange."
"Berries that kill things. How very macabre. Did someone invent the magic?"
"No, no, berries just help kill things. Look!"
Deekin pops a red berry into his mouth. His teeth and claws burst into flame, though heat doesn't radiate from them past a few inches. "Very helpful berries."
With an effort of will, the flames flicker out. Deekin continues, "Deekin think magic must be invented, at least wizard kinds. Sorcerers maybe just finding magic inside themselves or something, who know what bards doing, but Deekin know at least some spells for killing things named after wizard who made them, so."
"And wizards don't - I don't know. Make spells for summoning ration bars?"
"Oh, no, spell for that is very common. Deekin got bag of endless trail rations, taste like sawdust but very nutritious. But... one spell for food, six spells for killing with lightning. Deekin try to count how many ways to kill with lightning once, lose count after lots."
"What is it with it always being lightning," mutters Callida.
Deekin shakes his head quickly. "Oh, definitely not always lightning. Fire much more common. Ice common also. Sometimes acid. Every once in a while sound or searing holy light or raw force or concentrated essence of un-life."
"I remember one spell that created water in the foe's lungs," reminisces Enserric. "Some druid came up with it, of course. Druids are bastards."
"Drowning spell sound better than evaporate all water in body spell," notes Deekin. "That being wizard stuff."
Enserric sniffs. "The distinction is subtle, and perhaps unsuited to the reptilian brain."
"Honestly, evaporation sounds better to me than drowning. It's faster. Drowning takes time."
Deekin shrugs. "Hey, Deekin still use evaporate spell. Sometimes needing to kill lots of guys with swords at once. Just saying it not very nice."
"I think killing people is typically not considered very nice," says Callida, dry. "... How do you learn your magic?"
Deekin shrugs. "Deekin not learn magic properly, really. Old Master say normal way take years, maybe decades, and kobold lifespan not great. But Deekin have natural talent, so Old Master teach channeling dragon-style, so Deekin got couple of spells and can cast others from scrolls and wands and stuff, instead of cast all the spells but be old and have to go to battle with cane so Deekin not break hip."
Enserric coughs delicately. "If you wanted to learn magic yourself, as I assume was the actual point of that question, you would probably either need to come back with us to our world and find a teacher, or get a lot of books and resign yourself to occasionally being on fire until you're learned properly."
"When you say occasionally being on fire... How bad of a fire are we talking?" she wonders, seriously. "If it's just being on fire, well - that's actually not bad, I can work near bodies of water or fire suppressors, but if that's a stand in for other horrible things that could happen..."
"There are other horrible things, but they are for the most part less dramatically unpleasant than being on fire. The main problem is that if you do catch fire, something went wrong, and it's very difficult to actually figure out what when you're the one casting the spell, and further mistakes will generally set you on fire again. Or encase you in a thin layer of rock, or generate a cloud of butterflies, or turn your fingernails into wasps. Hence the reliance on apprenticeship."
"My fingernails into wasps. That sounds far more dramatically unpleasant than being on fire, being on fire can be quickly handled by various methods of dousing or smothering, wasps in place of fingernails is less so. Is there a guarantee I could get back to my, uh, world, after going with you?"
"Transformations of that kind are easily dispelled," Enserric says dismissively. "...though of course, without a mentor you would be unlikely to have access to dispelling magic," he admits.
"Deekin could teach to use dispelling wand," Deekin suggests. "Or harp, or cup, or sword. Lots of dispelling items. Easy fix, and mostly just taking space in Deekin inventory."
"As to whether you could return... I'm not certain. Does the bar know anything about it?"
Doors to Milliways cannot exactly be depended upon, but if she ever finds one, she can return to her world by entering the bar and opening the door back out; it always leads to one's home universe. Without a door, however, return could not be guaranteed without the intervention of Fharlanghn or an entity of greater power with domain over travel, such as the Lady of Pain.
Enserric sucks in a breath. "Implausible, then."
"Charming. ... Also, um? Hello, bar?"
Hello. Would you like your free drink?
"Not, at the moment, uh. ... What can you tell me about how -" she peers at the other napkin, "Milliways works?
Milliways is a pocket dimension isolated from the rest of reality both spatially and temporally. While you are in Milliways and the door is closed, you experience time which does not pass in your own world, unless you have no intention of or are somehow incapable of ever returning to your own world, in which case time will resume. The same applies if you follow someone into their own universe, with occasional inconveniently arbitrary exceptions which do not apply if you remain in Milliways. I have no connection to or communication with the agent(s) of the door or the temporal effects; I cannot actually be certain agents for such exist, but evidence suggests that bargoers are selected for being 'interesting', which implies at least that a sophisticated algorithm is in place. At any rate, I am an agent only of the bar itself, as an interface for the purchase of food, drink, and near-arbitrary nonmagical objects and matter.
"Do very comprehensive books on magic count as nonmagical?"
There is a pause. Which you are not. I just checked.
"Well, is there a best set for learning it that was ever published available?"
"Leave off Blackstaff's gibberish," Enserric recommends. "The man had some very funny ideas about the order in which one should teach the fundamentals. I mean, really, did he expect every apprentice to arrive on the scene knowing the precise ontological differences between deception via illusion and via enchantment? What an utter prick."
Your friend's argument is repeated in certain contemporary reviews of the book in question, Bar notes. Although most appear to be his own writing.
"Passionate feelings on the subject, eh? Well. Okay, Enserric, you were the wizard, what are some of the best books for it?"
"Well!"
Enserric does indeed have passionate feelings on the subject. He never personally published anything beyond a few treatises, but he was firmly entrenched in academia in life, and his expertise is not to be scoffed at.
Tynan occupies this span of ranting by clambering over Deekin's wings, while Deekin quietly takes notes, perhaps looking to expand his own magical repertoire.
Worse, she asks questions. Why this book, is there a weakness in it that can be made up with another book, is there a reason to the order he's chosen?
His reasoning is not always flawless; he seems to have some grudges against certain people for various reasons (mostly Khelben Blackstaff, as either the subject of or reason for the grudge), which sometimes color his choices. However, he's not going to get too huffy if she disagrees with him, as it is after all her shopping list.
"Thank you," she says sincerely, when she has a list.
"Oh, certainly," Enserric demurs. "It's only a pity I can't teach you myself, really; I always did want a really clever apprentice."
"Thank you," says Callida, pleased. Though someone already beat you to it...
"Deekin wondering about quality of life in Human Lady world as compared to Underdark," Deekin says slowly.
"That depends very highly on where you decide to live. It's a very big galaxy."
Deekin shrugs. "Deekin can probably make living anywhere will have Deekin. Can conjure stuff, can do magic, all else fails Deekin can see who needs killed for money. Deekin just not want stay trapped in caves rest of life where half of time boring and half of time run away from death and half of time kill people for look at Deekin funny and have pointy ears and Deekin not taking chance with baby. Any places where Deekin could raise baby, study how fix baby without drow shooting Deekin, maybe fight evil if any evil need fighting, that place where Deekin want to be."
"There are likely places that I could get you to that fit that description, but there's a very large scale war going on and that makes it complicated. There are some neutral places but not all of them will have the luxury of remaining such. ... And I'm not certain you could avoid attention forever, someone might notice you and your magic eventually and decide to try to threaten you to help their side of the war."
"Human lady have side on war? Deekin trust human lady judgment; Deekin help human lady win war if she want. Then no more war, plus human lady win."
"Um." Pause. "I am, technically, on a side in the war, but I think that if we win it we should not win it at the current point in time, because. It would be a huge mess, and lots of people would get hurt." Also, enslaved. Lots of people would get enslaved.
"Hm."
Deekin considers this.
"Deekin could put human lady in charge of side. Or new side. Then win war."
(The kobold does not seem to harbor much doubt that he could win a war as part of a faction with two and a half members.)
"I. Am. Not sure you could actually manage that, everyone involved is very powerful, and not just in the immediate sense. I wouldn't have factories for building starships or planets with people to serve as soldiers or any sort of administration, or. I am also not sure I could competently be in charge of a group of people of that size, I don't even, what would my government's structure look like?"
"So, not even putting in charge of current side to make less bad?"
"I am not convinced you could stably put me in charge of my current side, there are. Lots of. Lots of people that are very good at murder that would disagree with me being in charge."
Deekin sighs regretfully. "Godlike power always surprisingly difficult to convert into political stability. And... Deekin just ask, other side not better?"
"In most ways it is, but it's. There are flaws. It's not perfect either. And - I would not be able to do as much as I do already if I were on that side, I would hurt someone I care about a great deal if I defected, and I'm not even certain I could pull it off without getting assassinated, so."
He shakes his head. "Deekin still rather be in warzone than Underdark. Deekin can fortify location, hide himself... Deekin just want to have home for once."
"Okay. Then. A quiet out of the way neutral planet? Or - possibly you could wait for someone else to enter this bar, if other people can find it. Maybe avoid the Underdark and a warzone."
"Eh. Deekin thinking apart from war, new universe sound very interesting. Deekin not want to be stuck with universe only got one planet, one species, no starships..." He shrugs. "Deekin want to be safe, not bored."
"Also," interjects Enserric, "I would really like to meet some more people with your life-force magic. Preferably ones who I haven't already offended. So that's my vote."
Tynan pokes his head back out of Deekin's pack and babbles enthusiastically in Callida's general direction. "And baby makes three," Enserric says with a verbal shrug.
"... Okay. But not being bored implies you'd do more than just find a quiet planet to live on? So, I would be responsible for anything you do after, and therefore I want to know if you will do anything besides find a quiet planet to live on."
"No, no, no," Deekin reassures her. "Deekin talking about, you know, diversity of species. Get perspectives on life from aliens. Turn nice quiet planet into haven for war refugees and defend at all costs. Possibly go on galactic road trip for weekend."
Enserric groans loudly. "If you tell the unadulterated truth one more time I swear to Mystra I am going to rust myself."
"I prefer the unadulterated truth, actually," says Callida. "Galactic road trip? What do you mean by galactic road trip, just. Touring interesting things? That have probably all been blown up?"
"Probably! Maybe collect more refugees for haven. Deekin's plans flexible. Definitely not getting involved in war beyond refugee harboring, sounds very unpleasant."
The interesting thing about being perfectly honest all the time is that people often forget that you can lie. Deekin has become very good at being perfectly honest.
Draconic channeling is a complex process, and training in that process necessitates that the student learn control. Control of oneself, control of one's environment, and most of all control of one's thoughts. Deekin's thoughts at the moment are split between ingenuous joy at being free of the dark and danger, earnest planning of how best to protect hundreds or thousands or millions of innocents from a galaxy-spanning war, and an ever-present awareness of the child on his back.
Notably absent is the thought that he is going to find whoever is responsible for the harm that has been done to his soon-to-be home and destroy even the dust that remains when he has disintegrated them.
She is going to be checking up on him because that's good practices, but she doesn't think he's lying to her.
Deekin nods vigorously. He will definitely consult someone on the proper order of operations when he kills the Emperor.
"Deekin can give you instant communication with Deekin over any distance if that helps. Even if just for chatting, really, would be nice to have friend to talk with in new universe."
"That - would be good, yes." Pause. "And I'm going to be absolutely livid if you're lying to me and planning to go do something stupid on your own."
Deekin waves a claw dismissively. "Deekin understand all your points! If Deekin want to assassinate people Deekin will ask for advice, but right now Deekin just want to protect little family of Deekin and Tynan and Enserric and possibly several million refugees. Want communication now?"
"Yes, please."
Deekin takes Enserric in hand, and the blade shimmers into a ritualistic-looking dagger whose blade is no longer quite real. His wings unfurl with the sound of a thousand fingers along a thousand wineglasses, and as he stands up from his seat he begins to sing.
His speaking voice is high-pitched and unimpressive. Put uncharitably, he talks like a living dental drill. Singing, though, he's a crystalline tenor, filling the air with wordless notes pitched in perfect harmony with the vibrations of the universe. He accompanies himself, somehow, with his wings; looking very closely, they seem to be slowly working along a suite of invisible violins, a ten-part harmony executed perfectly by every twitch of his body. The dagger in his hand works like a conductor's baton dictating the beat of a thousand inhuman hearts.
After some minutes of this, his eyes fill slowly with brilliant light, which flows across the divide into Callida's own. The music fades out; Deekin slumps, bleeding from his slitted eyes, and gropes around his pack for a potion of healing, which he knocks back to obvious relief. "Wooh. Fun... times."
Callida should maybe not let this person into her universe without being very very sure of them.
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah, Deekin fine. Spell not great for squishy little kobold body. Breaks some stuff on way out."
And now we can talk telepathically!
"Okay, uh. How do I do that?"
Just- think at me, I guess. Think a phrase with the intention for me to hear it. It's pretty intuitive if you let yourself intuit it, really. Oh- but, I should let you know, Enserric can hear this if he wants, as his wielder he's kind of integrated into my soul.
'Lo, Enserric drawls. I'll butt out if you'd rather.
Like this? she attempts.
From Enserric comes the sound of facetious applause.
Huzzah! Deekin cheers.
Back in meatspace, Tynan rolls his eyes at the general telepathy and vanishes back into his haversack/apartment.
Thank you, Enserric. I see you're doing great on not offending life-force people.
Well, I do try. A lifetime of academia followed by several more lifetimes of sitting around in a roomful of skeletons does not do wonders for one's social graces.