Oddskeeper Interlude
Log Info
- Title: Oddskeeper Interlude
- Emitter: Jinks
- Characters: Paenitia, Rhyn, Seyardu, Lysos
- Place: A01: Jail Cells
- Time: Monday, August 16, 2021, 6:33 PM
- Summary: After more than a few days spent rotting in a cell it seems like a certain little blue brigand is willing to talk. The bombastic airship enthusiast Jaemeigh Oddskeeper has need of Alexandrian adventurers once more! This ill-tempered fae won't interrogate itself... or it just mite. Paenitia, Rhyn, Seyardu and Lysos attend to make an effort. Jaemeigh appears recovered and like his original self. His very talkative, original self. He rambles on about this and that as the Adventurers attempt to determine the Fey Mite's motivation. Eventually, they extract that he was a slave, controlled by magic, by a clan of fey that may have originally been driven out by the Oddskeeper's ancestors. This is after they find some ancient, and dirty, family relics among the mite's posessions. There is a bit of argument between the adventurers regarding how best to get the mite's cooperation, but they finally seem to have a way forward.
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The cells at the Watch are often often full with various people: the usual, returning drunks, the occasional shifty halfling, and then a few Korites who appear to have a rotating door policy. One cell in particular is labeled, 'Sandy.' Visitors may stand outside the cells to speak, while being overseen by an officer.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Paenitia 3'0" 34 Lb Halfling Female A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery. Rhyn 5'0" 103 Lb Wild Elf Female An elvish woman clad in leather and a gray cloak Seyardu 5'6" 150 Lb Sith-Makar Female A friendly silver sith-makar with a perpetual squint. Lysos 5'6" 105 Lb Human/Tsuran Female Dark eyed tsuran girl. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Jinks 3'4" 39 Lb Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
A familiar name on the jobs board of the Adventurer's Guild drew your eye and gnawing curiosity outweighed your good sense to get you here.
The main Lodge is busy at this time of night with both plaintiffs and suspects jockeying for space as members of the watch try to manage the chaos. The din shares its volume with that of a busy tavern but the timbre is entirely different. Of note is an especially-loud gobber standing on a chair and shouting, refusing to come down or quiet until someone finds the bear(!) that stole the fish he'd been unloading at the docks around sundown.
The cells are less busy, thankfully, with the drunks still busy drinking and in control enough of their faculties to have not encountered the constabulary at this point of the evening. Still, the place does smell of unpleasant body odours enhanced by yet another day of exceptional heat and the ammonia stink of water waste spills out from buckets best left uninspected. One of the larger cells is mostly-full but the occupants busy themselves with a cardgame, using pieces of straw as stand-in for currency. Another has a pair with bloodied noses, bruised flesh, and tattered clothing dozing quietly.
Perhaps most offensive is the high-pitched voice of Jaemeigh assaulting a beleaguered and trapped-looking youthful member of the watch at the far end of the hall. "... so now he we are! Trying to get to the bottom of this whole awful affair! Awful! Can you believe it? For things to go so utterly awry!"
A little lucht knight in rusty red armour clanks her way in. Her mount has been left outside to fend for himself, as is often the case. Ramirez has mounted the gates, to stand beside the rising phoenix, and caw out challenges to those arriving, those leaving, and any within earshot of the gates. Fortunately, none have answered, but a horse-sized peacock that is also half-horse is a worrying thing to have climbing around on the wall overhead.
Inside the cells, the hippogryph's cries are distant and faint, overshadowed by the noise of the prisoners, and the rider. She walks over to Aehrick, "Hola, I am here, to help bottom this."
Rhyn is already rubbing her face, cowl pulled down extra low so as to keep her features hidden from the others. Most notably the guards and the prisoners. The former of which hardly appreciate her secrecy, but she dislikes their stares when they finally meet her distinctive eyes. She gives the cowl one last tug and steps forward, trying to get Aehrick's attention. "What has happened now sir?" Her voice is calm... for the moment, but also just slightly irritated.
Seyardu is one of those who answers the listing, having experience on the previous excursions related to this new one. And sure enough, she is one of those who finds herself at the jail, waiting and speaking to some of the more reasonable prisoners while she waits. "That can't be the Sandy I know, can it? Why would she have a cell here?" She asks idly to herself upon seeing the name on one of the rooms.
Finding Paenitia clambering in, she joins her moving further in, to find where Jaemeigh was speaking with one of the watch members. "Peace on your nest, Dame Paenitia." She greets. "And yes, we are here to help how we can. Please, speak calmly with the watch. It is easier for them to understand and assist you."
"And I... am also here." Because, yes, Lysos was curious. And, yes, she's deliberately avoiding promising help.
The supervising watchman is a stocky girl with sun-tanned skin, fresh-faced and nervous at her very recent posting. Her armor and outfit are new and immaculately clean; polished to a high-sheen where appropriate. One hand is never far from the club at her hip and the other is frequently raised to adjust the soft-leather coif she wears, having some issue with how it sits on her wide ears. She offers the arriving mercenaries a look that begs respite in spite of herself.
Jaemeigh, meanwhile, is in high spirits and looks healthier and more spry than seems possible considering previous interactions. The Khazadi eyes are still their ice-blue but sharp, cleared of the cloudy quality that had impaired them to be replaced with an aged wisdom. His back seems straighter and he manages to look somehow less ridiculous in his captain's costume; maybe it's just confidence and vigor. However, any hopes that his grating voice would be improved have already been dashed.
"Ah, hello! Hello! So many familiar faces. What luck. Fantastic luck." As the dwarf turns and throws his hands high in excitement the watchman takes a few steps back and pivots left and right, trying to find something to study and be safe from any return to Khazadi lunacy. "Our little blue friend here has decided he would like to speak and since some of you crossed swords with the knave I thought it right you be here to set the scene after your encounter. Ask the right questions. Set the tone. Pierce the subterfuge. Illuminate the dark corners of ongoing mystery--" he's going to keep going until someone else talks. He might actually have been more tolerable before.
Lysos raises a hand slowly, eyes shifting between the Khazadi and the others. Knight, Sith, cowled woman. "Remind me of what the mystery is again?"
"Of course, Friend Dragon, I will happily talk to their knees where they keep their brains, or offer the bribes, as I am told that makes them smarter too." Paenitia says happily. Is she joking? It sounds like it might be a jape, except her tone is so serious. Then again, her mask is a huge grin.
"The mystery is why Jaemeigh is so concern about an orphan, and where the Fey gremlins come from, and if there a family curse or not."
The Red Knight marches in front of the weary, young guard, stomps to attention and stares upwards at her, "Hola, I am Sister Paenitia Snapdragon del Haranna, Knight of the Pillar and Paladina of Tarien. We are hear to hear what the prisoner say."
"Then we will speak to them, and find out what there is to be found out." Seyardu nods as she listens and follows along. "I will translate if needed, as I was able to prepare magics that would help me to understand their language. The mystery, is of what caused the various problems that the crew of the airship was experiencing, and the possible sabotage of Aehricks craft."
Rhyn lets the others do the talking. Really she's not a diplomat. Anything BUT a diplomat really. She keeps her eyes on the dwarf though. She doesn't trust him as far as she could throw him.
"The one at the end, Sister... Strapdragon tel'Hernia?" the guard responds after wincing at being pulled back into the conversation. She steps back and nods her head at the far end of the row, also twisting her baton to point in the same direction without pulling it from the belt loop.
Jaemiegh falls in with the rest of the group, pushing his furlined coat open and looping his fingers into his belt. "Ikklebig. Aehrick think he's the key to all of this. Linchpin. The crux of the matter, as they say. The boy came to me while my grandson was imprisoned-- here in fact-- I think it was that cell there," he points, "but it didn't have the two rough-types. Mayhaps it was that one..." he points again, stopping to consider. He shrugs and hustles to catch up. "In retrospect it's a bit odd; taking on an orphan and having him look after your ship. Not the sort of thing I'd normally do. Out of character." He wrinkles his nose and sniffs. "And then, you know, he stabbed me and left me for dead..."
The mite has been gifted a cell of its own; narrower than those shared by a more general populations, dark and wedged into the further corner of the row. The creature is no-less hideous now than it was at the warehouse; its bulbous face is spotted with warts and blemishes, eyes yellowed and bloodshot. Without the battered armor to make its torso seem larger the oversized head on its shoulders render the creature's proportions even more unfortunate. It wears brown, baggy rags for clothes with small sacks tied at the ankles as shoes.
"It is odd, but those we found, this one in here, seem to be capable of various rituals. Perhaps they swayed your mind, as it is possible? You were able to get some around to remove the shrine, I hope?" She asks before they are within earshot of the cell. "We should see what we can learn. When we are ready, I will cast the spell."
"Snapdragon, like the flower." Paenitia says cheerfully, clanking by in the direction indicated, "Or the dragon that snaps."
She listens patiently to Jaemeigh's explanations, checking the indicated cells, finally arriving in front of the small one. She approaches the bars, "Well you do not seem to be in good shape, do you feel you have made the good choices in life?"
Rhyn continues to keep her silence, electing not to ask any questions at the moment. However she's keenly interested in the questions that were asked by her companions. She keeps her attention somewhat split between the dwarf and the ugly figure in the cell.
"Aye! Yes, yes." Jaemeigh claps Seyardu on the back. "Aehrick made arrangements with the Mithril Lady's people here in the city. Bartered some deliveries on the Horizon in exchange for a cleansing. It might be my imagination but my head is clearer than it has been in a month! My eyes! I can even hear better, I think!" That last bit might not be true; he's still shouting. It also makes staying back from the mite's cell something of a moot point. "We're still having some troubles with the ship but she's coming back together. Aehrick and the other two think the little critters crawled in deep and did all manner of damage. They've been rebuilding it almost from scratch. The ground up! Or, well, the SKY up!"
The blue-skinned prisoner stands from the narrow bench set into the stone wall and pads over when Paenitia arrives before the cell. It lifts to sets of boney fingers and wraps them around the bars, resting its forehead so two bulging eyes can see past the obstruction and strain to look back down the hall at everyone assembled. "Want... home..." it rasps, voice tiny and nearly lost entirely under Jaemeigh's rambling conversation. Surprisingly, it seems to have at least a basic grasp of Tradespeak. The creature is truly a pathetic, piteous thing to behold.
"Well. This sounds like a classic revenge... or heist... story to me," Lysos offers up, drawing up what's very likely an incorrect conclusion. "What sort of things do these..." Lysos pauses, eyeballs the mite. "What do they associate with?" She leans closer to the bars holding back the mite, speaking very slowly. "Who. Were. You. Working. For."
GAME: Seyardu casts Comprehend Languages. Caster Level: 6 DC: 14
Seyardu doesn't move from the clap on her back, but the news is good, and she nods. "I am pleased to hear that you are feeling better. Perhaps with a clear head, it may be possible for Aehrick to repair those arms he had." She suggests to Jaemeigh.
"She watches the prisoner, and she sighs, offering a prayer with a hand on her chest before she continues.
"Yes, you would tell us of what caused you to curse these people as you did. What is your name?"
"It sound like your time away has help." Paenitia surmises, looking at Seyardu, "Friend Dragon, use the magic sight also to see that no spells are in place."
The Red Knight bangs on the bars, "You want home, we want to know how you come to help Jaemeigh, and why. As she say, how you work for?"
Hearing the creature speak was... jaring. It didn't sound like sound should come from it. Not like that. Its voice didn't fit. Rhyn shifted her weight, conscious of the weapons near at hand. Particularly those close to her. "If we let it go, I have a feeling that we will regret it." She says now, to clear that out of the air.
Jaemeigh at least has the sense to stand back and let the professionals work. Takes up a spot at the back of the group and turns to find the watchman-- only to notice she's gone to hold her post at the opposite end of the hall. She's strategically placed where she can see the whole row without having to turn to look one way and then the other. It has nothing to do with avoiding the airship captain. She's a resolute and unflappable member of the city watch.
"No work. Slave. Made." The mite answers, an unsettling scratching noise issuing as it blinks slowly at Lysos. When Seyardu begins casting her spell the creature flinches-- only to whine and retreat entirely when Paenitia bangs on the bars. It crouches down, pressed into a corner of the cell. "No work! Made! Slave!" It draws out each word plaintively, whining and insistent.
GAME: Paenitia rolls sense motive: (14)+11: 25 GAME: Seyardu rolls sense motive: (3)+7: 10
There's definitely a cowardly malice to the creature. It's genuinely afraid but there's also hate in its bulging yellow eyes. It seems to also be telling the truth.
Lysos just stares at the mite, not quite comprehending initially. When Paenitia bangs on the bars, though, she winces, taking a step back. And then another. As if what the mite is.. repulses her. She glances sideways at Rhyn, and nods.. "You're probably right. And I don't think that's our decision anyways."
GAME: Seyardu casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 6 DC: 13
Seyardu does as requested, offering another prayer to illuminate any lingering magics in the air. She was still getting used to her own form lighting up so much, but she focuses, and nods.
"I understand if you were forced, but your actions still caused significant harm. You do not have to consider yourself a slave to them here, but please, help us to understand why you did what you did, what was asked of you, and for who."
The Red Knight peers intently, her face hidden by her mask. Her eyes, inscrutable behind it. She's seen prisoners, she's seen slaves. She is sworn to protect the common folk. There is nothing in her vows about them being worthy.
Her voice is hard, but with compassionate words, "He speaks true. He is a coward, full of malice and hate, but genuinely afraid of us."
She points at the creature, "You have my word, you will not be harmed by me, nor will I bring charges against you for the attack. The battle was fun enough, the others I cannot speak for, but cooperate, answer the questions, I will give the good word."
"Perhaps you are released, away from here, from the slave master that set you to this." Paenitia gestures towards the silverscale, "I let the Friend Dragon ask, for now. Answer her."
GAME: Paenitia rolls diplomacy: (16)+8: 24 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+1: (1)+1: 2 (EPIC FAIL)
Their words may simply be too big, even coming from a small person.
Rhyn is glad at least one person agrees with her, and she actually winces when Paenitia suggests that the creature /might/ be freed. She sighs, thinks about saying something but shakes her head. It won't do any good now, and hopefully Paenitia will be careful about what she says to this thing.
The wretched little mite continues to cower, pressed back into the corner and drawing its legs up. As Seyardu and Paenitia press the issue it begins shaking its head, numbly at first but then more emphatically as they continue to speak. It starts repeating "Made! Made! Made!" over and over again as if it isn't grasping the finer points of the conversation.
It calms somewhat at Paenitia's tone but gives a subtle shake of the head again. "Made," it snivels. It lifts a hand and pantomimes choking itself; calling back to the shackle and chain it had around its neck during the conflict.
"We understand if you were made to do it." Seyardu sighs once she sees them reeling back. Perhaps she would need to be more overt in her questioning."
The silver sith-makar points to the mite. "Your name?" She asks first, settling her hand at her side afterwards. "And the name of who made you do this?"
"Ask, 'Why?' Next." The Red Knight whispers to the Silverscale. She turns to look back at Lysos and Rhyn, "if you have the questions, that a good idea."
To the mite, she dumbs it down, she points at Seyardu, "Answer her. Go free."
"Me Feeg..." The mite eventually rasps after shifting uncomfortably and looking around as if reluctant to provide that information. It moves slowly away from the corner and shuffles back towards the bars, but keeps back enough to out of reach. It bends low and pushes its shoulders forward, twisting to look up with its ugly, oversized head and whines nervously like a beat dog.
"Magic. Magic do me." It sways and pushes its hands out and wiggles bony fingers while make a wet-mouthed 'fwoosh' that sends spittle dribbling from its lips. "Made Feed go. Feeg, me. Ikklebig."
Jaemeigh's gasp is sharp, and you can hear the 'pwop' as he lifts a cupped hand to cover his mouth. The dwarf's restored eyes are wide with shock.
Rhyn smacks herself on the forehead and pulls Paenitia back sharply by her shoulder. "What do you think you're doing? Promising to free it? You don't know that we can or SHOULD free it! I said that much at the beginning!" She glares down at the smaller woman and pulls backwards. "I won't be held accountable for her promises." She looks at the thing. Shudders.
"Alright," Lysos says, mostly to herself, though it's something of an acknowledgement to Paenitia's invitation. She takes a step forward, trying to keep the distaste from her expression. "Look. We find Ikklebig. You help. Maybe help you?"
Paenitia looks back at Jaemeigh, staring up at the dwarf. She has to look up at a dwarf, such is life for Luchts, "We have reunite you with your orphan. Has he grow up like you expect?"
Her odd chastisement delivered, she turns her mask towards Rhyn, "I promise the clean slate for myself and the good word. He go free, that is the dwarf decision." She peers down the length of the room, "and the guard."
"If he compelled, if he a slave, the slave master is the one to hold." The Red Knight turns to Seyardu, "find where he master is, where we should look, to break this magic. Do you have the spells to do that here?"
"Agreed." Seyardu nods. "We will consider how to help, but you will need to be ensured you will not cause any problems afterwards."
Seyardu looks confused, before she crouches down and points to them.. "Very well, Feeg." She continues. "You Feeg, Ikklebrik? Both? Or is Ikklebrik another?"
She turns to the guard from before, who was distant. "Do you have the metal restraints they came with? Have they been looked over?"
"Feeg. Feeg." The mite slaps its chest as it rasps out its name, drawing a little cough and then slurping the spittle back from its lips. It steps to one side of the cage so Seyardu is in between it and the (perceived) heated exchange involving Rhyn and Paenitia. It really is a miserable little coward. "Ikklebig 'fwooosh.'" It bends low and sticks out it hands to wiggle fingers as it spits the onomatopoeia.
"Aye, that's a mite. Filthy little vermin." Jaemeigh chimes in, blinking as he tries to make sense of this revelation. "Ikklebig is a gobber child. Smaller and... not like that," the disgust in his voice is obvious.
"We have his effects, yes." The watchman responds, raising her voice to carry across the hall. She makes no move to cross back towards the group but she is watching Rhyn and Paenitia to make sure nothing pops off, still relaxed in her stance.
"Aye." Says Rhyn, staring down at Paenitia. "So it would behoove you not to make promises you can not keep. Fae creatures have a way about them, and they'll take you at your word. Even... this kind of fae. Just because it seems harmless doesn't mean you should treat it so." She shakes her head and withdraws some, her goodwill spent.
GAME: Seyardu rolls perception: (14)+3: 17
"Feeeeeeeeeeg..." Lysos says, turning the creature's name into multiple syllables. "If you help us find Ikklebig, maybe we can make him free you. If. You. Help. Us."
"Yes, those are true. This one has play with the Fey before. I have the curse, to never speak of it." Paenitia says... truthfully? It's hard to tell. She turns from Rhyn and approaches Jaemeigh, patting him on the thigh, "My friend, you have been enchanted. This, was what you think is the orphan. Why, I do not know."
"Hopefully, it tell us."
"It is a possibility, for certain, that they were the same." Seyardu says. Her tail flicking a few times behind her at the whispering. "So, work with us, tell us what you can, please."
She waves to the guard. "Show them to us, perhaps they may provide clues to what has transpired."
Her tail is flicking angrily or from agitation, like it did the other day at the Tarrace. Something not often seen.
The mite blinks slowly at Seyardu, only opening its bulbous eyes partway so that the thing considers Lysos and then the Sith-makar with a sort of confused suspicion. "Ikklebig. Magic do. Make Feeg. Slave." It shakes its head and wiggles its fingers again, twice in fact, both before and after adding another 'fwoosh' for effect. Then it chokes itself again, dragging its massive head lower to the ground and issuing a whine. "Feeg want home."
Jaemeigh's considerable frown deepens at the notion of enchantment. He drags an age-spotted hand down his face and stretches his features as he considers the events of the past month.
The guard steps to the doorway and calls something out. It's only a few moments before a boy in simple clothes struggles into the hall and sets down a crate of (what looks to be) junk. With some reluctance, the watchman bends to collect and bring it down the hall. A steel collar and chain, a foul-smelling pouch of rancid jerky and mushrooms, a hammer to stand in as a maul, a battered, second-hand breastplate sized for the mite with an oversized Khazadi helmet, a rusted shiv of a dagger, and a taggered black cloak.
GAME: Lysos rolls bluff: (6)+18: 24
"Sad. If Feeg can't help, then Feeg will waste away," Lysos laments, putting her hand to her forehead. "Hungry and cold, lonely.. no home for Feeg. No home." She pauses. "Unless we find Ikklebig."
Feeg squats and takes its head in both hands, rasping out a pitiful whine that quickly becomes a rapid-fire string of its alien language.
The Red Knight observes for the moment, watching the efforts of the others.
GAME: Lysos rolls knowledge/nature: (12)+4: 16
"Feeg. Who is the tall cow? You know more than you speak. Tell us. Who forced you to help. Please tell what you can."
Seyardu turns to those present, offering the same prayer as before to detect any magic on the bindings. "We will need to ensure he will not cause any problems if we do release him." She says to those nearby. "Do any of you know of dealings with fey? I am afraid I have no experience."
"As I say, I am cursed not to speak of it." Paenitia repeats, tapping at the chin of her mask, "this tall cow may be a tall goat, and that may mean the demon, and not the livestock."
"However, as Rhyn explain, they take all offers as promises, and binding, and one does not break them, or you will taken by the wild hunt."
"As Mikilos explain. So, perhaps a bargain can be struck, but there is always offer for exchange, and our options limited."
"So, we make a bargain." Seyardu nods. "Is that possible? I do not know if I am the one who should be negotiating such things. But he has nothing but violence for Jaemeigh. He speaks it in his own language."
"There are songs... one we used to sing as children. Always thought they were making fun of city folk, but.." Lysos frowns, humming a few bars. "They're trapped here. I'm not sure that helps much though. Something about the mountain people, too.. which I think might be the khazad. They don't like each other very much."
Feeg is more than a little shocked when Seyardu seems to have understood what it said in its native tongue. The mite gives Lysos a guilty look and backs away shaking its head when the Sith-makar asks him about the 'tall cow.' "No. No, no, no."
It crouches down once more in the corner and tries to make itself as small as possible before tentatively answering Seyardu in whispered Undercommon. The words come slow at first but pick up speed when the cleric continues to listen.
The items in the crate aren't magic and, frankly, aren't the quality of goods you enchant. The metal might not even be worth melting down it's so poorly kept.
As soon as Lysos says 'Khazad' the mite hocks loudly and spits a chunky gob of ochre phlegm on the ground.
GAME: Paenitia rolls perception: (6)+4: 10 GAME: Seyardu rolls perception: (18)+3: 21
Paenitia makes herself useful, going through the crate. She looks at the guard, a rag would be nice. She does not ask for one. She seems to pick out the most worthless pieces.
"It make sense he hate Jeameigh, there that family promise. I don't understand his tongue. If he bark like a dog, I would."
GAME: Seyardu rolls sense motive: (1)+7: 8 (EPIC FAIL)
"Jaemeigh, take a look at this helmet. Do you recognize the make or mark?" She asks, holding up the helmet and the inside to him. "There is a leader, Ikklebig, some manner of spellcaster. He kidnapped Feeg he says, and took their brain, but they arer still here speaking to us, made them their slave. There are many more gremlins, and they, wish to destroy the airship and the cave. Did the songs say anything of making them not trapped here? Or is that not a good idea, either?"
Seyardu relays to those present, shaking her head.
"If the song is to believe," Lysos adds, her expression souring somewhat when she realizes that she is the 'tall cow', "They don't have the same.. um... compulsion about deals that other fey do."
Jaemeigh accepts the helmet curiously and holds it upside down, looking into it like a bowl. "That's... the old family crest. Before we were Oddskeepers. That means this little monster is from the Red Ridge Mountains; where my clan is from. I..." he looks down at the helmet and then across at Feeg, shaking his head. "We warred with the vermin generations ago. All Khazadi families have tales of pushing back mite squatters. What does that have to do with Ikklebig?"
"Perhap he one of the ones pushed back, perhap he hold the grudge." Paenitia suggests, finding something to stand on so she can look at the helmet.
"Ikklebig, is the one who is leading these people against you, who has control over Feeg here." Seyardu explains. "Either they disguised themself as a goblin child, or clouded your vision to think they were one. This is why the airship was in such bad shape, and why they left you to die with a knife in your stomach. They... may be planning more sabotage or violence. Perhaps against the mountain itself."
"Tale as old as time..." Lysos says, putting a fist to her mouth to cough a bit at the end of it. "Revenge."
