[IRP] Smugglers, Saints, and Spears

[Val Ritz]

"If I had to wager a guess? I'd say that was our paycheck blowin' a hole in the side of the mountain the size of Ilia. But that's just me."

Cherise rubbed her eyes and groaned. This was just great. Halfway to Bern, and they get jumped by a pack of clergy with a grudge, who just so happened to be out here waiting for them (which required its own set of questions as to how they knew that their party would be coming). Couple that to the fact that their resident explosive experts had taken it upon themselves to nearly kill them all, AND their cargo to boot, and this was beginning to look like the headache to end all headaches once she got back to camp and had to report to Mother.

"Barry, do me a favor. Actually, scratch that. Two favors. One, let me buy your grizzled ass a drink once we get back to Etruria. Two, if I ever decide to hire mages for another job ever again, just punch me real hard. Let's go see if there's anythin' left of 'em that we can pawn off to make some sort of money offa this job."

She sighed heavily and stuffed her hands in her pockets, wandering back toward the blast site.