[IRP] Smugglers, Saints, and Spears

[WyvernSlayer]

Barry’s face contorted into a puzzling glare as Cherise wandered back to the cave mouth.

“Not n’tirely sure what hirin’ mages has gotta do with this mess. Just a bad patch of luck, runnin’ into the Church, that’s all.” Barry stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed her. Just then, Ray came into view and immediately started spouting copious nonsense about the sensitivity of spellbooks or whatever. Barry tried to let it go in one ear and out the other, but once Panika rejoined them, he got an earful that was unavoidable.

“She's the one that took the goddamn cargo you were holding, and she had already invoked power, so the damn thing was lost to start with.”

Barry sensed that this little squabble might end up turning violent, so he quickly darted in between Panika and Cherise and held his arm wide to prevent the two from fighting.

"Don't pin the blame on us when you were too busy running away saving your own ass. Did you think we were dead? No way, Jose." Panika continued to snarl.

“Hey now, easy, Lass!” Barry pressed one of his palms against Panika’s shoulder to keep her from getting too close. “I don’t know as to what that book was about either, but there’s no sense pissin’ and moanin’ at each other about it now!” He turned his back to Panika and looked back at Cherise and Ray. “Now seein’ as how we’re up this creek without our paddle, why don’t we double on back to Etruria and give the word to the church?” Barry waited in silence for a moment, then walked past Cherise, back down the mountain path.

“Besides,” he muttered over his shoulder, “I was gettin’ thirsty anyway.”