Having set in motion a plan to kill the SQUIP, it's inevitable that Myr would have to meet the thing eventually.
While there was a certain dramatic appeal in making that meeting both their first and their last (however it came out--Myr's not confident about his odds, yet, but he had to try), it was a stupid idea from both a tactical and strategic standpoint. Lessons at the Coven could fill him in on what Witches might be capable of, Connor and Linden had provided some information on how the creature thought and behaved, but any deeper understanding of what the SQUIP was required direct experience.
If this were Thedas--if this were the Fade--he'd be an idiot to go to a demon's lair alone. He doesn't feel like much less of one doing it here in Aefenglom, but there's no one he could (no, be truthful: would) bring with him as insurance against it simply dispatching him and disposing of his body with no one the wiser. He had to trust it was altogether less violent than the demons he was used to,
Or that if it wasn't, and he didn't show up at work tomorrow, the notes he'd left for Rich and Everett would be delivered like he'd asked.
This is and isn't a social call: Myr's on the SQUIP's doorstep to talk, but not be friendly, and so he's foregone his usual guest-gift of food and hadn't even bothered to change back to his robes from the nondescript plain-spun clothes he wears for gardening. He's quite the picture of an almost-knight-enchanter, dirt-smudged and with his staff slung across his back as he stands at the door of the SQUIP's cottage and knocks.
wanders on in here like hey demons, its me, ya boy
While there was a certain dramatic appeal in making that meeting both their first and their last (however it came out--Myr's not confident about his odds, yet, but he had to try), it was a stupid idea from both a tactical and strategic standpoint. Lessons at the Coven could fill him in on what Witches might be capable of, Connor and Linden had provided some information on how the creature thought and behaved, but any deeper understanding of what the SQUIP was required direct experience.
If this were Thedas--if this were the Fade--he'd be an idiot to go to a demon's lair alone. He doesn't feel like much less of one doing it here in Aefenglom, but there's no one he could (no, be truthful: would) bring with him as insurance against it simply dispatching him and disposing of his body with no one the wiser. He had to trust it was altogether less violent than the demons he was used to,
Or that if it wasn't, and he didn't show up at work tomorrow, the notes he'd left for Rich and Everett would be delivered like he'd asked.
This is and isn't a social call: Myr's on the SQUIP's doorstep to talk, but not be friendly, and so he's foregone his usual guest-gift of food and hadn't even bothered to change back to his robes from the nondescript plain-spun clothes he wears for gardening. He's quite the picture of an almost-knight-enchanter, dirt-smudged and with his staff slung across his back as he stands at the door of the SQUIP's cottage and knocks.
Here goes nothing.