Chapter 112: A Chance To Relax
Getting drained by Stella was the most fun Kir ever had returning to his normal form. They both returned to camp with satisfied smiles on their faces; Stella’s face in the form of a Cheshire copy.
What they found, however, was the Valrian Warmancer and an older gentleman waiting as the Black Sheep gathered everything.
"Kir... is back," Sam said, their eyes smiling as Kir strode into the firelight.
"How did your fight with the demon go?" Noir asked.
"She won’t be a problem," Kir said before changing the subject. "How is Vatima?"
"Safe, thanks to all of you," Warmancer Constance answered. "We have our medic looking at her now. Hopefully magic helps her pull through her fever... but if not she will be in the gods’ hands. You might want to get looked at as well," she pointed at Kir’s chest.
The remains of Kir’s jacket hadn’t been enough to hide the blue glow inside of him.
"I’m fine, it doesn’t hurt or anything," he said. "It started after we left the dungeon."
"Hm. I’ve never seen an illness like that," the older gentleman said, peering at Kir. He was a deer beastkin, his head bent despite the fact his antlers had clearly been sawed off at the base.
"And you are?" Kir asked.
"Tsimon Demarr, a mapmaker with the Adventurer’s Guild. I’m here to collate the results of the survey teams before the camp moves south. I collected descriptions of the dungeon from your companions, but I understand you alone have survived the deeper dungeon. I would like to hear about it."