- Herbs gathered, packaged, and sent to her alchemist.
- A handful of jobs accomplished for coins she would use to purchase items she couldn't barter for. (Primarily armor repairs. She had yet to find a smith that would let her trade herbs or trinkets instead of gold. She still hoped to find such a rare being).
- Disenchanting of her latest haul of broken and inferior gear. (She still needed many more shards to finish her training, but lately her hauls rarely resolved into the kind she really needed).
- Time spent in meditation. (To exercise and commune with the elemental forces whose mastery she held).
- Find a worthy sacrifice to offer the Grim.
She had no family, besides her brother, Bayou. He may have his problems, but he was a loyal soldier to the Horde, so she didn't really feel the Grim would want his death. She still harbored some hopes of talking him into re-enlisting into the guild, but she had vowed to never bring it up with him when they talked. It was something he would have to choose on his own.
Along with the "no-family" came the "no-belongings", or at least nothing of monetary value to others. She had her collection of bones, both ancient and newer things. Natural, and unnatural. She could probably sell them, -if- she found the right goblin, for a thousand gold pieces. Maybe. She'd be better off spending an hour in the swamp picking flowers or standing on the pier netting mackerel.
She looked around the small room she rented from one of the trolls on the lower south east side of Dazar'alor. She pulled her old hat down from its spot on a shelf and poked a finger into a pocket in the rim. Reassuring herself that they were still there, she dumped the contents into her hand.
The dull gleam of small polished bones winked back up at her. She had spent many an hour trying to speak to the spirit of the frog that once animated these, to bring it, if not back to life, at least back to "being". Being able to move and jump and mimic life, like her prized fossilized raptor, or even the bones of the mighty proto-drake she used to fly around the world in. Many, many hours. It was even why she had trained in enchanting, in hopes there might be some route to what she desired there. But that type of magic frustratingly eluded her.
She frowned down at the bones. They were probably the most personally precious things she owned. A tie to her childhood, and her brother's madness. A madness that could have just as easily consumed her as well. A brief surge of jealously welled up in her, but she pushed it back down. He might be a happy bull, but she preferred reality. Such as it was.
Her eyes wandered over the other shelves. Trinkets and mementos. Other bits of bones. A jar of eyeballs Anaie had asked her to hold onto for unknown reasons. She rattled the bones in her hand loosely, like dice, but also ever so gently and lovingly so that there was no chance that even one would break.
A -thought-, no, a -voice-, spoke in the midst of her silent argument. "This precious-ness is perfect. The value in sacrifice was the worth to the sacrificer, was it not?"
She opened her hand flat, and stared at the tiny things. The thought of not having them with her made her feel as if she was standing before a deep chasm.
Another voice..."No! it's a -thought-", yet another -thought- cried...
The -voice- sneered, "Yes, I'd like to see you give the High Inquisitor a handful of frog bones and ask if that's good enough to get you full membership into the Grim."
Dusk let the thoughts(!) continue their arguing as she stared at the bones. So small.
"No." She said out loud, ending the argument and the start of a headache.
She put the bones carefully back into the pocket of the hat, and then placed it back on the shelf. She needed to talk to some of the elders in Thunderbluff. Perhaps there was something else, perhaps less precious, but more symbolic, that would make a better sacrificial item.
