Chapter 3.b.: Distraction

The blonde guard has almost nothing of value on him. The shortsword's decent enough, but his leather armor is patchwork at best. He carries in one pocket a small, faded portrait (equivalent to a wallet-sized photograph) of a young woman, probably a couple years younger than he is. The facial features suggest that it must have been his sister. You know that these sorts of portraits were easy enough to come by in pre-War years for people of middle class or higher status, produced by magic.

Jacira carries nothing of value you can find. Her mace is nearby where she dropped it, but even her armor and clothing have suffered the ill effects of the rat swarm. Her eyes have returned to their normal color, if you check that. She seems oddly at peace, even for the unpleasant manner of her demise.

As the distraction group talks about their next move, they notice that Jacira's body is beginning to decompose. Not rot, but dry out. You can watch the process unfold right in front of you. Her cheeks grown sunken, her hair becomes brittle and crumbles away, the rest of her body beneath her clothing starts to shrink. At the pace it's going, you'd guess that if you want to do any sort of investigation on her remains, you have maybe a minute at most before she turns to dust completely.

Ember gets a sense that whatever magic or process gave Jacira the ability to sense the use of magic drew significantly on her life force. Now that she's dead, whatever transformation it induced in her seems to be sucking the remains of her body dry. It might explain the itching sensation she complained of, as though it was a constant fight to keep it from consuming her alive.

As Ember watches, Jacira's skin begins to crumble. There is little time left to study her.