Water runs into the sewer, quickened by the showers of Mirtul that spill out open the exposed stress above Lori Peveril. In these chosen forms of being the Wizard does not yet identify the ways in which her inferior human form shall contract sickness from these sewers, but there is little doubt that the Mother of All Plagues has taken note of the Enchantress' espionage, even if the guards shall not. Yes, the consequences of what might happen tonight shall be felt another day.
The shaping spell with which Lori Peveril has come this far is near to slipping by the time she founders in the cells of HQ. Her means of entry is too slight to be the same means by which she might escape without employing another morphing spell. In but a few heartbeats she will lose the rewards of her first casting and become visible to all that languish hither, scarcely any different from the criminals that occupy the room but for the side of the bars on which she stands. A groan is heard, but it is a limp, lifeless thing bereft of personality and meant only for the ambience of this gloomy residence. Imminently, the Wizard has no reason to suspect the presence of guards upon this floor. Why should there be? No means but by the staircase is known for human exit and entry. Caution, however, is a well-exercised trait among the Wizarding community. Lack of physical presence might not mean that the authorities are out of earshot depending on the means of Shrett's deliverance.
The cells are occupied by insignificants. Lori recognises not one of them. In one nearby a Halfling bides grim hours: it could be Perry but for a coin landing upon Tymora's side, who is to say? What element of the roguish profession to which Halflings are so well-disposed landed this fellow here? No matter he is not the quarry.
In a matter of moments Lori Peveril shall breach her magical shape and become human altogether. In some gloomy corners and blindspots she might unveil her human form without disturbance from the occupants of the cells. Then, with another spell, she might locate her quarry. Or the chance exists that she might flee, though all other manner of chaos might surely be made possible by a wilful Wizard's will...
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