Several different muscles protest the unusual amount of stretching and pulling he's been asking of them. Need clamps down on each twinge, not allowing the tissues to tear. This is why she hasn't given Raistlin the full measure of physical ability she's capable of lending. Without time to study his body and figure out a more comprehensive plan for the spell, he could hurt himself.
When the trapped woman appears Need takes this opportunity to split her focus, watching the withering visual effect on the woman - it reminds her of a lot of things she'll want to try to remember in more detail, but it's also a fascinating and hilarious reflection of the dislike she feels coming off them both - but also getting her first good look at the face of the young mage who's insisting on becoming her bearer. The lighting's bad, but what she gets does reinforce her idea that he's some kind of Changechild. She'll have to ask, maybe his homeland has people with metallic skin and... keyhole? pupils without magical alteration.
...Living people probably don't generally see something as gruesome as a person falling to decay like this and go so quickly to morbid amusement. Ah, well. Need tries to keep her perspective human, but she knows that she only seems to feel rage and love very strongly anymore, and gets any other strong feelings from the emotions radiating off of people.
Speaking of. She would've been content to let Raistlin leave at this point, but she feels a bow wave of misery boiling rapidly in their direction. Need roars, :WAIT! GET DOWN!:, fires a mental compulsion at the cook, who squeaks as she goes to her knees, and constructs the single shield she still has in her repertoire, bubbling it up over the three humans and herself before another Nightrender comes in at a jerky trot. Lightly scorched by a faerie's defensive spells, it's here looking for less well guarded prey. It pauses, looking left and right with its great clawed hands flexing.
:Quiet. No talking, don't move. You're not invisible, just less noticeable,: Need says in her harsh metal-on-metal voice, and the two women flinch to hear her. The baby is much too young to understand, and the simple compulsions she can make through deliberately targeted Mindspeech just aren't that strong. His tiny face has screwed up.
She wonders if she can kill the awkward construct-thing that she still insists on calling a walking dyrstaff. In the normal course of things? Absolutely. Now? Well, she can calculate several ways to close the distance and attack it using Raistlin's body - the joints seem like a good bet - but that might not work, and also he might fight her and slow everything down. :Other ideas, boy? Getting one of the fairies over here would help. They're too shielded for me to contact myself.:
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When the trapped woman appears Need takes this opportunity to split her focus, watching the withering visual effect on the woman - it reminds her of a lot of things she'll want to try to remember in more detail, but it's also a fascinating and hilarious reflection of the dislike she feels coming off them both - but also getting her first good look at the face of the young mage who's insisting on becoming her bearer. The lighting's bad, but what she gets does reinforce her idea that he's some kind of Changechild. She'll have to ask, maybe his homeland has people with metallic skin and... keyhole? pupils without magical alteration.
...Living people probably don't generally see something as gruesome as a person falling to decay like this and go so quickly to morbid amusement. Ah, well. Need tries to keep her perspective human, but she knows that she only seems to feel rage and love very strongly anymore, and gets any other strong feelings from the emotions radiating off of people.
Speaking of. She would've been content to let Raistlin leave at this point, but she feels a bow wave of misery boiling rapidly in their direction. Need roars, :WAIT! GET DOWN!:, fires a mental compulsion at the cook, who squeaks as she goes to her knees, and constructs the single shield she still has in her repertoire, bubbling it up over the three humans and herself before another Nightrender comes in at a jerky trot. Lightly scorched by a faerie's defensive spells, it's here looking for less well guarded prey. It pauses, looking left and right with its great clawed hands flexing.
:Quiet. No talking, don't move. You're not invisible, just less noticeable,: Need says in her harsh metal-on-metal voice, and the two women flinch to hear her. The baby is much too young to understand, and the simple compulsions she can make through deliberately targeted Mindspeech just aren't that strong. His tiny face has screwed up.
She wonders if she can kill the awkward construct-thing that she still insists on calling a walking dyrstaff. In the normal course of things? Absolutely. Now? Well, she can calculate several ways to close the distance and attack it using Raistlin's body - the joints seem like a good bet - but that might not work, and also he might fight her and slow everything down. :Other ideas, boy? Getting one of the fairies over here would help. They're too shielded for me to contact myself.: