RP:Dwarfed By Brilliance

Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc

This is a Rogue's Guild RP.

Summary:Where Ina & Lita meet up to procure supplies for the Rynvale Beach Bash, and still find the time to commit an act of terrorism.

Dragon's Head Inn

When you enter the inn you are a little overwhelmed at first by the thick smoke that comes from pipes and cigars, the smell of beer, and the loud, cheerful music from fiddles, drums, and flutes. Many dwarves are gathered here, having a great time doing what dwarves like best. Some of them sing loud songs, accompanied by the music songs about true loves gone missing, the glory and mayhem of battle, about gaining and losing lots of gold. Some songs are even about all three at once. You can spot a table where you could sit and order some meals and drinks from the owner, Giolla, and have a smoke, or maybe you just want to listen to the music. In one corner you see a rather old dwarf, but much taller then the rest. He sits by himself, quietly playing some music on his harp. You wonder how he is able to hear anything with all the noisy business surrounding you, but you notice that all dwarves treat him with respect they even lower their voices when they are near him! To your west you see another room, where some dwarves are gathered, discussing something in loud voices. There is also a staircase going up, presumably to the rooms that this inn offers for rent, and you see an exit leading northwards. Next to that staircase rests a public board, presumably for detailing the events of Upper Craughmoyle.

Ina puffs her cheeks, and kicks her legs- which is fitting, given that the foxkin's guise of the day is littler than the norm. In the- she's adopted the conspicuously inconspicuous guise of a youthful elven girl. Specifically of the tomboy variety, if the coveralls, grubby hands, and tangled waves of brown hair were any indicator. Waif-like and wiry as she is, there's little for someone to go on to place her actual identity, were it not for the utter lack of care in burying the wild scent of fox that lingers around her, or the vivid green eyes which yet remain present. ...That, and the fact that she's trying -very- hard to convince a dwarf to accept her bet on the outcome of a bear fight, and repeatedly being told that 'No, that isn't appropriate for her to do, or to even -see-'. "Pff. Ja Spoilsport." Now how was she supposed to wile away the time as she waited on Lita to arrive for 'Material collections' as it had been alluded to?

Lita had gotten the missive. However cryptic. 'Material collections. Craughmoyle.' A date and time. Is this the level of annoyed Leo usually felt getting things like this? How she'd gotten roped into this was beyond her but she's also not mad about it. Just not as excited to possibly be walking into a proverbial lion's den. Or a literal one, considering the likes Leo had been rounding up these days. Foxes, orcs and bears, oh my! Lions didn't seem too far off. Not the point though. Barefoot and dressed in the usual little black sundress, she pauses at the door of the inn to take stock of those about. No one looks familiar but the familiar scent of fox draws her attention, dark eyes narrowed at the little trying to place bets on an upcoming fight. She produces a handful of coins as she approaches the tomboy and dwarf and lays the coin out for the dwarf's perusal with a nod. "On," she defers to the little fox here- "Which one?" And when they give up their chosen contender Lita nods back towards the dwarf. "You heard 'em then." The dwarf seems to hesitate a moment, eyeing her and then the gold coins as he scoops them up. "Spends the same whether I go to you or one o' your competitors." She sighs softly with a shrug. He seems to grumble under his breath but marks her bet as noted. Lita turns back towards the little. "Why'm I here? You need help seein' o'ver the bar again?" She teases. The last time she'd seen Trix, she'd been a bunny after all.

Ina actually takes a moment to feel out what feels right- a process which seems to take significantly longer than it might otherwise. Still, after a few moments of deliberation between the pair of bears that are currently caged, she finally gestures to the one on the left side of the arena. It's missing an eye, sure- but she likes the hungry look that is in its remaining one. "Da' Grizzled one." Hah. In any case, once the bets sorted, she spins in her seat- overshooting with a dramatic flourish and making a full rotation before she slides to a halt facing Lita, "Welp- as I recall, n' I do recall, ja said you were up ta helpin' me gather some things in exchange fer' tha' deal we made." The dwarf might be looking at her a bit queerly right now, given the authoritative confidence that's just emanating from the scrawny elf girl. "That said, today isn't one of those days. -Today- we're on a job from tha' capn', n' ja can square up tha' bill with him after we're done." The Chesire-like grin that she provides is a bit too wide, not so much in it simply being uncanny, but almost cartoonish- no doubt a slight flexing of her mutable appearance. And then it's gone, snapping back so quickly it may as well have been a quirk of the light. It certainly seems to have done the trick and warded the dwarfs' attention to other places. Like the Arena, where the bears have been set free and have begun their climactic battle. "Specifically, we're gettin' bakin' supplies." All that build-up, just for this.

Lita knows all too well what she'd agreed to and she's no intentions of not holding up her end of things. Especially after seeing how well that dagger had turned out and how well it had handled the Arena's environments. Not that she'd ever admit to being impressed by the work. She lifts a hand to her hip, leaning her weight to her left foot as she lofts a brow at the little's tone. Though an amused smirk spreads across her features for the sight they probably instill in any onlookers. She rolls her eyes with a groan at hearing this is a job for the pirate though. Their working relationship often lent itself to more of a you-do-for-me-I-do-for-you situationship. "Alright, alright." She waves a hand and settles into a seat alongside the disguised foxkin. She diverts her gaze to the bears but quirks a brow at the mention of baking supplies. "Okay, I'm a little more interested. Baking supplies? That couldn't be picked up closer to home?" She turns in her seat a little to regard Trix again with a smirk. "I ain't much a baker but I'm intrigued. What you cookin' up?"

Ina plays the part of an amused child quite well, given the manner in which she hops up onto the stool she'd taken as a seat, and begins to crane over another patron in order to see the start of the fight. It's some proper savagery in there right now- tooth & claw put to the test in a gory display of primal fury. That said, what truly warms her heart isn't the bloodshed- or even the simple sight of seeing her chosen ursine champion rolling over its contender and clamping down onto the back of the other bear's neck. No, what has Ina looking pleased as can be, is the simple fact that Lita asked the right question, "Ja know me. Gotta be careful. N' Cenril has been mighty careful about' tha' kind of supplies ja can carry past its customs these days. Weapons...fireworks... even alcohol's being -carefully- monitored. So, ja gotta be careful so as not ta' run astray." She pauses, dropping into a seated position and slowly blinking at the vampire, "You 'n me- we're goin' on a lil' milk run, where tha' bests of the goods are. Since I figured ja might have a discerning eye fer' this sort of thing." Also, muscle. Muscle was always good. "If yer good ta go, we can always start on our way over promptly." The fight had seemed sorted a bit too smoothly for the bookie- but that's how the cookie crumbled sometime. About as readily as the would-be contender's skull.

Lita is less interested in the battle of the bears going on down in that arena. Despite her own victories in the sport, she wasn't always such a fan of such messy affairs. At least not without what she could colour a just cause for, however, skewed in her favour. "Well, I reckon the island's enough in the way of weapons and alcohol these days." Seein' how Svard was runnin' his forge a bit more often and the pirate and Simon both kept their bars well stocked. So that left the innocuous third option Trix had settled in there. "Not sure how much discernment I've to lend yah, but what I've got's yours I s'pose." Even if at the Captain's behest and maybe a little by her own enjoyment as well. She offers Trix a little wink as she slips from her seat to find that dwarven bookie from moments prior. He grumbles a complaint about not wanting to pay up the proxy of a child and Lita flashes him a toothy grin that might leave him having second chances for a moment. "Be more 'an happy to make a scene if you prefer." Lita offers as she turns towards Trix with a pitched question, "What sorta trajectory you think I'd have to hit to land a dwarf about," she measures her hand from the bookie's head, "Yay high, into that there pit?" She doesn't entirely expect an answer, only for the man to hand over her winnings, which she'll promptly split with Trix right before his eyes. "Isn't business better when no one dies?" She tosses the man a gold coin for his troubles, misaims on purpose and smacks him in the nose with the thing. She shrugs. "Do we have to call it a milk run?" She'll ask Trix as they head for the door. "Sounds so... pedestrian... Pick some'in fancier, yah?" She was all about the optics these days.

Ina slides off the barstool, though it's not quite a smooth motion- her feet dangling for a moment as she lowers the last little bit, and then finally drops. It's following that mild indignity that she saunters over to Lita, offering up what looks to be either a visual estimation of the distance, or some form of gang signs. Either, or. Lita's promise certainly does the trick though, and so it's not long until Ina has acquired pocket change, which is promptly stuffed into the front pocket of her outfit. "Sometimes it helps ta be a lil' bit mundane, dont'cha'know?" She wants to add something else, but given she's needing to take a few steps for every one of Lita's she waits until they've cleared the bar, and begun to trek down the street towards the entryway to lower Craugh. "Plus, it sounds less gross than a jaunt wit' Jellies, even if tha' latter is a bit more accurate. Speakin' a' which," From within Ina's clothes- specifically, from a small bag of holding neatly tucked in- she produces a small set of boxes. Unassuming things really- practically the size of bouillon cubes. "You'll be wantin' ta hold onta' these. N' avoid takin' any baths."

Lita scoffs at Trix's opting for a more mundane name for their little scheme, her only argument a little wrinkle of her nose. "I like Jellies," Lita argues under her breath, "'specially raspberry ones." She doesn't pay much mind for the fact that in her current form, Trix is having to work a bit harder to keep up with her. Craughmoyle is not an overtly familiar city for the vampire but she'll assume if she heads in a wrong direction, the foxkin will be quick to correct their course. She hasn't been shy about their interactions thus far, why start now? She takes the little set of boxes from Trix when they're presented, turning them over in her hands a few times as she inspects them. Was she meant to eat them? Why was that her first thought? She'd unpack that later, maybe. "Okay, but what do they- I like baths." She protests. Though a more proper question would have perhaps been how long she was to avoid water, her brain often works faster than her mouth. "You know, we need to rethink this part of our situationship-" Lita is liking this word lately, "-where you just tell me tidbits of information and expect me to follow suit." I mean, she would, but that wasn't exactly the point, was it? "Now, should we try this again?" She asks, holding up one of the little boxes to inspect it against the sunlight, as if that might make some sort of difference.

Ina is considering that she might have handed the boxes off to the wrong person, given that they do, in fact, smell like something edible. And worse, was the simple fact that she was now being grilled as to why she'd need to avoid water. Ina practically -pouts- at this juncture, given that she's being asked to spoil the surprise before it can happen, though, she can simultaneously understand the apprehension her gags may cause, "I'd say you'd be fine -after this job is done." Probably. Within an acceptable range. Precluding mishap. Her poker face is pretty solid, so none of these stipulations make their way into her gaze- brushed aside with the same deftness that the Foxkin guides her towards the embassy halls, and more properly, towards the undercity at large, "Situation-ship? Dat's quaint. Though not quite as quaint as ya askin' me ta tell ya the skinny without ya even being all corvid related." There's that grin again, not quite as exaggerated but still unnatural, "This is need ta know- in part so you have deniability. S'lovely thing when-" They're getting a bit too close to some guards so she stops talking shop, and starts talking bear fights, her arms gesturing in enthusiastic waves, "Things get intense. Bwoosh." She hops, she skips, and she sidles past the dwarves, dancing along and making some curious pantomimes of what she figures is her best bear impression without any shape-shifting. Once they're gone, her demeanour grows a touch more muted, "But- If ja -really- gotta know, it's because we're doin' a cover-up, of one crime wit' another. N' I would not take a taste test of that. Still, if ya think I -could- be pulling ya into more things related ta' birds of a feather, N' ya handle this well- Maybe I can give ya tha' unique distinction of getting a heads up."

Lita takes a sniff at one of those little boxes but she's not naive enough to stick anything Trix has handed over into her mouth. It was a leap of faith that she was even holding the things. "I'm here, ain't I?" She'd come mostly willingly, barring a few looks from Leo and a handful of eye-rolls. Though she wasn't admitting her curiosity was piqued, there's a hint of pride in her grin when Trix lends herself to finding the particulars of their situation quaint. Lita palms the little trinkets and takes the hint when they pass those guards and she's ooh-ing and aahh-ing in shared wonderment at the Foxkin's excited retelling of the mauling. "Heads up are nice," she agrees, glancing over her shoulder to ensure those guards are out of earshot. "But truth told that's more the pirate's thing." Leo, that was. "I'm more about the flow. And fun." There's a little skip in her step even. "Though I think 'Jaunt with Jellies' should still be on the table. Or oohhh, the Confit Caper?" Lita is not a cook in any sense of the word. "Maybe I'm just hungry..."

Entrance Hall

You have entered the lower Dwarf Kingdom. The dwarfs here are much more traditional than their cousins in Craughmoyle, and rarely leave the underground. Rumour has it that somewhere in this kingdom, a magical jewel, Gorek Taras, is hidden here. It is said to have the power of the gods, and therefore, any who wield it would be most blessed. But in order to stop the unworthy from gaining that power, the jewel obliterates those who touch it, all but the innocent and the chosen one. The innocent, unaware of what they carry, will not be harmed, but neither may they become gods. The chosen one could be anyone, and if they were to touch the jewel, it would elevate them to holy glory. However, you are not here to ponder myths and rumours, and you decided to move on. Numerous embassies line the street, which continues to your north.

Ina sticks out her arms, hopping onto the first of the many hewn steps that lead down into the lower dwarven kingdom. There's something weirdly satisfying about the way the sound of her footfall fills the emptiness, or how small pebbles clatter during the whole of their descent- colouring the faint echoes of their conversation. "Well, I doubt there'll eva' be a shortage of fun around me, since that's what I concern m'self wit'." Still, she can't help but provide a warning as they descend further into the heart of the mountain range, "Not sure this'd be tha' place ta sate an appetite though. Dwarves. Blegh. Tha' only thing they do right is booze."

She starts to take the steps several at a time, awkwardly navigating the steep descent until at least the first hint of civilization creeps up on them once more- a combination of torch and gem light illuminating the base- and coaxing her into coming to a crouch at the bottom. Less so because she's winded, and more because she's produced one of those cubes from her own pocket, and set it neatly at a corner of the stair. "So, anyways- here's tha' skinny. We're gonna be going on a bit of a delivery. Me- I gotta drop off to tha' dentist n' tha' apothecary-" Given her relative size was -perfect- for running around Squeeze Gut Alley, "You should be hitting up tha' bars, inns- n' maybe squirrelling a few of these on anyone that looks a bit. Uh." She's at a loss for how to politely say it, so she goes with the first word that comes to mind, "moist. Miners? Check. Sweat-sopped drunks? Perfect. Mostly, ya just wanna add a nice lil mug of water or so ta' each one, n' you're good ta go." Because what they're carrying, are essentially dehydrated gelatinous cubes- Just add water for a bit of instant problems. "OH! Uh, Hrm. Maybe try discreetly gettin' ta the merchants front when things start happenin' n' try n' look inconspi- ..discreet. Ch'yeah."

Lita prefers a quieter approach as they descend into the dwarven landscape. Walking on her toes, picking carefully along the stairs. She's allowed the time for such a thing as she follows the shorter girl-disguise closely. It's impatience that has her debating just picking up the girl and dragging her down the last of the stairs but she stops short when Trix does, nose wrinkling at the thought of dwarven meals. Place didn't even smell appetizing. No way was she sinking her teeth into anything down here. She shakes the little cubelets in her palm, watching them curiously as Ina jabbers on about what they're here to do- or at least her part in it. "So just drop these in some pockets and spill a few drinks?" Seemed simple enough. Wouldn't be the first time she'd played the part of drunken blunderbuss. The trick would be causing enough distraction to hide intention but not so much damage that she'd get kicked out of the place. Maybe she'd get lucky and one of these places would have decent whiskey. She wasn't about to hold her breath but she could hope. "And then go on a bit of a shoppin' trip?" Seems simple enough. She lofts a brow and angles a look Ina's way. "Somehow I get the idea there's more to it but if that's all you need from me, consider it done."

Ina claps her hands together, the picture of a youth eager to get on with the games, "N' this is why we get along so well. But ch'yeah. Y'know. We'll go over tha' goods- I'll pick ya up somethin' nice. It'll be fun." There is a very intentional lack of the word shopping here, mostly because she's fairly certain things won't exactly be conducive to that activity. But that's neither here nor there. What Lita didn't know was probably not going to hur . . . kill her. It's fine. "Speakin' o which. Race ja." Yeah, no, It looks like Lita really isn't getting much of an explanation here, given that the foxkin's already moving headlong into the dwarven kingdom, rambunctiously rushing through the halls as though she were being hounded by something unseen. Really, it's a pretty chaotic display, but it does great for setting a precedent for her identity as 'totally-just-a-precocious-child'. It also means she's actually not super apt to arouse any real questions as she ventures towards her segment, as she's able to fend off any questions as to a lack of guardian (spare though they may be), with a hurried 'Dentist!'

Lita spares a moment to watch the Ina-girl-child bound away, stuck somewhere between curiosity and irritation. She lifts one of those little cubes to sniff it precariously again and then turns to head off to explore the city a bit. She figures a pub or bar will be a better place than an inn to drop off a few of those cubes without suspicion. She follows the scent of ale once she catches whiff of it and her appearance draws more than a few stares, whether for her height or pale skin, doesn't seem to matter. She finds her best 'just visiting from out of town' touristy grin and makes her way to the bar for a drink. When the dwarf at the bar greets her with an annoyed grunt, she makes a show of perusing the bottles behind the bar, asking what he might recommend, what's good, etc. It scratches a part of her brain to be in this role again. A part she's played so many times in the past but it's been a while. "Better temper the lass's mug with a bit o' water, eh?" One of the regulars (she assumes) calls over as she's deciding on a drink. A few others nearby share in a laugh and she turns to face the dwarven man with a playful smirk of annoyance. It was almost too easy. "I'll take that bet!" She challenges. And how could a dwarf back down from a drinking challenge of all things! He draws his table front and center, chairs pulled around in a flurry of spectators and tankards of ale find their way in flights across the table. Clearly, this is a game that's been played before. Someone flings open the front door and over a flurry of voices and noise she hears the faint call of "Fresh fish!" She wrinkles her nose at that. Is she the fish in this scenario? Rude!

Ina's half of things is less a matter of schmoozing, and more a matter of clambering just about everywhere she shouldn't be. In this case, it translated to her visiting the apothecary, if only so she can peruse the collection of hangover and headache cures as though she was on a mission. That, and handling them in that obnoxious way that only children can- hefting everything up so that she can eyeball the contents, a meaningful swish or sniff given every so often. It's only after a few minutes of this display that the shopkeeper finally deigns to ask her just -what- she's doing, and gives her the leeway to start up her spiel. Which in this case was, "Pa's not used ta' workin' in tha' mines. Asked me ta' ask an apothuary ma-bob person for 'Somethin' extra strength- because tha' spirits were extra strength'." There's a sort of impressive gruffness to miniature Ina's voice in that moment, what seemed to be a practiced bit of mimicry at the expense of her elders. Still, once she's done explaining, the apothecary's only question for her is simply a matter of, "Do you even have gold, girl?" which coaxes her into rummaging out a single gold coin from her pocket in a display of triumph. "I only spent half of what I was given on candy, ch'yeah." The apothecary is -clearly- unimpressed, but, all it means is there's less to make off the little airhead in his store. It's still enough to get him out from behind his desk to actually pick out a potion or two that would be 'sufficient' insofar as her request. This also means, there are actually a few moments where Ina isn't being watched- and can sneak a pair of her cubes into a duo of containers. Done & "Dun worry about it, actually?"

That actually has the shopkeep whirling on his heels to look at the girl, suspiciously eyeing her hands and clothes for the sign of something smuggled, or something untoward. But all he sees is Ina awkwardly wiggling one of her feet in a slow circle, looking off-kilter about the whole thing. "Maybe Ma's right, 'n not everythin' should be potion'd away." The shopkeeper, understandably, looks confused- at least until Ina quietly adds, "N' I want more sweetbread." before running out of the store. If he paused to think about it, maybe he'd have marked the manner in which she ventured off towards the dentist, rather than the market. But at the end of the day- he has a store to run, and that sort of idle thought is of little interest. Especially not when there are more pressing matters, like the faint tinkle of glass echoing through his store, as the contents of one of his shelves started to shift.

Lita makes it through the first three mugs of ale with a sour face and a flop-turned stomach and is surprised she hasn't hurled yet. Stuff tastes like pond scum a few weeks past its expiration date and these dwarves down it like it's the bloody elixir of youth. By the fifth tankard though, she's not as quick to down the sludge and the trash talk from the other side of the table only intensifies. "A'ight, a'ight," she forces herself to slur, lifting a hand in defeat. "On you." She tosses a gold coin to the dwarf across the table, who elicits a chorus of cheers from the crowd gathered around them. A vein of defeat trickles through the bodies pressed around her side of the table and she stands, slapping her palms against the table as her chair rocks backwards. "Roun's on me!" She yells out, and the chorus of cheering erupts anew. She nudges her way towards the bar through a sheen of heat and sweat, nearly gagging at the stench. The barkeep crosses his arms defiantly as he looks up at her. No doubt reluctant to shell out ale without coin. Right. She produces a handful of gold coins from a pocket and the man scoops them up greedily without haste. "Tha' too!" Lita barks loudly, gesturing with a nod at a barrel of ale behind the bar. The barkeep shrugs but lifts the thing up to the bar and hands a tap out towards her. She takes it and turns to face the crowds again. In all the raucous, someone has started up some Dwarven shanty.

It's taken too well by the crowd as free booze is passed around generously on her dime. More people trickle in at the noise and good cheer. The singing is echoed over dozens of voices. Somewhere, instruments are found and music joins the foray. It's a celebration. And Lita forgets the tap entirely as she plucks the cork from the barrel of ale atop the bar and a stream of liquor flows forth. Those nearest jump forward with haste and empty mugs to catch the liquid. It is a game. A fine mist has wafted over those nearby and Lita takes the opportunity here to drop a few of Ina's cubes into unsuspecting pockets. The music draws dancing and she links arms with more than a few dwarves to continue doling out those little cubes here and there. Until she's twirled her way towards the exit altogether and she half stumbles outside, laughing, leaning a bit as she keeps up this rouse of having had one too many in this foreign city. No one seems to pay her any mind. There's a celebration and free booze at the pub, or so the rumour sparks. And Lita makes her way towards the merchant shops for a rendezvous.

Ina's next stop wasn't that far off. Like, it wasn't quite -proximal-, but, she was near enough that she could hear the screams evoked by unanesthetized dentistry ripple through the air, and suffer a surprisingly out-of-character pang of sympathy. More importantly, it also coaxed the foxkin into running her tongue over her teeth, in a paranoid display of uncertainty- as though her sheer adjacency might see her pulled into an impromptu appointment.

It's enough, in fact, that she second guesses herself, veering abruptly to the side of the building, away from the gaudy display of an oversized tooth and hammer, to instead squeeze alongside the building so that she can peer in from a more discreet location. It still takes a bit of legwork, in truth- the foxkin having to use her stubby child-like legs to scrabble up the side of a murky water barrel in order to be able to reach a window sill, and peer inside- but once she's situated, she has a pretty good view of.

"Uh-" That can't be hygienic. Wrenching what looks to be a rotted and ingrown tusk out of an orc's mouth with one's bare hands -has- to be against some sort of code of hygiene. Or something. Then again, she's in dwarf land- and the fresh hell that assails her nostrils has her second-guessing the idea almost immediately, and instead redirecting her attention back to her pack, and the remnants of her desiccated cubes. One of these is simply flung to her side- to find a place within the barrel at her side, but her final one is reserved for something special. Specifically, she edges the window down just far enough so that she can awkwardly reach an arm through, and huck it into a small bucket in the room reserved for all the blood and saliva from the prior clients.

And given the sheer fluids hitting the ground from the dwarven dentists' exertions, he doesn't even hear the plunk behind him. He certainly doesn't see Ina as she ducks back down from the sill, and begins to clear the scene- even as the various bits of fluid begin to swish and froth.

Because, these ones -weren't- quite as subtle as their peers. No amount of alchemical treatment or dehydration process will stop those gelatinous cubes from rehydrating themselves rapidly with such an abundance of substance to pull from. A fact that is establishing itself all through Craughmoyle at the moment, as a combination of 'flavoured' slime monsters begin to crop up. Vomit & Ale flavoured cubes? Check. Murk water? Check. Though the most worrisome one has to be the apothecary, given the rapid manner in which it's incorporated a number of potions into its body has resulted in- well. Problems. In the sense that an impromptu alchemical formula has caused the gradually expanding cube to emit a numbing fog, which is further facilitating its capacity to consume fluid and dwarven patrons alike.

Not that it's Ina's problem. Oh no, she's just being a precocious-looking kid, that's just doing her best to navigate the market as guards begin to swarm hither and thither. Just an innocent child, whose innocuous and minuscule persona is perfectly suited for moving against the press of bodies, and slipping into supply depot she’d been searching for. Dozens upon dozens of barrels of Dwarven black powder, the sort suited for mining, but more than adequate for her purposes.

It does not take Ina long at all to begin dipping its contents into her bag of holding, and even less time still to extricate herself. And Lita, if she catches her on the way out.