"Thank you for showing me around, miss. The mud is no trouble."
Start rinsing off these medical supplies with some fresh rainwater. Uh, do people in this universe kind of understand bacteria and antibiotics? Might want to find a way to disinfect the bandages, with either magic or medicine.
Are there bacteria and antibiotics in this universe? An interesting philosophical question. But yes, they understand Basic Medical Hygiene.
Anyway, you find a large metal basin and clean it out, then use it as a laundry machine to clean up what you can. You scrub off the medical bench - it's marble, or something like it. Fancy. You decide to boil the cloths and instruments to disinfect and set about locating dry wood, coal, or other fire making stuff for that purpose. Before long, the office is full of steam and a bit of smoke from the fire, making vision difficult and forcing you to flee to the hallway.
Thrips hopped down from the cart as it finally arrived, his flimsy boots briefly splashing in water before sinking queasily into mud.
His expression of surprised wonderment disappeared, he grimaced, swayed a bit, managed to regain his balance without breaking an ankle, then crouched down and gripped his leg to try and pull it free of the mudpool the Omega base had somehow become in his absence.
He could try and find out just how and why this happened and if it was a normal occurrence in such a dry-looking area later.
Get out of the cart. Try and free myself from the mud, preferably without losing whatever cheap footwear I have equipped.
If I manage to regain mobility, glance around to make sure there are no threats or bossy-looking people in my immediate vicinity, then leave the unloading to someone else and go jump in some puddles. Whoo!
Most of the canyon floor is under more than three feet of water. Wanna swim a bit? Eh, you free yourself of the mud where you are and find a nice line of puddles down one of the many outer hallways, and hop along, making splotchy patterns on the walls above the high water mark. You cheerfully sing
a little song as you go.
Continue conversation. Ask about what facilities they have to maintain Pylon, and what tools and resources they have related to that.
"Well, he's new, you see. So we haven't any dedicated things. but we have, oh gosh, lightning sand, quicksilver rods, obsidian lenses, eye of newt, Algorithmic Shards, quite a bit of gunpowder, and that thing, what was it?"
"The Unseeing Orb?"
"Well, that too, but I meant the thing that is all mishapen and twisty."
"The Broken Fist?"
"No of course not, that wouldn't help. How would that help?"
"Look, I don't know what he means. There are lots of twisty mishapen things. Especially after the incident."
"There's always an incident!"
"I know that. Why do you think we have so many broken and twisty things?"
"Hey, do you mean the Errant Neck?"
"Oh, yes! Funny name, that."
"The story was told by a mute dwarf to a deaf elf, and relayed faithfully to a dead munchkin - this munchkin was my grandfather, and at the turn of the generation he told all this to me," Fiddler starts lyrically. "And it begins, like a great many Omega stories, with a ragtag bunch of misfits sent on a mission of plunder and murder!"
Relay the events of the mission within a reasonable margin of error. Break out the fiddle to set the mood.
"... and then they said <violin sting, momentary pause with widened eyes> 'welcome home!' For you see, the entire thing was a ruse, a trick to lure the god to the dry and desolate canyon, and house her in a freshly built monastery constructed specifically for the purpose! And so it was that Katha, goddess of storms and order, was stolen from her temple by the Omega Legion!"
He bows and waits for the applause to subside whether there is any or not.
"Thank you, thank you, you're too kind."
He waits a little longer, chin raised, soaking in admiration.
"Right, yes. Now for what I would like in return: could you tell me of alchemical concoctions which could change one's physiology in a more permanent fashion? Improve it, let's say."
Tell me of these fabled mutagens, o wise woman!
Brilliant storytelling. She even, actually, applauds, a twinkle in her eye.
"Mayhem, murder and mystery. Beautiful. That's worth a secret or two, indeed.
Sure. Alchemy can modify a body, temporarily or permanently. That's hardly even a secret. Of course, there are risks in such a procedure, whether it be through alchemic rites, potions, or other methods. What specifically are you interested in? I can't imagine that you think your voice needs any help at all."
No, thank you. I'll just rest a while.
Restinpeace"Statement: It is good to hear that your work on the monastary is going well.
Query: Is there anything you need help with? This one might as well kill some time before the next life endangering mission.
Musing query: By the way, how does one advance up the ranks here anyway? This one would have expected three succesful mission to warrant some kind of rank increase, but apparently not."
"If you like, you can help hang the windows on the second floor. They're kinda slippery. If you don't tag them just right, then when they fly off their windowsills, they'll just keep going.
Rank? Hmmm. three successful missions
is something. Did you encounter any complications? How did you distinguish yourself on these missions?
Of course, there are units within the Omega structure through which you can advance, if you are so inclined. My own unit could use your talents. We act as a sort of policing force within Omega. But, I hear that you are good with a more direct, more violent methodology as well. Perhaps we could persuade the higher ups to let you run a mission, as a sergeant pro tem.
or maybe you just need to make your case. The Man in Armor might have promoted you on the spot, had you asked while he was here."