[size=70]... part of her head is cold, part of it is warm ...[/size]
[size=85]Tranquillina ponders the somewhat odd juxtaposition. Her right ear, and that side of her jaw, are touching something soft and very cold. But her right cheek, and that side of her nose and lips, are touching something wet and warm, with a foul odor that is somehow a bit less foul than it ought to be.... She slowly opens her eyes at the same time as she remembers what it must be. She is lying in the snow, her face at the edge of a pool, of impressive size, of her own vomit. Her stomach is still spasming, but there is nothing left to eject. Her head feels like it is lying on an anvil and being repeatedly struck. No, wait: some of that is a throbbing in her temple, yes; but some of it is ... a noise....[/size]
With a start, Tranquillina regains the ability to process the world around her. She is lying where she collapsed in the snow a moment or two ago. The three grogs are in front of her, facing outward, weapons drawn and ready. One of the grogs is violently ringing an alarm bell, repeatedly (hence the anvil ...), while holding his sword in his other hand and also nudging her with his foot. "Milady? - Milday Tranquillina?!" he keeps saying. It must be hard to do all that at once, she thinks hazily. Beyond the grogs, just outside the Aegis boundary*, stand Cumhachd and the nine mysterious men. Tranquillina coughs, several times, which drives her face a little further into the cold and the warm. This doesn't seem to bother her, strangely. Oh, right: the Detachment spell, she remembers.
Well then. As long as she is already as sick as she could possibly be (and as undignified), she might as well employ her powers. Not that I am agreeing with that witch, she emphasizes to herself. First, she extends her Magic Sensitivity, trying to sense the expected Might of the nine men. ((Per 2 + Magic Sensitivity (creatures) 4 + offline simple die 10 - vis allergy 5 = 11.)) Next, still not trusting her voice to work properly, she sponts a Perdo Corpus spell, to destroy all traces of the vomit in the snow and on her face; if it also happens to destroy any unwanted output in her undergarments before anyone notices it, all the better. ((Base 3, +1 Touch, +2 Group, for level 10. Sta -3 + Pe 14 + Co 29 + aura 3 - vis allergy 5 + Talisman attunement (Corpus) 3 - no words 10 + offline stress die 4 = 35, halved is 18.)) She weakly scoops a handful of the suddenly clean snow into her mouth and tries to swallow. She hears the bell stop ringing. She rolls over so that she is sitting up, or at least close enough. Cumhachd's grin seems to fill the entire landscape. Tranquillina thrusts out her hand and barks a summons; the casting token flies to it from the snow at Cumhachd's feet. She feels like this deserves to be done with a snarl, but she can't summon the emotion to produce one. ((Base 3, +2 Voice, for level 5. Sta -3 + Re 9 + Te 5 + aura 3 - vis allergy 5 + offline stress die 8 = 17, halved is 8.))
She still isn't sure she should try to stand up. From the direction of the mansion, she hears sounds of people approaching, responding to the alarm.
- ((not really sure this is where it is - took a guess))