Perfect! I will meet you at Gangcheori's Spine by sundown.
She will be there, albeit running a little late as she huffs along, both hands hefting up the bucket of sudsy water around which she has centered her entire plan. Imoen’s opted for heavy fabrics for whatever that would be worth, made a little more bearable by the evening air. And she looks eager for whatever trouble she’s about to cause with this.
Like most of the fae in his world, Simon keeps nocturnal hours, so this is closer to his morning. He's done what he can to improvise beekeeping gear, but it largely comes down to 'heavy fabric and a veil over his face'.
"Do you need help with that?" he asked, gesturing to the water.
Although Imoen is stronger than she was when she and her sister left Candlekeep, it's all relative. It's simply not that hard to make her struggle to keep the bucket off the ground, and she has a few opinions already about how it digs at her fingers as she carries it.
She'll try to hustle toward him, and put an effort into hefting it a little higher to present to him.
"I'll be careful," Simon said, hefting it. He's not particularly strong, but he can manage a filled bucket with a bit less struggle than Imoen. "Lead on."
The only way she'd be winning any strength contests would be if she got access to the gifts of her bloodline, and Imoen was not in any rush to buy throw any bones at that. Imoen simply let him have the bucket and beamed at him for the favor.
A little wave of her hand in the direction of the hive they'll need to deal with, and Imoen will start off.
"Maybe we can even save a bit of that honey for you. If the alchemists here have an interest, you'd get some use out of it, too, right?"
There are many good and intelligent things to add to the thought, but instead, Imoen says, "Wonder if the eggs are fire resistant, or if they're also on fire? What if the fire covers the whole life cycle?"
A nod when Simon suggests a direction. She still has the impression he's an elf, and wouldn't be surprised if Simon is in any way more perceptive than she is. She Wanders that way, and does not bother trying to be subtle as they approach the fiery hive.
Simon does stop when they approach, and holds out his hand to signal Imoen. "So, to confirm, we're going to try to retrieve the honey, and possibly a queen, while they are dormant, and I'm to toss the water on them if they awaken."
Though he stops, Imoen almost marches right on ahead. It's his hand going up that gets her to draw up quick, considering him.
"That's the plan!" She taps a finger on her chin. "If it comes to it, that should at least ground them long enough to do what we need. Maybe end up hustling away with a couple lumps."
Imoen will go ahead and produce a jar, turning it in her hands before starting to stalk toward the hive. Sneaking probably didn't matter in the normal sense, but what else is a rogue to do? She approaches her likely-to-involve-stinging destiny, trusting him to be shortly behind.
Only one glance his way, to make sure she doesn't get too far ahead with these things, before she tries to cut into the hive. At least some of it will have to come out, for her goal.
It's inevitably going to be a disaster. Always would be. Imoen is cutting, and soon enough she's drawing away a piece of the hive and its honeycomb. This is the easy part of their goals, it turns out.
In her head, the problem was going to be the bees waking and flying out of the hive. It takes longer to realize that the response would be little insects crawling up her arms as she works, and that it doesn't really matter that she wore heavy fabrics so much as that it doesn't stop the bugs from simply walking up and ducking under fabrics.
So it's fine, at first, and Imoen thinks things are going perfectly smoothly. Until she finally feels little points of heat on her forearms, a warning before she feels the sting start, and Imoen yelps, pulling away from the hive and raising her arms. It takes some will to keep from dropping her prize, but she needs that honey.
Simon is at least ready with the bucket. Did he expect he'd be dumping it on Imoen (trying to avoid the sample)? Certainly subconsciously. It was going to draw the swarm to another warm body, but that was a problem they can solve later -- he tried to save some water.
"Come on. They'll give up if we can get under water, or indoors." That and Simon wasn't sure if bees used pheromones to mark threats, but he wasn't certain they didn't.
She's had this moment coming. For a moment, Imoen is just locked in place, dripping and generally trying to incorporate everything her senses are telling her. Cold and wet, lingering stinging spots. But at least for a moment, she's not being burned or bitten.
Simon has a point, even if she has no idea about the possibility of pheromones. The voice of reason on hand. "Right," she finally says. Only a little bit of regret in her tone. "Let me just stow this."
Cram the prize in a jar, jam the top, and start scurrying away? It's definitely what she's about to do.
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Perhaps I ought to borrow you for an underdeveloped plan, then.
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[Because why sit on an acknowledged poorly-thought-out plan?]
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She will be there, albeit running a little late as she huffs along, both hands hefting up the bucket of sudsy water around which she has centered her entire plan. Imoen’s opted for heavy fabrics for whatever that would be worth, made a little more bearable by the evening air. And she looks eager for whatever trouble she’s about to cause with this.
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"Do you need help with that?" he asked, gesturing to the water.
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Although Imoen is stronger than she was when she and her sister left Candlekeep, it's all relative. It's simply not that hard to make her struggle to keep the bucket off the ground, and she has a few opinions already about how it digs at her fingers as she carries it.
She'll try to hustle toward him, and put an effort into hefting it a little higher to present to him.
"Don't go pouring it early, hey?"
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A little wave of her hand in the direction of the hive they'll need to deal with, and Imoen will start off.
"Maybe we can even save a bit of that honey for you. If the alchemists here have an interest, you'd get some use out of it, too, right?"
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She scrambles on ahead a bit, looking for the light of fire bees to give the mean little things away.
"Or maybe they can get that nice and demure bee from this queen, somehow. Never really understood how it works with bugs."
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Simon is looking, but also smelling for wood smoke. Or any kind of smoke. That might at least give them a direction. "This way, I believe."
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A nod when Simon suggests a direction. She still has the impression he's an elf, and wouldn't be surprised if Simon is in any way more perceptive than she is. She Wanders that way, and does not bother trying to be subtle as they approach the fiery hive.
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"That's the plan!" She taps a finger on her chin. "If it comes to it, that should at least ground them long enough to do what we need. Maybe end up hustling away with a couple lumps."
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Imoen will go ahead and produce a jar, turning it in her hands before starting to stalk toward the hive. Sneaking probably didn't matter in the normal sense, but what else is a rogue to do? She approaches her likely-to-involve-stinging destiny, trusting him to be shortly behind.
Only one glance his way, to make sure she doesn't get too far ahead with these things, before she tries to cut into the hive. At least some of it will have to come out, for her goal.
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In her head, the problem was going to be the bees waking and flying out of the hive. It takes longer to realize that the response would be little insects crawling up her arms as she works, and that it doesn't really matter that she wore heavy fabrics so much as that it doesn't stop the bugs from simply walking up and ducking under fabrics.
So it's fine, at first, and Imoen thinks things are going perfectly smoothly. Until she finally feels little points of heat on her forearms, a warning before she feels the sting start, and Imoen yelps, pulling away from the hive and raising her arms. It takes some will to keep from dropping her prize, but she needs that honey.
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"Come on. They'll give up if we can get under water, or indoors." That and Simon wasn't sure if bees used pheromones to mark threats, but he wasn't certain they didn't.
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Simon has a point, even if she has no idea about the possibility of pheromones. The voice of reason on hand. "Right," she finally says. Only a little bit of regret in her tone. "Let me just stow this."
Cram the prize in a jar, jam the top, and start scurrying away? It's definitely what she's about to do.