Session #10, as told by Inez

Session #10, as told by Inez

Dear Diary,

Today I’m writing from the comforts of a warm room in an inn. Where we are treated as guests and heroes, after defeating some minor monsters. And my contribution in that was even more minor than these monsters were! On the other hand, I managed to start off a fraud scheme that can backfire on us all for no particular reason! Well, let me try to explain to you, and myself, what happened today...

As we got out of our tents, we found the surroundings drowned by rain, including poor Jonathan and the Owl Bear cups. Where Finn and I had proper tents, Jonathan just had an improvised shelter, that did not have an answer to the rains of that night. The poor halfling did not have a lot of sleep, lurking under a tree, in contrast to his counterpart Finn, who awoke in great spirits. Myself, I had dozed away, not even my new skills or the found goblin book, had managed to keep me awake. Only to be visited again by the Idol in my nightmares. Still, I felt quite well and nourished.  Putting my dress on, I found the marks of the tentacle still formed a strange decoration around my middle, covering front and back. Not sore or itchy, but a pattern of small circles, not unlike a map of the Storm Horns used during my lessons at home. Hopefully this trophy will fade soon, dear Diary!

The halflings were determined to set off for Magki, after having breakfast of course. My suggestions of revisiting the village or practicing some magic on the cubs did not find an audience. Gesturing with his varicolored hands, Finn made clear that we finally should move towards our agreed on destination. And that he was not in a mood to talk about the dye of his arms, or my magical plans for that matter. What followed was a strange debate on which direction to take, with Finn showing that not only his moral compass was a bit off. I know, I know, dear diary, my ethical path these days does not follow the path of Azuth either. Finally we set off on the road in the same direction the mysterious rider had taken nights ago. 

Wearing my office outfit was not a big help in the wetness we encountered. Even on the road my pair of Twinkletoe & Sonstiny, tasteful glitter embedded in silk, shoes shone very elegantly, meanwhile filling up with water and dirt. Stylefully slippery I tried to find my way, neglecting the sights and shaking of heads of my fellow travelers. But then, after a long curve in the road, we found ourselves standing at the bank of the brook that had flooded the road during the night. Now a small creek had formed, and we could see the road continuing a few hundred meters away. Much too far and too deep to be waded through for us small folks.

Jonathan was the one who became almost enthusiastic about this barrier: “Did any of you bring a boat?”; he asked, and he meant it. “If not, let us outflank the water, follow me!”; and he took off into the woods next to the road. “Who’s dumber, the fool, or the ones following him?” Finn shot at me as I followed the priest. “Well, you could not find the North if you were stuck on the Aurora gear!”; did I reply, a bit too harsh, I admit. Luckily the halfling did not catch the gnomish bite. Trailing after Jonathan, we made up a strange queue, me in the middle of the two halfling men, the three of us followed at some distance by the Owl Bear cubs. The three critters were almost as excited about our trip as our pathfinder. Though I had to admit that despite my wet feet, I managed quite well in conquering the landscape. Even receiving compliments about it from Jonathan; “You’re becoming quite the adventurer, Inez!”; and Finn; “You walk these woods as if there’s a sale going on in Nook’s shopping district!”. My reply that I was a member of the Gnomish girl scouts of Nook and that’s where I received training in rough terrain, was then met with cynical laughter from the both of them. Dear diary, if only halfling men took women as seriously as they take their next meal, the world would be a less foolish place.

We made quite a good pace, perhaps because I gave both men the silent treatment. We managed to bypass the stream and get back on the road again. After a while the woods around it started thinning, giving way for meadows and ploughland. We passed some farms and by the end of the afternoon we approached a village. It was encircled by a palisade and people, almost all of them tall folks, were wandering in and out of its gate. By some means I managed to sway the cubs away, back into the woods and wait there. Not sure if that message came across, but at least they did not follow us into the small town.

Upon entering the locals looked upon us, still no questions were asked and the villagers were supposedly used to travelers passing by. No small folks or small houses to be seen, no elves either, this village was a typical human settlement. We made our way towards the village square, where amongst several buildings, one obviously was the local inn. Finn and Jonathan immediately set course in search of ‘finally a proper meal’. However I felt that we needed to find some intel first and approached the nearest female I saw. Bowing courteously as instructed so many times byHigh keeper Ironmantle, I introduced myself as ‘Clara Bergotter’, not wanting to give away my name. Hearing this, both Jonathan and Finn started paying attention to our conversation. The lady told me her name was Kayleth Mishan, owner of the bookstore annex postoffice. And enquired whether I was here to pick up the solicitors papers. Surprising myself, and Jonathan who was silenced by a poke of Finn, I answered that this was exactly the reason for my visit. And made an appointment with her to collect the documents later that afternoon at her shop. Then she greeted me graciously and walked on.

Blushing, I had to admit to Finn and Jonathan that I did not have a true plan, other than not knowing if my father and his solicitors practice was seen in a benign way in the village. “Let’s have a meal first.”; once more did the job of ending troublesome questions by my two companions. We walked over, maneuvering between the puddles of mud on the square, towards the inn. Entering the ‘Sleeping Badger’, we were welcomed by Axyss Dreadfield, who announced herself as the owner of the establishment. My guess was that she’s probably partly elfish, as she turned out to be rather welcoming to us small folks.

“Another Badger”; I said to the two halflings; “Hopefully this time the floor will hold!” “No, nothing to worry about, love.”; our hostess reacted to this. “We have small folks tables near one of the fireplaces and special rooms as well. None underground unfortunately, but as good as it gets!” She led us through a passage into the central hall. This Badger was slightly smaller and less decorated than its counterpart in Nook, but felt much less intimidating. The place was packed and we were dropped at a table by our hostess in haste. An all ale order was in the books before we ever had the change to even ask a question and Axyss was off again. Minutes later she returned with three pints of ale, dropping them on the table. “You want the stew as well?”; she did not truly ask but commanded. Finn had the nerve to ask for cheese to go with the stew, which disrupted and annoyed the lady plainly. But only for a moment, as once more she took off before I had the opportunity to ask any questions.

Acknowledging the disappointment of getting no useful information out of our waitress, I walked over to the table that was taken by dwarfs. They looked to me like some older merchants, beards braided with silver wires and golden rings, ledgers, notebooks and even an abacus on the table. Twisting my back in a series of bows as taught in my etiquette lessons, I tried as politely as I could to join their conversation. Clearly failing, as the gentlemen waved me off indecorously: “Little girl, there’s no place for you at this table. Now behave like proper gnomish: turn around and run!” Dear diary, I have never been treated by dwarfs like that before! If only High keeper Ironmantle would have been here! But now the only option was to return to my table and admit my defeat to the halflings.

My return to our table coincided with the Axyss delivering our meals. She made quite the grandiloquent statement about Finn’s ordering of extra stew to go with or in the stew, like this was a case for the local court. Luckily Jonathan could mask my irritations thanking her honestly for our food. And the stews were indeed quite good for such an establishment. While we were eating, all three of us noticed that other guests were looking and pointing towards Finn. The locals had the decency to wait until we had finished, before they sent over a volunteer, a young human by the name of Carrion Gallows. He approached Finn: “Are you here to help us out with the problem?” Before my rogue companion could rebuff this, I took over the conversation, once more to my own wonderment: “That’s correct, this fellow is gonna help you out! We traveled here exactly to do that!” 

From here our conversation meandered from misunderstanding through confusion towards some sort of agreed upon transaction. Carrion turned out to be the son of the blacksmith, my name was Karla Seaotter (frowning companions), the city under siege at night by rats the size of dogs, Finn the wished for ratcatcher for who else would order extra cheese, the three of us experienced mercenaries traveling from city to city to exterminate vermin, now hired for the coming night. Without a contract or settled reward. Well, perhaps something we should negotiate later with the mayor, Grimbus Battleflour. Let’s shake hands... Am I really the daughter of a solicitor, dear diary? Still Finn did not look too unhappy about our deal and job, whereas Jonathan was looking to me, then to Finn, with big puzzled eyes: “Finn, does Inez have secrets for us? Are we really ratcatchers, or did she just invent that? And wait, is ‘Karla Seaotter’ even her name? I’m so confused!"” The poor priest was lost in the web of stories and lies I had dissed up to the locals by now. And to be honest, dear diary, so was I. 

At least we got a room in the inn without payment (hopefully). A large key dangling from the much too large tale of a rat was handed to Finn by Axyss. So we took our stuff to store it there for the night. The accommodation turned out not to be that ragged as I had expected. And it had four separate beds, which was according to our host: “A big bonus for being small folks, twice the number of beds! Though some of you may be disappointed.” With that comment and an ambiguous smile towards me, she left us.  We each chose a crib, then used the fourth to drop our equipment on. “Let’s have a small break, then we’ll have to find the bookstore of Kayleth" ; I proposed. “You’re still continuing that little scheme, Karla?” ; Finn responded, making fun of my messing up the stage name. “Yes, yes, those documents could become handy in Magki.” Somehow, my bluff was not called. 

So, a little while later, we were on our way. Finding our way by asking around, I knocked on the door, then entered, to find Kayleth waiting with the papers. All went well until she asked: “Can you show me your signet of the Solicitor’s office, please?” “Ehmm, I’m afraid I don’t have that with me. I just entered service as a junior and haven’t got my own yet.” My red headed response did not even convince Jonathan. “Well, how can that be? And you told me that you first worked in Nook.” “Well yes, I was an assistant there for several years. Then the solicitor's daughter took over and I found this job in Magki.” “Oh yes, don’t start me on the sons and daughters of bosses. And that girlie from Nook is even known around here. Fancy face and clothes, thinks she’s the gnome queen herself! Not to say anything about your queen of course!” “Of course not! Thanks for your understanding!” I managed to stammer. Looking around I saw one halfling listening in on us in utter bewilderment, and the other smiling  ironically towards me. 

To make matters worse, the door opened and a black clad stiff and pale male human entered, obviously the true courier. “Well, I’ll try to contact the office or even travel myself there and back to obtain the signet. I understand fully that you can’t trust the documents to me without. And don’t hand them over to anyone else without a proper seal, there are a lot of imposters on the road these days.” ; I finished our conversation with a proper bow that was returned by Kayleth. Then I gestured and hissed at Finn: “Get the seal from that guy, it’s probably in his bag!” Rolling his eyes in response, he walked over to the door casually, only to bump into the tall human. “Excuse me, dear fellow” ; the rogue uttered, then walked out the door. Followed by Jonathan and me: “Did you get it?” Finn turned around, smiling, showing the sigil on his hand palm, then handing it to me. And the only response I could think of, dear diary, was a kiss on the cheek of my thieving companion.

As we, especially me, did not want to wait to answer questions from the courier or Kayleth, we rushed away discreetly. My mind was rushing on what I just had done, I did not dare thinking on how I would ever be able to explain this to my parents! Or to any solicitor for that matter, let alone to Azuth or Helm! Two streets further and out of sight of the bookstore, we decided on visiting the blacksmith. To fight off rats, which we had promised to do (I know, I know, dear diary, one more brilliant move of mine today!) we would need any weapon or trap available. Locating the smithy took us through several streets, including one where we passed a shop window displaying two beautiful dresses to my amazement! This little town stored many a treasure! Jonathan was even pointing out the frocks, Chislev’s blessing upon him, like I would have missed those frocks. Still I had already pushed my luck and my companions too far today, foremost we should start working on how to defeat these rats. Or at least survive the night!

The last part of our search for the smith was made easy by the sound of the hammering of metal. When we arrived four human men were working together, two by two, each duo consisting of a tall one hammering at his anvil and a younger one handling the bellows. None of them paid any attention to us upon entering. We recognized our representative in the inn, Carrion, as one of the hammerers. Seemingly he was in a trance, like his co-workers, shaping a metal shape with his hammer at the anvil. Only when I took some metal device and used it to rattle it against a shield hanging on the wall, we were getting their attention. 

The other tall man walked over, still looking annoyed as I gave him a basic, but courtly nod: “Good afternoon, my name is Karen Riverotter“ “Welcome to my armoury, I’m the owner and master smith.” It appeared that this was enough for an introduction and that his name, family or standing was clear for all. “How can I be of service?” That was better, though the man addressed Finn, ignoring me. Finn inquired for weapons and traps, especially those suited to kill rats. Jonathan also joined in, questioning the smith in such a straightforward way that it almost became a ruse of itself. And with results, as we found out that the town at night was at the mercy of dog size rats, that several other places in the vicinity had been terrorized as well (‘Mag’), that the rats were commanded by other creatures, that there were no rat traps in store or useful against these type or size of rats and that the name of this village was ‘Ki’. Which was my not too bright contribution to all of this, dear diary. 

As for weapons, there was nothing available for our needs. Basically this was an armoury for those wearing armour on parade and at festivities: beautiful and shiny, more a fashion statement than practical use. Luckily the smith was willing to buy the scimitars we took from the Goblins, which I was holding like a Gearheart Hostess would show off a self-stirring teapot, greeting guests at a Nook’ ball. Which would have made my mother very proud, dear diary, but myself gritting teeth like a gear full of clockwork mites. It seemed to work though, as the human offered ten gold coins for the set. Which I took, both offer and coins, that is, though my rogue companion was not entirely happy about that.

My proposal of returning to the inn for a small rest and preparations, which the halflings translated as ‘more drinks and food’, was accepted. On our way back, we once more passed the clothing workshop. For a few seconds my eyes focused on the dresses on display, my pace slowed a bit. Enough for the owner to spot a victim and my path was blocked by a flamboyant looking human female, towering above me. “Nice to meet you, little lady! And companions..?”; sounded a melodious voice. “My name is Carola Cape-otter, solicitor at court in Magki,  and these are my servants. It’s dangerous to travel alone for a solicitor these days”; my response stunned two halflings, one looking at me in disbelief, the other trying not to burst into laughter. “Aha, my name is Lilly Merriweather, owner of this couture workshop, at your service. Oh yes, I can relate to that. But that does not mean that we should hide ourselves in dark mundane clothing.”; her right index finger was testing the structure of my dress as her eyes were judging the whole of my appearance. “Inside you’ll find some fine examples of real nice dresses that would suit you fine, little lady. And we’ll have some provisions for your staff as well. Gentlemen, would you care for some bread and ale?” “And some cheese? Would that be possible?” ; one of my servants asked, rather out of place. But once more she did not flinch, instead inviting the halfling and guiding them to the far corner of the shop. There they were seated and provided for, including cheese.

“Now then, your halfling attendants are satisfied, which was rather easy. Let’s see if your taste can be fulfilled as well” ; with that she guided me to the other side of the place. A good hour later I was wearing a tailored jacket, a matching chemisette, long riding pants combined with an apron skirt and sturdy low-heeled boots. Quite the fashionable adventurer as I admired myself in the mirror, dear diary! And there was the red dress that was too exquisite, and made me look so good, that I caught both halflings peeking in, as I checked the mirror. My office dress was lying sadly next to it on the counter. As were some minor accessories.  “I’ll wear this, could you pack the old dress together with the new one please?” “Certainly, little lady. You do understand that a deposit is required for this kind of amount.” “Of course, of course.” ; I bluffed once more, as my ratio returned after this sedation by beauty and vanity. Not to mention that there was a rogue standing next to me, all of sudden very alert. “Would twenty gold coins suffice?” Finn’s eyes almost popped out of his skull hearing my proposal. “Oh yes, very gracious. Can I send the invoice to the office in Magki? In that case I need your signet.” With a ladylike gesture I handed over the stolen seal. “Aah, you work for the big office! In that case a deposit is not needed. Excuse me, lady, I did not know.” “And I did not mention, thank you lady.” ; I said and placed the signet into my new inside pocket. “Take these.” ; I instructed Jonathan, pointing at the packaged dresses. And as Lilly escorted us to the door in the most polite way, I saw Finn seizing the remains of the cheeses. 

Both halflings and I were in a very good mood when we returned to the inn. We dropped our belongings in our room, had a small rest, then went back to the main room. Halfling can’t live on just ale and cheese, dear diary. Our host Axyss greeted us, inviting us for supper, which was very appropriately ratatouille. While we were eating, the inn slowly emptied. Guests left to be home in safety, before the rats would arrive. Even the pompous dwarf merchants did not stay, so in my mind images of hordes of giant vermin arose, supplemented with the familiar whispers of my Idol. When our hostess came to pick up the empty plates and cups, we tried to find out more about this plague. To me, her incoherent stories were gossip spiced with fairytales, at least I hoped that this would be the case. Otherwise my hubris would once more bring peril to my halfling companions and friends. 

Before we got out, Finn was smart enough to agree upon a sign for Axyss to let us in again. Otherwise we would not have a way to enter early, for all doors would be locked for the night until daylight would arise again. With that in mind, we walked out and heard the door being shut behind us. The streets that were crowded during the day were empty and dark now. Experienced adventures and streetfighters that we were (Dare to say otherwise, diary!), we decided to set up an ambush. Or if I’m honest, Finn suggested doing so. So in the middle of the city square Jonathan placed a bolt, then blessed it effortlessly, turning it into a bulb of light. Adding insult, that is to this stumbling wizard, he then blessed the three of us, boosting our resilience on behalf of Chislev. We then split up, hiding around the light source, with our back in the direction of the inn, looking into the streets leading outwards. 

It remained quiet for a long time. Luckily I had my new jacket to inspect, with all kinds of neat pockets, buttons, patterns of fibres, almost made me forget my fears and imagined monsters skulking by. Then there was the sound drawing near from the street heading north. Becoming louder and faster, faster, until giant rats whip-driven by a Gnoll rounded the corner, confused by the light. It definitely was a Gnoll, even if he was wearing much less clothing than the one that had lived at the outskirts of Nook for a short while. The one in Nook sold rat skin (amongst other strange stuff), this one was whipping rats, steering them straight towards us. Who was ambushing who, dear diary?

With all my might I tried to blow on my fingers, to produce a whistle strong enough to alert the cubs. They would come to my aid, rescuing us and combining this with a meal of rats and gnoll. In a lot of ways they behave like halflings when I think about it. There was no time for thinking, the Gnoll had spotted me! Instinctively I shrink trying to take shelter behind the rubble. The stinging noise of his whip missing me barely made me shiver! 

Meanwhile Jonathan and Finn were attacked by the rats that accompanied my assailant. So I was alone in dealing with this creature. Nothing better came to my mind than calling in the Owl Bear cubs. And however I folded my fingers or how hard I exhaled, no proper whistle was to be heard! The monster was now just a few steps away, I had wasted the time it needed to reach me and change whip for knife by wetting my hands with spit. So much for being a true wizard, dear diary. 

Again a stinging sound over my head! A knife buzzing by, too close for comfort, then finding its way into the shoulder of the Gnoll! Once more my pretty face was saved by Finn. The Gnoll now shifted its attention, trying to find the cause of its pain (knife) and the cause of the cause (Finn). It then tried to attack the rogue, but a second knife made short work of its career as rat leader. For a moment I thought my problems were over, but now a group of huge rats made their way towards us. Instead of the so needed whistle, I produced a loud shriek, as one of the vermin bit my right upper leg, just above the leather boot. A sharp pain catapulted its way into my mind! As |I was in the act of slapping the rodent off me, my mind was overrun a second time; Finn hooked up with me again and a stream of magic energies flowed out of me towards him. Plummeting down, dazzled and bollixed, I sat on the ground and watched the rat shattering in a cloud of blood and gore! Using rogue magic (and my energy) Finn slaughtered all remaining rats in one sweep! 

Then it was quiet again. Not entirely, as the cubs finally appeared, just in time to feast on the dead rats. The two halflings were walking around, inspecting the square and the remains of our opponents, Finn collecting the tails of the rats. After inspecting the bite on my leg and the damage to my new trousers (hardly visible!), I stood up to join them. Luckily both men were still too much in fighting spirits to notice their of-no-use companion. Together we made the rounds through the village, looking for more rats or worse. After several hours of finding none of the kind, we headed back to the central square. During our watch the cubs had cleared it of all dead rats, but the Gnoll was not to their taste, the corpse still lying there. 

With the first sunlight peaking, we decided to head back to the inn. But now Finn got an inkling: proof of our heraldic deeds was to be provided by presenting the dead Gnoll! Of course Jonathan fully supported this idea. And as I sent the cubs away to the woods, the both of them started pulling and pushing the corpse. What resulted in a literally bigger bloodbath than all of the actions before. By the time the remains of the creature were in the Inn’s stable, both men looked very similar to the cubs: bloody, smelly bird brains. I know, I know, dear diary, I sound like the spoiled brat Finn takes me for or the deceitful showpiece Jonathan thinks I am. 

It was a small wonder that Axyss let us in again. Two horrifying looking halflings, one of them banging at the door, one of them demanding entrance in a hard voice at your door in the early morning.  Probably our hostess had certain sympathies for the rogue or priest, otherwise they wouldn't have been allowed in looking like that. To their, and mine, surprise, they were forcibly led by Axyss through a backdoor into a quadrangle. To my even greater surprise our hostess directed them to strip and put the hose on them! By all means, dear diary, I looked away, turning around and red.The halfling men had no such considerations. After the mess was rinsed off their bodies, they rushed back in, running past me through the passage. Giving me a chance to inspect the backsides of both halfling men. Well, dear diary, I must confess that both of them have their own qualities in that department. And that’s all I will entrust you with, dear diary.

To our hostess this all seemed normal, she was picking up the clothes of the halflings and dropping them into a large tub, then filling this up with boiling water. At my home a gnomish device would have been put in place to scrub the clothes, followed by a mechanical wringer to remove excess water. Here none of this kind of machinery was to be seen, and after Axyss clapped her hands several times, two laundresses, two young girls who I had seen serving in the inn before, came running in. Having lost interest and given my companions hopefully enough time to cover themselves with blankets, I made my way to our room. 

Later that morning a subtle knock on our door made me wake up. “Shall I take a look?”; Finn offered; “Might be bad folk.” “No, no, no, I’ll get it!” ; I shot back, as I realized the state of dress my roommates had. Getting up fast, then opening the door slowly and cautiously. Looking through the crack, Axyss and I eyed each other: “Goodmorning lady, I take it you slept well? These are the clothes of the gentlemen, washed and dried. And allow me to invite you for breakfast downstairs.” She then bowed and left. “All right halflings!” ; I then announced to the two men: “I’ll put your clothes inside  and wait in the hall for you to dress. Can you do that? Breakfast shall be your reward!”. Standing by the door, I could hear the halflings dressing faster than a mimic in a treasure chest. 

Upon entering the main hall we found it filled with locals from the village, cheering and applauding us! Axyss welcomed us as the saviours of the village, leading us to a set table that was lavish even by halfling standards. Not entirely up to standards of a table at home, not to mention the table piece made of the rat tails and Gnoll head, but still. Before we were allowed to sit, our hostess awarded us a large golden coin, embellished with the letter ‘K’. This as a token to us being made honorary citizens of Ki, and having no real value. Once more a big applause followed. Upon making our way through the crowd, Jonathan and Finn were patted at the back and even hugged. Luckily I managed to find my seat with less tokens of affection. 

And so dear diary, is how we became the local heroes. And the local frauds as well, or better, fraud, this solicitor’s daughter is the perpetrator and instigator. And why did not I trust my new found skills in the fight? Somehow I’ll need to figure out why I did all that and how to make it right again. Perhaps I’ll learn a spell that will undo deceit, or move back in time. But I would not know where to stop, I would not want to lose all the experiences and places of the last days. Let alone give up my friends! For now I’ve got no answer, admitting that would have certainly surprised my father. So, hopefully things will somehow work out fine. Talk to you soon!

Session #9, as told by Finn

 The Rat’s Way Out

Finn kept to the walls, every footfall measured, every stone beneath his boots accounted for. The yard stretched wide, moonlight pooling in patches. Torches flickered along the walls where guards leaned on the parapets, bored, half-asleep. He counted torches, timed the intervals between the guards’ glances, studied the slack in the ropes on the gate. One misstep and the whole yard would wake. So far, so good — but good things never last. Then came the shout from the keep. His chest went cold. Arvin. That bastard had realized Finn was gone. Boots thundered against stone, echoing off the walls.

“Where the hell is he?!” The roar carried across the yard.

He ran the yard in his head as a practiced burglar would. He’d paced the stones during airing enough times to know every blind, every boot print, every nook and cranny that might let a halfling pass where a man could not. Guards were already coming, boots eating the cobbles, the rattle of metal like hungry teeth. He had three sensible exits in his head — the drain, the postern, the moss seam — and none of them looked clean for the moment. The dogs weren’t loose yet. Quill would call for them at any moment; the kennel boy usually panicked when hollered at, he could maybe get two extra heartbeats of time, no more. There was no hiding now. Time to spring into action.

He sprinted towards the nearest torch and ripped it from the wall.

“There!” someone shouted. A bolt pinged off the stone, close enough to kiss his ear. They meant business. So did Finn.

The granary sat outside the yard, behind the stables — prisoners weren’t allowed anywhere near the food stocks. He moved low, a shadow between barrels, sticking to the walls, hiding from sight as he worked his way to the granary. Shouts from the walls, high and sharp, called to the guards below. Finn slipped through the granary door.

Inside was silence. He was alone for now, the dust motes shifting in a single shaft of light. He worked fast. A stool upturned, a cloak snagged and tossed, a sack ripped so the wheat spilled in a nervous scatter — signs of struggle, signs of failure. He jammed a crate under the shutter so rescuers would find it barred from the inside. Theatre. Men liked a scene they could explain.

Then the fire. He threw the torch into the heap of straw by the outer wall. The first tongue of smoke curled lazy and grey, then coughed black, rising hard. Perfect. Shouts cracked sharper now:

“The storehouse! Gods, the storehouse!”

Guards thundered away like cattle driven to water. In no time everything in the granary was ablaze, an inferno. Heat came on like a wave, singeing Finn’s hair and eyebrows.

Shouts split the air. Quill barked for buckets and for a rescue. Men ran to save rations. Finn used the noise. A corner held a cellar hatch with an iron ring. He levered it, the metal complained once and yielded. A breath, then the slab lifted a fraction, heavy as sin, and he slid into the gap. Cold damp closed around him. The cellar smelled of mildew and rat droppings.

He skittered through the shadows, palm pressed against the wall until his fingers found the seam of stonework. There — a drain mouth, no bigger than a coal scuttle. Finn spat, grinned a black-toothed grin.

“Not built for you big bastards, was it?”

Cold river air slapped his face. Smoke swirled in behind him.

The drain was a coffin — a foot wide, less than a foot high. A well-fed halfling would have been hard-pressed to get through, but Finn hadn’t seen a good meal in months. He went belly-down, elbows digging in, dragging himself forward while the heat behind licked at his ankles, slimy stone brushing scalp and shoulders both. The stink of moss and rat droppings clogged his nose, and every scrape of his boots sounded like a bell in the silence.

Halfway down, the stone dipped. Water seeped in, soaking his front, and the tunnel narrowed further. He hissed, twisted, shoved one shoulder forward at a time until he thought his ribs might crack. A fat rat would’ve been wedged solid — Finn’s wiry halfling frame barely made the squeeze.

At last, the tunnel ended at a grate. He could see the flagstones of the quay beyond. Closing his eyes, reaching into a space he hadn’t visited for ages, his mind drew forth power. In his hand a purple blade simmered into existence. With a flick of his wrist, he threw the blade into a crack between the flagstones. A line of thought-power flew out with it. The moment it hid, he snapped the line taut, and when he opened his eyes, he was lying on his back on the slimy stones outside.

The tide was high; a wave slapped over his legs, soaking him through. He lay there a heartbeat, listening. No sounds of pursuit, no shouts of alarm. He rose, blackened and smelling of smoke, then slipped into the shadows, the fire behind roaring higher to cover his tracks.

He had the prison at his back and the town’s blind alleys ahead.

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Finn had thought the gnomish passage might be their way out, but climbing down only brought them into a cramped, enclosed space. Rubble piled high on both sides hemmed them in, and beyond stretched a broad moat or lake, black as tar and still as glass. Overhead, the outside walls of the chamber they’d escaped from loomed down like the battlements of an ancient fortress. Jonathan said something, but his voice was drowned out by a rumbling from above. Stones groaned, and with a shudder the walls retracted, a loud metallic thump locked them out. Muffled goblin shouts echoed faintly through the walls, angry and frustrated, but for now the way was sealed. Small blessings.
Inez crouched beside a skeleton chained to the wall, her fingers tracing the moldy remnants of bones. To Finn it looked human-sized, though it was hard to tell with the scraps left. “Gotta love the decoration of this place.”, he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. He scanned the chamber. Piles of rubble rose left and right, more tumbled into the water itself. Water seeped out of that pile, maybe it blocked the mouth of a spring. He looked up uneasily at the ceiling. If the rubble had fallen from there, they might be standing under another collapse waiting to happen. 
Jonathan was a bit more adventurous; he was scrambling up a heap of stones, and was shining his light to see beyond. He claimed he could see something of a hidden wall beyond. Inez, predictably, was lost in fascination with her discovery, the dead remains of some poor sod down a haunted dungeon. Finn scowled. She was supposed to be clever, but at the worst moments she always found some relic to obsess over instead of helping them out of their mess. He was about to give her an earful when something shifted: a strand of slimy algae slithered down from the leg bone and slid across the floor toward the water.
“Huh?” was all he managed before his mind betrayed him. For an instant, clear as daylight, he saw a wheel of creamy, spicy halfling jack, his favorite cheese. His mouth watered; his stomach knotted with hunger.
The vision broke as the water exploded, a tentacle, slick and glistening, snapped upward. With surprising speed Jonathan reacted, drawing his shield and axe, portraying a warrior- priest of legend. Unfortunately, the tentacle — lacking eyes — was not impressed and coiled around Jonathan, wrenching his weapon away and lifting him into the air like a ragdoll. Finn reacted on instinct. He darted forward, blades flashing, and hacked the thing through in one fell sweep. Jonathan dropped with a wheeze, gasping on the stone. Another tendril whipped out, coiling around Inez and squeezing her ribs tight. She let out a strangled cry as it dragged her upward. She was struggling, but to no avail, her arms were tightly bound. Finn lunged again but stumbled on the severed limb at his feet. He fell into, more than charged the tentacle. Black ink sprayed across his hand as he slashed deep into its flesh. Inez and the severed limb thudded to the ground. The creature shrieked from below, and then the water swallowed it back. The fight ended as abruptly as it had begun.
Inez rubbed at the fresh bruises on her arm, frowning. The circular marks the tentacle had left behind matched the strange carvings on the skeleton’s bones. Apparently, that was what was important to her at that moment.
Finn, for his part, just wanted out. Sick of the dungeon, treasure or no treasure. But then the vision of halfling jack returned—he could smell it, taste it. His hand stretched out on its own, reaching for food that wasn’t there. He blinked, and his stomach dropped. His hand was black, covered in a stain that seemed to sink into the skin. That wasn’t right. He snapped back to the here and now. Next to him Jonathan was singing praise to the holy mother Chislev, exclaiming that he had glimpsed her great temple in the depths. Inez flicked open her spellbook, traced glowing symbols in the air, and declared there was faint magic behind the rubble, but something far stronger beneath the water. She spoke of the Omnibus, the gnomes’ legendary encyclopedia, perhaps hidden here beneath the ancient gnomish bastion.
Finn’s hand began to itch, burning faintly, as if the black ink were acid seeping through his skin. Poison, maybe. Best wash it off quickly. He crouched by the water, trying to wash it away. But the moment his hand touched the surface, tiny fish darted in, swarming his fingers. They nibbled greedily at the stain. It didn’t hurt, but he felt exposed, like bait for something bigger. He yanked his hand back and shuffled away from the bank. The ink still clung to his skin, though the fish had eaten away some of the edges. Worries for later.
Inez insisted something vast and magical lay hidden in the depths. Finn squinted again, and there it was—the cheese, a wheel so massive it could have been a moon. Jonathan’s eyes gleamed with the same fever, only he swore he saw his god’s temple.
As tempting as both visions were, none of them had any appetite to meet the beast the tentacles belonged to. They turned instead to the wall Inez had marked. She summoned her unseen servant to shift the rubble. “Why get your hands dirty when you can use magic?” she quipped. Jonathan apparently thought that was holy inspiration, because he cleared a space on the ground and began doodling. At first, he tried dragging his finger across the stone. Maybe he thought, Chislev would grant him the boon of fingerpainting. Finn smirked and tossed him a piece of chalk just to see what would happen. Jonathan drew a circle, some crude waves and symbols—child’s play, really—and then sank into prayer.
Finn waited. Nothing happened. No voices, no light, no divine wind. Just the steady drip of water and the occasional splash as the unseen servant shifted rubble into the lake. Then Jonathan’s eyes fluttered open. He announced, with great solemnity, that Chislev had promised the water path was safe.
Finn snorted. “I could get that from talking to fish,” he said.
With unseen sweat of Inez’s casting, the rubble finally gave way to a wall. Just as Jonathan had promised. Time to let Finn do his magic. He crouched to examine it, his fingers finding what eyes missed: the wall looked a regular part of the fortress structure, but he traced a hidden seam along the corner and bottom of the wall. The stones lacked mortar in those areas. Nothing on the right side. He called Jonathan over, and the two halflings shoved with all their might. The wall shifted a fraction and clicked loudly. Both of them stumbled back, sweat on their brows, unsure what they’d just unleashed. The bricks came at them, forcing the halflings back, and a door swung open. Finn stepped forward with a flourish, bowing low and sweeping his hand as if ushering a noblewoman into her carriage. “My lady,” he said. Inez smiled, clearly pleased.
Typical, sarcasm was wasted on these two. As she walked over, Jonathan stopped them short and said: “Wait. I might have something that might help us enter safely.” Pressing a hand to their shoulders and mumbling a prayer. A warmth spread through Finn’s body, deep and steady, like a hearth fire on a cold night, like a belly full after a long fast.  A “Thank you.” escaped his mouth before he could stop it.
“You two, please wait until I tell you to follow me into the room.” Finn stepped into the room. No click. He waited, until he was sure nothing would happen. He stood in a space with a set of stairs leading up. He sneaked up and peered into the next room staying low. The room beyond was rectangular, with narrow walkways around the edges and a central pit three feet down where water flowed fast. Finn listened carefully—only the sound of running water. No traps sprung when he stepped forward. Safe enough, for now; he called the others over. The pull of the lake gnawed at him. The cheese was still there, calling. Jonathan’s eyes burned with zeal, his need to reach Chislev’s temple nearly feverish. Only Inez seemed immune. She pressed a hand on their chests and said they’d need to continue. This pacified Finn’s desire to go back, but Jonathan brushed her off and said he needed to enter the holy temple.
“We need to go back and feed the owlbear cubs. They’ll die without us.”, Inez pleaded. That cooled Jonathan’s fire — he turned around and had that puppy look back in his eye. “One moment.” He dashed back, to return hauling a severed tentacle with him as food for the beasts.
They carried on in their usual line: Finn at the front, Inez behind, Jonathan bringing up the rear. The walkway led to a corner at the end of the room. Sneaking a peak around the corner; another door barred their path, oak bound in iron. A quick inspection showed this to be the same type of lock as earlier; a specific long other side tingle mechanism. Finn’s tools made quick work of it. The door opened normally. No traps, no magic. He tested it, threw in a pebble for good measure. Then stepped through, Inez and Jonathan followed on his heels — Click.
The mechanism woke. Light seared their eyes. Stone ground and thundered. And suddenly, impossibly, they were standing beneath the black obelisk, the cool dawn air brushing their faces. The sun was just crawling over the horizon. The owlbear cubs came bounding, muzzles wet with whatever kill they’d found in their absence, still playful as ever. Tussling with both Inez and Jonathan, who seemed ecstatic to see the juvenile killing machines. Jonathan tossed them the tentacle, and they tore it apart in delight.
Their tents were nowhere in sight. Finn blinked in confusion. They were back at the monolith near the moonstone fields, not their camp. The moonstones they had lobbed at the golem to save their lives could still be seen at the foot of the monolith.  “How?” was the only thought that formed in his head. Jonathan was rolling in the grass with a cub, giggling like a child, blissfully unaware. Inez did seem to take in her surroundings while a cub was licking her face.
Since they’d left this place, it hadn’t rained. The remains of the giant elk were still there, the dirt reddish brown with dried blood, bones white, meat rotting, crawling with flies.
“They’re not here for us!” Finn said, pointing. “They’re here for whatever killed the elk.” Inez and Jonathan looked at him as if he’d gone daft. Jonathan insisted the cubs had tracked them. Inez’s mouth hardened.
“Don’t start about leaving these cuties behind, Finn Slynt. It’s not happening.” Jonathan frowned. The idea hadn’t even crossed his mind, but now that it had, he was firmly against it. Finn knew when a battle was lost, he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Let’s get back to camp. It’s a long walk, and the day’s not getting any younger.”
By late afternoon they had reached the hamlet, both halfling’s stomachs growled loudly to announce their arrival. The old mayor, Meyon Hiir, was still perched on his porch. He squinted at them, muttering about their return from the wrong direction and their strange changes. A remark on Inez’s state of dress, elicited a shade of crimson on her cheeks that Finn hadn’t seen on any living creature. Then his eyes caught Finn’s blackened hand, turning him into a drunken oracle of prophecy: “Light of moon will wash away the night.”
Finn asked for food, but Meyon ignored him. The old man demanded if they’d were convinced his tales of giants and soldiers were true. They should continue on, but his rambling questions triggered a tale from Jonathan, of Chislev and their underground adventure. Going on and on, Jonathan’s explanations soon lulled the man to sleep where he sat. Finally.
But a sleeping man on a porch meant opportunity — Finn quickly peeked inside the cottage for anything edible, only to be confronted by Meyon’s other-half. Wielding her broom like a halberd, she demanded: “Who are you? What are you doing in my house?”
“Your husband fell asleep and I…”, Finn stammered.
“And that makes it alright for you to walk right in?” she barked.
The fierce woman reminded Finn of Auntie Greer, the respected and feared leader of the Slynt clan — whose stare could fix an ogre where he stood. Her word enough to make enemies and undesirables disappear. Finn’s heart sank into his boots, the old woman was not done giving him an ear full. “Get out of my house! Get out!”, and she started to call for villagers to come to her aid. They slipped away before trouble grew teeth, cubs trotting at their heels.
Back at camp following an hour of brisk walking. Inez traded her goblin princess dress for crisp office wear — not the most practical for the road but standing taller with her dignity restored. Which in this case meant she left the men to the cooking while she bent over a goblin book, pen scratching. Back to the role of servants for her highness. Finn didn’t really mind; he knew his part in this. Besides there was food coming, life was good.
Finn stirred the pot with his stained hand, wondering if it would ever come clean. But still not as bad as his lilac hand. He could now do things, no halfling should be able to. Distracted, divvying up the stew — he served Inez a royal portion, Jonathan a hearty bowl, leaving himself only half a bowl of dregs. That night he went to bed hungry — dreams were bad.
Life on the road was tough.

—————————

The granary door belched black smoke, heat pressing out in waves. Quill shoved the first man forward.

“Move! Buckets, now! Tear it down if you must!”

Two guards rammed shoulders into the door until the bar splintered. Smoke clawed at their throats as they stumbled inside. The air shimmered orange, straw and spilled grain spitting flame like oil.

“There!” one shouted, pointing.

Through the choking haze they saw the signs: a toppled stool, a cloak half-burned in the fire’s edge, a trail of grain scattered like breadcrumbs across the floor. By the far wall, sacks had slumped open, and in the midst of them, a heap of fabric catching flame.

“Gods…” another muttered, pressing a cloth to his mouth. “That’s him. Must’ve panicked. Trapped himself.”

Quill shoved past, squinting through the heat. The shape on the floor writhed in the flames, fabric twisting, curling into nothing. The stink of scorched cloth and hair filled the room. He coughed hard, eyes watering.

“Idiot,” he spat, though his voice cracked with smoke. “He locked himself in, like a rat in its own trap. Thought he could run from me?”

A beam above cracked and spat sparks. Men dragged him back, yelling about the roof. Buckets sloshed, but the fire had already eaten too deep. The grain hissed and popped, bursting into sparks like fat on a griddle. Quill stood in the yard again, face red, eyes streaming, watching the roof sag. Guards muttered behind him — about waste, about punishment, about what the Warden would say. But Quill only stared at the smoke curling into the night. He clenched his jaw so hard it hurt.

“Burned himself,” he said at last, more to convince himself than anyone else. “That’s the end of Slynt.”

The men nodded. None of them noticed the iron ring in the corner of the cellar hatch, nor the faint breath of cool river air that had swept the smoke aside for just a heartbeat before the fire took hold.

Session #9, as told by Inez

Dear diary, as I write this I’m sitting in front of my tent in our camp, and wearing something decent and elegant! Almost as if there was no hardship or adventure going, but that was certainly not the case. Let me tell you!

The three of us were recovering from our clambering down, and some of us needed some more recovery than others. From above the loud noise of the grinding of stones on stones could be heard. As I looked up, I noticed the remains of my dress dangling just out of reach. And more so  the section of the wall that had facilitated our escape, repositioning itself slowly. The ancient gnomish mechanism was still working splendidly, and when the passage through the wall was finally closed, I could feel some sort of pride. We were safe from the goblins now. Though it also meant there was no way back!

Sitting next to my new friend, the skeleton, I watched my two halfling companions investigating our situation and surroundings. We were sitting underneath the walls of an old building, some would call it a castle, had not it been located underground and populated by goblins. In front of us was a moot, or even a small lake as its banks on the other side, were not clearly visible. Behind the skeleton the way ended, large boulders blocking the way. On the other side, Finn and Jonathan were busy inspecting the rubble, to see if there was a way through. Seemingly without much result, though the priest claimed that behind the debris the corridor continued. Hopefully Chislev gave better advice on finding your way than finding your partner, dear diary!

Still not wanting to show more of myself in this revealing outfit, I kept a little distance and just listened in on their conversation on our next best action. Wanting to contribute too, I decided to investigate my bony sidekick more thoroughly. Of normal posture, for a human, and overgrown with green lichen and moss, he displayed no extraordinary features. Except when I looked more closely, several bones showed patterns of circles, the size like you get when bringing the tips of your thumb and forefinger together. Studying his legs and feet, well just the bones dear diary, the long leaves appeared not to be vegetation, instead most likely the remains of one or more animals. 

Continuing researching-while-remaining-low, I sat on my knees, got out my spellbook and concentrated. The good thing about casting the detection of magic is that I could use my arms to cover up a bit, holding the book with one and directing the arcane scouting with the other. Once more I was startled by the ease of the casting of the spell with the help of the book, and how controlled this all worked out. (Certainly, dear diary, I will try to refrain from self propagation as a wizard.) Picking up cues of sorcery from behind the debris on the left (Chislev and I did finally agree on something!) and further up in the water, I picked up a stronger glare. The moment I resonated with that glare, an idea became so strong in my mind, that it almost overtook all my sense and senses! There, hidden in the water, lay a copy of ‘The Omnibus’, the gnomish encyclopedia on magic! Only a few examples still remain today, and my teacher Doctor Vexora had often narrated stories about it and its legendary writer, Professor Thalric Grimwald. 

My teacher had not been that fond about it, calling it “Grimwald’s Folly". Stating that at best it reflected gnomish arrogance, obsession with detail, and love of puns. To me, a work titled "The Omniscient Omnibus of Arcane Oddities, Curiosities, and Mildly Explosive Phenomena (Revised, Expanded, and Still Not Responsible for Any Unintentional Transmutations)" was and is something so desirable, being able to read it and gain all this knowledge! “Yes, I can see the temptation in your eyes, young student!’; the doctor would say: “Perhaps you can request your own copy as part of the dowry. That way you either scare all Nook’s suitors away or finally find one that you actually like!” Sometimes even she could get on my nerves, dear diary!

Strangely not only I was gazing over the water, the two halflings were also gesturing and pointing. One claiming a huge temple complex dedicated to Chislev was there to be found under the waterline. The other one pointed out that the biggest piece of Spice Halfling Jack cheese could be picked up from that same spot, just by getting into the water. These schemes would probably have sent us to an early, arguably happy, death, had not I stepped on one of the pseudo leaves. It turned out to be the far tip of a giant tentacle, that all of a sudden became animated. And to make things even worse, a second one appeared from out of the water!

The second limb moved towards Jonathan and Finn, the priest reacting swiftly. Gearing up his shield and axe, he would not let someone, not even some animal, come between him and this temple! His charge did not make a big impression on the two big arms, as he was picked by one and disarmed by the other. Again Finn had to step in, attacking the tentacle holding Jonathan with his cleaver and knife. This did make an impression, cutting off the arm from something still hiding beneath the water! Fortuitously Jonathan landed crassly but safely on the embankment again. Ticket prices for temple entrance were quite steep today, dear diary!

Then the tentacle now armed with an axe charged me! Luckily I was still in a low kneeling position and only the blunt side hit me, still the pain was intense! To add insult to injury, or better, indecency to injury, the arm dropped the axe and picked me up! The slimy, glutinous tentacle was wrapped around my body, touching my skin as the goblin set I was wearing did not protect an awful lot! Sucking and squeezing I was held prisoner, and no solicitor to step in! Stuck like that, I could not use magic to escape or attack my unwelcome chaperone. Still, somehow I managed to break free, by sheerluck or taking advantage of my training in evading male pinches. 

Seeing my predicament, Finn lunged toward me, only to stumble over the severed tentacle, that was his first victim. A jet of black ink squirted out of it, blackening his right hand. Staggering over, his attack was magnified by the speed, scything the tentacle in two parts. The part attached to something sliding back into the water fleetly, the other part landing just too close to me for comfort. It convoluted and writheled for some minutes, as I stepped away from it hastily. 

Freed from the tentacle, notwithstanding the marks on my right arm, that looked exactly as the ones on my old friend, the skeleton, who was still sitting in his corner, unimpressed by it all. Despite feeling not exactly dressed for the occasion in the goblin skimpy outfit, I gritted my teeth and walked over to my companions. Yes, I know, dear diary, I’m the one who wanted to leave town and find adventure! 

As I approached Finn, having to thank him again, what had become a too frequent ritual. Your completely right dear diary, I sound like the spoiled brat he always says I am. But the rogue had no interest in my gratitude or my looks; instead of all that, he was obsessively trying to wash off the black ink, dipping his hand in the water, as scrubbing did not seem to work. Biting his amulet he shook his head and right hand. “It won't come off, this blackness tarnished my hand.” As the rogue was clearly not interested in anything else, I walked over to Jonathan. 

On the far end of the bank I found the other halfling: “There’s the biggest and most beautiful temple of Chislev, just over there. Look at it, I’ll have to repair and restore it!”; the halfling man was designating passionately the same spot where I located the copy of the Omnibus. “A temple?" Somewhere near that big book?”; I answered. “Perhaps, yes, I don’t see a book, but for sure, the goddess could have hidden a book in this temple. And perhaps it was hidden there to be found by a wizard led by a true priest like me. Even if the wizard is such a delicately perilous one.” Dear diary, Chislev and I need some serious talks. 

Letting his answer sink in for a few seconds, I decided to try a different style:  “Let’s try to find a way out first. If the creature owning these tentacles returns, or one of his brothers or sisters, or even more goblins, were trapped here. He agreed then hesitantly to first find an exit before looking for the temple and started to clear the rubble blocking our path. To help him out, I sat down on my knees again, concentrating on the arcane sphere, evoking an unseen servant. This conjured creature assisted Jonathan, picking up rock after rock, dropping it in the stream, creating a small isle. 

With the rubble gone, Jonathan sat down cross legged and started meditating. I studied him and the ritual he performed, wanting to learn more from his magical skills. Where I was following instructions found in the booklet, he seemed to just improvise and adapt when needed. This time this went so far that halfway he took a piece of chalk handed to him by Finn, as the floor provided no means to draw. And drawing he did, a temple, waves, one figure leading two other ones through the waves into the temple. All of a sudden his movements stopped, his hand open as to receive a gift, his eyes looking up to somewhere far beyond the ceiling. 

A loud splash was the answer that the goddess manifestly sent. A series of small rocks came falling out of the ceiling (or where else?) into the moot. For Jonathan the proof that the route towards the temple was safe and we should step into the water! Finn was less convinced, asking the priest what he had just done, casting a spell to drop stones into the water? Jonathan tried to explain that he requested an omen from Chislev and that the signs could only be interpreted as good. Stepping in, I repeated my argument to secure a passage out first. Both Jonathan and Finn agreed, even though the rogue mumbled something about a large piece of cheese. 

The wall was now accessible for close inspection. A task for a rogue, so Jonathan and I stepped aside and let Finn do his job. A quick search made him find a vertical seam without mortar. “There’s definitely a door hidden here. Do give me a hand!”; Finn requested Jonathan after some futile attempts by himself. The priest did as requested, giving such a shove that Finn bumbled against the panel. Not for the first time this day, a loud click could be heard and the wall looked to dent in around the rogue. Stepping back cursing and still sleekly, Finn produced some remarks about his travel companions and one halfling in particular,  while the panel produced a click loud once more. And with that the wall opened up a little. “My lady!!” Finn said, expanding the entrance, throwing in a reverence that would have made my teacher in gnomish etiquette, High keeper Ironmantle, despondent. Nonetheless I responded with a proper one and praise for my fellow adventurer!

Before we moved on through the door, Jonathan insisted on us receiving a blessing of Chislev. Holding his pendant with the leaf-sign in one, he laid his other hand on our shoulders, first at Finn’s, then on my bare one. A touch of warmth and vigor, not unpleasant and adding some energy and hope inside of me. So once more, I responded with a proper performed reverence of thanks, dwarven approved.

Now entering the room cautiously, no surprises awaited us, only a chamber with a staircase leading upwards. After making sure we were safe, I asked Jonathan to close the door after us, which he declined respectfully but vigorously. My ponderings about a magic book had left me upon entering this room, and Finn too had lost his plans of finding the ultimate piece of cheese. Jonathan however was still fully committed to his priestly quest for the temple. And none of my arguments worked out. Ultimately Jonathan, being a true cleric of Chislev, suggested a group vote. And accepted the outcome, decidedly when I threw in my longing to see the Owl Bear Cubs again. And how long those poor critters were by now without support. Of course this white lie came with the sigh of a lady in need of support. And I remembered  my father saying: “A good solicitor uses words, not winks. Save the batting eyelashes for the ballroom.”

The cubs sold it to Jonathan, he even volunteered to grab a large piece of one of the cut off tentacles for them. We then closed the door, anchoring it with a click. From there we passed around a corner, carefully, always expecting an ambush or worse. Despite all our awareness, there was another click. Followed by a flash of blinding light and a green cloud surrounding us. Followed by an eruption of noise, a cacophony of sounds as if stones were grinding, falling and rolling over the ground. Followed by us somehow floating and I was not sure if we were falling or climbing and..

We were back at the base of the black obelisk. At the same field we had been several days ago. At the exact location where we had entered the underground, through the stairs next to it. But now the stones around it were not providing any way through, nor indicating that there ever was one. As the sun was setting, we could see there was not a living thing around us. However the sound of bones cracking and animals smacking could be heard from behind the vegetation. 

And then they were all over us! The three Owl Bear Cubs, dirty with blood from a recent meal, trying to hug me, and even Jonathan. Who made himself very popular with the critters by handing them the tentacle.

As I tried to get rid of some tears (I really had missed them, dear diary!), my companions and I had a small discussion on what had happened, where we were and what to do next. The latter question was by all means the easiest to be answered, by halfling custom: Let’s have a meal! During this breakfast we did not come up with a lot of other answers, but we did come up with a plan: To return to our camp, to do so, pass through the village, and see from there. 

We had just set a few steps back into the hamlet, when we were greeted by Meyon Hiir, sitting in front of his house. “Good day, dear travelers! Might I say I’m a bit surprised by you arriving so soon once more, and from the same North  side as where you arrived from recently. But not the side where you departed towards. Weren’t you heading for Magki?’ Again, this gnome somehow made my hair stand on end, was this an agent hired by my father, a necromancer in disguise? “And you all look different, like you've changed in some strange way? What has happened?” Making a cordial bow (first having checked if all my clothes were properly bound and up for the task.), I tried to take over the conversation, with the opposite result: “And you little girl, you seem to have dressed for a moondance on magic night? Did the soft moonlight shine in your blush?” Dear diary, this vexatious elder managed to make me turn scarlet and rob me of all my wit at the same time!  Trying to change the subject, I uttered some woolly expressions, but the old gnome would not have any of it. “And did you find the moonstones? You see, everything I told you, about the stone giants and the battles, it’s all true you see! It’s not just a dream!” 

“And that hand of yours, where did that get its black color?” Relieved I stepped backwards, now Finn had to answer a barrage of questions: “Did it get that color from the moonstones? And how did you fare in the night of moons and stones?” Before the rogue could answer all of this, I interrupted, explaining that we just had lost our way and most likely had made a full circle around the small town. At that point Jonathan joined in, with a stream of stories of what had happened to us the last few days. There was no stopping him spilling all our secrets out, but luckily, the old man had fallen asleep.

“Please, let us continue our route and leave this place!” I urged the two halflings. But now it was Finn’s turn to imperil our quest. Being a halfling, and being a rogue, finding some food inside the house of which the owner is fast asleep was the most natural next step to take. Entering the shack, he was caught red handed, or in his case, purple and black handed, by the missus of the house. A gnomish lady who was in no way impressed by the halfling intruder, or his excuses for entering her house. Finn was chased out of the house, having to run to escape slashes of her  broomstick. “Come, let’s go quickly!”; I yelled to Jonathan. More villagers were by now paying attention and drawing near. And what did not help were the pleas of Finn to the gnome lady to stop harassing him, as he was befriended by the gnomish solicitor of Nook and her daughter. Dear diary, at that moment I wished I was the one holding that broom.

Outside the village, the three of us once more were joined by the three cubs. “How come they never help us out?”; Finn was complaining to me. “Because they don’t eat gnomish ladies, but I’m not too sure about halflings.”; I replied, ending that discussion. Fortunately the trip from the hamlet to our campement was rather uneventful. We found our tents untouched, perhaps the critters had done something useful in the meantime?

In high spirits I entered my tent, safe and sound, after all our exploits. Indeed, the idol, still bungling inside, felt welcome to me. And as a bonus, I could change back to a proper set of clothing: My office outfit that I had been wearing on the last day in Nook. A bit formal, not as fancy as my lost traveling dress, but still a lot better than the goblin attire. Cleaning myself up a little, adding some colors to the face, and I was shining brighter than a gold piece in a dragon’s hoard!

And so thought my companions, I would say, dear diary. Because looking upon me like that, and being requested, friendly but sharply, to prepare the meal of the night, both men started working without hesitation or complaint. And that’s where I leave tonight, as I will spend the last hours of the day studying the goblin book I found.