Session #11 as told by Inez

Session #11 as told by Inez

Dear diary,

Things did not work out as I planned, and that’s an understatement! trying to cover up my fraud scheme, I almost killed the very talented Couturière in town, probably creating an enemy for life...  As always I was almost killed and had to be bailed out by my halfling friends. And in the end we had to rush out of Ki as criminals. Don’t know how I can explain this all, but here follows my attempt.

We were in our room at the inn, trying to regain some energy after our fight with the rats and the hefty breakfast. I was pacing nervously back and forth between my bed and the one used as a vault. Each round my eyes found the package of the fashion boutique, containing that red dress so nice. Each round my eyes found the two beds with a halfling man sitting on top, chattering in good humor, planning the next meal, ignoring their gnomish companion. Until I could not stand it any more and brokenly started orating about the need to come up with a plan. To my surprise, the halflings agreed, they were also keen on leaving Ki, not even blaming me, but first priority was a decent meal. Flabbergasted I agreed on this and off they went to the dining hall. Like my mother would have said: “Don’t stand between Halflings and their  food, it’s like Blocking a Steam Kettle’s Whistle, you’ll only get burned!”

As they opened the door I could hear the huge crowd that had gathered below, the good people of Ki had decided to lengthen the festivities, wedding them to the weekly days of rest. As I felt myself a bit left out, I chose to postpone a visit to the bookstore and instead give in to the desire to wear that dress. Like we gnome say: “A Clock Without a Cuckoo Is Just a Sad Box of Gears!” So a short hour later I was primed, polished, powdered and painted, using the stuff I had bought using the seal. A look in the mirror made short work of the proverb that crime doesn't pay. Yes I know, dear diary, hubris could be my middle name these days..

Walking down the stairs I scanned the main hall of the Badger. The place was loaded, mostly with great folk, glasses and bottles in hand. Finn and Jonathan had joined some locals.Within their group I recognized the smith’s son Carrion, and all were in good spirits, both literally and figuratively speaking. The halflings were still able to stand on the wooden blocks to reach the height of the human table, so they should be doing fine, at least, that’s what I thought then. 

The moment both halflings spotted me, things started to go wrong. Finn fell still, which could have been positive, then locked his gaze at me, like a clockwork owl following every step I set. I could almost hear the gears clicking in his head, waiting for a spring to snap. However, this was not my biggest concern, as my other admirer, Jonathan started waving and jelling how beautiful I looked. Which got the full attention of the room pointed at me (Which was admittedly also a bit gratifying, dear diary). Luckily he was handed another pint by one of the humans at the table.

Further ignoring my companions I headed to the group of Dwarven traders, sitting at one of the small folks tables. In the back of my mind a plan had arisen to find someone able to copy the sigil. Perhaps one of these dwarfs could provide this service. As I requested to join their table, clearly starting of with the correct bows prescribed by Dwarven etiquette, I was sent off like a kobold.”Moradin, grant me the strength to ignore the gnomes’ chatter!” Was amongst the most pleasant responses that followed. “Why is this little trickster at our table again? And why is she wearing less than a naked mole-rat?” Fortunately the noise in the hall was so loud and the tall folks were not interested in our conversation that I could escape without too much disgrace. Though I was fuming internally, dear diary! For the second time this day I wished High keeper Ironmantle was here to defend my honour. Probably these were dwarfs from the far North, the Grumpy Fortresses as we gnomes call their settlements, that consider gnomes untruthful and worse.

Breathing in deeply, fighting away the tears I walked over to a more quiet corner of the inn, where several ladies were sitting. Amongst them I caught sight of Lilly Merriweather, who was enthusiastically pointing at me: “You see that, that’s what I call a gnome lady!” she said to the two dames sitting with her at the table. “All styled by me, but what result! It’s a shame there are no gnome singles living around. Oh, don’t pretend you're shy, Carola, please do join us.” 

Accepting the invitation I sat myself at the bar stool that was offered, equipped with a mechanism that extended it to an appropriate height. “No, it’s not gnomish. I see you looking, it’s dwarven. So it won’t play music or turn your spoon for you, no fancy stuff.”; the store owner continued: “Allow me to introduce my two friends, Jessai Meldau and Fowkin Scramblewise. This beautiful creature here is covered, well the best bits are, by a dress of my hand ! This is Carola Cape-otter, a gnome lady visiting our village.” This time my curtsy was well received, still and all I was a bit perplexed by the jovial tone. The reason for it became clear soon, as I was offered and then almost instantly served an ‘umbrella’, a colorful cocktail served in an elegant glass. “We call ourselves the umbrella company.”; Jessail explained; “Ever since Axiss introduced these, we've been enchanted by this drink. And she won’t give us the recipe. To our new friend Carola!”  

“Carola? Your halfling friend just called you Jinek or something?”; our hostess interfered while picking up glasses. “Really?” ; I tried, but Axyss was just picking up steam; “Oh yes, the one that’s lying on the table, drunk as a Badger in a Honey Jar. The other one is half his time  busy making sure his halfling friend does not say too many stupid things. The other half he’s peeking at you”. With that she left our table, leaving me with three grinning ladies. “Oh yes, sometimes when they're cocksure or tipsy, they call me Inez. It’s probably a halfling half goddess of fertility or so. Mostly I tolerate it. They're men.” Scoring my first laugh at the table, and above all, moving away from the name topic.

On the other side of the room a dark booming voice overwhelmed the cacophony in the room, stating with a double tongue something along the line of: “All your rats are belong to us!” Somehow Jonathan was using magic to boost his speech, preaching Brandobaris learnings instead of Chislevs. And starting off fresh rumors about the coming of new rats. All around us the possible comeback of vermin or even worse monsters went round. But not at the ladies table. “Is that not one of your halflings?” Fowkin informed. “Yes, but I’m afraid they’re a bit muddled. It’s hard these days to get proper staff.” “Oh, you do employ them?” Jessail now wanted to know. “Well, I’m more or less their solicitor. They’re ratcatchers, we travel from city to city. May I ask, is there a silversmith or something similar in Ki?” Somehow I succeeded in steering the conversation away from the rats and my companions. Less luck with finding someone to copy the sigil, as the armourer turned out the only metalworker around. 

Still chattering with these women made me feel good. It made me feel like I was back at the soirees and banquets in Nook, with the additional bonus of not having gnome suitors around. Like at home, I found not much substance in the conversation. The women were not that much interested in ‘Magki matters’, leaving these to their husbands. (Had to bite my tongue there, dear diary.) Concerning the ‘episode of the rats’, Jessail and Lilly had much more interest in the relationships between me and the rat catchers (No comment, dear diary). Above all the ability of Fonkin to foresee one's future using cards was the main topic. “You're so lucky to visit us when she's around”; Tilly pressed me; “You really should give it a go.” Still the idea made me shiver, reminding me of the old witch and the idol. Luckily another umbrella-drink was served and luckily Dame Zibella had once instructed me on how to drink without drinking, getting rid of the content of your glass in a stealthy way. As my table consorts were becoming punch-drunk, I steered away from the path of Garl Glittergold, not joining the carouse. I know, I know, dear diary, but I compensate by honoring our god these days by making bad decision upon bad decision. 

Another less appreciated conjuring took effect then, when Finn forced another uninvited connection between our minds. In some way I managed to keep smiling and nodding at the right moments, combining this with an inter-mindly discussion with my companion. “What happened to our plan?”; he inquired even louder in my head than if he would have been shouting; “We were supposed to leave as soon as possible!” “Yes, but there were two men who insisted on having dinner first. And one of them I can’t see anywhere?”; I responded internally, looking casually towards the corner where I last had seen the two halflings. “He’s still here, lying on the table with his mouth open. Beers and other stuff is being poured in as we speak.” “We should still prepare to leave, visit the book office, but first get him into bed.” “Agreed, I’ll try to take him over to the stairs.”; my rogue companion buzzed into my mind.

Breathing out, then elegantly standing up I excused myself at the table, then made my way to the stairs. Where I found Finn and Jonathan sitting next to each other. “I want to come with you guys! Adventure!”; Jonathan was as cheerful as drunk. “Trying to get him upstairs is no use.” Finn groaned. “Well, let’s then try to get outside. And you be quite now!”; I hissed at the halflings. Amazingly somehow the two of them limped after me, through the doors, without major incidents. 

Outside Finn and I discussed what to do planwise and Jonathan-wise, in a half spoken, half thouhgt-out conversation. It seemed that Finn and Jonathan also were connected, as the priest could not stop speaking about the tricks Finn was performing in his head. “Are you in his head too?”; I asked the rogue. “Well, yes, and it’s quite hard to do, especially when one is thinking I’m today's special attraction and the other is keen on following her own agenda.”; it whirred in my mind. ‘Fine, let’s synchronize. We need to leave, but Jonathan is in no condition to travel, so tomorrow morning. We should visit the post office before we leave, trying to find out why there’s so much solicitor’s stuff being sent from here. And the drunkard, we can drop him in the water cistern over there.” 

“No, not in the water!”; the priest was now yelling out loud. “Be quiet!” I hissed at Jonathan, followed by “How did he hear that?’ at Finn. “Must have passed it through. It’s quite hard, two at the same time, filtering and routing, and making sure not everything is sent.” “Yes, magic is hard, not something for the uninitiated.”; I bluffed; “Let’s put Jonathan in the stable, he’ll like it there with the animals. I’ll visit the post office by myself!” Both priest and rogue seemed to accept my proposal and we got going. Just before reaching the door, Finn turned his head and looked around; “And that dress, it fits you like a really fancy lock, I would love to spend all night trying to pick you! Oh wait, that was not supposed..” Annoyed and outraged, I snapped off the connection with the rogue, trying to inject a magical charge through the line before shutting it. This pesky halfling, dear diary!

Just halfway through the store, its owner came up to meet me. “Hi Kayleth!”; I addressed her; “I was just on my way to your store.””No need, we’re all ready and closed for the weekend!” “Closed and ready?”; I queried. “Oh yes, all the mail has been picked up by couriers and it’s on its way to Magki.” “And what about the courier that entered the store when I left?” “Oh, he’s a regular. Could not find his sigil, but had a copy. And we know him, so he took all the postal articles and went. "Not a problem!” “And is this amount of posts normal for such a small village like Ki?”; I inquired further. “Oh yes, we’re a stop in the middle of several villages and Magki. Most things just pass through, not concerning any Ki business”. Shifting between relief and disappointment I now knew I had some time to fix the sigil-situation, but also that all my hopes of revealing a major fraud had all this time just been something in my imagination. So I decided to start fixing right away and gain some credits with Kayleth: “Sorry for all these questions, I’m still trying to learn the trade. Can I offer you an umbrella at the inn?” 

That’s how we rejoined the ladies at the table at the Badger. The other three ladies were derived enough by conversation and intoxication to let me tangle and untangle Kayleth that my name was actually Carola, not Claro, nor Inez. And at the time that another round of cocktails arrived, I just happened to notice something odd. The clothing workshop owner, Lilly, was wearing an eccentric, but still lovely, cloche hat in purplish black. And to me it looked like a small pixie-like creature opened up a door into the hat and vanished inside. At the time I thought that even the limited amount of umbrella cocktails I had was causing this. All the same, Lilly looked me straight in the eye and asked: “Your men, are they looking for new outfits as well?” “Well, that is a line of thought that I have not followed before.”; was my confused response; “That way they would blend in better with me, I suppose.” “I suppose so too. And I suppose that you don’t know about their whereabouts at the moment, do you?”; she inquired sharply. “Well, one of them is sleeping in the stable.” “And the other one, could he be in such desperate need for a decent ensemble that he’s looking for it right now, at night, after closing time?” She was prying into me, and all I could think of was “Finn!” and “How do I handle this?”; “Perhaps we could take a stroll into town towards the shop and see if we can find him?”; was my apologizing suggestion. “Let’s do so, please do join me. Ladies, please excuse us.” And with that she stood up, took me by the arm, and led me out of the inn.

Outside we made a good pace, especially for a gnome, towards the shop. My efforts to start a conversation with Lilly lead nowhere, at best to a firmer grip on my arm and shoulder. Stopping in front of the workshop, she let me go and directed me courteously towards the door. As enthusiastic I was stepping in the first time, so tense I was this time, leading the half elf shopowner in. The inside of the place was not as dark as I expected, moonlight came in through the shop windows (and that one dress was still up for grabs I saw). Inside a lonely figure was standing, hands raised as a beaten soldier. As I expected, it turned out to be my rogue companion Finn. “There must be a logical explanation for this, dear Lilly.”; I started my pleading. Rather weakly, you’re right, dear diary, but that’s what I came up with.

“Hush now, little lady. And welcome again, my little friends, to my shop. Would you care to explain what brought you here this time, halfling?”; sounded all too friendly. Had the store hummed faintly with latent enchantments during our first visit, now it was radiating a hostile tense shimmer. Lilly had walked past Finn to the far corner of the shop. Standing behind the counter she was clearly inspecting the situation. To a rogue as Finn this all seemed routine, he graciously greeted Lilly and me, then started explaining: “Short story, as responsible rat catcher, who takes a low esteem job seriously, taking a tour through the village. Thought I noticed some suspicious activity inside your beautiful shop. Rats I thought, so I hurried in, only to find some other bugs, hovering around.” Looking up, I now some two pixie-like creatures hovering above us. The height of the shop was, even for a human sized one, extraordinary. “But no harm done, we can close this case and all go home.”; continued, Finn while moving towards the exit. Until the door of the shop closed behind us by itself, blocking our way out.

Whereas I continued trying to negotiate with Lilly, offering both explanations, promises of more purchases or endorse her beautiful collection to small folks (Connecting this with the services of a certain mannequin, wouldn't you say, dear diary?), all hell broke loose around me. With a subtle finger movement the store owner had set the magic creatures loose on Finn. And on me!  The creatures were buzzing around us, then dove at us like wasps! All the time chittering amongst themselves: “Did you see them? I’m gonna hit that ugly one!” Finn slashed, but the creature dodged, laughing as it zipped toward his throat. “That leaves pretty face for you!’." A sting lanced my arm, blood welling, but the dress stayed pristine. This was far more worse than the bees that had spoiled our garden party years ago, dear diary!

Diving, climbing and diving again the little demons attacked us again and again! Their tiny voices shrill and mocking: “You’re too ugly for that dress. We’re gonna cut it loose!” All the while Lilly was observing us from behind the counter, deaf for my pleas and arguments. A sharp pain made me shriek! The creatures were quite good at their job as guards of the store! So good even, that they cut and hit me without damaging the dress, taking care just to hit where skin was showing. Unfortunately for me this dress offered enough options to do so! My mother would have said “Showing a little skin will lure nobility in.”; but these critters did not appear to flow from a proper bloodline. Letting lines of blood flow was what they were about!

To make matters worse, Lilly tapped her hat and in it a small hatch appeared from where a third creature appeared, magically expanding to the same size as its mob members. Now the numbers were also against us! “Where's Jonathan?” I puffed to Finn. “Still sleeping out, I can't get through to him!”; was his disheartening reply, meanwhile blocking another attack with his knife. His purple arm was wielding the arcane knife, even without needing to connect to my wizardry energies. To huge effect, as he hit one of the creatures conclusively, as it exploded in a ball of dust! Disastrously this blast affected Finn too, even killing these critters caused pain! The two remaining were furious, intensifying both their attacks and insults: “Kill that stealing vermin! Did you see that, they took him down. We’re gonna make’m pay! Wreck them!” My breath hitched, fingers slick with blood and panic. But then Finn’s knife flashed, I wasn’t alone, dear diary. 

Within this pandemonium I fiddled my spell book out of one of the dress’s hidden pockets (Don't ask, dear diary!) and concentrated, pulling off a near perfect acid blast towards one of the creatures! To no effect! The pixie was caught in a purple haze for a few seconds, then appeared again out of a cloud of dust, taunting and fuming: “Oh, I’m gonna bash you for that, pointy nose!” Its accomplice was nagging the both of us: “She hit you, you slow flyer. She likes putting you in the bath! Gonna give her a cleansing too!” Finn and I still stood our ground, but the both of us were bleeding from several wounds. Finn had suffered the worst of the attacks, nonetheless was still dealing damage. In line with tradition, this little gnome was out of breath, energy and luck when another attack hit her on the head. Falling down my last image was of a bloodied Finn slashing out towards those pests. In a last effort I arranged my dress in an elegant way to claim the rank of most elegant gnomish corpus delicti. One day I will end like that, a beautiful stuffed up figure in a macabre collection, dear diary!

When I opened my eyes again, Jonathan was leaning over me. Another pattern in place, dear diary, me screwing up, halfling men to the rescue! A bursting headache felt like splitting my brain, however there was no time to lie around like a clockwork butterfly. Over and over the pixies had been attacking, knocking out both Finn and me.  Finn looked miserable, bloodstained and lying on the ground unconscious! “You’re here?””Yes!”; answered the priest. Best dialogue ever, I surmised, watching Jonathan walking over to Finn and performing his healing magic, superficially ignoring the buzzing pixies. The priest had arrived just in time, otherwise things would have turned out very bleak. 

The shop owner was observing the clash from the far corner, staring like a basilisk at breakfast. In my mind a plan formed, perhaps if I could force the leader out of the game, this could still end well. Finding back my spellbook, it rushed its pages by itself towards a new spell. Only cast it once before, targeting one of the Owlbear Cubs, I now tried to levitate Lilly to get her into my spell, figuratively and literally. In spite of the mess we were in, casting the spell succeeded and I was tied up in steering the spell’s dynamics. All of a sudden I lost all control and the full strength of the conjuration hit me like a whip! Falling on my knees I looked up to Lilly, the half elf appeared to be even taller or to float, her face radiating rage: “Don’t you ever try that again, little lady!” Endorsing her magic superiority over me. 

Cowering on the floor had one major advantage, the moment Finn hit a critter again with his magical knife and it too exploded in a cloud of dust, I was low enough to evade the impact.  Yet on my knees I lost control, belittled and distressed, and over again aggregated arcane energy, kneading it in my head and between my hands into an orb, hissing like the teakettle in our kitchen, thereupon releasing it with an anger motion towards Lilly. A perfect sphere of acid made its way towards Lilly, engulfing her, striking her down. Killing her. Bewildered, I looked at her body lying in the far spot of the store. Had I just assassinated the woman who had invited me for a drink, talented designer of gorgeous dresses? “Head down!”; Jonathan poked me, bringing me back to the reality of the fight. The last remaining pixie was now bombinating like its gears were spinning out of control, transforming in a tornado like red heat glowing thunderhead! Propelling itself towards Finn it was met by the magical knife and for the last time a dust cloud was formed by an exploding critter! 

This last explosion caused a fog of dust, only after Jonathan casted a light we could find out that the three of us were all still standing. (Except me, lying on the ground.) “You’re all alright? That we’re no normal pixies.“; I stuttered, getting up and looking at my companions. “Oh wait, let me check her first!”; I yelled at Jonathan, who was heading towards the lifeless body of Lilly. Instrumentally casting an unveiling of magic, I found that the former shop owner had no arcane items on her. That was except for her hat, which revealed a tiny panel. Curious, I picked the hat up, then asked Jonathan to look into Lilly. My faithful companion sat himself next to her. Then cast his spell of healing one more time effortlessly. “She’s not dead, I can still hear her heart beating. But she needs treatment!”; he assured me.

“So, she is not dead. I did not kill her!”; I was so relieved, I hugged and kissed him on the cheek. This was interpreted by Finn as an all clear sign, searching the body to find some coins, trinkets and notes. Handing a strange looking stone to me, storing the rest of the loot in his coat: “We’ve gotta go!”

But now the priest was protesting: “I should heal her before we go. Chislev would not want it any other way!” “But by healing her, she will warn the villagers, we will be lynched!”; Finn and I were trying to convince the priest that his divine plans would instead lead to more injuries and death. “But we can explain to them what happened!”; the priest insisted. “Well, here we go: I’m Carola Sea-otter, we are traveling ratcatchers, we defeated some giant-rats, but then just to come in possession of a solicitors seal, and then just happen to stumble upon some vermin in a store, leading to a fight, nearly killing the owner who I just had drinks with..”; looking at the dumbfounded face of the poor priest I continued: “Nobody in town would believe us, you don’t even believe this!” 

To his credit, Jonathan did accept this argument. And we made a compromise, he stabilized Lilly using his powers, making sure she would survive but remain unconscious. Then we prepared for leaving town in secret. Picking up our stuff from the inn, that was by now dark and empty, with the exception of some die hard drinkers at the bar. Switching back into a more comfortable outfit (the halfling men standing guard outside our room), I noticed the dress practically undamaged. Same could not be said if it's wielder, my body was best with scratches and bruises at places that hadn't been covered. Finally folding it up delicately, adding Lilly’s hat to the package. 

Then we set out for Magki in silence, tired already at the start of our trip. By the skin of one's teeth we made some miles before finding a hidden spot to set up camp. And there we made camp, sort of, still in silence. 

And there’s where I write this, dear diary. Somehow I’ll need to figure out why I started all this; was it for the adventure, like Jonathan? The dress, am I like Finn? Or just to prove I could? And how do I make all this right before a certain rogue’s “I told you so” becomes a foretelling? Lots of questions, dear diary, to be answered by a simple gnome.

In between dream by Inez

 In between dream by Inez

Dear diary,

Forgot to tell you of the dream I had during a catnap this morning. Having spent all night outside fighting rats messes with your mind. Not to mention the company of magical books and the idol. But I’m already regressing in the first lines. Back to the dream!

The landscape had changed, I was no longer in Ki or Nook, but someplace high in unknown mountains, cold and chill. Winds were howling around me, with on top of them the whispers of the Idol, promises and threats of dark magic power. We stood upon the rampards of an old castle, over viewing a snow covered city that was clearly under siege. We, that were my faithful companions Finn and Jonathan, even in my dreams. Here we were joined by Tomaso, a Nezumi warrior monk or wizard and his apprentice Jonasi, a Tortle paladin or fighter of some kind. Obviously we were in a foreign country, the style of clothing, armour and even weapons felt exotic. Fortifications and houses felt both familiar and odd, with decorations and curves creating an exotic and beautiful look. When I whispered this to Finn, he hissed back that my description reminded him of one of his companions. Rolling my eyes at him, I still reddened a little. This pesky halfling, dear diary!

My reddening deepened when the monk asked me if I had any questions. Seemingly he had been given us instructions about an important mission to fulfil. After stuttering an empty reply to him, he sighed and handed me a harp. An instrument I was taught to play when I was little and I hated to perform on demand for my father. During banquets I was placed in a corner with such an instrument, though a gnomish one, its strange design contained a magical mechanism to secretly record conversations. This one looked quite old and ordinary, but I did not dare to complain to the bound and determined looking Ratman. “So remember: We must find Dragon Bile. Only that stuff burns in such a way that these creatures do not return!”; the monk stated, all the time eying me. Like I did not know what that was or where it could be used for, being a wizard!

Clearly I had missed some parts of the instructions, as the men as one turned around, stepped up the ramparts and jumped down! Dear diary, I could almost hear my father say: ‘Like a gear in the wrong machine you’re spinning fast, making noise, but not turning anything useful!’ Looking from above, I could see them moving fast into the city, leaving me lonely and cold with some guards on top of the wall. Luckily I had already spotted some extra clothes to help me get warm, lying in some crates. And not too shabby either, a hat and a cloak that could have been done by Nook’s Glitterfrost Atelier. I used to have a cloak with Snowflake Patterns that changed color when you moved! This set looked more practical and fit for fighting, still the white fur did look great on me! (Sometimes my dreams do work out fine, dear diary!)

Having picked up some lines from our orders, I looked how I could scale down the wall to follow my fellow warriors. Finding a rope ladder leading down, I ordered the soldiers to lead the way and saw them jump as I carefully made my way down the wall. In front of me were some ruined houses, a bit further an undamaged one and behind those the sound of fighting could be heard. Ordering one group to go check the alley to the right, I took three soldiers with me and walked towards the still intact building. Inside I found two more soldiers, but not a lot more. Then I could hear Jonathan shouting towards someone, so I went outside to find out what was going on. In the far left outskirts of the town I could see him and the apprentice fighting strange looking humans. Though all humans look a bit off to me, but these one wore terrible clothes and make up, like their skin was falling off. Jonathan seemed to address each of them separately, probably trying to convince them that bloodshed was a bad thing and they should consider following Chislev before killing them off like he was a champion of Ilmater!

Remembering parts of the briefing, I returned into the house to look for materials to set on fire. Our job was to create a fire lane, by burning down the last houses, between the survivors of the city and these attackers of all things fashionable. Hopefully our employers had things worked out with the owners, I couldn't help myself thinking, still the daughter of a solicitor. 

Searching the human house, it felt almost familiar though off scale with everything just a bit too large in size. It felt like it was looming over me, like an old human witch once did.  Peeking around unaware of events, suddenly I was poked by one of the guards: “Look out! They came out of nowhere!” Now I noticed that the soldiers in the house were under attack! The attackers looked like an image of a book shown by Doctor Vexora in her lessons, the Dark Moon Monks. That’s why they probably appeared in this dream, dear diary. And they were killing off the guards and I, as a guardian of fashion, would probably be their next victim!

Surrounded by the black clad figures, the only thing that came to my mind was the harp. Striking it in a rushed uncontrolled way, I felt it resonate through my spine into my brain (not unlike the way Finn somehow connects to my inner mind), triggering a stream of raw magical power. To my surprise, and probably to that of the monks, after pulling the snare of the instrument several times, my assailants laid around as if they had been toyed with by the Owl Bear cubs! Not a pretty sight, and I fled the house nauseous, staggering over the damaged furniture. All my actions must have pleased our old housegod Helm, as I found an urn filled with dragon bile on my way out.

Outside carnage was going on, houses were on fire and lid up the fights between my entourage and hordes of creatures. Finn was swaying around with a pole-like weapon like he was Arvoreen herself! Still I know he is not that keen of Gods and a bit too keen of a certain gnome lady, dear diary. The two men, Tomaso and Jonasi, were battling like veterans, creating and clearing a path between the halflings, safety and me. As another shed was set on fire, Jonathan came running towards me, carrying a torch: “Hey, have you found bile? That’s so great! Now all we have to do is set this last place on fire!”, he shouted at me, pointing at the house I was still leaning against.  “Of course”, I answered, “let’s do this!” Calmly I unloaded the bile through the doorway into the building, thanking and blessing the guards lying inside quietly. 

“Can I have the torch please?”; I asked Jonathan, who was still panting from his run towards me. Just as I took the light over, Finn rounded the corner, followed by the two larger men. Throwing the torch in elegantly, showing off to the men, I had to hide my shock when the house erupted in flames forcefully. Before any of them could say a thing, I stepped between Jonathan and Finn, laying my hands on their shoulders: “That wasn't so hard now, was it?” 

The slam of Finn’s hand hitting the table next to my head made me wake up quite rudely, dear diary! Perhaps for the best, as a dream burning as brightly as this tends to leave a mark.  Not having a clue about the meaning and location of my dream, dear diary, or how these two humans and we are connected. For now I only have this note, that I wrote down smirkingly, to the wonderment of my two halfling companions. Hope to write to you soon!

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 sighs 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 by High 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 wind-up toy: 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 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.