Session #13 as told by Inez

Session #13 as told by Inez

Dear diary,

This day has ended well, I would say; we’ve escaped from the strange greenhouse, the cubs are back and Jonathan found a new friend. However we’re still on the run. Not to mention my part in this all. Hopefully a full night rest will help. But first, let me tell you all. 

All my inner thoughts about my smoldering victim and the responsibilities that should come with great arcane power were swept away the moment the two freed gnomes started talking and thanking us. They introduced themselves as Chana and Vana and spoke incredibly fast and incoherently. Perhaps the exhaustion, hunger and fears caused by being kept prisoner for three weeks was the cause of this: “Yes, it was weeks, two at a minimum, wasn't it, Vana? Yes, perhaps even four or five, Tsjanna. We were caught by the big tree!” They talked amongst themselves like they were birds, twittering short sentences, responding and ignoring us at the same time.

And their stories and behaviour were curious not to say suspicious. No explanation about their whereabouts or how they were captured by the tree. No interest in who we were or how we had come to find them. Just a minimal set of ‘thank you’s’ before they started negotiating. All in all it was enough to get under our skin. In the case of the halflings in such a way that they neglected their asking for food and drinks. As a fellow gnome I just had to give in, providing them with some water.

As a gnome I felt sympathy for the two and was happy to meet kinsfolk. Nevertheless even for or especially for a gnome, their behaviour was off! Not giving any information of their ancestry nor provenance, what would be the first topic gnomes would jump on! Admittedly I also was not very keen on giving information on my origins, for obvious reasons. Which could mean that they too had a history of shady businesses. Good point, dear diary, ‘Crooked cogs count crooked clicks’, I’m in no position to judge people stating false facts about themselves.

What really did strike me as odd was their strange dealings about us having to buy or brew flasks of potions. In the far corner of the greenhouse a table was standing with on top filled bottles, vials and other supplies and equipment to prepare elixirs and lotions. Next to it was a large cauldron on a stand, heated by a small fire like there had not just been a fight to the death in the same room. It reminded me of the kitchen at home, where no matter what was happening in the solicitor’s office a few doors away, the staff would quietly work along. My two new gnomish friends were requesting us to either purchase stuff with a discount granted to us for saving them. 

However their strange duologue was as twitching and ensnarling as the branches of the tree monster had been, and Finn was getting more frustrated and agitated with them. They even managed to provoke Jonothan by threatening Gregot. Intervening I made a point to the halflings that after being held captive the gnomes did not care much about tree-men, and towards Chana and Vana that Gregot was our friend and helper. Not making much of an impression and the two gnomes backtracked towards the other corner, whispering amongst themselves.

The halflings started to survey the table and came up with a book ‘The herbalist cookbook’. Finn handed it over to me, despite the protest of our two friends. It was gnomish, though I was not familiar with it. The name of the author, Burble Quickthistle, did ring a bell all the same.. He was an infamous forest gnome with a volatile career in medicine, sometimes hailed as saviour, even more times on the run accused of maltreatment. Not a gnome that was thought of highly by my parents. So, my curiosity was triggered instantly, dear diary. And just like a cat, it would cost me. 

As suggested and persisted by Vana I looked up the recipe for the golden potion, a healing and energizing vaccine. Reading the ingredients list, I instructed Jonathan to find and harvest the components of the concoction. At that moment Finn grabbed Chana and placed his knife on the throat of the gnome! “What are you doing?”; I shrieked. “These are no gnomes at all! How could a gnome survive weeks without food? What are you, tell us, or else!”; the rogue exclaimed. “There’s no need for any of this. Please release me!” ; the gnome did not seem to be impressed at all by the rogue or his knife. “Please instruct your friend to let go.”; he addressed me, but I saw the burning in Finn’s eyes. He was on to something and I decided to trust him instead of fellow gnomes. 

Abruptly the stalemate was broken, just as I tried to intervene. Fast and agile as a Feywild Adder the gnome slipped out of Finn’s lock, grabbed his knife wielding arm and made him drop it to the floor! “This is very unpleasant behavior! The only thing we want is to sell our products, offering a bargain. And this is what we get in return. "Inexcusable!" And with that both gnomes disappeared in a blur. And once more the door felt shut on its own, trapping us once more!

Not coming up with a better idea, I decided to continue trying to brew the potion with Jonathan. Asking Finn to cover our backs in case the gnomes would come back.The cookbook was not really clear on things, a picture book presenting each step as a black and white figure instead of a precise law article or spell description. Regardless the priest and I were coming along fine, Jonathan had found the four flowers and five leaves that were required, crushing the latter in a mortar like the Nook-famous halfling cook Pippa Goodbarrel. That good priest Jonathan should have started a temple of Brandobaris instead of running off with a gnomish Sheela Peryroyl, dear diary. 

Despite the cooking starting off rather nice, it went astray as soon as we dropped the first flower into the boiling liquid. The water adopted the red color, subsequently turning into  pink, phosphorescent and splashing, a cloud of red lifting off. “Next one”; I said, pointing out the purple flower on the table. The moment Jonathan dropped it in, a gulf of blueish water gushed out, engulfing the poor halfling! Snorting and puffing he tried to get the liquid off his clothes and body. “Are you okay?”; was all I could come up with. “In a bit, but is this really what’s written in the book? And perhaps there’s a handkerchief lying about?”; Jonathan inquired. “If she was your solicitor, just after you would be acquitted, she would insist on reading the article of law to the judge and have you quartered!”; Sitting on one of the tables, cleaning his nails with a knife, Finn was heckling away at us. Ignoring him with a grim smile, I started looking for something that could protect my poor assistant, but there was nothing to be found amongst all the strange apparatus lying on the table. 

“Al right, perhaps I should add the next one myself?”; I said to Jonathan, pushing him aside. With the black flower in my hand, I approached the cauldron full of confidence. Dropping the floret in as graciously as possible. My pompousness could not have been out of place, dear diary... The next thing I remember is sitting with my back against the stump of the dead tree, literally blown away and landed there. With pain in my chest and head, holding on to a page of the book. The rest of the remains of the cooking book were lying around, smouldering pages and smoking piles of ash, some of it floating around. “Are you all right, Inez?”; both halfling men rushed over, Finn himself now also carried black watermarks all over him. And once more I was happy that his god and him were always willing to help the stupid and careless, healing me once more. And once more all I could add was a as gracious as possible ‘thank you’, dear diary. While the cauldron’s boom was still ringing in my ear and I could not help thinking: “After I almost killed him, he comes back to heal me. What was wrong with me? Was I more dangerous than the fey?"

“Can I have a look at the recipe?”; Jonathan then formally requested and I could not find a lot of arguments why I should have kept it at that point. With the page in his hand he walked over to the cauldron and started reciting the inscription. The letters of the four words were illuming what made the reading more easy, but the wording was all wrong: “GbkPoh Olplli Lauedt Dcrgwe”. In spite of that Finn and I tried it as well, to no avail. To all our surprises, including himself, Jonathan came up with the solution. Taking the words apart, the correct colors and order of the flowers was revealed. In combination with the instructions on the remaining page of the book, the full recipe was now available.

Once more we started working on brewing potions. And this time Finn took the honors, claiming his cooking skills were top level amongst the three of us anyways. The pesky Halfling! This time no explosion took place, instead after each flower dropped in, a gracious change of color took place. After the last white flower was added, golden glare and steam was spreading from the gauntlet. And Finn just had to show off, blowing bubbles and clouds of gold in my direction. Which I obviously pretended not to notice, dear diary.

On the table we found two sealable flasks that we filled with the golden potion, simmering in the cauldron. More usable bottles seemed not to be available, Finn therefore emptied a chalice filled with a blue liquid on the ground, leaving a blue gelly. As if it was a normal thing to do, he then filled it up with our brewage. With each holding one potion, still some more on the bottom of the kettle, we discussed what to do next. With no evident way out, the two goblins still in the equation, I took the initiative to call them out: “Chana and Vana, we want you to come out again. We want to trade our golden potion, in exchange for a safe retreat and a reward!”

From there it all went astray. Both gnomes did show up again, and negotiations started. But as we tried to make sense of their propositions, fallacies and shady deals, the atmosphere grew more intense. Confabulating between themselves, then twisting our words and offers, gnomes don’t haggle like that!  They turned out to be worse than the halfling mobsters at my fathers office. Dead sure these had the decency just to show their knives or brass knuckles, stating intent. Here clouds of phrases and expressions were blocking any sight of reason, your own words twisted into unreasonable offers. At some point Jonathan and Finn were so fed up, that they drank their golden potions instead of permitting the gnomes to access it. Apparently quality was varying, to Finn it boosted his energies, poor Jonathan once again it only brought suffering. The gnomes were seriously annoyed, so to the halflings it had been worth the price.

Then I made the mistake of backing up a deal that Finn already had paid for, just to get away from this couple. Without having to fight them; not only was I out of arcane energies, but the thought of having to fight and injure gnomes was haunting me! Accepting a big loss, and still those forest gnomes were not satisfied, we made it to the exit. Definitely paid too much, trading the golden potion for probably worthless red and transparent potions, and on top of it all: The door was still locked! Not having any more of it, Finn managed using some oils from his thieving kit to light up the door. After this maltreatment, the old gate permitted enough way through for us small folks to get out. Somehow we had made it, but once more it had not been a triumphal procession. Only Jonathan seemed happy, carrying Gregot back to our camp. 

At least when we arrived back at the campsite, a pleasant surprise was waiting: The three cubs were hopping around, greeting us happily! Squatting down I hugged the critters, who had somehow found us back beyond Mag. Which reminded me, we had to get away from that city, and by looking at the sun it was clear we already had lost precious time. “We need to get moving, dear halflings!”; I addressed my companions. “What about some meal first?”; was the predictable reply. And not only the halflings needed nourishment, the poor little tree-creature Gregot was also making this clear in its own special way, hanging its leaves. “What does a tree eat?”; Jonathan was asking me, certainly a topic not addressed in my proper education. “Water? Perhaps you can give it some water?” Accepting that suggestion the priest filled his hands with water to sprinkle it on Gregot; instead the little tree jumped up, landing on the palms of Jonathan’s hands, settling in the small pool of water there: “Gregot!”. Notably, someone in our company was fulfilled and content.

The sound of swishing leaves around us made my spine shiver again. Seeing Finn taking cover on the far side of the field did not help improve my mood either. Jonathan was still holding Gregot, so I decided to stay with him, sheltering on my knees between the Owl Bear cubs. As the sounds grew stronger, two jackall-headed-humanoids stepped out of the bushes. Fortunately for us they appeared to have no real interest in us, as their claws and beaks suggested that a fight would have turned out very one sided. With no greeting or signal, other than the strange whispery sounds coming out of the bushes around us, the creatures left, leaving us tense but relieved. And wondering in what way, if any, these passers-by were related to Chana and Vana.

So finally we appeared to be ready to embark, all three of us wanting to leave the last days episodes behind us (Well, I certainly did, dear diary!). No  time to lose, as the whole episode underground could mean the citizens of Mag, or the mob they sent after us on their behalf, would catch us. And certainly no time to lose to further planning, discussing or challenging the leadership and deeds of a certain gnomish lady, dear diary!

But there was a challenge, only a small one though. Where Jonathan and I had heard nothing but whispers, Finn had received detailed instructions where to find a large treasure. Hidden just a little detour away from the road to Mag and Magki, how convenient, was a large collection of the best cheeses! For a little while I mistook this as a halfling attempt at a gnomish joke, but he was entirely serious! And could only with false assurances and promises be persuaded to postpone his quest and join us. As my mother would have said: “Use your looks to gild a lie and your smile to outshine the truth.”

With the last of our energies we put some more distance between us and Ki. For onlookers it must have been a strange parade, two halfling men, a gnome woman, three Owl Bear cubs and a small walking bush, quietly making their way through fields and woods. Finally finding a resting spot providing a bit of cover. 

And that’s where I’m sitting in my tent now, dear diary. Tired, very tired, without dinner, which is a lot harder for my companions than for me, and praying for some sleep. So, till next time.

Session #12 as told by Inez

 Session #12 as told by Inez

Dear diary,

Writing this at a table filled with jugs, cauldrons, bottles and vials, that looks like my father’s desk after a visit of questionable halflings, I feel we walked into a trap. A very different one than the ones I had expected, no mob or militia out of Ki nor bounty hunters, but a setup that probably has been here for ages. We somehow won the first round, but are still stuck here, caught in this strange place. Allow me to relate.

When I stepped out of my tent, I felt almost more exhausted than when we had made camp last night. A good distance from the road, hidden by trees and bushes, the spot had seemed a safe haven. Strangely, in the early morning light it looked more unfavorable, the dense vegetation almost like a prison wall. So I can get used to such a view! Whose side are you on, dear diary?

None of us, not even Jonathan, felt much like talking, quietly breaking up our tents and packing our stuff again as a shared ritual. That’s when we picked up the muffled cries coming from within the woods. The first few I tried to neglect, until Jonathan had to ask if anybody else heard this shouting for help. Finn and I were reluctant to find out what or where this was, preferring to get going and gain some distance between us and Ki. But to the priest a cry for help was like a command of his god. So he took off, into the foliage. Finn followed reluctantly, taking another path to cover the flank of our leader of this new expedition. Leaving some distance between me and the priest, I formed the rearguard even less enthusiastically. Still, perhaps this was better than having to discuss our situation and prospects. Leaving my thoughts, I found out I had to speed up a bit, as both men were all of a sudden out of sight!

After some into the inaccessible path, I caught up with Jonathan, who was ensnared by liana-like branches. Those twigs and sprigs turned out to be very hard to cut or snap off and seem to enjoy themselves trapping passers-by. Trying to free my companion's right arm, my knife made no impression at all. Even worse, after cutting myself I dropped it on the ground. Where it was eaten by the thick foliage, nowhere to be found. Looking up I found Finn grinning at me, gesturing to remain seated. To my relief and annoyance, he then almost effortlessly cut Jonathan loose. Not only that, he picked the priest up, walked some steps backwards, then placed him next to me. Finn’s arrival and actions delighted the other halfling, the two of them starting a ritual of Nook-street-lingo that was all halfling to me. And the parts I did manage to decipher, were on me. Pesky halflings.

Taking the lead, Finn walked and crawled further, leading us (me being the brave rearguard) through a tunnel that could have been dwarven made looking at its precise structure, but appeared to be grown out of branches and tendrils. In between even little flowers could be spotted. But no traces or sounds of animals. Only the smothered cries for help  could periodically be heard. All in all it gave me a disquieting feeling, as if we were led to like Kurtulmak into the dungeon.

The three of us ended in front of a wall of vegetation that blocked the end of the tunnel. With his hands Finn was swiping through leaves and twigs like he was on to something: “There’s a door hidden here!” As if it was planned, once more the suppressed cry could be heard again. “Wait, let me try!”; I responded, picking up my spellbook and concentrating. Both halflings stepped aside without urging, hopefully because they respect my wizardly skills. (Yes, you’re right, dear diary, could have been fear as well. Thank you, once again!). Breathing in deeply to seek for concentration and power, while the spellbook seemingly by itself opened the correct page. Lenient and calm I managed to steer magical energies into and through the wall, probing for magic. Finding that it probably was or had been an arboretum, its structure itself transmitting a soft glow. And it had a door, just in front of us, Finn was right in that! Inside I spotted purple and red miasmas, a little further away, and I did not manage to recognize more than these slim shades. And I remembered the books that were popular amongst city-gnome-ladies about the practices of our country kin, books with titles like ‘Where the Weeds Whisper’ and ‘The Hothouse of Hidden Horrors’. All describing mysterious, alluring, sometimes even dangerous,  practices taking place in the greenhouses in the country. When I was found reading one of these, my parents always sighed, then explained in much too long disquisitions that this was all nonsense. And above all instructing me never to tell anyone that though we came from far, we were also proper city gnomes!

Returning out of my spell trance, I informed my companions and implored them to be careful. Reaching out Finn claimed to have found a door handle, and started fiddling with a wooden wart sticking out. Prying and twitching, no door opened, but all of a sudden the rogue managed to pull out a long stick. Plainly very fond of his find, he was for a while only focusing on the cane, not allowing us to watch let alone touch it. Parading around and pretending it to be a sword, (and him a honorful knight, dear diary!), swinging around with it. Luckily he came to his senses a bit after that, but still kept the walking stick close by, as if he had found a new lover (no comments needed on that, dear diary!).

The stick not only had a special relationship with Finn, but also with the green building. Using the stick, Finn managed to show the contours of a door that lit up when touched by the stick. However, no matter what we tried, it did not want to open. Trying to place the stick back into the door, according to Finn it was the handle or lever, did not work out. Neither did pulling or pushing by the two halflings. At last Finn was willing to listen to a voice of reason (Mine of course, dear diary), that suggested using the cane to knock on the door. Like civilized people do. And behold, after three knocks the door opened smoothly, and by itself.

Cautiously looking inside, Finn once more took the lead. Checking for traps, then gesturing that we should follow him. Inside we found a room filled with small trees, bushes and plants. Large cisterns, vases and tables carrying pots with herbs were standing or lying around broken, intermingled with the trunks of trees growing through the floors and walls into the ceiling. As I stepped in after Finn, the scene surpassed the images of the gnomish books and I was wondering whether a primitive rock gnome would appear to snatch me or a civilized city gnome to seduce me. Neither of them would be welcome, dear diary!

Where I was little at ease in this greenery, Jonathan seemed to be in his element. Using his magic he guided us through the first room, pointing out flowers and plants: “Look, there, that’s the Aquis Carmellis! My grandmother used to have one of these!” “And this one, of these the bark is nourishing. Just prepare some tea and you won't need anything to eat for days.” And that out of the mouth of a halfling, dear diary.  And even Finn seemed upbeat, surveying a table full of herbs: “.. great collection of tastes, the kind of flavor that’d make a priest skip his prayers. Didn't mean you, Jonathan!” Moving around we lost our alertness, which was penalized when Finn and I took in a puff of the grandmother’s plant. Fortunately it only made us a bit numb, Jonathan’s grandmother just used it to keep the children quiet. My mother would have agreed: “Halfling families are like a clockwork toy wound too tight, all chaos and no cogs.”

At that moment I lost all dizziness when I felt something pulling at my riding pants. Looking down I thought I was hallucinating; a small shrubbery puppet was staring up at me. Well staring up is perhaps not entirely correct, as the big leaf forming its face did not have any eyes (or a mouth for that matter)! Was this one of the purple or red magic spheres I had seen? Obviously this was a product of Fey magic, and a lot more arcanely-advanced than I had managed so far, causing me to feel  a bit of respect, wonder and envy at the same time. Yet also a bit circumspect of it, not trusting it fully. Like we gnomes use to say: “A fey’s word is a riddle wrapped in a smile.” 

As it did not give the impression of being harmful or hostile, I tried to talk to it:”Who are you, little one?” To my surprise the petite construct answered: “Gregot!”. But when I kneeled down to pick it up gently, it made off, withdrawing behind a broken pot. “You see? He ran away from you. That’s a wise man!”; I heard from behind, where I found a grinning Finn.”Well, it’s both our loss that you’re not wise then.”; I riposted; “Perhaps you can do better?” Should have known better than to challenge the rogue, for he then tried to connect his mind to that of the shrub. Which probably scared the little one even more, dear diary!

Once more Jonathan turned out to be the wisest of us three (I hate to admit, diary). With some effort he gained the confidence of the little one and even managed to communicate with it. Even was allowed to pick it up and carry it with him. The priest and the plant connected in a natural way, linking up without the need of magic. In fact, their bond generated magic, as a green glow lid twinkled shortly. “It needs our help, and wants us to go there, into that room.”; Jonathan and the scrub were now both pointing towards the passage to the chamber. And in typical Jonathan-style he also took the first step, knocking over a casket. Alarming any potential adversary and the small shrub: “Gregot!”

In between the two rooms a drapery formed by lianas, stalks and leaves blocked sight and access. Jonathan shoved away some to look inside before stepping through, the little magic creature still on his hand. Finn and I followed him to find another room filled with plant life and broken pottery. Here we found the source of the suppressed calls for help: Two gnomish figures were kept prisoner by a tall tree. As a city lady my knowledge of trees was limited, despite the efforts of Doctor Vexora, but I doubt that this kind of tree was in her books. From its bole limbs were growing both upwards as a normal tree, but a few branches were encircling the trunk, forming a casket for its prisoners.  

Like the chief magistrate of Nook’s court, the tree was standing in the middle room, dominating its surroundings. And not just standing; the moment Finn got within its reach, it washed out with one branch, with the speed and agility of a dwarven warrior!. And more attacks were on our way! It was astonishing to see the creatures' branches move as arms that fast, resembling the steam powdered festival attraction I once rode in at Nook's yearly bazaar. As a kid I screamed in fear for that one, now I was almost doing the same here, dear diary.

The tree and Finn got entangled in melee, which gave me some time to try to free one of the gnomes. Jonathan had the same idea, nevertheless both of us failed in prying them free. And as we tried, the tree punched and slapped at us, and we had to give up our attempts. Looking around I saw a second, slightly smaller but still much larger than us, tree-creature attacking Finn. The halfling concentrated his attacks on the new opponent, which meant that the other one had its twigs free for Jonathan and me. Realizing this I grab my spellbook, pages turning and whirling, ending at the description of a spell I never had seen before. Gesturing and murmuring I constructed instinctively a shield around me out of arcane energy. But too little too late, a big branch hit me hard, forcing me down to the ground. The last thing I saw, breathing out deep as my chest was squashed to the floor, was Finn chopping up the smaller tree. Dear diary, once more my contribution to a fight was less than impressive, to state it mildly!

The first thing I saw when I regained consciousness was the short shrub creature, standing next to me, one of its leaf hands touching my forehead. Lying on my belly, my face flat on the ground, the shrubby man looked large standing inches away, literally filling my sight. The rest of the world was hidden by a green fog, somehow the creature's touch did not displease me, since a wave of vitality streamed into me. “Gregot?” ”Thank you, dear tree”; was all I could muster in response.  And I felt exultant that i: my teacher in etiquette, High keeper Ironmantle, was not here and ii: I was still alive. 

Keeping low I looked around, the green blur was vanishing slowly, and I could see Finn still fighting the large tree. The rogue looked bloodied and fatigued, all the same his knife was still cutting and hacking away branches. Moving my head to the left I sensed a strong ethereal boundary touching me. This sensation became stronger and as I looked up Jonathan was there, standing next to me. The priest had once more astounded me with his magical prowess, just for casting a conjuration of this level and power. And for walking over in the midst of a skirmish to check on his gnomish companion. And for casting a healing spell, saving his gnomish companion for the umpteenth time.”You’re okay, Inez?””Thank you, dear priest”; was all I could muster in response. And I felt exultant that i: my teacher in etiquette, High keeper Ironmantle, was not here and ii: I was still alive. 

Returning to my senses and the hic et nunc, as my father would have said, there was a task ahead. Jonathan and Finn had kept me safe, and even had managed to loosen the two gnomes to some extent, battling the big tree. During the fight they themselves had suffered quite some injuries and damage, the tree still standing, dominating the fight. Somehow I kept calm, having found my spellbook back, staring at the spell that had opened up. Considering my options, as I remembered all too well what had happened the day before, and knowing I had a responsibility toward my companions. My right hand fingers were spread as if holding a ball, I started reciting the words lighting up on the page, feeling the last scraps of my arcane powers moving through my spine towards my hand, a sensation of heat and pulses in my palm, aiming to keep control and for the crown of the tree, making sure not to miss nor hit its captives. Releasing the orb of fire, feeling it flow towards its target, hitting it perfectly! Was I truly a wizard, dear diary? 

All that remained of the tree was a smoking piece of the lower trunk, and some of its roots, or legs, curled up in awkward positions. And even though this was not a pretty sight, I felt a bit proud of myself. And a lot better compared to yesterday! Even Finn seemed impressed, though he just thanked me for getting his knife back that stuck out of the tree stump. Still I killed this creature, this time willingly and on purpose, not in blind panic, a case of justifiable self-defence I could argue in court, or to Azuth, or even my father for that matter.

And that’s how I came to sit writing on this table, between two ferns in the far corner of the room where we beat the tree-creature. Feeling better than yesterday, but still confused and exhausted. That’s it for now, as I need to talk to our new gnome acquaintances, the ones we just freed from their captor. More is soon to follow, dear diary!

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.