ONE HUNDRED FORTY SIX
(I/C)
Kovid could hear some conversation up the stairs and in the Butchery, letting him know his private time with the gnomes was going to come to an end soon. “So, I’m from the Plainridge Peaks, well, my clan is. Although truthfully I’ve never seen them. My family has been working the folds west of Specularum. May I ask where you gnomes are from? Somewhere cold I imagine, if you’re comfortable sleeping in here.”
Typical snorted and shook his head, sliding the books off the shelf and into a wooden crate. Standard smiled and his brethren and replied, “Our clan is from the Frostburn Mountain Range, about 40 miles north of Jector. And yes, it is a bit on the cold side. Typical and I left home almost a decade ago and although I am not a fan of brutal cold, the temperature in here doesn’t really bother us.”
“I happen to like it,” Typical offered. “Beats sweating.”
“I can agree with that,” Kovid replied, hoping to get a smile out of the taciturn gnome but eliciting a grunt only. Shrugging, he turned back to Standard and asked, “I would hope the Lady Butcher treats you well? She seems like a straight shooter but I’d be lying to say she isn’t a little intimidating.”
Standard shrugged, “She’s great. And yes, she is intimidating, but you have to remember, most goblinoid society is patriarchal at its surface. The exception comes from the Consort, the Shaman, and the Queen. Our friend is none of those so she had to try twice as hard to get the same recognition as her peers.”
Typical had finished the one box and was putting the rest of the books in the next one as well as emptying the drawers. “She’s smart, careful, and as tough as Xorn’s Ass and don’t think otherwise,” he scolded.
“Bugbears don’t like to be reminded that they have a very distant blood relationship with goblins, but they do often defer to the men running things. The Lady Butcher, as you called her, is really a great person and a good friend. And when you’re in the company of ‘bigs’, you need to make sure you have a ‘big’ that you can partner up with.”
“She beats the hell out of that last piece of shit that YOU picked,” Typical said.
“How was I to know he had gambling debts?” Standard shrugged. “Either way, we all get along well together and have for at least the last 4 years.” He sighed, “Corfard has a way about him though, makes you think you are doing a great thing for the right reasons but eventually,” he tossed his hands up, “you realize he’s just full of shit.”
“Ha!”
Kovid looked around the room, eye settling on the key on the wall. “She mentioned she’d “risked” getting shocked by that key. I hope that didn’t mean she had one of you attempt to retrieve it?”
“Garl’s Nut, Dwarf. We ALL tried to get it!” the two gnomes laughed. “Got to the point that Corfard was offering part of his horde to whoever could get the key and give it to him. Found it in her a bit over 3 months ago and he kept upping the bounty to whoever could get it off the wall for him.” Standard flashed his thumb at the two of them. “We tried it three times until the last one knocked us both out and Typical had some pretty bad burns. So we stopped. Lady Butcher tried it once, said she had no reason to be stupid more than once.”
“So how do you get it?” Kovid asked.
Standard shrugged. “Corfard and that magic use of his, Mirabellis, eventually deduced it was going to take an elf to get it off the wall at least. Spells, projectiles, even just swinging anything at it didn’t work. Well, Corfard isn’t a fan of elves so he got to threatening the ones that he found and that didn’t work. Even tried lopping off their hands and using one of his minions to get the key and that didn’t work.”
“Cause he’s an impatient worm,” Typical sneered. He had closed the second box and was loading the last of their belongings in a large sack. “We did enough research on it, it’s the Goddess Keys for the Ispan’s vault, not going to just let any schmuck go and get it. Has to be an elf, more importantly, the elf needs to be willing and under no influence magical or otherwise to take the key.” He thumbed up towards the second floor above their heads, “Corfard still hasn’t gotten that through his thick head.”
“He is a bit obtuse. We call it tunnel vision, and has that in spades.”
They could hear the door slam upstairs and the sounds of Kovid’s companions getting closer. The dwarf leaned forward and dipped his hand in his belt pouch, pulling out three gold pieces. The gnomes fixated their eyes on it as the dwarf said conspiratorially, “My offer from earlier still stands. If there is anything you can tell us about the Beekeeper, Jailer, or Corfard that would guarantee, we never have to look over our shoulders when we leave this place, there’s another 3 gold a piece in it for ya.”
“Um…”Standard shrugged, glancing at Typical who was watching the gold with a fierce eye. “Sure. Let us just think, ok?”
“Sure.”
“Just us three right?” Typical asked.
“Yep, no one else.”
“Damn…there is a double weighted self leveling hand spangler I’ve had my eye on,” he muttered.
“You?” Standard asked. “That makes two of us.” He nodded. “You’ve got a deal. Just before we leave, we’ll tell you a bit on all three. Deal?”
“Deal.”
The rest of the group was heading for the freezer, Wyn giving the harp a loving caress. “"Ov course de beautiful 'arp ees magic. Well, Monsieur Offop, I got my spells back... and I feel like all the pains ov de past days have melted away. Dis must've been made to restore elves back to dere best. My guess ees eet was used fer recoverin' afta a particularly long... um... night ov fun."
Lannis (Int>13) glances closer at the harp. “In memory of Rowena,” he muttered, reading the elven script. “Rowena, Rowena… Ah!” he gasped.
“What?”
“Rowena. In one of the books I had gotten from the Scriptorium. She was the Head Wizard here. The Ispan’s high sorcerer. I remember reading that she was kind and a follower of Morrigaan as well as an avid harpist and skilled magic user.”
“Well, eef its here, eets safe to assume that this Rowena isn’t going to come a’lookin’ for it,” Wyn said. Turning to Lyra, he added, “Priestess, you look interested... you want to look at eet? I tink I 'ave received de benefits, it be all yours."
“Thanks,” Lyra said, following the group as they entered the freezer. It was cold down here and lit by some bluish light coming from crystalline structures in the walls and ceiling. Kovid was having a close conversation with one of the gnomes while a second one was sitting on two large crates a bulging large sack.
“Hey!” Kovid called out and the group came over, turning up their collars and making sure their cloaks were over their shoulders.
Brendon stepped up first, hand extended to shake, “Hail friends,” he said, shaking the closest ones hand as the other made no attempt to uncross his arms. “Is he always grumpy or is it us?”
The closer one, Standard replied in his own language and Kovid translated it, “Always. Don’t take it personally.”
“No problem,” the Scout said, drawing up a chair and sitting down, “If you don’t me asking you two, where do you hail from originally?”
Kovid smiled, “First thing I asked, Frostburn Mountains, north of Jector.”
Lyra was looking back and forth between the harp and the gnomes. “Why…why is their skin grey?”
Another burst of gnomish language sounded that Kovid then deciphered, “They are Svirfneblin gnomes, typically live underground, a bit deep. The skin color is normal for them.”
“Ah,” Lyra said. She was tracing the whorls and symbols on the harp. “Definitely some elvish here. Morrigaan as well. So nice, so well made.” She strummed it and the sound that came out was light and airy, delicate and elven sounding.
Lannis walked up to Standard, hand extended and shook the gnome’s hand, “I’m Lannis. So you guys know any magic? I do!”
After a moment Kovid translated, “Says hi, and yes. Yes they do.”
“Neat. Probably not as much as I, but that’s ok.” He snapped his fingers, “Ask them if standing too close to the Butcher like standing in the shade?"
The gnomes started talking and Kovid sighed, “They can understand you, Manling. And they say that they feel comfortable standing at the Butcher’s side.”
Whistling low from the middle of the room, turning around slowly, Wyn said, "Aine's mighty peaks, dats alotta meat in dere.” Spying the key along the western wall near the stairs he snapped his fingers and walked over, “Ah dere be de key. Sorry ta interrupt. Monsieurs Standard en Typical, may I pick dis up?"
The two gnomes grinned and walked over along with the rest of the group, chittering away. “They said they’d love to see you try,” Kovid replied, “And that they want to see if their idea is correct.”
“Wot idea?” Wyn said, sliding the key off the hook. There was a rumbling feeling through their feet, running up their arms, chest, and across their skin, followed by an unseen breeze that blew over all of them (everyone gets 250 xp). “Ah. Now THAT’S important!”
From inside the Butcher’s bedchamber, buried under the larger and stronger bugbear, Abraxas had his hands braced against her midsection keeping her just off of his chest, elbows locked in position, hips pounding up to meet hers coming down, when a rumble seemed to shoot through both of them and a sweet breeze billowed about the chamber. “Holy Frijoles!” Abraxas swore, “I ‘ave NEVER felt that before, Senoirta!”
“Me neither!” the Butcher replied, voice rich with emotion and dripping in passion. “You do things to me Abraxas, that I’ve never experienced before.” She hunched her neck over and nipped him on the ear drawing blood and making him hiss. “Are all humans as good as you?” she asked, shaking her chest enough to cause her fine hairs to tickle his broad pecs.
“No, Senorita. I am only like this with you.” Feeling the blood pool along his cheek and down his jaw line he said, “This is twice now I am humbled with things I did not know. TWO people from Jector have touched me in places I did not know.” Twisting one leg under, he shoved up at a slightly different angle, swearing, “Magnfico.”
Being closest to the stairs and hearing the passionate cries coming from the Butcher’s Chamber, Brendon quipped, “Well, they sound like their having fun.”
The two gnomes were clapping hands at seeing Wyn holding the key, even Typical had a grin on his face. Wyn was looking around the chamber slowly while holding the key, eyes peeled for anything on it that was vaguely like a keyhole. “Monsieu Offop, Monsieur Manslayer, eef you see, let me know but don’t make a deal ‘boot it, merci.”
The group wandered about while Brendon and Lyra talked with the gnomes about the meats here, the gnomes unable to speak the language but making their thoughts known, including where to cook it (in the Butcher’s room on her stove) and what the best cuts are (they were slicing up large steaks of venison and cow for the trip, rubbing fresh ice on each piece as they placed them in clean linen.
"Offop, Dwarf, you find a potential keyhole? Why are you looking at de Butcha's room with a silly smile on your face.... oh... not dat kind of "keyhole". Dat one is being quite filled at dis point by de sound of it. Seriously, dough."
“No. Although,” Kovid mused, “the last one was to find the hidden rod…”
“Abraxas is hiding it in the Butcher right now,” Lannis said.
Both dwarf and elf grinned. “Ahem, as I was saying, the Ishtari weapon was hidden. Here the Morrigaan weapon was in plain sight.”
“A’right. We’ll wait until the Butcher and the gnomes leave an’ then I’ll check the room with detect magic to see eef there be som’thin’ ‘ere to see.”
The rest of the time was filled with chatting and comfortable conversation until the 45 minutes or so had passed.
As Abraxas was getting dressed, muscles sore, covered in small bites and scratches, including a series of claw marks in his shoulders and the meat of his ass (take 1 point of damage), he sighed softly. “What is it, Abraxas?” The Butcher asked.
“I don’t know.” He looked up at her, straightening the offset curl along her right ear. “You ever think that maybe you made a mistake in life?”
Her brows lowered, “You mean just now?!” her voice was thick and emotional.
“No! Not that. That was…wonderful.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Just being un poco tonto. You know…silly.”
She looked him over as she shoved her belongings from the chest of drawers into her backpack and travel bag. “No, you are not being silly.” She smiled, tusks and teeth showing. “You are being honest, my little man. And that is a good thing. Just keep being you.”
He smirked, “You are the second person so tell me that,” he said.
“Then it’s good advice.” She slid a few last things into her bag and then took out two vials. “Here,” she said, handing them over. “For you.”
He looked at the vials in her hand. “Potions?”
“Yep, potion of Healing and this one,” she touched the second one which was almost an electric blue in color, the word ‘healing’ on the label had an ‘x’ behind it. “This one is Extra Healing. It’s twice as potent.” (Add potion Healing, and potion, Extra Healing)
“Wow,” he said, eyes getting wet. “I am touched.”
“I know, I touched you.”
“And I touched you!” the two of them laughed. “Seriously, I cannot thank you enough.”
“De nada,” she replied, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Well…”
“Well…” he echoed.
“Look, I’m just going to say it,” her jaw was set, eyes locked on his, “when this is all over, I know the docks of Jector can use a good dockworker as much as the docks of Specularum. If you want, I mean, it’s up to you, but if you want, I’d be very happy to have you come to Jector.”
“I…I won’t lie, but the thought is very much there, Senorita.”
“Then if I see you, I will,” she answered, placing an arm around his shoulders and hugging him to her side and bosom. “Let’s go,” she said, not noticing as he wiped one eye clear, the two of them going to the Butchery and then down the steps to the Freezer where everyone was gathered, Lyra was strumming the harp, the gnomes had their own belongings boxed and bagged up, and Wyn was holding the Morrigaan key.
“Alright,” The Butcher said, voice loud and commanding, “Payment has been made. And then some.” The gnomes cheered, “So I guess the last thing to do is give you this,” she handed over the Scythe of Morrigaan to Abraxas who took it reverently. “And you my little girl friend,” she walked to Lyra and took the harp back, “that comes back to me.” (Abraxas, Add Morrigaan Scythe to Inventory: Silvered Steel Magic Scythe +1, does 1d8 base damage, and can be used as a physical attack shield for the first attack against you in a given round (adding 1 to the AC).
“Anything else we need to square up, Master Wizard Merchant, or are we all good?”
Time now is: Day 4, 1:43 PM
(OOC)
XP: Everyone add 250 xp.
Abraxas, add an additional 25 xp.
Last chance for anything Butcher/gnome related. Kovid, they will tell you something just as you guys are leaving so have the 3 gp ready.
Handled it respectfully, no dirty porn. What’s next?
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