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Dear Mom - Mishap Adventures of a Mommy's Elf
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<blockquote data-quote="Lwaxy" data-source="post: 5857340" data-attributes="member: 53286"><p>With the spymaster spread on the couch in the living room and the package they had recovered on the table, there was no way to take their uneasy minds off the current problem. Only Uthas seemed genuinely unruffled. It had been just another fight and was just another mission for him. The half-orc did not even seem to be the slightest bit curious about what the package might contain. </p><p></p><p>Not so the other two. Orlath was pacing in the spacious apartment, throwing looks at the package and the spymaster and the set of other stuff they had recovered regularly. He tried to pretend it was nothing out of the ordinary whenever Nev came close – who was currently doing his reading up on history of Northern Dwarfs – but he was jumping inside every time someone loud passed by the window and he literally jumped when a salesman knocked at their door to try and sell baked fish. Out of confusion and to get rid of the man, Orlath bought a whole plate, much to the delight of his bodyguard, who ate them all alone in less than half an hour. </p><p></p><p>On the other hand, Nev was really attempting to study. He knew they could not just go and get anyone to help Greytooth, but they had no idea who the man's contacts were so all they could do was wait. His attempts of memorizing the events leading to the death of the Northern Kingdoms didn't go well, though, and he, too, found himself wandering around with the book, throwing glances over the top of it at their guest and their cargo. Eventually, when Orlath had to "attend to other business," he seized the opportunity to go through the other material they had discovered at the flat and checking the box for magic. </p><p></p><p>There was no magic on the box, but some of the papers close by flared up. Curious, the young noble examined the binder and found a set of scrolls – although they were not rolled up so he mused they were rather magic letters – with interesting spells on them. They didn't look too complicated to learn, and his thirst for knowledge and spells got the better of him. He removed one copy of each and hid them in his book. When Orlath reappeared, he excused himself to the roof garden – a new project of his, born from his talent for botany and his ability to magically help plants to grow as most of the eastern elf tribes possessed. On the flat part of the roof, he and Flip and an apprentice from a gardener he sometimes borrowed had created a beautiful little resort, complete with greenhouse, a small pond and trees already looking several years old despite just being there for a week or two. From the outside, it looked like a normal roof with a small balcony, as he had had a local illusionist help make it private. </p><p></p><p>It also had some extra space Nev was not quite sure how he had created it. At one point, he had just wished he had more space up here and would not be limited in his ideas of what to plant and what to produce. All of a sudden, the world had seemed to twist around him, and he had had thrice the space available. It was not a pocket dimension or anything like that. It did not dispel either. The wizard had felt the magic around at creation, but was pretty sure he would not be able to produce such an effect. After a few days, he and Orlath had decided to just take it as a gift. </p><p></p><p>At this time of early afternoon, the insects, who didn't care for any illusions, hummed happily around and the sun was strong in the sky. Summer came late to Freeport, and the fogs lasted for most of the year, but the heat would be all the worse for it, or so he had been told. The bench under the shadow of one of the new willow trees was just perfect for magic studies. Uthas didn't come up here that often, and Orlath would not leave the living room out of his sight when he was not on the loo. Expecting no disturbance, the mage sat down and begun examining the magic letters. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>The statue of Golgenath the gnome stood at a corner in the old city, almost always ignored by visitors but beloved by the locals. It was the oversized frame of a Gnome warrior, holding an even more oversized sword, point down, in a 4-fingered hand. The sword was not really part of the statue, it was placed into the hand where the finger was missing, and then fixed with a simple chain. It was said that over the years, the gnome had had many weapons, and not all of them swords. They tended to vanish every now and then, sometimes under weird circumstances. Like a flock of ravens or at once time a group of zombies stealing them. Most of the time, no one saw the theft happen. To Flip, this was a clear indication that the guild of his profession had a lot of fun making the theft part of their entry requirements for new Freeport thieves. </p><p></p><p>The chain, he saw, would be easy to break. In the fog of the night, it would probably not be too hard to steal the sword, but for someone his size, the weapon the gnome currently held was an issue. He would need a pack animal, or maybe... his eyes went up to the cloth line with various city flags – merchants, lords, officials – going right by the statue. A wide grin split his face. This would be fun. He would need to make some preps, of course, and deal with one of his other jobs as well. </p><p></p><p>From the old city, his business took him to an area close to the harbor in the less reputable part of town. In front of the shack of an old witch and fortune teller named Madam Byanca he placed himself on an empty barrel, trying to look bored and tired of a day's work of begging. There was but one door to the 2-room shack, a large front room where customers went in and out, and a small addition in the back to sleep and live in. There were no windows at ground level, the only openings were close to the roof to let light in but not to open. All in all a sorry place to live in, although at least the old woman kept it clean – with magic, as he could observe himself. </p><p></p><p>What the customer who ordered the theft wanted was her dream journal from the last month. Flip had no idea what exactly that was or why it was wanted and neither cared, but he had a good description. A small book bound in red leather with the month's name handwritten on it. Supposedly, she placed those journals in a magic box next to her bed. They had not been clear on the matter though – did she only keep the current journals next to the bed, and if not, where were the others? </p><p></p><p>After talking to a few of her customers of the day, Flip decided to play the part of a customer despite the risks. Supposedly, the woman was not much of a use as fortune teller, she could only answer one question a day for each customer but got very good insights on the matter – but maybe that was a marketing ploy to make them come back. She was, again a speculation, not able to see anything about herself, or any more than asked about a customer. Which again helped to bring her clientele of the less reputable kind. Like the high profile member of the Buccaneer's Flip recognized, a gang known to do press work for pirate ships. </p><p></p><p>Then he could not believe his luck. The witch left her shack and closed it, following the Buccaneer with her raven familiar perched on her shoulder. Maybe the one she was to divine for would not come to her place. It made sense. And it made the perfect opportunity. The halfling waited until the two of them had vanished, then pretended to be drunk and stumbled over to the door as if to grab a hold on it. None of the people walking by paid him any attention. While with one hand, he took his tools of the trade out of a pocket, he knocked with the other, as he had seen others do. When the door opened easily, he went inside in the hopes it looked as if the old hag had just let him in. </p><p></p><p>No magic went off on him. As he had hoped, much of the talk about the woman being dangerous was just that. No doubt she had done all she could to ensure noting got stolen. Not that there was much to steal. Most stuff in both rooms was looking like junk, some of it might or might not have been usable for divinations. Asides from table with some chairs, a bench and some chests and boxes and a shelf at the wall, there was little to go through. Flip made sure to be careful so no one would notice anything. Except, he grinned, she would notice when she found out one of her journals missing. It was in the only locked chest. Flip found an easily disabled poison trap but nothing else to threaten his endeavor. After locking the chest and resetting the trap, Flip left as undisturbed as he came. </p><p></p><p>He had no idea of the chain of events he had just set in motion. </p><p></p><p>The rest of the afternoon was spent with preparations to get the sword from the statue and long talks with two of the servants who regularly delivered wine to the Odingo mansion. In the process of finding out a way to get in, he learned more about the black skinned merchant than he cared to know. Supposedly, the man was a shaman or sorcerer of some sort, deep down from "the jungles" without any of them being able to say more. Yet, he seemed to be more civilized than a lot of the rubble washing at shore in Freeport. Odingo had been in the city for at least 5 years, supposedly he had been an adventurer for hire, or some sort of spellcasting mercenary, or maybe both as one was not always apart from the other. He was rich, in any case, and overloaded with trophies, keepsakes and other items from his quests. So rich he would surely not miss some of his things, so the delivery humans claimed. And none of the traps in the house were supposed to be deadly, or even dangerous at all. Odingo, so it seemed, followed the God of Mercy and Peace. </p><p></p><p>Flip was not so sure of that. Fortunately, he would not have to find out. Whether there were protective enchantments on any valuable items – unless he found something he liked for himself but that would be somewhat unprofessional – was not his problem. All he had to do was putting something in the house. A small white cardboard box in the form of a vampire's coffin, complete with a paper white hand and a vampire's face sticking out of the opening and a red set of letters spelling "gotcha." One of those running gags between two rivals trying to outsmart each other, or even friends playing pranks, he assumed. But then, he was always careful. </p><p></p><p>When it was getting darker outside and the first mists of the sea crept up. The halfling, still very much sober, left to get the sword from the statue. Hopefully, by tomorrow morning he would have completed 2, maybe 3 of his jobs already if one of the pirates to kill would be in the right tavern, and could get started on the more serious ones. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Dear Mom, </p><p></p><p></p><p>We are in a bit of a problem. The man you wished us to see got attacked and is now unconscious in our home. I healed him up but as usual, arcane healing takes long to really do anything about the state of him. We got a package he wanted us to get. What do we do now? I don't want to contact the embassy about this. </p><p></p><p>Your still angry son Orlath</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>22nd of Rhune</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Bosslady, </p><p></p><p>Good news, can count numbers now to 100 but very slowly as not have 100 fingers and toes. So can only count and calculate fast when is under 20. Flip say males can count fast to 21 but don't get what he mean by that. Oh and Nev gave me some sheet of magic velvet he says is spell checker so I can put over my writing to see when I spell words badly wrong and then fix it but says I need remember what I do wrong so learn to make less error. I ask him if he has spell checker for his magic spell stuff, too, and then learn making less error because priests in temple are grumpy when he make two rooms all frozen with ice last day. He did not like joke. </p><p></p><p>Flip came home late night or much more like early morning and son of yours was mad at him for not being home when we come with spyguy. Flip says he had own business and son of yours say he is servant and some other word I did not get. Flip was about being yours servant more than his and just like borrowed out to prince. Made son of yours even madder. Then Flip went and go bed because he says he needs his sleep to do real work next day not beauty sleep like prince. I was laughing so bad my ale was spilling on floor. Most because flip do need beauty sleep. Must have been in fight because nose was all bloody and big bump on head, and his left eye is black. Says he will take healing potion if son of yours like or not. We have enough coin to buy new. </p><p></p><p>Nev took some paper from all the stuff we brought here. Which is from spyguy I mean. Thinks I not saw but I am bodyguard and have my eyes all over. He not looked at box much just make sure no magic on it I think. But son of yours, you shouldn't have tell him not to open. You know when you tell son of yours not to do some thing and more when he angry with you, he is more like doing it. Spyguy woke up and is all ooh and ouch from wrong type of what they say is healing also. So when was in too much owie Nev spell him to sleep again. But he was wake enough to be happy we got box of his. </p><p></p><p>Oh and funny thing happen in a few streets away. There is statue of some gnome warrior and people keep stealing the weapon he holds. So someone did last night too but not that work out too good. Newspaper says they use the rope with the flags on to hang one of those rolling things on they use in harbor, then use lasso to get hilt of sword in it and then again use sword and lasso and rope it dangle on to hang on it and glide to city wall. But rope must be broke off close to wall and now they say there is blood on wall where thief has smashed into it. Still got run away with sword and donkey to carry it on. They think it was a gnome dare for the shape they could see in wall in morning was small like a gnome and only gnomes get such craze ideas about taking weapons from statue. I was sorry for statue and gave it my old hammer, and they say it was true act of a hero of city and made a new chain to fix the weapon to the statue. Flip think it silly but am happy I can help when I mostly get to smash stuff. </p><p></p><p>~U</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lwaxy, post: 5857340, member: 53286"] With the spymaster spread on the couch in the living room and the package they had recovered on the table, there was no way to take their uneasy minds off the current problem. Only Uthas seemed genuinely unruffled. It had been just another fight and was just another mission for him. The half-orc did not even seem to be the slightest bit curious about what the package might contain. Not so the other two. Orlath was pacing in the spacious apartment, throwing looks at the package and the spymaster and the set of other stuff they had recovered regularly. He tried to pretend it was nothing out of the ordinary whenever Nev came close – who was currently doing his reading up on history of Northern Dwarfs – but he was jumping inside every time someone loud passed by the window and he literally jumped when a salesman knocked at their door to try and sell baked fish. Out of confusion and to get rid of the man, Orlath bought a whole plate, much to the delight of his bodyguard, who ate them all alone in less than half an hour. On the other hand, Nev was really attempting to study. He knew they could not just go and get anyone to help Greytooth, but they had no idea who the man's contacts were so all they could do was wait. His attempts of memorizing the events leading to the death of the Northern Kingdoms didn't go well, though, and he, too, found himself wandering around with the book, throwing glances over the top of it at their guest and their cargo. Eventually, when Orlath had to "attend to other business," he seized the opportunity to go through the other material they had discovered at the flat and checking the box for magic. There was no magic on the box, but some of the papers close by flared up. Curious, the young noble examined the binder and found a set of scrolls – although they were not rolled up so he mused they were rather magic letters – with interesting spells on them. They didn't look too complicated to learn, and his thirst for knowledge and spells got the better of him. He removed one copy of each and hid them in his book. When Orlath reappeared, he excused himself to the roof garden – a new project of his, born from his talent for botany and his ability to magically help plants to grow as most of the eastern elf tribes possessed. On the flat part of the roof, he and Flip and an apprentice from a gardener he sometimes borrowed had created a beautiful little resort, complete with greenhouse, a small pond and trees already looking several years old despite just being there for a week or two. From the outside, it looked like a normal roof with a small balcony, as he had had a local illusionist help make it private. It also had some extra space Nev was not quite sure how he had created it. At one point, he had just wished he had more space up here and would not be limited in his ideas of what to plant and what to produce. All of a sudden, the world had seemed to twist around him, and he had had thrice the space available. It was not a pocket dimension or anything like that. It did not dispel either. The wizard had felt the magic around at creation, but was pretty sure he would not be able to produce such an effect. After a few days, he and Orlath had decided to just take it as a gift. At this time of early afternoon, the insects, who didn't care for any illusions, hummed happily around and the sun was strong in the sky. Summer came late to Freeport, and the fogs lasted for most of the year, but the heat would be all the worse for it, or so he had been told. The bench under the shadow of one of the new willow trees was just perfect for magic studies. Uthas didn't come up here that often, and Orlath would not leave the living room out of his sight when he was not on the loo. Expecting no disturbance, the mage sat down and begun examining the magic letters. The statue of Golgenath the gnome stood at a corner in the old city, almost always ignored by visitors but beloved by the locals. It was the oversized frame of a Gnome warrior, holding an even more oversized sword, point down, in a 4-fingered hand. The sword was not really part of the statue, it was placed into the hand where the finger was missing, and then fixed with a simple chain. It was said that over the years, the gnome had had many weapons, and not all of them swords. They tended to vanish every now and then, sometimes under weird circumstances. Like a flock of ravens or at once time a group of zombies stealing them. Most of the time, no one saw the theft happen. To Flip, this was a clear indication that the guild of his profession had a lot of fun making the theft part of their entry requirements for new Freeport thieves. The chain, he saw, would be easy to break. In the fog of the night, it would probably not be too hard to steal the sword, but for someone his size, the weapon the gnome currently held was an issue. He would need a pack animal, or maybe... his eyes went up to the cloth line with various city flags – merchants, lords, officials – going right by the statue. A wide grin split his face. This would be fun. He would need to make some preps, of course, and deal with one of his other jobs as well. From the old city, his business took him to an area close to the harbor in the less reputable part of town. In front of the shack of an old witch and fortune teller named Madam Byanca he placed himself on an empty barrel, trying to look bored and tired of a day's work of begging. There was but one door to the 2-room shack, a large front room where customers went in and out, and a small addition in the back to sleep and live in. There were no windows at ground level, the only openings were close to the roof to let light in but not to open. All in all a sorry place to live in, although at least the old woman kept it clean – with magic, as he could observe himself. What the customer who ordered the theft wanted was her dream journal from the last month. Flip had no idea what exactly that was or why it was wanted and neither cared, but he had a good description. A small book bound in red leather with the month's name handwritten on it. Supposedly, she placed those journals in a magic box next to her bed. They had not been clear on the matter though – did she only keep the current journals next to the bed, and if not, where were the others? After talking to a few of her customers of the day, Flip decided to play the part of a customer despite the risks. Supposedly, the woman was not much of a use as fortune teller, she could only answer one question a day for each customer but got very good insights on the matter – but maybe that was a marketing ploy to make them come back. She was, again a speculation, not able to see anything about herself, or any more than asked about a customer. Which again helped to bring her clientele of the less reputable kind. Like the high profile member of the Buccaneer's Flip recognized, a gang known to do press work for pirate ships. Then he could not believe his luck. The witch left her shack and closed it, following the Buccaneer with her raven familiar perched on her shoulder. Maybe the one she was to divine for would not come to her place. It made sense. And it made the perfect opportunity. The halfling waited until the two of them had vanished, then pretended to be drunk and stumbled over to the door as if to grab a hold on it. None of the people walking by paid him any attention. While with one hand, he took his tools of the trade out of a pocket, he knocked with the other, as he had seen others do. When the door opened easily, he went inside in the hopes it looked as if the old hag had just let him in. No magic went off on him. As he had hoped, much of the talk about the woman being dangerous was just that. No doubt she had done all she could to ensure noting got stolen. Not that there was much to steal. Most stuff in both rooms was looking like junk, some of it might or might not have been usable for divinations. Asides from table with some chairs, a bench and some chests and boxes and a shelf at the wall, there was little to go through. Flip made sure to be careful so no one would notice anything. Except, he grinned, she would notice when she found out one of her journals missing. It was in the only locked chest. Flip found an easily disabled poison trap but nothing else to threaten his endeavor. After locking the chest and resetting the trap, Flip left as undisturbed as he came. He had no idea of the chain of events he had just set in motion. The rest of the afternoon was spent with preparations to get the sword from the statue and long talks with two of the servants who regularly delivered wine to the Odingo mansion. In the process of finding out a way to get in, he learned more about the black skinned merchant than he cared to know. Supposedly, the man was a shaman or sorcerer of some sort, deep down from "the jungles" without any of them being able to say more. Yet, he seemed to be more civilized than a lot of the rubble washing at shore in Freeport. Odingo had been in the city for at least 5 years, supposedly he had been an adventurer for hire, or some sort of spellcasting mercenary, or maybe both as one was not always apart from the other. He was rich, in any case, and overloaded with trophies, keepsakes and other items from his quests. So rich he would surely not miss some of his things, so the delivery humans claimed. And none of the traps in the house were supposed to be deadly, or even dangerous at all. Odingo, so it seemed, followed the God of Mercy and Peace. Flip was not so sure of that. Fortunately, he would not have to find out. Whether there were protective enchantments on any valuable items – unless he found something he liked for himself but that would be somewhat unprofessional – was not his problem. All he had to do was putting something in the house. A small white cardboard box in the form of a vampire's coffin, complete with a paper white hand and a vampire's face sticking out of the opening and a red set of letters spelling "gotcha." One of those running gags between two rivals trying to outsmart each other, or even friends playing pranks, he assumed. But then, he was always careful. When it was getting darker outside and the first mists of the sea crept up. The halfling, still very much sober, left to get the sword from the statue. Hopefully, by tomorrow morning he would have completed 2, maybe 3 of his jobs already if one of the pirates to kill would be in the right tavern, and could get started on the more serious ones. Dear Mom, We are in a bit of a problem. The man you wished us to see got attacked and is now unconscious in our home. I healed him up but as usual, arcane healing takes long to really do anything about the state of him. We got a package he wanted us to get. What do we do now? I don't want to contact the embassy about this. Your still angry son Orlath 22nd of Rhune Bosslady, Good news, can count numbers now to 100 but very slowly as not have 100 fingers and toes. So can only count and calculate fast when is under 20. Flip say males can count fast to 21 but don't get what he mean by that. Oh and Nev gave me some sheet of magic velvet he says is spell checker so I can put over my writing to see when I spell words badly wrong and then fix it but says I need remember what I do wrong so learn to make less error. I ask him if he has spell checker for his magic spell stuff, too, and then learn making less error because priests in temple are grumpy when he make two rooms all frozen with ice last day. He did not like joke. Flip came home late night or much more like early morning and son of yours was mad at him for not being home when we come with spyguy. Flip says he had own business and son of yours say he is servant and some other word I did not get. Flip was about being yours servant more than his and just like borrowed out to prince. Made son of yours even madder. Then Flip went and go bed because he says he needs his sleep to do real work next day not beauty sleep like prince. I was laughing so bad my ale was spilling on floor. Most because flip do need beauty sleep. Must have been in fight because nose was all bloody and big bump on head, and his left eye is black. Says he will take healing potion if son of yours like or not. We have enough coin to buy new. Nev took some paper from all the stuff we brought here. Which is from spyguy I mean. Thinks I not saw but I am bodyguard and have my eyes all over. He not looked at box much just make sure no magic on it I think. But son of yours, you shouldn't have tell him not to open. You know when you tell son of yours not to do some thing and more when he angry with you, he is more like doing it. Spyguy woke up and is all ooh and ouch from wrong type of what they say is healing also. So when was in too much owie Nev spell him to sleep again. But he was wake enough to be happy we got box of his. Oh and funny thing happen in a few streets away. There is statue of some gnome warrior and people keep stealing the weapon he holds. So someone did last night too but not that work out too good. Newspaper says they use the rope with the flags on to hang one of those rolling things on they use in harbor, then use lasso to get hilt of sword in it and then again use sword and lasso and rope it dangle on to hang on it and glide to city wall. But rope must be broke off close to wall and now they say there is blood on wall where thief has smashed into it. Still got run away with sword and donkey to carry it on. They think it was a gnome dare for the shape they could see in wall in morning was small like a gnome and only gnomes get such craze ideas about taking weapons from statue. I was sorry for statue and gave it my old hammer, and they say it was true act of a hero of city and made a new chain to fix the weapon to the statue. Flip think it silly but am happy I can help when I mostly get to smash stuff. ~U [/QUOTE]
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