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Lazybones's Keep on the Shadowfell/Thunderspire Labyrinth
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4470340" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 33</p><p></p><p></p><p>Wood chips flew in a flurry as steel moved in a blur around the slab of firewood that had been jammed into a crevice of the stone wall. Mara danced around the improvised target, her blades spinning in unison, forming a pattern of weaving death. It was almost too dark to see, but her feet moved effortlessly over the cracked tiles of the yard, and every blow hit with precision, the swords rebounding off the wood and falling back into the pattern she wove. </p><p></p><p>A figure came into the yard. He waited until Mara broke off her exercises, and lowered the blades. </p><p></p><p>“Those aren’t your swords,” Elevaren said. </p><p></p><p>“I didn’t want to dull them. The smith was good enough to lend me the use of some old swords that wanted for edges, to practice with.” She hefted the two weapons. “A bit heavier than what I’m used to.” She walked over to the gate in the wall, where she’d laid her scabbarded swords, and a towel that she used to wipe the sweat from her neck. She was clad only in a sleeveless tunic belted over loose cotton trousers, and had to be cold. But then again, she’d lived in the mountains, Elevaren remembered. </p><p></p><p>“What did you decide?” the eladrin asked. </p><p></p><p>She did not immediately respond. Tossing the dirty towel back onto the top of the fence, she reached down and picked up a burden wrapped in leather lying under her swords. </p><p></p><p>“There’s something about that cleric that... I don’t know. I don’t trust him.”</p><p></p><p>“I admit I do not have much experience with the followers of the Raven Queen,” the eladrin said. </p><p></p><p>“Nor I. In fact, the only one I can ever remember meeting is an old crone, who looked almost like Death herself. But there’s <em>something</em> familiar about him, I just can’t quite place it.” She had unwrapped her bundle as they spoke, revealing a longsword in a worn leather scabbard. She offered it to Elevaren. </p><p></p><p>“I’m not a soldier,” the warlock said. </p><p></p><p>“I know that you know how to use this,” Mara said. “I’m not saying that we won’t be relying on your magic, but we could get into close quarters again, and that staff of yours just isn’t going to cut it. No pun intended.”</p><p></p><p>The eladrin hesitated for a moment longer, then accepted the sword. “Besides, this way I have a backup if something happens to my primary,” Mara said, taking up her own weapons. </p><p></p><p>“So we’re going to the keep?” Elevaren asked. </p><p></p><p>“Did you ever really doubt it?” the fighter asked, striding past him toward the back door of the inn. </p><p></p><p>Jaron woke up to found Beetle sitting on the narrow frame of their room’s tiny window, looking down at him. It was still early, the clouded glass just starting to brighten with the light of the approaching dawn. He could just hear a faint thwacking noise that sounded like someone chopping wood; it seemed to be coming from somewhere outside. Apparently some townsman had decided to get a very early start on the day. </p><p></p><p>He lit the lamp and quickly got dressed. Beetle was already clad in his leather vest and long-sleeved coat; his new daggers were tucked into his belt. He watched Jaron’s preparations with an almost scary intensity, but the ranger had gotten used to his cousin’s odd mannerisms and paid him no heed. </p><p></p><p>“You know, you should go home. With Cullen. I bet that everybody’s forgotten about what happened with Dale’s bull. And I’m sure that Wanda misses you.”</p><p></p><p>“Go with you, fight bad guys.”</p><p></p><p>Jaron turned to him. “You don’t belong here, Beetle. This world... this world, out here, it just doesn’t understand you.”</p><p></p><p>Beetle grinned. “Jayse understand.”</p><p></p><p>Jaron nodded. “Sometimes I wonder,” he said under his breath. He shook his head, yielding the point. He grabbed his already-packed bag and double-checked the provisions inside. He picked up his bow and quiver, and dug out the package he’d wrapped up and stashed among the bedding at the foot of his bed. Beetle watched with interest as he unwrapped the packet. </p><p></p><p>“I got these for you,” he said. “The smith was able to make them pretty quick, given how small they are.”</p><p></p><p>Beetle jumped down and sprang over to Jaron’s side, where he examined his new prize. It was a compact leather bandolier, holding six tiny knives. Beetle drew one out, and flipped it over and over in his hands. </p><p></p><p>“You may need to practice a bit before...”</p><p></p><p>But Beetle whipped up one of the throwing knives, which stuck into the low supporting beam for the roof near the door. Jaron sighed and grabbed the chair, hoping that he could reach high enough to recover the weapon. When he got close enough to see the spot where the knife had struck, however, he started in surprise. </p><p></p><p>A big spider, its bulbous torso maybe a finger’s length across, twitched against the knotted wood of the beam, its body pierced right through the center by Beetle’s knife. </p><p></p><p>“Maybe you can practice later,” Jaron said, reaching up and wrenching the knife free.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 4470340, member: 143"] Chapter 33 Wood chips flew in a flurry as steel moved in a blur around the slab of firewood that had been jammed into a crevice of the stone wall. Mara danced around the improvised target, her blades spinning in unison, forming a pattern of weaving death. It was almost too dark to see, but her feet moved effortlessly over the cracked tiles of the yard, and every blow hit with precision, the swords rebounding off the wood and falling back into the pattern she wove. A figure came into the yard. He waited until Mara broke off her exercises, and lowered the blades. “Those aren’t your swords,” Elevaren said. “I didn’t want to dull them. The smith was good enough to lend me the use of some old swords that wanted for edges, to practice with.” She hefted the two weapons. “A bit heavier than what I’m used to.” She walked over to the gate in the wall, where she’d laid her scabbarded swords, and a towel that she used to wipe the sweat from her neck. She was clad only in a sleeveless tunic belted over loose cotton trousers, and had to be cold. But then again, she’d lived in the mountains, Elevaren remembered. “What did you decide?” the eladrin asked. She did not immediately respond. Tossing the dirty towel back onto the top of the fence, she reached down and picked up a burden wrapped in leather lying under her swords. “There’s something about that cleric that... I don’t know. I don’t trust him.” “I admit I do not have much experience with the followers of the Raven Queen,” the eladrin said. “Nor I. In fact, the only one I can ever remember meeting is an old crone, who looked almost like Death herself. But there’s [i]something[/i] familiar about him, I just can’t quite place it.” She had unwrapped her bundle as they spoke, revealing a longsword in a worn leather scabbard. She offered it to Elevaren. “I’m not a soldier,” the warlock said. “I know that you know how to use this,” Mara said. “I’m not saying that we won’t be relying on your magic, but we could get into close quarters again, and that staff of yours just isn’t going to cut it. No pun intended.” The eladrin hesitated for a moment longer, then accepted the sword. “Besides, this way I have a backup if something happens to my primary,” Mara said, taking up her own weapons. “So we’re going to the keep?” Elevaren asked. “Did you ever really doubt it?” the fighter asked, striding past him toward the back door of the inn. Jaron woke up to found Beetle sitting on the narrow frame of their room’s tiny window, looking down at him. It was still early, the clouded glass just starting to brighten with the light of the approaching dawn. He could just hear a faint thwacking noise that sounded like someone chopping wood; it seemed to be coming from somewhere outside. Apparently some townsman had decided to get a very early start on the day. He lit the lamp and quickly got dressed. Beetle was already clad in his leather vest and long-sleeved coat; his new daggers were tucked into his belt. He watched Jaron’s preparations with an almost scary intensity, but the ranger had gotten used to his cousin’s odd mannerisms and paid him no heed. “You know, you should go home. With Cullen. I bet that everybody’s forgotten about what happened with Dale’s bull. And I’m sure that Wanda misses you.” “Go with you, fight bad guys.” Jaron turned to him. “You don’t belong here, Beetle. This world... this world, out here, it just doesn’t understand you.” Beetle grinned. “Jayse understand.” Jaron nodded. “Sometimes I wonder,” he said under his breath. He shook his head, yielding the point. He grabbed his already-packed bag and double-checked the provisions inside. He picked up his bow and quiver, and dug out the package he’d wrapped up and stashed among the bedding at the foot of his bed. Beetle watched with interest as he unwrapped the packet. “I got these for you,” he said. “The smith was able to make them pretty quick, given how small they are.” Beetle jumped down and sprang over to Jaron’s side, where he examined his new prize. It was a compact leather bandolier, holding six tiny knives. Beetle drew one out, and flipped it over and over in his hands. “You may need to practice a bit before...” But Beetle whipped up one of the throwing knives, which stuck into the low supporting beam for the roof near the door. Jaron sighed and grabbed the chair, hoping that he could reach high enough to recover the weapon. When he got close enough to see the spot where the knife had struck, however, he started in surprise. A big spider, its bulbous torso maybe a finger’s length across, twitched against the knotted wood of the beam, its body pierced right through the center by Beetle’s knife. “Maybe you can practice later,” Jaron said, reaching up and wrenching the knife free. [/QUOTE]
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