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Sagiro's Story Hour Returns (new thread started on 5/18/08)
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<blockquote data-quote="Sagiro" data-source="post: 4195884" data-attributes="member: 726"><p><em><strong>Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 280b</strong></em></p><p><strong><em>Meow Down Before Him</em></strong></p><p></p><p></p><p>Posada’s Boundary may now be fully permeable, but the actual distance in miles is such that a normal <em>teleport</em> is insufficient. Since Aravis is the only mage with <em>greater teleport</em>, he is obliged to take the spell three times and ferry the Company in shifts. As he prepares to cast, he remarks, “We should visit Lord Dafron in Mirj while we’re over there.”</p><p></p><p>“Why would we do that?” asks Ernie, making a face.</p><p></p><p>“Because it will make him feel <em>very</em> uncomfortable,” says Aravis with a wicked grin.</p><p></p><p>A minute later, the party is standing outside the massive gates of Djaw – no special magical rope needed, and with no perilous dashes through the Delfirian Arch. It’s early March, but still warm. Some of that is geographic – Djaw is warm most of the year – and some is because, while it was mid-morning when they left Charagan, it’s mid-afternoon in central Kivia. </p><p></p><p>A short line of trader wagons is ahead of them in the line to enter the city. The air is filled with unfamiliar smells that bring back the wonder of Djaw, greatest city in the known world and the seat of culture, commerce and military might in Kivia. But just ahead of the Company is a reminder of the civilization’s darker side; a dwarven slave attends a wealthy spice-merchant, a red iron collar clamped around his neck. Kibi glowers. </p><p></p><p>Ernie is still chomping at the bit to enter the city gates. He’s been lusting after the spiced chicken sticks sold in many of Djaw’s outdoor markets, and is so excited at the prospect that he asks the gate guards if they happen to have any -- you know, just maybe sitting around. </p><p></p><p>“I haven’t seen you this happy since Yoba went home,” observes Dranko.</p><p></p><p>Kibi frowns, watching the dwarven slave ahead get led into the city. “How can you like this place so much?” he mutters. </p><p></p><p>The guards don’t stop him as he pays for his visiting papers just like everyone else. Still, when they look at him askance, he gives them a withering glare in return, almost daring them to say something. Morningstar puts a hand on his shoulder.</p><p></p><p>“We’ll take care of it,” she says, referring to the Guild of Chains. “But the best way to do that is not to draw attention to ourselves.”</p><p></p><p>Kibi shrugs his shoulder out from beneath her hand. “I’m just walking around,” he says angrily, “minding my own business.” </p><p></p><p>They emerge into the city proper, glittering white buildings lining the clean streets, urbane locals in their gauzy robes going about their daily business. Kibi notes that while dwarves are scarce, the few he sees are all slaves.</p><p></p><p>“You’re the only free dwarf in sight,” says Morningstar, pressing the point. “That’s calling attention to yourself. I understand that your pride is...”</p><p></p><p>“I am <em>not</em> wearing a collar,” snarls Kibi. </p><p></p><p>“I would never suggest that,” says Morningstar. “But, we can make you look like a human...”</p><p></p><p>“Or I can look like a free dwarf,” says Kibi, “which maybe is something they should get used to around here.”</p><p></p><p>“And if anyone has a problem with it, they can go through me,” says Ernie. </p><p></p><p>“And me,” adds Grey Wolf.</p><p></p><p>“And me,” says Aravis.</p><p></p><p>Morningstar sighs. “Getting bogged down fighting these little battles isn’t going to help the dwarves in the long run.”</p><p></p><p>“Let’s just go to the Church of Kemma first," says Ernie. "They can tell us whether it’s okay for dwarves to walk around free these days. Maybe it’s not a problem at all.”</p><p></p><p>Morningstar <em>sends</em> to One Shining Mirror, the High Priest of the Sun Goddess Kemma and leader of One Certain Step’s church. They’ve spoken with him in the past, and hope for wisdom on Shreen and Dralla, as well as insight about the dwarves. The answer comes back that Mirror is indisposed for the rest of the day, but that he would be pleased to meet with them tomorrow. That leaves them free agents for the remainder of the day.</p><p></p><p>“I think we need to celebrate,” says Ernie suddenly. When the others look at him curiously, he continues: “That we can teleport across the sea. And that time is restored...”</p><p></p><p>And here he can’t help but grin widely, as he spills some beans from his last trip to Evergreen.</p><p></p><p>“...and that Yoba agreed to marry me!”</p><p></p><p>There are hearty and exuberant congratulations all around, though Dranko can’t help leering.</p><p></p><p>“So,” says the half-orc, “Did you... you know...?”</p><p></p><p>Ernie just stares. When Morningstar gives him a burning glare, Dranko backpedals a bit. “I mean, how did you ask her?”</p><p></p><p>“It’s kind of personal, Dranko,” says Ernie.</p><p></p><p>Dranko gives him a pat on the back. “Well, I’m proud of you.”</p><p></p><p>Ernie smirks. “Well, I figured, if <em>you</em> could get married...”</p><p></p><p>“Go ahead,” dares Dranko. “Finish that sentence.”</p><p></p><p>Ernie doesn’t say anything, but Flicker’s happy to jump in.</p><p></p><p>“If you could get married, then even a blind weasel could get lucky and tie the knot!”</p><p></p><p>A deft wrist-flick later and Flicker is lying on his backside, a whip curled around his ankle.</p><p></p><p>“So,” says Ernie, ignoring this last exchange, “I say we stay in the finest inn in Djaw!”</p><p></p><p> It’s the consensus of several passersby that the finest inn in Djaw is the Golden Goblet, located in the ritziest part of the city, not many blocks from the immense limestone and marble palace of the Emperor, One Supreme Intellect. Aravis is keen to visit the Court of Cats en route, so they take a meandering route, admiring the architecture and breathing in the exotic scents. Ernie eats about a half-dozen spiced chicken sticks. </p><p></p><p>The Company is approached just outside the Court of Cats by a Falcon – one of the omnipresent and imposing city guardsmen of Djaw. The Falcons are rumored to be able to see into men’s souls and note the guilt or innocence reflected therein. </p><p></p><p>The Falcon walks directly to Kibi. </p><p></p><p>“You’re not wearing your collar,” he says flatly.</p><p></p><p>As Kibi flourishes his papers, Ernie steps forward.</p><p></p><p>“He’s not a slave. He’s a free dwarf.”</p><p></p><p>“Are you aware that Posada’s Boundary is down?” adds Morningstar.</p><p></p><p>“I shared the same dream as everyone else,” acknowledges the guard.</p><p></p><p>“In Charagan,” says Morningstar, “dwarves are a free people.”</p><p></p><p>The Falcon smiles. “Very well. His papers are in order. If you can vouch for him, that’s good enough for me. As you were.”</p><p></p><p>He walks off. </p><p></p><p>“We have to do something about the Guild of Chains,” says Grey Wolf.</p><p></p><p>“Don’t worry Kibi,” adds Ernie. “I know we’ll find a way to free the dwarves of Kivia.”</p><p></p><p></p><p>* *</p><p></p><p></p><p>The Court of Cats is a huge open-air plaza surrounded by cafes and shops. It is filled with fountains, benches, and numerous tables and chairs. It is also the home to hundreds of cats, prowling the place for attention and scraps of food. Built right into the flagstones are numerous small bowls, and the human denizens of Djaw make a ritual of keeping these filled with meat and milk. It’s no wonder the place is such a feline hot-spot. </p><p></p><p>As happened the last time, Aravis becomes a cat-magnet the moment he arrives. Dozens of felines start milling around his legs, rubbing against him and meowing loudly. One even jumps up on Aravis’s shoulder, but Pewter chases her off.</p><p></p><p>“Only one familiar per wizard!” he hisses. Then, to Aravis, he adds: “The cats don’t seem to know exactly <em>why</em> you’re so interesting, just that you are.”</p><p></p><p>All of this inspires the party to learn more. Encouraged by the success of <em>legend lore</em> in revealing the cause of the Mystery Rash, Kibi casts the same spell on Aravis himself over the course of the next few minutes. When the spell is over, Kibi’s eyes bulge and his jaw drops. Already a bit jealous of Aravis in the wizarding department, Kibi grumbles: “Does Aravis have to hear this?”</p><p></p><p>“Why?” asks Aravis.</p><p></p><p>“Well, just don’t let your head get more swollen than it already is,” says Kibi. The spell produced the following:</p><p></p><p><em>He, a Prison Guard</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>He, a Wizards’ Bane</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>He, a Feline God</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>He, a Universe</em></p><p></p><p>A feline God?!</p><p></p><p>“If you want to get a swollen head,” says Pewter, “I wouldn’t blame you one bit.”</p><p></p><p>Ernie can’t help but laugh. “I, for one, will not be worshipping you. I’m spoken for.”</p><p></p><p>“But we can add a shrine to you back at Longtooth Keep,” says Grey Wolf.</p><p></p><p>“Hey!” says Flicker. “If I worship you, will you grant me spells?”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t know,” says Aravis. “Do you truly believe in Me?”</p><p></p><p>“Sure!” assures Flicker. “All hail the almighty Aravis!”</p><p></p><p>“Your first follower,” sighs Morningstar.</p><p></p><p>“Actually,” says Grey Wolf soberly, “This would explain why the rats are so concerned about you.”</p><p></p><p>The cats continue to swarm around Aravis’s feet. “I’m sorry,” he tells them. “I don’t have any miracles for you at the moment.”</p><p></p><p></p><p>* *</p><p></p><p>The Golden Goblet is the very epitome of posh. Its main three-story edifice is surrounded by numerous outbuildings scattered over a several-acre property. The landscaping is impeccable, with lush green lawns that are a rarity in Djaw, fountains, marbled walks and colorful flower gardens. Private guards are discretely placed, implying safety without making the place seem like a fortress.</p><p></p><p>Ernie takes a deep and contented breath as they approach the main doors. </p><p></p><p>“It’s a whole week I don’t have to cook!” he says happily.</p><p></p><p>“I thought you loved to cook,” says Dranko. “Isn’t cooking like praying for you? Are you saying you want to go a week without praying?”</p><p></p><p>“Ernie didn’t say he wasn’t <em>going</em> to cook,” says Flicker. “Just that he doesn’t <em>have</em> to cook. Don’t you see? When you have to do something you love, it can start to feel like a job.”</p><p></p><p>“Whoa,” says Aravis. “That came from Flicker?”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah,” says Flicker sheepishly. “I guess that was my flash of insight for the year.”</p><p></p><p>“It comes from worshipping Aravis,” says Grey Wolf.</p><p></p><p>“That’s right!” exclaims Aravis. “My first miracle!”</p><p></p><p>An elegant (if slightly rotund) commissionaire greets them at the door.</p><p></p><p>“Welcome to the Golden Goblet,” he says expansively. </p><p></p><p>“I would like to reserve rooms for me and my friends for a week,” says Ernie.</p><p></p><p>“Of course. And how many of you are there?”</p><p></p><p>“Seven,” says Ernie. </p><p></p><p>The doorman does a quick headcount and only gets to six.</p><p></p><p>“One of my companions is a free-born dwarf,” says Ernie, keeping his voice polite and formal. “From the Kingdom of Charagan.”</p><p></p><p>“Charagan?” asks the doorman.</p><p></p><p>“As you may know,” says Ernie, “Posada’s Boundary has fallen, and the Uncrossable Sea is now crossable.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, I know,” says the doorman. “There has been much speculation about the lands beyond.”</p><p></p><p>“That’s where we’re from,” says Ernie.</p><p></p><p>“Such an honor!” exclaims the commissionaire. “And it is a special honor to meet <em>you</em>, master dwarf. Seven of you then. And you’d like a week? That will be 700 Miracs.”</p><p></p><p>From their previous visit to Djaw they have some miracs rattling around in their bags of holding, enough for a downpayment on the rooms. They get seven rooms in total; with Dranko and Morningstar sharing a bed, the seventh will serve as a smoking room for Dranko and Flicker.</p><p></p><p>“Please make yourselves comfortable, while we prepare your rooms,” says the doorman. “If you have any needs, our serving staff will attend to you without delay.”</p><p></p><p>“And you are...?” asks Dranko.</p><p></p><p>“My name is Balthazar,” says the man, bowing.</p><p></p><p>“You’re not “One something something?” asks Dranko.</p><p></p><p>“I’m not originally from Djaw,” says Balthazar. “But I find it much nicer to be here than Mirj.”</p><p></p><p>This elicits great sympathy from the Company.</p><p></p><p>The waiting area is gorgeous – wonderful padded sofas and chairs arrayed around a fountain and illuminated by colored lanterns. A huge platter of honeyed dates is brought in, along with perfectly-brewed tea. Morningstar turns to her husband and asks, “When you were renting from Berthel, did you ever imagine you’d be staying somewhere like this?”</p><p></p><p>Dranko just grins at her. “Say, think anyone would mind if a stripped down and bathed in that fountain?”</p><p></p><p>Especially given that there are half-dozen other patrons in the lounge, the rest of the party talks him out of it.</p><p></p><p>“Let’s try not to get thrown out on the very first night,” suggests Grey Wolf.</p><p></p><p>That sets off a minute or two of fond reminiscing about inns around the world that have suffered serious damage during Company stays. They count at least four: The Eye of the Storm in Het Branoi, the Singing Sickle in Mirj, the Victory in Tev, and the Shadow Chaser in Verdshane. The other guests glance over nervously at the conversation.</p><p></p><p>A pretty serving girl approaches after a few minutes of this. </p><p></p><p>“Your rooms are ready,” she says. “Will you be dining with us tonight? And if so, would you prefer a private dining room?”</p><p></p><p>“We’ll dine in the public room tonight,” says Dranko. “But let’s plan on a private room tomorrow night.”</p><p></p><p>“Is there a dress code?” asks Morningstar.</p><p></p><p>“I would expect you to look clean and presentable,” says the servant. “According to your own custom, of course. Do you wish any refreshment sent to your rooms in the meantime?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” says Dranko immediately. “And a bottle of wine would be nice. Whatever your wine steward thinks good – I’m sure he has impeccable taste.”</p><p></p><p>The servant leads them outside and along a shaded stone path to an outbuilding surrounded by perfectly-manicured hedges. Inside – oh, the rooms! Each is enormous, with a full-sized feather bed, complete furnishings and magically-heated bathtubs. They have carpets so thick you could comfortably sleep on them were anything to happen to the beds. On bedside tables are pitchers of lime-flavored water next to plates heaped with sweet grapes. </p><p></p><p>There is a knock on Dranko’s door; a servant has arrived with his wine. </p><p></p><p>“Your wine, sir. Tevian vintage.”</p><p></p><p>The servant uncorks the bottle, and Dranko makes a show of smelling it, pressing one nostril shut while sniffing with the other.</p><p></p><p>His finger sticks. Try as he might, he can’t remove it from his pushed-in nose. It feels like something has glued it there. The servant looks at him curiously. Dranko turns a bit red before dismissing her with his free hand. </p><p></p><p>“Flicker!”</p><p></p><p>Flicker and Morningstar come rushing into the room. </p><p></p><p>“Finger stuck to nose!” says Dranko. “Very annoyed!”</p><p></p><p>Flicker tries hard not to laugh. “What do you want me to do about it?” he asks.</p><p></p><p>“Did you have anything to do with this?” asks Morningstar.</p><p></p><p>“And remember,” says Dranko. “Before you answer, you shouldn’t be thinking of me as good ‘ol Dranko who’s having a practical joke played on him, but as a man whose wife can cast <em>firestorm</em>."</p><p></p><p>“I swear!” says Flicker. “I don’t know why your finger is stuck to your nose!”</p><p></p><p>“Can you find out for me?” asks Dranko. “I’m thinking Grey Wolf, but I have to consider Aravis or Kibi too.”</p><p></p><p>“I’ll make some inquiries,” says Flicker, who can’t help laughing out loud at this point.</p><p></p><p>“That would be great,” grumbles Dranko. “I’ll...uh...just stick around here then.”</p><p></p><p>With his free hand, Dranko casts <em>detect magic</em>, but neither the bottle nor cork are radiating enchantment.</p><p></p><p>Flicker finds Aravis eating grapes in his room. “Aravis, Dranko’s finger is stuck to his nose. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”</p><p></p><p>“His what?” asks Aravis, not sure if he heard right. “His finger is stuck to his nose?”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah,” says Flicker. “And he’s going to blame me unless I find out who did it!”</p><p></p><p>“I can’t imagine why.”</p><p></p><p>“I didn’t do it, I swear!”</p><p></p><p>Aravis puts his own finger to his nose and walks into Dranko’s room. Kibi hears the commotion and comes along as well.</p><p></p><p>“You too, huh?” asks Dranko, seeing Aravis.</p><p></p><p>Aravis casually removes his finger, prompting a growl from Dranko. </p><p></p><p>“How did this happen?” asks Aravis.</p><p></p><p>“Was he picking his nose?” asks Kibi.</p><p></p><p>Aravis casts <em>dispel magic</em> on Dranko, and the finger comes free. Dranko opens his mouth to thank him, but notices that Kibi has a huge smug grin on his face.</p><p></p><p>“Hello, Dranko!” says Kibi brightly.</p><p></p><p>“Kibilhathur...”</p><p></p><p>“What seems to be the problem?” asks the dwarf.</p><p></p><p>“My finger... became stuck to my nose. What can you tell me about this?”</p><p></p><p>“Oh!” says Kibi. “It, uh, might have been a side effect of the gloves I made you.”</p><p></p><p>There are gales of laughter from the rest of the Company, who have now all gathered in Dranko’s room. Dranko looks down at his fingerless <em>gloves of dexterity</em> recently crafted for him by the dwarf.</p><p></p><p>“Will this happen often?” asks Dranko.</p><p></p><p>“Well, I intended it only for when you picked your nose, but I guess being next to your nose was good enough.”</p><p></p><p>“Will this happen <em>every</em> time my finger becomes close to my nose?”</p><p></p><p>“Well, maybe it’ll be every time you press your nose hard with your finger,” says Kibi. “But I did design it so that it can become undone.”</p><p></p><p>“And how might that happen?” asks Dranko, each word filled with a flat menace.</p><p></p><p>“You just have to say the command word. Well, more of a phrase, really.”</p><p></p><p>Dranko lunges forward and grabs Kibi’s beard. “You know, my religion forbids me from using bladed weapons, but I’m pretty sure there’s no rule against razors and beard-cutting. And I can’t help thinking that what you did was inappropriate among those whose lives so often depend on <em>mutual trust!</em></p><p></p><p>Kibi looks indignant. “Oh, and you’ve never put some wacky side-effect on a magic item you made for someone else.”</p><p></p><p>Dranko can’t help but take a quick look at Ernie – whose plate mail emits a loud fart when the left gauntlet’s pinky is pulled.</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” admits Dranko. “But I did that years ago, when I was younger and immature.”</p><p></p><p>Morningstar looks serious. “What if his finger stuck to his nose in the middle of combat... when he’s trying to heal you?”</p><p></p><p>“Well,” explains Kibi, “I thought it would only happen when he was picking his nose – which I figured wouldn’t be when his life was in danger.”</p><p></p><p>“You’ve effectively made these gloves something I can’t depend on,” says Dranko. “I can’t be in a situation where I might be in combat, and end up with my finger stuck to my nose. I just can’t. Which means I can’t use them.”</p><p></p><p>Kibi is taken aback by Dranko’s lack of humor. “You’re serious,” he says.</p><p></p><p>“Oh, I’m absolutely serious,” says Dranko.</p><p></p><p>Awkward silence.</p><p></p><p>“Unless there’s some way you can remove the curse from the gloves,” adds Dranko. “Then it would be okay.”</p><p></p><p>Dranko does find that just touching his nose isn’t enough to trigger it, but pressing again causes his finger to re-stick. He sighs.</p><p></p><p>“Ok, so, what’s the command phrase?” he asks.</p><p></p><p>In a smaller voice, Kibi says: <em>“Kibi is a genius.”</em></p><p></p><p>This elicits more laughter, and Dranko can’t help but chuckle himself. “Well, I guess I have to give you bonus points for that.”</p><p></p><p>“I’m sorry, Dranko,” says Kibi. “I figured this side effect wouldn’t happen as often as the one on your other magic item.”</p><p></p><p>What? This is news to Ernie and Flicker, at very least.</p><p></p><p>“Ah, yes” explains Dranko. “My dear, trusted friend here has informed me that, when I turn invisible, someone who can see invisible people we observe something... amusing.”</p><p></p><p>“Really?” asks Flicker. “But we can’t see him when he’s invisible.”</p><p></p><p>“That’s the problem,” says Kibi. “It’s too obscure. You can only see it when he’s invisible, and you have <em>see invisibility</em> cast."</p><p></p><p>“See what?” asks Ernie.</p><p></p><p>“See that the his <em>sash of invisibility</em> says ‘Miss Charagan’ on it,” says Kibi, and that sets Ernie and Flicker to rolling on the floor, helpless with mirth. Kibi does agree to remove the ‘curse’ from the gloves at his next opportunity – it should only take a couple of days.</p><p></p><p>“In the meantime,” says Flicker, “Just don’t pick your nose in combat. How hard can that be?”</p><p></p><p>“So!” says Aravis. “Dinner!”</p><p></p><p>Dranko and Morningstar hang back for a moment while the rest head depart for the main dining room. </p><p></p><p>“I have two choices,” says Dranko. “I can take the high road, and forget this whole thing... or I can think of a good way to get him back.”</p><p></p><p>It’s not hard for Morningstar to guess which one he’ll choose.</p><p></p><p>...to be continued...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sagiro, post: 4195884, member: 726"] [I][b]Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 280b[/b][/I] [b][I]Meow Down Before Him[/I][/b] Posada’s Boundary may now be fully permeable, but the actual distance in miles is such that a normal [i]teleport[/i] is insufficient. Since Aravis is the only mage with [i]greater teleport[/i], he is obliged to take the spell three times and ferry the Company in shifts. As he prepares to cast, he remarks, “We should visit Lord Dafron in Mirj while we’re over there.” “Why would we do that?” asks Ernie, making a face. “Because it will make him feel [i]very[/i] uncomfortable,” says Aravis with a wicked grin. A minute later, the party is standing outside the massive gates of Djaw – no special magical rope needed, and with no perilous dashes through the Delfirian Arch. It’s early March, but still warm. Some of that is geographic – Djaw is warm most of the year – and some is because, while it was mid-morning when they left Charagan, it’s mid-afternoon in central Kivia. A short line of trader wagons is ahead of them in the line to enter the city. The air is filled with unfamiliar smells that bring back the wonder of Djaw, greatest city in the known world and the seat of culture, commerce and military might in Kivia. But just ahead of the Company is a reminder of the civilization’s darker side; a dwarven slave attends a wealthy spice-merchant, a red iron collar clamped around his neck. Kibi glowers. Ernie is still chomping at the bit to enter the city gates. He’s been lusting after the spiced chicken sticks sold in many of Djaw’s outdoor markets, and is so excited at the prospect that he asks the gate guards if they happen to have any -- you know, just maybe sitting around. “I haven’t seen you this happy since Yoba went home,” observes Dranko. Kibi frowns, watching the dwarven slave ahead get led into the city. “How can you like this place so much?” he mutters. The guards don’t stop him as he pays for his visiting papers just like everyone else. Still, when they look at him askance, he gives them a withering glare in return, almost daring them to say something. Morningstar puts a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll take care of it,” she says, referring to the Guild of Chains. “But the best way to do that is not to draw attention to ourselves.” Kibi shrugs his shoulder out from beneath her hand. “I’m just walking around,” he says angrily, “minding my own business.” They emerge into the city proper, glittering white buildings lining the clean streets, urbane locals in their gauzy robes going about their daily business. Kibi notes that while dwarves are scarce, the few he sees are all slaves. “You’re the only free dwarf in sight,” says Morningstar, pressing the point. “That’s calling attention to yourself. I understand that your pride is...” “I am [i]not[/i] wearing a collar,” snarls Kibi. “I would never suggest that,” says Morningstar. “But, we can make you look like a human...” “Or I can look like a free dwarf,” says Kibi, “which maybe is something they should get used to around here.” “And if anyone has a problem with it, they can go through me,” says Ernie. “And me,” adds Grey Wolf. “And me,” says Aravis. Morningstar sighs. “Getting bogged down fighting these little battles isn’t going to help the dwarves in the long run.” “Let’s just go to the Church of Kemma first," says Ernie. "They can tell us whether it’s okay for dwarves to walk around free these days. Maybe it’s not a problem at all.” Morningstar [i]sends[/i] to One Shining Mirror, the High Priest of the Sun Goddess Kemma and leader of One Certain Step’s church. They’ve spoken with him in the past, and hope for wisdom on Shreen and Dralla, as well as insight about the dwarves. The answer comes back that Mirror is indisposed for the rest of the day, but that he would be pleased to meet with them tomorrow. That leaves them free agents for the remainder of the day. “I think we need to celebrate,” says Ernie suddenly. When the others look at him curiously, he continues: “That we can teleport across the sea. And that time is restored...” And here he can’t help but grin widely, as he spills some beans from his last trip to Evergreen. “...and that Yoba agreed to marry me!” There are hearty and exuberant congratulations all around, though Dranko can’t help leering. “So,” says the half-orc, “Did you... you know...?” Ernie just stares. When Morningstar gives him a burning glare, Dranko backpedals a bit. “I mean, how did you ask her?” “It’s kind of personal, Dranko,” says Ernie. Dranko gives him a pat on the back. “Well, I’m proud of you.” Ernie smirks. “Well, I figured, if [i]you[/i] could get married...” “Go ahead,” dares Dranko. “Finish that sentence.” Ernie doesn’t say anything, but Flicker’s happy to jump in. “If you could get married, then even a blind weasel could get lucky and tie the knot!” A deft wrist-flick later and Flicker is lying on his backside, a whip curled around his ankle. “So,” says Ernie, ignoring this last exchange, “I say we stay in the finest inn in Djaw!” It’s the consensus of several passersby that the finest inn in Djaw is the Golden Goblet, located in the ritziest part of the city, not many blocks from the immense limestone and marble palace of the Emperor, One Supreme Intellect. Aravis is keen to visit the Court of Cats en route, so they take a meandering route, admiring the architecture and breathing in the exotic scents. Ernie eats about a half-dozen spiced chicken sticks. The Company is approached just outside the Court of Cats by a Falcon – one of the omnipresent and imposing city guardsmen of Djaw. The Falcons are rumored to be able to see into men’s souls and note the guilt or innocence reflected therein. The Falcon walks directly to Kibi. “You’re not wearing your collar,” he says flatly. As Kibi flourishes his papers, Ernie steps forward. “He’s not a slave. He’s a free dwarf.” “Are you aware that Posada’s Boundary is down?” adds Morningstar. “I shared the same dream as everyone else,” acknowledges the guard. “In Charagan,” says Morningstar, “dwarves are a free people.” The Falcon smiles. “Very well. His papers are in order. If you can vouch for him, that’s good enough for me. As you were.” He walks off. “We have to do something about the Guild of Chains,” says Grey Wolf. “Don’t worry Kibi,” adds Ernie. “I know we’ll find a way to free the dwarves of Kivia.” * * The Court of Cats is a huge open-air plaza surrounded by cafes and shops. It is filled with fountains, benches, and numerous tables and chairs. It is also the home to hundreds of cats, prowling the place for attention and scraps of food. Built right into the flagstones are numerous small bowls, and the human denizens of Djaw make a ritual of keeping these filled with meat and milk. It’s no wonder the place is such a feline hot-spot. As happened the last time, Aravis becomes a cat-magnet the moment he arrives. Dozens of felines start milling around his legs, rubbing against him and meowing loudly. One even jumps up on Aravis’s shoulder, but Pewter chases her off. “Only one familiar per wizard!” he hisses. Then, to Aravis, he adds: “The cats don’t seem to know exactly [i]why[/i] you’re so interesting, just that you are.” All of this inspires the party to learn more. Encouraged by the success of [i]legend lore[/i] in revealing the cause of the Mystery Rash, Kibi casts the same spell on Aravis himself over the course of the next few minutes. When the spell is over, Kibi’s eyes bulge and his jaw drops. Already a bit jealous of Aravis in the wizarding department, Kibi grumbles: “Does Aravis have to hear this?” “Why?” asks Aravis. “Well, just don’t let your head get more swollen than it already is,” says Kibi. The spell produced the following: [i]He, a Prison Guard He, a Wizards’ Bane He, a Feline God He, a Universe[/i] A feline God?! “If you want to get a swollen head,” says Pewter, “I wouldn’t blame you one bit.” Ernie can’t help but laugh. “I, for one, will not be worshipping you. I’m spoken for.” “But we can add a shrine to you back at Longtooth Keep,” says Grey Wolf. “Hey!” says Flicker. “If I worship you, will you grant me spells?” “I don’t know,” says Aravis. “Do you truly believe in Me?” “Sure!” assures Flicker. “All hail the almighty Aravis!” “Your first follower,” sighs Morningstar. “Actually,” says Grey Wolf soberly, “This would explain why the rats are so concerned about you.” The cats continue to swarm around Aravis’s feet. “I’m sorry,” he tells them. “I don’t have any miracles for you at the moment.” * * The Golden Goblet is the very epitome of posh. Its main three-story edifice is surrounded by numerous outbuildings scattered over a several-acre property. The landscaping is impeccable, with lush green lawns that are a rarity in Djaw, fountains, marbled walks and colorful flower gardens. Private guards are discretely placed, implying safety without making the place seem like a fortress. Ernie takes a deep and contented breath as they approach the main doors. “It’s a whole week I don’t have to cook!” he says happily. “I thought you loved to cook,” says Dranko. “Isn’t cooking like praying for you? Are you saying you want to go a week without praying?” “Ernie didn’t say he wasn’t [i]going[/i] to cook,” says Flicker. “Just that he doesn’t [i]have[/i] to cook. Don’t you see? When you have to do something you love, it can start to feel like a job.” “Whoa,” says Aravis. “That came from Flicker?” “Yeah,” says Flicker sheepishly. “I guess that was my flash of insight for the year.” “It comes from worshipping Aravis,” says Grey Wolf. “That’s right!” exclaims Aravis. “My first miracle!” An elegant (if slightly rotund) commissionaire greets them at the door. “Welcome to the Golden Goblet,” he says expansively. “I would like to reserve rooms for me and my friends for a week,” says Ernie. “Of course. And how many of you are there?” “Seven,” says Ernie. The doorman does a quick headcount and only gets to six. “One of my companions is a free-born dwarf,” says Ernie, keeping his voice polite and formal. “From the Kingdom of Charagan.” “Charagan?” asks the doorman. “As you may know,” says Ernie, “Posada’s Boundary has fallen, and the Uncrossable Sea is now crossable.” “Yes, I know,” says the doorman. “There has been much speculation about the lands beyond.” “That’s where we’re from,” says Ernie. “Such an honor!” exclaims the commissionaire. “And it is a special honor to meet [i]you[/i], master dwarf. Seven of you then. And you’d like a week? That will be 700 Miracs.” From their previous visit to Djaw they have some miracs rattling around in their bags of holding, enough for a downpayment on the rooms. They get seven rooms in total; with Dranko and Morningstar sharing a bed, the seventh will serve as a smoking room for Dranko and Flicker. “Please make yourselves comfortable, while we prepare your rooms,” says the doorman. “If you have any needs, our serving staff will attend to you without delay.” “And you are...?” asks Dranko. “My name is Balthazar,” says the man, bowing. “You’re not “One something something?” asks Dranko. “I’m not originally from Djaw,” says Balthazar. “But I find it much nicer to be here than Mirj.” This elicits great sympathy from the Company. The waiting area is gorgeous – wonderful padded sofas and chairs arrayed around a fountain and illuminated by colored lanterns. A huge platter of honeyed dates is brought in, along with perfectly-brewed tea. Morningstar turns to her husband and asks, “When you were renting from Berthel, did you ever imagine you’d be staying somewhere like this?” Dranko just grins at her. “Say, think anyone would mind if a stripped down and bathed in that fountain?” Especially given that there are half-dozen other patrons in the lounge, the rest of the party talks him out of it. “Let’s try not to get thrown out on the very first night,” suggests Grey Wolf. That sets off a minute or two of fond reminiscing about inns around the world that have suffered serious damage during Company stays. They count at least four: The Eye of the Storm in Het Branoi, the Singing Sickle in Mirj, the Victory in Tev, and the Shadow Chaser in Verdshane. The other guests glance over nervously at the conversation. A pretty serving girl approaches after a few minutes of this. “Your rooms are ready,” she says. “Will you be dining with us tonight? And if so, would you prefer a private dining room?” “We’ll dine in the public room tonight,” says Dranko. “But let’s plan on a private room tomorrow night.” “Is there a dress code?” asks Morningstar. “I would expect you to look clean and presentable,” says the servant. “According to your own custom, of course. Do you wish any refreshment sent to your rooms in the meantime?” “Yes,” says Dranko immediately. “And a bottle of wine would be nice. Whatever your wine steward thinks good – I’m sure he has impeccable taste.” The servant leads them outside and along a shaded stone path to an outbuilding surrounded by perfectly-manicured hedges. Inside – oh, the rooms! Each is enormous, with a full-sized feather bed, complete furnishings and magically-heated bathtubs. They have carpets so thick you could comfortably sleep on them were anything to happen to the beds. On bedside tables are pitchers of lime-flavored water next to plates heaped with sweet grapes. There is a knock on Dranko’s door; a servant has arrived with his wine. “Your wine, sir. Tevian vintage.” The servant uncorks the bottle, and Dranko makes a show of smelling it, pressing one nostril shut while sniffing with the other. His finger sticks. Try as he might, he can’t remove it from his pushed-in nose. It feels like something has glued it there. The servant looks at him curiously. Dranko turns a bit red before dismissing her with his free hand. “Flicker!” Flicker and Morningstar come rushing into the room. “Finger stuck to nose!” says Dranko. “Very annoyed!” Flicker tries hard not to laugh. “What do you want me to do about it?” he asks. “Did you have anything to do with this?” asks Morningstar. “And remember,” says Dranko. “Before you answer, you shouldn’t be thinking of me as good ‘ol Dranko who’s having a practical joke played on him, but as a man whose wife can cast [i]firestorm[/i]." “I swear!” says Flicker. “I don’t know why your finger is stuck to your nose!” “Can you find out for me?” asks Dranko. “I’m thinking Grey Wolf, but I have to consider Aravis or Kibi too.” “I’ll make some inquiries,” says Flicker, who can’t help laughing out loud at this point. “That would be great,” grumbles Dranko. “I’ll...uh...just stick around here then.” With his free hand, Dranko casts [i]detect magic[/i], but neither the bottle nor cork are radiating enchantment. Flicker finds Aravis eating grapes in his room. “Aravis, Dranko’s finger is stuck to his nose. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” “His what?” asks Aravis, not sure if he heard right. “His finger is stuck to his nose?” “Yeah,” says Flicker. “And he’s going to blame me unless I find out who did it!” “I can’t imagine why.” “I didn’t do it, I swear!” Aravis puts his own finger to his nose and walks into Dranko’s room. Kibi hears the commotion and comes along as well. “You too, huh?” asks Dranko, seeing Aravis. Aravis casually removes his finger, prompting a growl from Dranko. “How did this happen?” asks Aravis. “Was he picking his nose?” asks Kibi. Aravis casts [i]dispel magic[/i] on Dranko, and the finger comes free. Dranko opens his mouth to thank him, but notices that Kibi has a huge smug grin on his face. “Hello, Dranko!” says Kibi brightly. “Kibilhathur...” “What seems to be the problem?” asks the dwarf. “My finger... became stuck to my nose. What can you tell me about this?” “Oh!” says Kibi. “It, uh, might have been a side effect of the gloves I made you.” There are gales of laughter from the rest of the Company, who have now all gathered in Dranko’s room. Dranko looks down at his fingerless [i]gloves of dexterity[/i] recently crafted for him by the dwarf. “Will this happen often?” asks Dranko. “Well, I intended it only for when you picked your nose, but I guess being next to your nose was good enough.” “Will this happen [i]every[/i] time my finger becomes close to my nose?” “Well, maybe it’ll be every time you press your nose hard with your finger,” says Kibi. “But I did design it so that it can become undone.” “And how might that happen?” asks Dranko, each word filled with a flat menace. “You just have to say the command word. Well, more of a phrase, really.” Dranko lunges forward and grabs Kibi’s beard. “You know, my religion forbids me from using bladed weapons, but I’m pretty sure there’s no rule against razors and beard-cutting. And I can’t help thinking that what you did was inappropriate among those whose lives so often depend on [i]mutual trust![/i] Kibi looks indignant. “Oh, and you’ve never put some wacky side-effect on a magic item you made for someone else.” Dranko can’t help but take a quick look at Ernie – whose plate mail emits a loud fart when the left gauntlet’s pinky is pulled. “Yes,” admits Dranko. “But I did that years ago, when I was younger and immature.” Morningstar looks serious. “What if his finger stuck to his nose in the middle of combat... when he’s trying to heal you?” “Well,” explains Kibi, “I thought it would only happen when he was picking his nose – which I figured wouldn’t be when his life was in danger.” “You’ve effectively made these gloves something I can’t depend on,” says Dranko. “I can’t be in a situation where I might be in combat, and end up with my finger stuck to my nose. I just can’t. Which means I can’t use them.” Kibi is taken aback by Dranko’s lack of humor. “You’re serious,” he says. “Oh, I’m absolutely serious,” says Dranko. Awkward silence. “Unless there’s some way you can remove the curse from the gloves,” adds Dranko. “Then it would be okay.” Dranko does find that just touching his nose isn’t enough to trigger it, but pressing again causes his finger to re-stick. He sighs. “Ok, so, what’s the command phrase?” he asks. In a smaller voice, Kibi says: [i]“Kibi is a genius.”[/i] This elicits more laughter, and Dranko can’t help but chuckle himself. “Well, I guess I have to give you bonus points for that.” “I’m sorry, Dranko,” says Kibi. “I figured this side effect wouldn’t happen as often as the one on your other magic item.” What? This is news to Ernie and Flicker, at very least. “Ah, yes” explains Dranko. “My dear, trusted friend here has informed me that, when I turn invisible, someone who can see invisible people we observe something... amusing.” “Really?” asks Flicker. “But we can’t see him when he’s invisible.” “That’s the problem,” says Kibi. “It’s too obscure. You can only see it when he’s invisible, and you have [i]see invisibility[/i] cast." “See what?” asks Ernie. “See that the his [i]sash of invisibility[/i] says ‘Miss Charagan’ on it,” says Kibi, and that sets Ernie and Flicker to rolling on the floor, helpless with mirth. Kibi does agree to remove the ‘curse’ from the gloves at his next opportunity – it should only take a couple of days. “In the meantime,” says Flicker, “Just don’t pick your nose in combat. How hard can that be?” “So!” says Aravis. “Dinner!” Dranko and Morningstar hang back for a moment while the rest head depart for the main dining room. “I have two choices,” says Dranko. “I can take the high road, and forget this whole thing... or I can think of a good way to get him back.” It’s not hard for Morningstar to guess which one he’ll choose. ...to be continued... [/QUOTE]
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