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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 1004294" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 9</p><p></p><p>The next morning dawned cold and dreary in Cauldron, for the weather had turned with a sheet of ugly gray clouds sweeping down out of the mountains over the night. </p><p></p><p>The companions—now numbering four—walked along the innermost of Cauldron’s four avenues that formed wide circles around the inside of the caldera. Ash Street was fairly quiet, for it was the tenth day and many folks were taking advantage of that to stay in their beds and get a late start on their day. </p><p></p><p>Mole and Arun were walking side-by-side a short distance ahead of Zenna and Ruphos. The two taller folk were quiet, with a residue of tension from the night prior still hanging in the air between them, but the gnome was keeping up a steady torrent of chatter, punctuated by occasional replies from the dwarf. </p><p></p><p>“I haven’t seen a <em>whole</em> lot of dwarves, I admit, but I have to say that I can’t remember seeing one clean shaven.”</p><p></p><p>The dwarf glanced down at her. He looked even more imposing this morning, for in addition to his suit of masterwork scale armor and the two light hammers tucked into his belt, he now bore a heavy steel shield and had a massive warhammer slung across his back. </p><p></p><p>“I shave my beard as a sign of my commitment to the Soul Forger,” Arun replied in his sonorous voice. “It is a warning common among my people, so that when the evil races of the Underdark see a beardless dwarf coming at them, they know that they face a warrior consecrated to the Anvil.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, you’re different,” Mole went on. “Most dwarves I’ve seen have quick tempers and foul mouths, and aren’t all that into bathing. And they like the drink, ooh yeah.”</p><p></p><p>Arun raised an eyebrow. “Well, they say most gnomes are nosy, annoying pranksters, who can’t keep their mouths shut or their eyes out of other people’s business. Perhaps both stereotypes are overly... limited.” </p><p></p><p>Mole looked up at him suspiciously, weighing the amount of insult inherent in the dwarf’s comment. Arun only looked straight ahead, not betraying any clues in his expression. Finally, Mole laughed, and then the dwarf did smile. </p><p></p><p>“In any case, I would suggest that your cross-section of dwarvenkind was a limited one. Perhaps someday you should visit a dwarven hold, and see our people as they live among their own kind, in their homes with families and friends close at hand.”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, I’d like that,” Mole said. </p><p></p><p>Behind the pair, Zenna and Ruphos walked in silence. Finally, though the cleric turned to her. “Look, I’m sorry about last night,” he said quietly. When Zenna didn’t reply, he added, “This isn’t easy for me... I’m not very good at this business of sneaking around and asking questions. I don’t know why Jenya picked me for this. Or for that matter, why she chose you.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh? And why is that?” Zenna asked softly. </p><p></p><p>“Um... oh, it’s not because... I mean... Look, I’m not like Morgan.”</p><p></p><p>“I see,” Zenna said.</p><p></p><p>Ruphos looked at her, but the tiefling woman did not turn her head, her face masked within the shelter of her cowl. The cleric opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted as Mole and Arun halted up ahead. </p><p></p><p>“Hey, this looks like the place,” Mole said. </p><p></p><p>Ghelve’s Locks was a compact, two-story shop that fronted onto Ash Street, flanked by other buildings of indeterminate purpose. Its identity was proclaimed by a large sign bearing the image of, naturally, a large clasp lock and a ring of keys. </p><p></p><p>They had decided last night to come here as the next step in their investigation. It was only natural, given that Jenya’s divination had specifically mentioned locks, and the gnome Keygan Ghelve was responsible for most of the locks in the city. Ruphos didn’t know much more about him than his name, but a few queries by Mole had revealed that the gnome was skilled at his trade, rather introspective, and a magic-user to boot. </p><p></p><p>“What if the shop’s closed?” Zenna asked. “It’s tenth day, and pretty early.”</p><p></p><p>“He’s a gnome,” Mole said. “It’ll be open.”</p><p></p><p>As if to confirm her words, the door to the shop opened, and someone stepped into the street. The individual was a lean, furtive-looking man with hints of elvish ancestry in his features, clad in plain brown woolens and a coat of cured leather that just about rose to the level of being armor. He started slightly in surprise at the four of them gathered in the street before the shop, then quickly turned and headed down Ash Avenue in the opposite direction. </p><p></p><p>“Well, let’s hope that Mr. Ghelve is not so jumpy,” Mole said, heading for the door. </p><p></p><p>A small bell attached to the jam tinkled faintly as they entered, announcing their presence. The front room of the shop was compact but cozy, with a fire burning in the hearth along the left wall, flanked by a pair of plushly padded armchairs. On the mantle above the hearth was arrayed a collection of the accoutrements of a tobacco addict, including a tinderbox, a clear vase of leaves, and a small collection of pipes in a wooden rack. To the right a long mahogany counter ran along the wall, with a curtained exit behind it. </p><p></p><p>Almost before the little bell had stopped its tinkling, the shopkeeper burst through the curtain into the front room. He was an odd character, a gnome of middle years, his facial features jutting prominently from his face. Perhaps most startling was the fact that he walked on stilts—actual wooden stilts!—that put him on eye level with Zenna and Ruphos. His features were a bit ragged, with dark circles under his eyes, but he composed himself quickly and addressed them in a slightly squeaky voice. </p><p></p><p>“Yes, what is it? How can I help you, what do you want?”</p><p></p><p>Mole stepped forward and hopped up onto the counter with a single sprightly burst. They’d agreed earlier that she would be their spokesperson, both for her easy manner and her racial connection to the locksmith. Ruphos walked over toward the chairs, pretending to examine the shop, while Arun just stood there, a dark look crossing his features as he started looking around, sniffing the air as if he’d suddenly caught a whiff of a foul odor. </p><p></p><p>“Well!” Mole said, with a disarming smile, giving the locksmith a good up-and-down look before settling her eyes on his. “We’re interested in locks, silly! Why else would we be here?”</p><p></p><p>The gnome harrumphed, but as they started talking it was clear that the girl’s manner was catching hold. The locksmith shot a few suspicious glances at her companions—his eyes lingering on Zenna in her cowl for a few heartbeats, and widening fractionally as they settled on Arun, but soon the two gnomes were animatedly discussing some of the intricacies of the craft. </p><p></p><p>Zenna let out a sigh—most of Mole’s knowledge of locks came from more dubious sources than honest crafting—but let her friend do her thing while she walked over to where Ruphos had paused in front of the fireplace. The cleric was staring into the hearth, and the flames that danced merrily within. </p><p></p><p>“Are you all right?” Zenna whispered, as she came up to him. </p><p></p><p>Ruphos turned to answer, but his eyes suddenly widened as he caught sight of the room behind her. Zenna turned to see Arun suddenly lunge forward, reaching around the edge of the counter toward the gnome. Ghelve squawked in surprise and tried to dodge back out of the way, but as he leaned back on one leg the stilt on the other jutted out to where the dwarf could get a firm grasp on it. Arun heaved and the gnome went flying, flailing in an unwieldy arc over the dwarf. For a moment Ghelve was heading for a face-first collision with the hard wooden floor, then Arun’s thick hand snapped out and caught a fistful of his coat from behind, drawing him up just an inch or two from impact. </p><p></p><p>For a moment the dwarf’s companions just stood there, shocked. Ruphos was the first to start forward, outrage written clear on his face, but Zenna stepped smoothly in front of him, grasping his arm to arrest his progress. The cleric turned on her, but she hissed, “Wait a moment!” She only hoped that the cleric would trust her, as she was trusting the dwarf. </p><p></p><p>Arun lifted Ghelve until the gnome was hovering just a few inches from the dwarf’s beardless face. The locksmith, as surprised as the companions by the sudden developments, and finding himself in very close proximity to an apparently mad dwarf, trembled as he tried to stammer out something comprehensible. </p><p></p><p>“What... what...” he managed.</p><p></p><p>“Don’t play the innocent with me!” the dwarf roared, spraying spittle over the gnome’s face. “I can sense the taint hanging over this place like a shroud! There’s evil here, gnome, and yer’d better be quick about revealin’ it, or I start bashin’!” To emphasize his point, he lifted one of his light hammers up between them, spinning its fat iron head. </p><p></p><p>The companions stood there, watching, the room silent save for the labored breathing of the captive locksmith. Mole had stood instantly atop the counter as soon as Arun had moved, and now she walked down to its end, twirling a dagger between her fingers. </p><p></p><p>“I’d tell him what he wants,” she said. “He really does love the bashin’ part.”</p><p></p><p>Ghelve’s eyes were as wide as saucers as he looked first at Mole, then back to the dwarf. “I... I...”</p><p></p><p>Ruphos, meanwhile, was becoming increasingly agitated. Mole, seeing this, caught Zenna’s attention and inclined her head toward the curtain to the back room. The wizard nodded, all but dragging the reluctant cleric back in that direction. Ghelve reacted notably to their movement, his face betraying a sudden worry beyond even the panic induced by Arun’s attack. Both Mole and the dwarf saw it, and Arun shook the gnome, drawing his attention back to him. </p><p></p><p>“Well? Don’t be lying to me, I can tell if yer be lyin’ to me...”</p><p></p><p>The back room was slightly larger than the front area of the shop, and was apparently a storage area. A large bay window to the right was set out as a display of the locksmith’s wares to passersby on the street outside, and a compact staircase in the rear of the room led up to a balcony that overlooked the room and obviously offered access to the second story of the shop. Three considerable oak chests were arranged in the center of the floor, and a few tables were pushed up against the far wall, underneath a portrait of a silver-haired gnome. </p><p></p><p>As soon as they were through the curtain, Ruphos spun on Zenna. “What is this? I didn’t agree to assaulting citizens!” At least he had the foresight to keep his voice low, but Zenna, knowing first-hand how sensitive gnomish ears were, drove him further back into the room anyway. </p><p></p><p>“He’s a paladin!” she hissed. “They have the ability to detect evil, or don’t you know that? Trust his instincts.”</p><p></p><p>“Trust? We <em>just</em> met him.” He gestured toward the curtain, but his eyes never wavered from Zenna when he said it. He looked indecisive, and said, “This is crazy.” </p><p></p><p>So intent were they on each other, neither had a chance of seeing the shadow that detached itself from the wall along the balcony above, and leaned forward over the railing, looking down at them...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 1004294, member: 143"] Chapter 9 The next morning dawned cold and dreary in Cauldron, for the weather had turned with a sheet of ugly gray clouds sweeping down out of the mountains over the night. The companions—now numbering four—walked along the innermost of Cauldron’s four avenues that formed wide circles around the inside of the caldera. Ash Street was fairly quiet, for it was the tenth day and many folks were taking advantage of that to stay in their beds and get a late start on their day. Mole and Arun were walking side-by-side a short distance ahead of Zenna and Ruphos. The two taller folk were quiet, with a residue of tension from the night prior still hanging in the air between them, but the gnome was keeping up a steady torrent of chatter, punctuated by occasional replies from the dwarf. “I haven’t seen a [I]whole[/I] lot of dwarves, I admit, but I have to say that I can’t remember seeing one clean shaven.” The dwarf glanced down at her. He looked even more imposing this morning, for in addition to his suit of masterwork scale armor and the two light hammers tucked into his belt, he now bore a heavy steel shield and had a massive warhammer slung across his back. “I shave my beard as a sign of my commitment to the Soul Forger,” Arun replied in his sonorous voice. “It is a warning common among my people, so that when the evil races of the Underdark see a beardless dwarf coming at them, they know that they face a warrior consecrated to the Anvil.” “Well, you’re different,” Mole went on. “Most dwarves I’ve seen have quick tempers and foul mouths, and aren’t all that into bathing. And they like the drink, ooh yeah.” Arun raised an eyebrow. “Well, they say most gnomes are nosy, annoying pranksters, who can’t keep their mouths shut or their eyes out of other people’s business. Perhaps both stereotypes are overly... limited.” Mole looked up at him suspiciously, weighing the amount of insult inherent in the dwarf’s comment. Arun only looked straight ahead, not betraying any clues in his expression. Finally, Mole laughed, and then the dwarf did smile. “In any case, I would suggest that your cross-section of dwarvenkind was a limited one. Perhaps someday you should visit a dwarven hold, and see our people as they live among their own kind, in their homes with families and friends close at hand.” “Yeah, I’d like that,” Mole said. Behind the pair, Zenna and Ruphos walked in silence. Finally, though the cleric turned to her. “Look, I’m sorry about last night,” he said quietly. When Zenna didn’t reply, he added, “This isn’t easy for me... I’m not very good at this business of sneaking around and asking questions. I don’t know why Jenya picked me for this. Or for that matter, why she chose you.” “Oh? And why is that?” Zenna asked softly. “Um... oh, it’s not because... I mean... Look, I’m not like Morgan.” “I see,” Zenna said. Ruphos looked at her, but the tiefling woman did not turn her head, her face masked within the shelter of her cowl. The cleric opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted as Mole and Arun halted up ahead. “Hey, this looks like the place,” Mole said. Ghelve’s Locks was a compact, two-story shop that fronted onto Ash Street, flanked by other buildings of indeterminate purpose. Its identity was proclaimed by a large sign bearing the image of, naturally, a large clasp lock and a ring of keys. They had decided last night to come here as the next step in their investigation. It was only natural, given that Jenya’s divination had specifically mentioned locks, and the gnome Keygan Ghelve was responsible for most of the locks in the city. Ruphos didn’t know much more about him than his name, but a few queries by Mole had revealed that the gnome was skilled at his trade, rather introspective, and a magic-user to boot. “What if the shop’s closed?” Zenna asked. “It’s tenth day, and pretty early.” “He’s a gnome,” Mole said. “It’ll be open.” As if to confirm her words, the door to the shop opened, and someone stepped into the street. The individual was a lean, furtive-looking man with hints of elvish ancestry in his features, clad in plain brown woolens and a coat of cured leather that just about rose to the level of being armor. He started slightly in surprise at the four of them gathered in the street before the shop, then quickly turned and headed down Ash Avenue in the opposite direction. “Well, let’s hope that Mr. Ghelve is not so jumpy,” Mole said, heading for the door. A small bell attached to the jam tinkled faintly as they entered, announcing their presence. The front room of the shop was compact but cozy, with a fire burning in the hearth along the left wall, flanked by a pair of plushly padded armchairs. On the mantle above the hearth was arrayed a collection of the accoutrements of a tobacco addict, including a tinderbox, a clear vase of leaves, and a small collection of pipes in a wooden rack. To the right a long mahogany counter ran along the wall, with a curtained exit behind it. Almost before the little bell had stopped its tinkling, the shopkeeper burst through the curtain into the front room. He was an odd character, a gnome of middle years, his facial features jutting prominently from his face. Perhaps most startling was the fact that he walked on stilts—actual wooden stilts!—that put him on eye level with Zenna and Ruphos. His features were a bit ragged, with dark circles under his eyes, but he composed himself quickly and addressed them in a slightly squeaky voice. “Yes, what is it? How can I help you, what do you want?” Mole stepped forward and hopped up onto the counter with a single sprightly burst. They’d agreed earlier that she would be their spokesperson, both for her easy manner and her racial connection to the locksmith. Ruphos walked over toward the chairs, pretending to examine the shop, while Arun just stood there, a dark look crossing his features as he started looking around, sniffing the air as if he’d suddenly caught a whiff of a foul odor. “Well!” Mole said, with a disarming smile, giving the locksmith a good up-and-down look before settling her eyes on his. “We’re interested in locks, silly! Why else would we be here?” The gnome harrumphed, but as they started talking it was clear that the girl’s manner was catching hold. The locksmith shot a few suspicious glances at her companions—his eyes lingering on Zenna in her cowl for a few heartbeats, and widening fractionally as they settled on Arun, but soon the two gnomes were animatedly discussing some of the intricacies of the craft. Zenna let out a sigh—most of Mole’s knowledge of locks came from more dubious sources than honest crafting—but let her friend do her thing while she walked over to where Ruphos had paused in front of the fireplace. The cleric was staring into the hearth, and the flames that danced merrily within. “Are you all right?” Zenna whispered, as she came up to him. Ruphos turned to answer, but his eyes suddenly widened as he caught sight of the room behind her. Zenna turned to see Arun suddenly lunge forward, reaching around the edge of the counter toward the gnome. Ghelve squawked in surprise and tried to dodge back out of the way, but as he leaned back on one leg the stilt on the other jutted out to where the dwarf could get a firm grasp on it. Arun heaved and the gnome went flying, flailing in an unwieldy arc over the dwarf. For a moment Ghelve was heading for a face-first collision with the hard wooden floor, then Arun’s thick hand snapped out and caught a fistful of his coat from behind, drawing him up just an inch or two from impact. For a moment the dwarf’s companions just stood there, shocked. Ruphos was the first to start forward, outrage written clear on his face, but Zenna stepped smoothly in front of him, grasping his arm to arrest his progress. The cleric turned on her, but she hissed, “Wait a moment!” She only hoped that the cleric would trust her, as she was trusting the dwarf. Arun lifted Ghelve until the gnome was hovering just a few inches from the dwarf’s beardless face. The locksmith, as surprised as the companions by the sudden developments, and finding himself in very close proximity to an apparently mad dwarf, trembled as he tried to stammer out something comprehensible. “What... what...” he managed. “Don’t play the innocent with me!” the dwarf roared, spraying spittle over the gnome’s face. “I can sense the taint hanging over this place like a shroud! There’s evil here, gnome, and yer’d better be quick about revealin’ it, or I start bashin’!” To emphasize his point, he lifted one of his light hammers up between them, spinning its fat iron head. The companions stood there, watching, the room silent save for the labored breathing of the captive locksmith. Mole had stood instantly atop the counter as soon as Arun had moved, and now she walked down to its end, twirling a dagger between her fingers. “I’d tell him what he wants,” she said. “He really does love the bashin’ part.” Ghelve’s eyes were as wide as saucers as he looked first at Mole, then back to the dwarf. “I... I...” Ruphos, meanwhile, was becoming increasingly agitated. Mole, seeing this, caught Zenna’s attention and inclined her head toward the curtain to the back room. The wizard nodded, all but dragging the reluctant cleric back in that direction. Ghelve reacted notably to their movement, his face betraying a sudden worry beyond even the panic induced by Arun’s attack. Both Mole and the dwarf saw it, and Arun shook the gnome, drawing his attention back to him. “Well? Don’t be lying to me, I can tell if yer be lyin’ to me...” The back room was slightly larger than the front area of the shop, and was apparently a storage area. A large bay window to the right was set out as a display of the locksmith’s wares to passersby on the street outside, and a compact staircase in the rear of the room led up to a balcony that overlooked the room and obviously offered access to the second story of the shop. Three considerable oak chests were arranged in the center of the floor, and a few tables were pushed up against the far wall, underneath a portrait of a silver-haired gnome. As soon as they were through the curtain, Ruphos spun on Zenna. “What is this? I didn’t agree to assaulting citizens!” At least he had the foresight to keep his voice low, but Zenna, knowing first-hand how sensitive gnomish ears were, drove him further back into the room anyway. “He’s a paladin!” she hissed. “They have the ability to detect evil, or don’t you know that? Trust his instincts.” “Trust? We [I]just[/I] met him.” He gestured toward the curtain, but his eyes never wavered from Zenna when he said it. He looked indecisive, and said, “This is crazy.” So intent were they on each other, neither had a chance of seeing the shadow that detached itself from the wall along the balcony above, and leaned forward over the railing, looking down at them... [/QUOTE]
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