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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Steverooo" data-source="post: 1083538" data-attributes="member: 9410">GETTING IT TOGETHER II:   Seeing the Wylf again trying to peer past him, Karl turns around to risk another look behind him.  Some priestly sort, apparently, calling for one of his brothers (by the name of Buford, it would appear).  Seeing nothing, he turns back to the Elf, who still hasn't moved, as far as he can tell.    Meanwhile, back at the temple, having seen nothing of Priest or mule, Ox steps out into the dimming twilight, and looks around.  He can see several larger buildings in front of him, one of which might be a barn.  Might Buford have gone there?  And where is that silly priest?    Across the street is what looks like a store (bags of dried peas and such, outside), and down the track from that is some other larger structure with lights on...    Now where could that priest and mule have gotten to?  Yelling doesn't seem to produce any response...                     GETTING IT TOGETHER III:(Last I recall, Karl was at the Well with the Moon Friend and noticed the little strange priest walking the streets. He turned to look at him, I recall.)Karl turns smoothly back to the Wylf, with no sudden motions."Well, there is some life in this little town, after all. I wonder if you would join me and my traveling companion for a brief sup. I'm on my way home now, but I've been searching for something all season. I wonder if you might have come across some information in your travels that might aid me in my quest. I would be happy to purchase your meal in exchange for the chance to talk about it."   The Elf makes some sort of soft noise...  It could be a cough, clearing his throat, or a "Hmph", Karl can't tell.  In any case, he drily responds:   "Oh, I'm sure I can answer your question for free, if I know anything about it, Sir.  After all, I'm not one of your greedy fellow Humans!"                    GETTING IT TOGETHER IV:   "BEW-FOOORD!" Ox shouts, walking out the door of the empty shrine (leaving the door wide open behind him), and heading towards the "center" of town.    Meanwhile, back at the well, Karl turns back to invite the recalcitrant Wylf to dinner.    Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Ma & Pa Kettle are just sitting down to dinner, after a hard day's chores.    Meanwhile, in what passes for an Inn in Forlorn Corners, Carilla wakes up, in her bed, in the dark, and instantly knows that something is terribly, horribly wrong!    Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Ma & Pa Kettle's supper is disturbed by an odd scratching at the door...  Pa grabs the hayfork before peeking out the keyhole.  "Who is it?" he asks...    Meanwhile, in the everdark underneath the mountains, the Chieftain is having a discussion with two of his Archers:    "Well, maybe he came through the mountains, Sir.  It's still early, the passes are still open." the younger one says.    "There are no tracks." the Chief says, looking the young Wylf in the eye.  "We've had Trackers out for days."    "But the only other way through is..." the older Hunter begins.    "Right through here!" the Chief finishes for him, "That's right."    "But," the younger Archer begins, "he couldn't have gotten through here without being seen, sir!"    "Maybe he didn't." replies the Chief, holding up the bloody rags that were once a uniform.  Shifting gaze to the Hunter, he says: "Garik, I want you to take Vinces and go east, through the Hole-in-the-wall, and out into the Human lands.  Search until you find the tracks, or cover a hundred miles in both directions.  If he's there, I want you to find him and kill him.  If not, I want you back here in five days, or I'll come looking for the both of you."    "Aye Sir," says the older Hunter, taking the supply requisition his Chieftain hands him.  "If he's there, we'll find him.  Vinces, let's move.  We've got to cover two hundred miles in five days..."    Quickly gearing up, the two wild elves leave the everdark under the mountain, climbing down its side into the Human lands below.  Luck is with them, and they quickly pick up the tracks, only 14 miles from the Hole-in-the-wall!  Shortly before midnight, Garik stops the younger Archer with an upraised hand.  Looking back to make sure he has Vinces' attention, the Hunter motions for him to nock and load, and wait here...    Leaving the wary youth alone in the dark, the older Hunter creeps up on a lone cottage, circling it, scrutinizing the open door, shuttered windows, dying fire...  Coming to a spot where he can see the door from the opposite side of Vinces, he freezes, waiting.  He holds that position for 15 minutes, listening to the rustling wind.    Once he's sure that that's all that's inside, he carefully moves up, and looks through the door.  After a moment of that, he motions for his younger protégé to move up, flanking him on the right.  Unfortunately, the frazzled young archer misses the tracks leading away from the cottage as he tramples over them.    When Vinces is in position, Garik quickly kicks the door in, arrow drawn and ready.  He takes stock of the room, then catches the door before it can bang against the wall.  Motioning for Vinces to follow, he goes in.    Both Wylfs stare, the younger at the blood-soaked floor, the elder at the shadows and things in the room possibly large enough to conceal an enemy larger than a snake...  The younger one gasps, seeing a bloody shoe, not sure that something isn't still inside it.    "We're too late." Garik states.  "He's at least half an hour ahead of us, if we run."    "Which way?" Vinces pants, not short on breath.    "The tracks you were tripping over went NE, if he sticks to that, but we'll have to follow them anyway...  He might be circling back, for all we know.  C'mon, Archer, we've got a Hunt to catch up to!"   The older Hunter pushes the younger back out the door, away from the small pile of white foam slowly settling into a clear puddle on the floor, away from the congealing blood coagulating on the fieldstone, out the door, and NE along a barely discernible set of tracks, running through the woods.    "He's HUGE!" Vinces gasps, now for air.  "Look at the distance between..."    "Shut up and save yer breath fer runnin'!" the older Elf snaps, "He could hear you!"    Point taken, the younger Archer conserves breath, smelling the wind with every one, searching the shadows, listening for all he's worth...    Three miles later, the older Elf stops.  Too out of breath to ask why, Vinces pulls up behind him, looking around, but silent.    "Blast!  Lost the trail...", Garik mutters, casting around.  "This way." he says, running NW, now.    "He's doubling back?" Vinces pants.    "Going to lair, maybe?" the older Elf huffs.  Then back all the way they'd come, passing somewhere north of the cottage in the night, back towards the wall of the mountain, almost twenty miles, again.    "Blast!  Lost him, again!  Circle-search!" the Hunter commands.  Both Elves spiral outwards from the last sure trace, looking for spoor.  "Here!" the Hunter calls softly, and they're off again.   "Cliff...ahead..." gasps Vinces.  Looking up, Garik motions a halt.    "Caves.  Gone to lair... for the coming... light." the Hunter pants.  "Keep watch."  Taking a breather, they stop and listen, eyes scanning the cliff and caves.  No sight of their prey appears. After a few minutes, Garik decides on the plan.    "You go straight west to the wall, and follow it north, watching for the tracks.  I'll follow these.  I should reach him first, and you come in right behind me."    "But we shouldn't separate!" hisses Vinces.    "Don't worry, I'll get to him first, just don't be slow!" Garik grins, then streaks off.    Jumping up to head east, Vinces bemoans: "Oooh, I've got a bad feeling about this!"    Following the tracks, Garik has to pause for a moment to spiral, once more.  He picks up the tracks yet again, and follows them to a cave mouth...  Looking back to make sure he can see the kid, he checks his arrow, loosens his sword in its sheath, and then squeezes through the opening...  A narrow cave greets his squinting sight; small, shaped like a bent kidney bean, but large enough to easily walk through.  No tracks visible, on the floor...    Moving at full stealth, he creeps in, listening for the sounds of Vinces coming to join him...  Warily, he surveils the portion of the cave visible to him, then moves around the curve in the "bean"...  Nothing!    Above him, on a ledge above floor-level at the back of the cave, a grey shape rises, dark eyes acquiring him as target.  Premonitions flaring, the elf looks up to see his attacker, as he gathers for a leap down on him!    "Vinces was right; he is big." he thinks, as he draws and releases.  His enemy comes barreling out to meet him, howling with pain as the arrow takes him.  Undaunted by a charging foe, the Hunter drops the bow, pulling out his thrusting sword and shield.  Readying himself just in time, he looks up to see his foe hurtling down on top of him!    Bringing up the shield and bending his knees, Garik takes it on his tower, but the weight smashes him to the ground, the beast on top.    "Oops, hadn't expected that!  Bad move." Garik rates himself.  He manages to roll over and try to block as the rabid beast comes at him, again.  Unfortunately, being on his belly in the mud isn't much more help.    With cunning, the wolf paused, waiting for Garik to move, and when he brought his arm down, it struck, biting deeply into the Wylf's shield arm, preventing him from using it.  Yelping as the Elven Hunter's sword struck home, the wolf continued to worry it.    Garik screamed.  He hoped Vinces would get there soon.  Or maybe not.  Probably better if the poor kid never showed up, he thought, as he lost the shield along with the part of the arm that had been strapped to it...    Running as fast up-hill as he could, Vinces reached the mouth of the cave, and saw the beast's back.  He put one arrow into it, before drawing sword and shield.  The wolf turned, yelping, then leapt in and overbore him.  Grabbing him by the ankle, it ignored his sword thrusts as it dragged him into the cave to join his Mentor.    "Garik!" Vinces screamed, but Garik wasn't answering, wasn't even moving, anymore...  Vinces fought well enough to have made his old Mentor proud, but if their prey had already finished the Mentor, what hope did the Protégé have?    When all was quiet, the wolf had meat for several days, on top of the meal he'd had earlier in the night.  Dragging his dinner back into the cave, he leaped back up onto his high ledge, licked his wounds, and fell asleep.  He wouldn't need to hunt again for almost a week... ***   (Warhorse should have went with squire Tow to the stable.  Karl is still wondering where that guy is.)   [Actually, Karl's warhorse (nameless for the moment) carried him to the well, while Tow's carried him to the stable, to see IF they rented stalls...  Maybe he's there, bargaining.  Perhaps Karl should go see...]   Karl smiles, trying as best a knight can not to be condescending.  "Forgive me, my friend. I wasn't appealing to your greed. I heed my own sense of fairness about these things. If you're information can help me, the least I can do is see you get a decent meal out of it. Will you join us?"   The Elf shrugs.  "It's your money, I suppose you can waste it however you please, but I warn you, you will no doubt be overcharged for the meal, and be expected to "tip" and pay taxes, as well!  No doubt the fare will be less than stellar and the service may be wanting, as well!  But, if you want to buy dinner for information you could have had for free, I have grown rather tired of jerked beef and dried elk, I would be glad for a salad, dark bread, and cheese with a pot of tea...  If you're travelling, I would be happy to trade you some of that dried meat for a decent meal (even at inflated Human prices), if you can stomach the stuff... but it is beginning to get a bit ripe, after a week in my pack, so beware, if you have a weak stomach!"   "Ha!" Karl laughs with genuine amusement. "You sound just like some of the people in my father's employ. Perhaps you should think about becoming a politician."   The Wylf wrinkles his nose at you, but that actually gets a grin out of him.  It's the first one you've seen, so far...   Turning, he takes his warhorse's reins in his other hand, draping them over his right shoulder.  He looks around for a moment.   "If that is a temple (or whatever), and that looks to be a store, then  one of those two buildings, down there, must be a public eating house, if this village has one..." he says, pointing towards the crossroads.   Karl looks back in the direction of the stable and scratches the new stubble that has started to grow on his chin since his morning shave. "Now, where is that squire?"   The Wylf just cocks an eyebrow at you, then turns and leads his steed out onto the track... all without letting go of the buckler, bow, or arrow.  Apparently, he does have "a very good relationship with that weapon."   "You're probably right about the eating house," Karl says. "I'd like to stable my good friend here before I eat. You may accompany me to the stable if you like, or I'll meet you back here in a moment. And... I'll think about trading you, but in the meantime, I'll take care of our dinner."   Pulling their horses out into the street (leading his pack horse behind his mount), Karl tries to keep his eyes on the wary Wylf, but the darkness is beginning to make things difficult.  The elfkin seems more interested in looking at the ground than in shooting Karl, however, so the Knight contents himself with keeping his mighty Destrier between them (if anything happens, it can always step on the Wylf's foot!)  The Wylf pauses for half a second, then shoots a look at the door of what appears to be the store (or so Karl judges, based on the baskets and bagged beans stacked outside), then points across the street to the opposite side.   "There is an empty corral, over there.  That must be the stables behind it." he says, pointing to their left.  Karl looks, but can't see past the Smithy.  He wonders if the store has torches... he used the last of his weeks ago, exploring caves, and lighting camps in the wilderness.  "Next time, I am definitely bringing a tent and a cot!" he thinks to himself.  He realizes that he has no oil for his lantern, either...  Better check out that store and stock up, before leaving town in the morning, too!   Well, there are three choices, he can go bang on the door to the smithy (the blacksmith's hammer is no longer pounding), or go to the corral, or go around to what appears to be the stable... or he can do something else (check out the eaterie, see if the store has torches, etc.)  What decision does Karl make?***   Meanwhile, at the point where the track and the road cross, Ox looks around for his beloved mule, and can't see it anywhere...  Of course, it IS dark, so that's not too surprising...  He stops and looks left, then right, sees little, and goes straight, heading out of town.   "Now if I were a mule, where would I go?" he wonders...   Meanwhile, back in the Inn, Carilla slowly sits up in bed, her feeling of dread growing...  She realizes that she is now herself, but only in mind, not in body!  Something dire had happened to her, something awful...***   The bow-bearing Wylf looks at the Kobold tracks, noting that they lead into the store...  No one's come out, since he's been at the well, and that's been probably a good half an hour, or so...   Meanwhile, Karl has finally decided upon a course of action, and heads towards the stable. No sense in leaving a valuable warhorse in any old corral.  Better see that he's fed and brushed. He deserves at least that.  Strange that Tow would just disappear like that. Karl scans for the squire or his mount as he makes his way to what he hopes is the stable.   The Wylf and his Warhorse following along behind, Karl heads around the side of the smithy to the long, two story building next to it.  30' wide by 105' long, with the typical upper hayloft doors, there's little else it could be...  Taking the lead, Karl opens the large, double doors and leads his two horses through.  Looking around as the Elf follows him in, he sees 12 5' x 7' stalls, a grooming area and a closed off area, as well as some larger stalls, on the other side.   As he is looking around, a young lad comes sliding down the ladder from the hayloft.  "Stabling is $20 per animal per night, sirs.  It's in a nice stall with fresh straw, hay, and grain too, with a bucket o' water I fetch meself.  If the beast wants runnin' down, then you pays me a bit extra, and I'll hop to it.  All in advance, as Master Hammer won't have it no other way."   Neither Squire Tow, nor his horse are visible, although there are a couple of beasts visible at the other end of the stable, in the larger stalls at that end.   Meanwhile, back at the ranch, nothing is happening...   Meanwhile, just outside of town, Ox is getting cold (and he really didn't want to spend another night out in the weather).   Meanwhile, sitting alone in her dark room, Carilla is freaking out!   "$20 seems a bit steep, lad. Tell you what, I'll give you fifteen for my two here, but if you make sure the big one's well fed there be another five in it just for you in the morning."   The boy's eyes bug, and his mouth gapes.  Then he stammers, "Well, Sir, Master Hammer won't have it no other way, Sirs, so you'd best take it up with him!  He's in the forge still, I expect.  It aint worth my time earnin' no five extra dollars if I just hafta give it to him 'cause I stabled two horses for less than the price of one!  He'd take all the money, and skin off both my ears, too!"   Behind him, Karl hears the elf chuckle, then the sounds of his horse leaving the stable.  He almost cathches something the Elf says, something like "politics", or somesuch.  The boy turns and starts scurrying up the ladder, back into the hayloft.   "Hmpf" Karl snorts and then heads for the smithy. Skinning a boy's ears off is not a very noble threat. Perhaps he should have a talk with this Hammer person.   "This won't take a second," Karl assures the Wylf. "And then we'll eat."   He looks about for the forge, still holding the reins of his trusty horses.   The lad disappears back up into the hayloft, as Karl steps back outside, closing the large double doors behind him...  The Wylf is waiting, grinning at him like this is all a jolly jest.  Karl begins to wonder if he's right about this town...  He tries to remember what typical stabling fees are in his part of the world, but can't recall.  Still, one would THINK that they would be cheaper in such a rural setting - unless the stable master is a skin-flint!   He heads for the building from which the sounds of the hammer were formerly issuing when he had first entered this tiny hamlet.  A 30 x 30' building with two stories, and a flat roof.  He bangs on the door with a metal-gauntled fist, and receiving a grunt, pulls the door open.  Inside, the place is dimly lit by the dying fire of the forge, and the only apparent occupant is a huge, hulking troglodyte-human crossbreed of murderous countenance dressed in heavy leather work garments.  He grunts and points towards the forge, and then steps under the stairs to the upper story, pulling a curtain to behind him...   Looking towards the forge, Karl sees the furnace and bellows to the east.  The rest of the area is littered with equipment, tools, and items in various states of repair.  There are two anvils, tubs of water, barrels of metal, and other such stuff...  Several ingots of metal lie near the (open) furnace door, and a pair of glowing, red-hot tongs is sticking out of the coals.  In the SE corner is a door.   Lying at the foot of the forge, with his back up against it, is a small "man", who looks to be about half dwarf.  Apparently done for the day, the husky little fellow has apparently fallen asleep in the dirt, with his hammer lying nearby.   "Excuse me," Karl begins, moving into the place after tying his horse to something outside. "Would you be Hammer?"     Karl is careful not to turn his back on the curtain that giant thing stepped behind.   The dwarf, apparently asleep, doesn't answer...   Karl moves closer and raises his voice a bit.   "Excuse me, friendly dwarf! I'm looking for Hammer." If this doesn't work, Karl kneels down beside the dwarf, checking first to make sure his hands are free of sharp objects or other weapons, and gives the dwarf a friendly shake.   Calling doesn't work, and glancing towards the curtain, Karl sees that the wary Wylf is standing in the doorway, bow in hand, watching it, as well, his nose wrinkling as he sniffs the air.  He looks over at Karl and the dwarf, then back at the curtain...  Karl checks the dwarf for weapons, nudging the hammer away from his hands with his plated boot, then kneals down beside him, shaking his shoulder.   It takes several attempts to get a grumble out of the dwarf, but finally he opens his eyes and says:  "Oh!  Ow!  This forge is WARM, Karl!"  Sitting up quickly, he rubs his back, then his eyes.  Looking up at you, he continues:  "Sorry about that!  I seem to have fallen asleep!  I'm usually an insomniac!  Don't know why I dozed off!  So, did you take care of the horses?  Mine doesn't seem to be around... and who's the Elf?"   Karl looks at this person and wonders how he knows so much about his business...  He steps back in surprise.   "Who are you sir? And how do you know my name? I'm quite sure we've never met as I just arrived in this little town."   "Huh?" asks the little man, in surprise, "I rode in with you!  Don't you remember?  We met on the road this morning, and came here, together!  What's going on, Karl?"   "Squire Tow!" Karl's eyes begin to narrow. Either this is some mind-reading trick by a pesky dwarf that wants way too much to stable a pair of horses, or something else is afoot here. And the answer, Karl decides, is probably hiding behind that curtain.   "Moon friend, you may want to step back. Things may get messy here in just a moment. I need to have a talk with our friend behind the curtain here."   Karl unleashes his two-handed sword and steps to the curtain. He puts the point on the floor about a foot in front of the curtain and holds the pommel in his left hand, ready to step back and pull the weapon up into position in a heartbeat if need be.   "Come on out of there, big guy. I would have a word with you." With his right hand, Karl reaches up and pulls the curtain out of the way -- down completely if need be.   The curtain is leather, depending from the step supports, and while old, is sturdy enough not to tear down.  Karl whips it aside.  The curtain screens off the place where the apprentice sleeps. There is a pallet on the floor, there, upon which the hulking form was lying, made up of rags and filthy blankets.  At the foot of that (under the lowest part of the steps), is a box.  Facing north, Karl sees an open shelf with food items, a cup, plate, small iron kettle, cooking pan, and jug to his left.   The apprentice (whose head is towards Karl) grimaces, makes a deep and guttural growling sound, points to the way out, and then rolls over, gripping the iron-shod maul as he gets to his feet...  He doesn't look like he's getting up to shake your hand!   "I don't think you'll be getting much conversation out of the Trog-man, Sir Knight." the Wylf says, from the doorway, "he is a mute.  I saw as we came in, he has no tongue...."   While all of this has been going on, the dwarf (or Squire Tow) has been sitting on the ground, rubbing his face, then slowly got to his feet, mumbling something about "armor", "funny", and "short".  Seeing things becoming tense, however, he looks around, grabs the hammer off the floor by the forge, and heads over in your general direction, none too stealthily.   Meanwhile, back at the curtain, Karl has the initiative, but the Trog-man has his feet, and points, again, towards the way out with his maul.  He doesn't look happy to entertain guests!  Behind him, the dwarf is approaching, and the Wylven bow-lover is also back there, arrow knocked and fingers on the string...   Meanwhile, back at the Wild Hare, Carilla Finnebonne slowly, fearfully, makes her way to the little bedside table, fumbling with quivering fingers for the flint and steel, then taking several tries to light the small oil lamp.  Glancing around the room warily, she sees nothing but her own, frightening shadow!  Refusing to look at it, she takes the lamp in her shaking hand and heads towards the mirror...   Meanwhile, somewhere south of Forlorn Corners, Ox the Major Oaf is having no luck searching for his mule, and it suddenly dawns on him that LOOKING in the DARK isn't the brightest thing he could do, anyway!  Now where could that stupid mule be?  He and Ox always got along quite well together.  A sneaking suspicion steals over him...  "Say, you don't suppose that Priest fella coulda STOLED him, doya?"  Ox shakes his head...   Thieving priests and Goat-headed gods?  What in the world is this world coming to?   Meanwhile, back at the ranch, leaves and grasses begin to blow through the open doorway of the Kettle's little cottage, sticking to the mess on the floor.  Nothing moves there, except for the wind and what it blows.   Meanwhile, back in the smithy, the tense situation is nearing a climax...   Karl backs toward the door, deciding that if the Wylf had wanted to shoot him, he'd have done it by now. From the looks of things, he has more serious problems anyway.   "Alright, tongue-less one, we're leaving. And you, dwarf, keep a safe distance until I sort things out. I don't want to get to know that hammer of yours and you certainly don't want to meet this sword."   The tongueless Trog-man grunts, but lowers the maul.  He reaches up and pulls the curtain shut.  The Wylf lowers the bow and backs out the door.  The dwarf (who was heading towards your right side) stopped when you said that, then mumbles and grumbles, but stays where he is as you back out the door.  The street outside is rather crowded, now, with three horses, the Wylf, and you.  The dwarf shrugs and steps out, after you, looking at his hammer, and hanging it on his girdle.   "Something's awfully fishy here." he grumbles, looking up at you.  "Didn't used to be so short, or you growed while I was sleepin'...  Somebody stoled my armor and Destrier, too."  He stops and rubs his chin.  "I talks funny now, too...  Didn't usta..."  He eyes the Wylf.  "Still wanna know who this gentleman is, too."  Then he looks at you.   "So, how we gonna sort things out, eh, Karl?  Last I knowed, I was trying to be nice to that crotchety dwarf smith, and then I faint and start having hallucinations.  Now I wake up two or three feet shorter, and my friends don't know me, no more."  He sits down beside the door and puts his chin on his fists.   "Hey!" he suddenly shouts, looking at his hands, "When'd I suddenly sprout a beard?"  He begins to look at himself in a most angrified manner.  "So how can I convince you that I'm me?  (I don't even look like me!  What foul magic is this?)" he mumbles to himself.   Karl begins to ask the dwarf about specifics of their conversation on the road. When I said this...you said what? As he gets the right answers he comes to believe that this dwarf really is his new friend Squire Tow.   The dwarf (or Tow) is somewhat weak on specifics, but covers the generalities...  Talk of the swords, and the beast, looking out for wolves, how he stopped you on the road...  He describes his missing horse and weapons in great detail, however.   Karl turns to the Wylf and frowns. "Well, it looks like I'm going to be paying $20 a horse to stable my animals. Come along, dwarf-Tow, and tell me again everything that happened to you from the moment we parted company in the street."   Karl heads toward the stable again.   "Wa'alll...  Lessee...  I was feelin' tired, followed the sounds of the blacksmith's hammer into the smithy.  I stopped to bang on the door, then entered anyway, figuring the smith wouldn't be able to hear me over the sound of his own clanging.  The lack of wind, and the heat of the forge, were quite comfortable, after a day spent in the wind, and the smell of charcoal was making me hungry.  I hoped stabling was available, so that I could get some food and a room..."   "The smith was an odd little... man.  Half-man, actually.  The other half was apparently Dwarf. He'd gotten the worst features of the personalities of both, it seemed, but I took it as a challenge to be Chivalrous to the uncourtly, and inquired about the stall fees, feed, courying, and such like. "   "Unpleasant at best, the smith's eyes seemed to reflect the fires of his forge, as he talked to me.  I was already wearied from this cold, and many long days' hunt for the beast, and began to feel very odd.  Finally, I seemed to swoon, and had the very odd feeling of looking up at himself, as I lay by the forge.  I felt like I should get up and tend to my horse, but somehow, I just didn't seem able to...  Finally, I succumbed, and slept; if sleep it was...   Next thing I knew, you were shaking me by the shoulder, then moving to attack that Trog-man of an Apprentice."  He shrugs.  "So I moved to back you up..."   While the dwarf-Tow is talking, Karl is basically ignoring the Wylf, but had he been watching him, he would have seen the intensity of his stare  Suddenly, he makes a sound as though in pain; not loud, but sharp.  Everyone looks at him, as he crouches, face contorted.   "This man has been changed!" he says, nearly snarling.  "There is a residual stench of magic to him, and it is of a fouler type than I've ever encountered!  I don't know what it is, but it's something I want no part of.  This is evil!"   The hairs on the back of Karl's neck begin to stand on end... then the ones comprising his beard follow suit.  He makes a mental note to choose the places he stops for the night at more carefully, next time!   "Looking up at yourself, eh?" Karl rubs his chin in thought. "I think we'd better stable these beasts and make a more thorough examination of that smithy."   Karl turns to the Wylf (has he told Karl his name yet??) "Moon friend, I promised you dinner and I plan to make good on that, but I fear my friend here has fallen under some evil magic and I am honor-bound to help him sort it out at once. Having little experience with this sort of thing, I could use some help, if you have a mind to. I would be happy to pay you for any suggestions you could offer -- and to back me up with that bow of yours if the need arises."   The nameless Wylven archer seems as taut as his bowstring, and as ready to move as his arrow.  He seems less interested in Karl's words than in scanning the night, eyes piercing like needles through cloth.   "Oh fear not, Sir Knight, if I see anything not-of-this-world, I daresay that it will soon resemble a pin cushion or a porcupine, if my dozen arrows can harm it.  I think I will have your friend, here, walk ahead of me, though!  I wish that we had someone of a more Arcane or an Ecclesiastical leaning with us, however.  A good Priest would no doubt prove most useful, right about now."  Arriving at the stable, again, he pulls back the door, and lets you precede him in.   The lad slides back down the ladder, again, takes one look at the lot of you, turns, and scrambles back up...   "Come here, boy!" Karl shouts up the ladder. "Things are not as they first appeared. I'll pay your fee for my horses -- and my friend here is not the master you think he is."   Karl turns to Tow and in a low voice, "Squire Tow, do me the favor of waiting outside. I fear the boy won't tell me what I need to know with the visage of his former master looking on. And stay out of trouble," he gives him a wink.   The boy comes down, more slowly this time.   Karl hands over the gold to the boy. "Now, tell me boy, how long have you worked for Hammer? Tell me everything you know about him. And then, tell me where I can find the village priest."   Staring out the door, the boy takes the gold, and the reins, and leads the horses into stalls, as he answers.  Karl's spirits sink.  The lad is rather simple (as well as just a boy), and doesn't seem to know much about Hammer, except that it's best to do what he tells him, quickly and without question, and otherwise stay out of his way!  Nob (the boy) has worked for him for about a year, in return for room (in the loft) and board, his parents being dead.   He is little more help with the Priest, saying that he doesn't go to see him, working all day, but that nobody knows his name, he just calls himself the Custodian.  He does mention that some folks think he's responsible for the curse on Forlorn Corners, but Nob doesn't know anything about that (or much of anything else, apparently).   In the meantime, he unsaddles your horses, hangs up their tack, gives them some grain, and fetches a couple of buckets of water.  When finally done, he stops and looks up at you for a moment.   "You want coury combing for'em, too, Sir?  It's extra, but I do a real good job, 'cause I get to keep whatever I gits for that..."   "Sure, son." Karl flips him two dollars. "If my horse is happy tomorrow morning, there'll be more for you, too."   Karl smiles at the boy, sadly. How different his own life would have been had he been an orphan. His name, his crest and the house it stands for would all be gone. His knighthood would have been a dream never realized.   "Good night, Nob."   "Good night, Mister Knight!" Nob calls after him.   Turning back to the door, Karl heads outside.   "Forgive me, friend. If I've heard your name, I've already forgotten it.  I would prefer to call you by your given name, if you'll share it."   "It's Hammer!" the dwarf snaps at you, "No, no, I mean Relgan." he says, shaking his head.   The Wylf is eyeing him from the far side of the other door, leaning back against it, but with both hands on his bow.  He isn't looking snarly, anymore, but rather concerned.  His horse stands idly behind him, reins still draped over his shoulder.   "Are you Hammer, or Relgan?" he muses.   "Are you spirit, or flesh?" the dwarf wonders, fixing him with a cross-eyed gaze.   "I am Sorrow." the Wylf replies.   A cold wind blows south, down the street...  Somewhere in the darkness, an owl hoots.  It's more than an hour past sunset, now, and growing colder by the minute.  Karl pauses, wondering what to do next...  They never covered this, at the Knight's Academy!  Hmmm!  Go back to the smithy, and face the trog-man, again?   There's a familiar rumbling in his belly, but Karl knows that first things must come first. That smithy may hold vital clues to the madness that is going on in this town.   "Gentlemen, shall we back to the smithy. And Tow, if that big, ugly fellow gives us any trouble, just send him back to his room. He'll probably consider you his boss. At least you look the part."   "We'll search the smithy, find the priest and then get a bite to eat." Karl heads off toward the smithy then stops in his tracks. "Sorrow, if you want to stable your horse with ours, I'll pay the lad."   The Wylf shakes his head, "No, I'd probably come back to find an old gray mare in her place!  I think I'll keep mine with me!  You two wait here, for a moment... and keep an eye on him!"  He points towards Hammer-Tow, giving him one of those piercing looks.   If looks could kill, this guy wouldn't need a bow, Karl thinks to himself, he'd be an entire company all by himself!  Then Karl remembers the legend of the Medusa, and wonders: If you're turned to stone, are you killed?  He doesn't really want to find out, certainly not from personal experience!  Maybe this Wylf is a mighty warrior, after all...  If so, he has a Chivalry Ability of about -3%.  Or maybe he's considered polite among Wylves, speaking to Non-Wylves, and all.   Moving like a mongoose, the subject of his thought zips up the street, crouched low, looking at the ground.  He stops at the smithy door, turns around, wanders back.  "We've stomped all over the tracks, it's too confused for me to tell anything," he says, taking his horse's reins, again.  "You two go on ahead."   "Come, Squire Tow!" Karl smiles down at the dwarf, and heads back to the smithy.   "So exactly WHAT are we searching FOR?" the elfkin asks.  "Dead bodies?"   "No, just MINE!" says Squire Tow.   "Well, methinks our not-so friendly smith is something else. If I'm right, there should be something in that building to tell us so. Is there any chance he may have snuck out of the building by a different route? Did you check for tracks all around?"   "No." the Elf says, veering off to look around the building.  If there's anything to find, he misses it.  "The only other door, on the east side, doesn't appear to have been opened, today."   When Karl approaches the door, he reminds his new friends, "And don't discount the possibility that he's still inside and more than likely looks like you, Tow. Well, the way you used to look anyway."   "Tall, dark, and handsome." Tow says, "Swarthy skin, black hair and eyes... and about two to three feet taller!"  He pulls his hammer from Hammer's girdle.  "After you."   "Oh no, after YOU.  I insist!" says the Wylf.   "Elves and Dwarves!" Karl says, reopening the door.  As he does so, the leather curtain sways, and he can see the Troglodytish man's hand coming out from underneath it.  Hammer-Tow looks over that way, and the Apprentice grunts, and the hand disappears.  Looking around, all is as it was.   Tying his horse up by the door, Sorrow says "Shall we try upstairs, then?  Hammer, it's your house..."   Hammer-Tow looks at you.  "Whaddaya think, Karl?  Anything we need to do down here, first?"   "Yeah," Karl says making a sweeping gesture that encompases the entire place. "Search this place. Find anything that doesn't fit in a smithy.  Anything the least bit suspicious. And be careful about touching anything until you let the Wylf sense it for danger first. He picked up on you, he can probably detect bad magic in other things as well."   Karl heads up the stairs.  Apparently not finding anything extraordinary down below, the other two soon join him.     Cautiously advancing up the steps, Karl looks up, and stops when his head is at a level above the floor of the second story.  Nobody appears to be home.  The entire upper floor is one open room, with four posts supporting the flat roof.  It's still 30' x 30', and generally bare of furnishings.  This is where Hammer dwells, and evidently he is Spartan in his living arrangements.  There is a bed in the SW corner, and a large chest nearby.  Various garments are hanging on pegs nearby.  In the middle of the room is a battered table with four worn chairs.  Various utensils (plates, drinking cups, flatware, etc.) indicate that meals are sometimes eaten here.  Most of them are dirty.    An open cupboard at the top of the stairway holds various provisions, as well as four gallon jugs of whiskey.  A large barrel stands beside the cupboard, with four drinking horns atop it.      A chest is a wonderful place to hide answers. Karl advances upon it.  Squire Tow follows him up, and the Elf waits on the top steps, bow ready, trying to stay where he can see the downstairs, as well.  Bow ready in both hands, he looks around.   "You might want to let me check that for traps, first, Sir Knight." the Elf says.   "Hmmm!  Good idea!  These greedy Dwarves are prone to such stuff!" Dwarf-Tow says.   "Okay, I'll cover the stairs." Karl says.  The two trade places, and Karl draws his sword.  The Wylf carefully scrutinizes the chest, and all about it, then shifts it a bit - it moves - and finally tries the lid.  It isn't locked.   "No stench of magic, or traps." he says.   Sticking the spike on the front of his buckler-bow under one side, he moves to the side of the chest, and flips it open.  Inside is a full suit of steel plate armor, a battle hammer, a shield, and a short thrusting sword... but no answers.   "Well," grumbles Hammer-Tow, "since the smith obviously took mine, I think I'll just borry his'n, until we gits this all straightened out...  I feels nekkid without mine!"  The little Dwarf-Man begins pulling out the pieces, and armoring up...   "This is odd," Karl says as he slumps into one of the wooden chairs at the table. "Trappings of a common dwarven smith. And yet, he is a sorcerer.  Or ensorceled himself."   The elfkin arches an eyebrow at you, then adds: "I find it strange that such a surly smith needs four chairs, and four drinking horn on yonder barrel.  I doubt that he was much given to entertaining!"   Karl makes another pass of the room, checking the clothing pockets and underneath the matress. He finds nothing out of the ordinary, so he heads for the stairs.   "Take good care of that equipment, Tow," Karls warns over his shoulder.  "It would be less than honorable to replace it in worse condition than you took it."  He heads downstairs.   "Oh, aye, and it was less than honorable the way he took mine... not to mention what ELSE he took!  We country folk can't afford to give honor to thieves - mayhap it is different in more civilized lands!" Tow replies with some heat.  "Let him return MY armour - AND the body wearing it - and I'll pay to have his repaired... assuming he returns my gold, as well!"   Finishing armoring up as Karl finishes searching the cupboard (three full jugs of liquor, one empty, but nothing much of interest), he comes over to join him, the Wylf bringing up the rear.   "I saw we go find this smith, hang him up by his heels, and beat on him until some answers fall out!" says the now red-faced little dwarf.   "Calm yourself, Squire," Karl replies, patting him on the shoulder.  "We'll get to the bottom of this. Let's go find a priest and see what he says and then it's to dinner. I don't suppose he stole your appetite as well, did he?"   "Probably," the dwarf grumbles, "he seems to have stolen everything else!"  Despite the situation, Karl has to laugh, and even the dwarf has to grin, a little.   "The question, really, is HOW he did it... and I don't think we'll find any answers standing around in a smithy, or questioning the wizard behind the curtain...  Let us see what else this village has to offer.  Surely some of the locals can tell us more about this Hammer fellow, assuming we can find someone up so late, in this farming community...  Squire Tow, if you will lead us past your Apprentice..."   Heading down the stairs, again, the three make it outside without any further ado, and Sorrow unties his horse.  "So, where to, now?"  Everyone stops and looks around at the darl street...   Meanwhile, back at the ranch, all is quiet...   Meanwhile, in the Inn, Carilla looks in the mirror and sees...   Buck!   Meanwhile, somewhere south of town, Ox is lost in thought.  He was thinking about using Protection from the Elements, but suddenly realizes that he's forgotten how!  Checking his list of Powers, he finds that he still knows: Invocation of Service, Consecrate Devotional Object, Consecrate Place, Blaze of Glory, Consecrate Pure Water, Omnivision, Preternatural Vigor, Sacred Precincts, Cleanse, Heal, and Undo Activation.   Huh?  Now wait a minute!...   Meanwhile, back in the Bandit camp, the Bandit Leader is sulking over his recent loss, plotting what he will do to Kachas Rye, when he catches that little squirt...   Meanwhile, in the everdark under the mountain, the Chieftain makes a mark on his calendar...  Four days left.   Meanwhile, in a hidden location, a Major Oaf, a childlike Kobold, a pretty little Ilf girl, and a tall, swarthy man, all with evil grins, come together with one goal, one mutual purpose, and begin to perform their perfidy...   Can our heroes pull it all together in time to stop the nefarious schemes of the obviously evil fiendish four?  Probably not, but tune in next week, anyhow (we wouldn't want you to miss anything)!   (Next week!?! Can't wait that long.)   "It's getting late. Sorrow, did you say you thought one of these buildings was a temple of sorts? I say we make for that and question the priest and then get some dinner," Karl says.   "Well, a shrine of some sort." the Wylf says, pointing back the way you came, towards the well.  A short walk later, you are at the place.  Despite the hour, the door is open,but all is dark, inside.  Too dark for a Human to see anything, and Karl has no way of making light.   "Hello, Priest! Anyone home??" Karl yells into the dark. "It's too late for this noise, friends. And I'm getting hungry. Let's adjourn to the eating hall and discuss our plans."   "I suppose we could try next door," Sorrow says, "if you want to find the Priest, although he may have gone to bed, though."  He looks around inside.  "We should prbably shut the door..."  He steps inside and tries, but then says "It's stuck!"  He walks back out, saying "I guess that's why they left it open!"   "So, do we try across the street, or what?  I think that's the store, over there, so the building across from us must be the Inn."   "Yeah, that's Buck's Wild Hare Tavern, but they have food and rooms, too... although I aint sure how I know that..." Dwarf-Tow adds.  Karl prods him to see if he can remember anything else.  No such luck.   "Well, let's eat!" says Karl, leading the way.  Squire Dwarf falls in behind him, with the Wylf lagging behind.  The timber and plaster building (catty-corner across the street & track from the stable) is about 30 x 50', with two stories and an attic.  Things get quiet as the three armored men enter...  Everyone looks up to see what's going on!   Besides the barkeep and a rather pretty young serving wench, there are five other men sitting at tables in the room.  A dusty man in homespun, and someone who looks the part of a hard-drinker farmer sit alone at small tables.  At a table near the archway leading out of the room (in the SW corner) sit three armed men.   This is apparently a bar (or at least the barroom).  It is about 30 x 20', with two entry doors in the NE corner (one each going out to the N and E).  The bar runs along the eastern half of the south wall, but there are no stools out front.  Behind it, in the south wall, is a door that opens onto an alcove, leading to the kitchen.  The area behind the bar is pretty full of barrels, kegs, etc.   Chairs surround six tables evenly distributed throughout the room.  Three of them are currently occupied.  There is a fireplace near the east door, and another archway (between the bar and the table full of armed men) leads south to a hall.   Karl and company walk in, looking around.  Everyone is looking them over, too.  As they do so, the serving wench comes over, wiping her hands on her apron, and curtseys.   "Greetings, lords!  I'm Carilla, and I'll be your server.  Would you like a seat in the bar, or would you prefer dinner in the dining room?"  She looks at Dwarf-Tow.  "Your usual, Mr. Hammer?"Karl nudges Squire Tow and nods his head in hopes that he will order his "regular.""We'll sit in the bar, if that's alright, little lady. But we do prefer to have dinner."   "Ah...  Well, I can't seat you at the bar, as you can see..." (no stools there), she says, "but you can have this table right here!"  She wipes it off briefly, with her cloth, seating you at a four-man table between the ones occupied by the drunken farmer and the dusty traveler, across the room from the bar and the armed men...   Quickly reacting to the elbow-in-the-gut from Karl, Hammer-Tow has ordered his "usual" (wondering what the heck THAT might be, and whether or not a Knight should be drinking it, whether it will stunt his growth, or merely poison him outright, and where "he" has gotten to).  Karl names his poison of choice, and the wary Wylf simply shakes his head, while glaring around the room.   The serving wench hurries off, and brings back the drinks.  She's the brightest spot in this little hamlet, so far, and hurries about, smiling but professional.   "Now when you boys need a refill, just let me know!" she says, putting your drinks on the table, then rushes off to refill the hard-drinking farmer's upraised cup...  Coming back by a moment later, she pauses to look at you...   "You... Gentlemen need some help getting out of that armor?  Doesn't look too comfortable!"   Meanwhile, the wary Wylf is looking around the room as though searching it for secret doors from which enemies will spring...  He rakes everyone present with a glare; beginning with the serving girl, then the barkeep, the hard-drinking farmer, the dusty traveler, and the four armed men.  Seemingly satisfied, he removes his helm (setting it in the middle of the table), and runs his hands over his face, leaving them there for a moment.  It is unclear whether he's praying, resting, or just smelling his hands to make sure they're clean.   After a moment, he looks up.  Hammer's usual is apparently mead, which Squire Tow sips suspiciously.  Karl's brew is average... a bit watery, but icy cold!  The fire in the hearth is particularly nice, warming everyone.  Beginning to be a little more at ease, Karl looks around.  When he does, he notices how quiet the place is, and catches several people staring - mostly at him!  They quickly find an interest in something else when they see he's noticed, however.   The Wylf sits silently, doing his imitation of a stone.  Hammer-Tow sips his brew and looks around,  obviously very uncomfortable in his "new skin".  Karl gets an itchy feeling between his shoulder blades, like someone is staring daggers in his back.  He looks around to see if he can catch someone staring, and sure enough, a hatchet-faced ruffian (one of the four armed men) is just looking away.  He whispers something to his fellows, and they laugh."Well, what think thee, moon-friend? I mean aside from the fact that this backwater town has the lovliest serving wench for a hundred miles and some rude rufians who may need a lesson learning. Should we trust their food?"  Karl seems not at all concerned that the men behind him may be laughing at his back.The wary Wylf just shrugs.Karl waits for the wylf's response before deciding to motion to the serving girl."Yessir!  What else can I get for ye?  Ye can't be finished with yer pint already!""No, we'll nurse these a bit longer, miss. But pray tell us about your food again.  We're quite hungry," Karl gives her his best noble smile."And about these young men behind me here, are they aware of some joke that has escaped us. I wouldn't want to think they'd be laughing at my company here.  Perhaps you can be a good lass and let them know I won't take kindly to any trouble tonight."Carilla turns to look at the four ruffians, who are easily sitting close enough to hear Karl's every word.  One of them looks worried, another one leers back at her, and the other two laugh, again...  Then she turns back to Karl."Well, the food's alright, cooked up by Alberta, herself, and the old gal lives for nothing else.  This crew..." she hooks a thumb over her shoulder "I like to call `The Pincer Brothers', on account of all the bruises I got before 'berta and I got after the lot with the rolling pins!"  (More guffaws from the table near the bar, and Carilla smiles, too).  "They're basically bouncers for the boss, in return for free drinks.  Don't mind them.""So, shall I prepare ye a table in the dining room?  Pretty much everyone else is done, so you'll have the room almost to yourselves..."When the waitress leaves, Karl looks hard at the Wylf."Don't worry, my friend. I'll have you out of here soon enough. Once we get some hot meat in our bellies I plan to make an annoucement that should get us on track to solving this little mystery and on our way out of this town.""And what might that be?" Sorrow asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.He turns to Tow. "And in our own bodies, no less." He smiles and takes another drink."Alright, little lady," Karl announces to the waitress (where ever she may be), "we'll be moving to the dining area for some food."  He motions his crew toward the other room."But before I leave," he turns to the bar and raises his voice a bit, "I have an annoucement to make."  He waits a heartbeat or two to let all eyes settle on him."I'm looking for someone. He's masquerading as a squire of the House of Tow and I mean to have his hide." Karl goes on to describe his new friend in as much detail as he can recall."I am Sir Karl of House Belford and my word is like iron. Let it be known in this town that the man who helps me collar this Tow will be paid and paid well. In gold. That is all.""Uh, well, not quite...  That reward is only good if he's taken ALIVE!"  Hammer-Tow adds quickly.Karl turns on his heel and follows the others into the other room.Suddenly, the room is filled with questions!"Who is this Tow?""What did he say he looked like?""What did he do?"Carilla leads the trio through the main archway, and down the hall to a door across from the kitchen.  Inside is the dining room, with several empty tables and chairs, a hearth with a warm fire, and a farm couple just finishing up.  Seeing the armored trio, they hurry out.  Carilla seats the three at the table nearest the fire."So, what can I get you bounty-hunters?" she grins."A pot of tea, bread, honey and butter, a wheel of cheese, and a salad." Sorrow says."Uh, I'll have my usual..." Hammer-Tow adds."More mead coming up, Hammer!" Carilla says.  "And what about your rich knightly friend?"  She grins down at Karl.When the room is empty save for the three, Sorrow leans over the table and says: "So you think money will motivate these Humans to turn in one of their own villagers?  But what if he's no longer in the area?""He'd better be, or I've got TWO quests to complete!" grumbles the real Squire Tow.Meanwhile, outside of town, Ox is trying to figure out how he suddenly knows so many Ecclesiastical Activations that he never knew before.  At the same time, Carilla the would-be Swashbuckler is staring in the mirror, overcome with horror.  At the same time, a giant wolf-beast hunkers down in its sleep.Karl smiles at the funny body his new friend is inhabiting."Well, my feeling is that this entire village isn't inhabited by shape stealing monsters. Otherwise, they would have gotten me by now. Hunch I have."I'm also figuring there are about four of these things. Just a guess. There could be more if they don't drink. Old Hammer had four glasses in his room. Unless he just hates to clean the kitchen, I'd say it's about that we're dealing with."I figure one is walking around here somewhere in Tow's body. One more is probably walking around dressed like a priest, unless you're familiar with them leaving their churches empty with the doors wide open."Open-door policy?" posits the Wylf."I'd kicked around the idea of you being one of them, moon friend. But you're way too careful for something with the power to just take over my body on a whim.(The Wylf actually laughs at that one)."Nope, whoever is doing this is walking around here in some new bodies.  And we know what one of them looks like. So we'll let the local folks turn him out for us and then Tow, you'll get your body back and we'll get out of here.""Assuming it's just that easy, once we find such a potent... thing.  We just make him give the body back..." the Wylf adds sarcastically.  "One of the Arcanas had something about matters similar to this...  Not body transference, but possessions: All I can recall is that there were four types of beings that could possess.  Demons, Devils, Fiends, and Oni.  I would have recognized any of those on sight, however, unless I was so tired as to be almost comatose..."  He looks around, as though searching for hidden listeners."I know little of such matters, only recently having begun such studies, but I know that from one to two in three people succumb to such... attacks."  He shakes his head in disbelief.  "It seems impossible to me that such things can occur, even in the dim-sighted Human settlements, without someone noticing..."He breaks off, as Carilla bustles back in with a tray loaded down with food.  She sets a massive wheel of cheese on the table, a thick slab of butter and a crock of honey, a large brown loaf of bread (still warm from the oven), a tea pot and cup for the Wylf, a sugar bowl by him, a garden salad, a large platter of meat and potatoes for Karl, and a jug for Hammer-Tow."Pardon me, Miss Carilla," the Wylf says, "but how long have you known our good friend Hammer, here?" he asks her."Hammie?" she asks, grinning over at the little Dwarf, "Why, as long as he's been buying his liquor from old Buck, and I've been working for him..."  She looks thoughtful for a moment, then looks back at Sorrow.  "About a year and a half or so, but he never mentioned having any cute, noble friends like yourselves," she says, reaching out to tickle his chin.  Sorrow's head snaps back like she'd tried to stick him with a steak knife, but stops when he sees she meant no harm."Sorry." he mumbles.  She looks at him, then grins at Karl."Well, if you gentlemen need anything else, just yell real loud!  You want me to leave the door open?"  Not getting a response, she does, and exits the room.It seems poor Hammer's "usual" doesn't include food, only mead...  Rapidly slicing cheese and smearing butter and honey on a thick slab of bread, Sorrow notices Hammer-Tow's forlorn look, and holds out a slice of cheese to him.  The half-Dwarf grins, and accepts a slice.  Karl is hungrily digging into a pile of meat and potatoes with knife and fork, when a bit of a commotion breaks out, in another room..."My name is not Potts, I'm Kachas, and from now on all will address me as such!", someone shouts.  There is more added in a loud voice, amidst a great deal of laughter, but no one can hear it clearly from where they sit.                       Kachas Rye Gets a Wake-Up Call:Slowly coming awake, Kachas looked around in the darkness.  Memory came flooding back, and he quickly sat up, being as quiet as he could.  He was still lying on the floor of the store, which was now dark, and apparently closed for the night...He reached up to rub his head, which seemed... woozy, somehow...  When he did, he nearly hit himself in the nose with his own hand, which seemed overly large.  As he did so, his hand encountered his beard.Beard?  Kachas didn't HAVE a beard!Attempting to leap to his feet, the little Kobold found his dexterity wasn't up to the task.  His limbs didn't seem to respond, and he ended up keeling over and landing back on the floor, again.He stopped to look down at his ungainly limbs, and simultaneously noticed two very shocking things: They were too long and large, and he was dressed like that fool shopkeeper...  What was his name?  Potts?  Had that varlet stolen his clothes?Checking for his purse, he found that gone, too, and tried getting to his feet, again, more slowly...  When he did, his inklings of dread crystallized into full-blown feelings of hysteria.  Those boxes of candles that he had previously being peeking over the tops of were now well below eye level!Kachas knew with certainty that he hadn't grown THAT fast!(First, I'm going to look around the shop to see if I can find a mirror or something to confirm my thoughts.  After that, I'm going to collect myself, look for something I can use for a weapon--anything will do, and find a cloak or blanket and wrap myself in it.  Then I'm going to stumble out into the world and search for a place that has some people hanging around.As I walk out, I mumble  "Must've been one hell of a party! Damn, last time I felt this bad was the morning I woke up with that Trollkin bar-maid!!"  Touching my new beard,  I ponder. "Hmmmm, at least now, those brigands won't be able to find me.")Kachas slowly looked around...  The store was almost without light, and it was nearly impossible for him to see...  Odd; even total darkness should have been visible to him, as though twilight to a normal human.  He rubbed his eyes (which didn't help), then spread his hands and looked around, feeling his way."First, I'm going to look around the shop to see if I can find a mirror or something to confirm my thoughts.  After that, I'm going to collect myself, look for something I can use for a weapon--anything will do, and find a cloak or blanket and wrap myself in it.  Then I'm going to stumble out into the world and search for a place that has some people hanging around.", he thought to himself.Obviously, something magical was going on here, so the first order of business was to figure out what.  He looks around for a mirror, but if there is one, he can't see it in the dark.  Feeling around, his hands encounter the box of candles, again, and he picks one up.  Now, if he can just find some way to light it...Heading for a window, he fumbles around, almost tripping over the stuff piled under it, and manages to open the shutter enough to get some moonlight.  The entire world seems strangely dim, to him.  Looking about, he can see the interior of the store a bit better, now, and notices a large box of torches nearby.  Absent-mindedly stuffing the candle in a pocket, he picks up a torch."Now this I can use as a weapon, if need be!" he thinks.  "Now to find a cloak, or blanket..."  He casts about, finding boxes of caps, cloth bags, and thick canvas, before he finally locates some clothes.  Searching briefly, he finds a small, Kobold-sized cloak, but holding it up against his new body, he quickly goes to the Human section, and has better luck.Still looking for a mirror (and perhaps a better weapon, not to mention a way to make a light), Kachas, searches a few more tables and crates.  He finds hooded lanterns (but no oil!), small drums, a mandolin, and some odd-feeling rope (maybe it's hair, or something, but it certainly isn't typical jute).  Not being able to find any way to make a light, or any better weapon than a torch, Kachas starts getting nervous.  He wonders where the tools section is, but can't seem to find it, in the mysterious dark.  He decides to get out of this now-creepy place, and see if he can find someplace with lights, and a mirror.He heads over to the door, tucking his "liberated" torch under his arm, and fastening his new cloak about him...  He briefly considers looking for some footgear, then realizes he already has some...  His stomach turns, as he knows he rarely wears any, and didn't have any on, when he entered this place...  He tries the door, finds a simple bar and bolt, removes the former and unfastens the latter, peering out upon a dark, empty street...As  he walks out, he mumble  to himself "Must've been one heck of a party! Last time I felt this bad was the morning I woke up with that Trollkin bar-maid!!"  Touching his new beard,  he thinks "Hmmmm, at least now, those brigands won't be able to find me.  Dearly-departed Mum probably wouldn't recognize me, now!"Looking around, He can see the track that he entered town upon off to his left and right.  A bit further to his right is a road.  Across the street from him are a pair of dark, empty-looking buildings.  Across the road from him is a large building with some lights on...  As he looks that way, he sees a comely younger wench in an apron briefly pass the window, carrying a damp rag.  Catty-corner across the road and track from him is another large building, which is also unlit.  There are also a number of smaller cottages, shacks, outbuildings, etc., in the local vicinity, none of which show lights.Keeping to the shadows, Kachas stops to consider his options.  He could go back and liberate a few more supplies, search the back room (in the dark), go to the lighted area, look for a quiet place to hide...  Looking around at the darkness, however, he realizes that a light for his torch would really be a great help, at this point.  As he considers, another cold gust of wind blows across him, and he decides the street is no place to stop.Clutching his cloak tighter against the wind, Kachas heads across the road, towards the only lighted building in sight.  "Curse my eyes, and this tired old body!" he thinks, dreading what he thinks he'll find when he locates a mirror.  Fearing that he already knows the answer, Kachas invokes his natural invisibility.As he approaches the door (taking his time so that he has the 12 seconds that he needs to concentrate on becoming invisible), Kachas peeks in through the windows on the corner...  A Bar room, with a fireplace going, barkeep, serving wench, a quartet of armed men, and two other men sitting at separate tables...  Assuming he's invisible, it should be easy enough to get a drink or three.On the other hand, if he's NOT, then there are going to be some problems...  He doesn't seem to have any purse, or loose coin.  He pauses at the door for a moment, then quickly opens it and enters, hoping that he can pass like the wind blowing the door open and shut.  He quickly steps to the side of the door, and freezes.  As expected, everyone looks around.  Unfortunately, they all look at him, not the door... "So much for Invisibility!" he thinks.  Well, at least this room is lit.The barkeep (polishing a mug on a none-too-clean rag) looks straight at Kachas, but just nods.  The wench is hefting a tray full of food onto her shoulder as the door slams, headed out of the room.  She glances back at him and then calls:"Have a seat, Potts, I'll be right with you!"Well, so much for needing a mirror...  Kachas wonders if this Potts guy has any credit, here, and how far he can stretch it, if he does.  He looks around, then passes the dusty traveller and takes a seat at the first available table, nearest the fireplace.As he does, an old farmer-type wobbles (literally) to his feet, burps loudly, and heads through the same archway the girl just went through, apparently making an outhouse run.  From where he now sits, Kachas can see a long hall, with a door at the end, and three archways off it, the nearer one leading upstairs, the further two he can't see into.  As he watches, the old farmer stumbles out the door at the far end (outhouses, sure enough!), and the serving wench steps out of the door to the right shortly after, headed back towards him.As the wench comes near, Kachas slowly lowers his head to the table, and waits for her to address him by name, again.  When she does, he raises his head and shouts -- feeling more than a little upset with these turns of events -- "My name is not Potts, I'm Kachas, and from now on all will address me as such!"  With that said, he stands up from his place and says in a loud, cocky manner, "If anyone here has seen a Kobold, please let me know, as I have some unfinished business with him!  Ummm . . . oh yeah, does anyone have a tenderbox?"The girl looks at him rather surprised by the shouting, then the four armed men at the table behind her burst out laughing.  One of them stops long enough to say "Ah, Potts is off his nut, again!", which prompts everyone present (except the one dusty man, apparently a traveller from out of town) to laugh even harder.  The girl moves towards the bar, looks at the barkeep, and says "I think Potts has had enough, already!  I won't be serving him!"Nobody seems inclined to loan Kachas a tinderbox, answer his questions about missing Kobolds, or otherwise be terribly useful.  The girl leaves the room, the barkeep just watches you and polishes his mug, and the four armed men just leer at you and laugh, occasionally whispering to each other.[Anything you want to look at or do, let me know.  Kachas can always get a light from the fireplace, if he wants to risk it.]Having been discriminated against by Humans on more than one occasion, Kachas could tell he wasn't going to get much help from these folk...  How about that?  Apparently Humans sometimes discriminated against each other, too, at least when one of them was "off his nut".  He wondered what that meant...Looking over at the ruffians who had used that phrase, he sees a young man in a leather breastplate packing a cutting sword, an older, hatchet-faced man in steel half mail carrying a spiked club, and another man in a quilted jerkin with a buckler, but no weapons apparent.  All three look like ruffians, but he doesn't recognize any of them from the bandit camp."What do you mean when you said I was `off my nut, again'?" Kachas asks the ruffians."Awww, c'mon, Potts!  You know you aint right in the head, now!  Just eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you die!" the hatchet-faced man answers him, evoking yet more laughter from the other two.  "Just take it easy, drink, eat, get some sleep.  In a couple days everything will be okay, again."  More laughter from the rest... and where did that fourth guy go?Kachas says to the armed men, "Humans, WHEN I get my body back, you WILL be singing a different song!"  Hatchet-face just leers at you, and the other two chuckle.Walking over to the bar tender, he says "Howdy, old friend.  Would you happen to have a razor I could borrow?  I understand that I have been acting a little strange, but to my credit, I was just robbed and I'm not sure what to do about it. A little help, please."  Moving closer to the Bar-Tender, he adds in a low voice, "Where did that fourth guy get off to?"The barkeep gives him a none-too-friendly look, up and down, and then leans closer, putting his hand on top of the mug he was polishing and leaning towards you.  ""`Old friend', huh?  What's my name, Potts?"  Naturally, Kachas doesn't know.  He waits a moment, then continues."Look, you loon, if you think I'm handing you a razor, or even a butter knife, the way you been acting, you really ARE crazy!  Now you were robbed?  By this Kobold no one but you has seen, no doubt!  C'mon, Potts, sit down and take it easy..."  He leans back away from you, setting a gadget on his shoulder as he does so.  Kachas doesn't recognize it, but knowing bars as he does, figures it's some kind of weapon or rowdy-handling device.  The barkeep's nasty grin only confirms it.  He doesn't bother answering your other inquiries.Hmmm...  Maybe discretion is the better part of valor, Kachas thinks.  With a "Hmph!", he walks over to the fireplace, turning his back on the lot of them.  He stands there for a moment or three, until the usual bar sounds begin, again...  The drunken farmer wobbles back in, and prepares to wend his way back home.  Kachas carefully pulls out his unlit torch, and prepares it.As the old farmer begins to head towards the door, Kachas sticks the pitched end into the fire, setting it alight, then quickly heads for the door, hitting it right behind the old fellow."Look out, Bernie, that crazy galoot is gonna torch the place!" somebody yells behind him.  Kachas almost mows down the old man, as he turns to see what's going on behind him."Excuse me!" Kachas says, swinging him around, letting him flop into the door behind him, and then running back across the road towards the shop...  He glances back to see the farmer sitting wide-eyed on the steps, as the door behind him bangs into his back, temporarily blocking any pursuit."Hey!" Kachas hears him complain, "Whashya doin' beatin' me inna backada head?"Taking the opportunity to reach his "own" door, Potts grabs the handle, hoping that it doesn't automatically  lock once you exit...  Luckily, it does not, and he gets back inside before anyone gets through the bar's door.  He locks the door, and grabs the bar back off the floor where he dropped it when he opened the door, slamming it back in place.Turning around, he notices the open shutter and decides to close that, too.  As he does so, he sees the barkeep and the three ruffians across the street, squeezing out the door past the drunken farmer.  One of them grabs him."Where did Potts go, Bert?"  The old man looks at him (rather uncomprehendingly) for a moment, then turns  and points towards the shop's front door.  A couple of the ruffians head that way, giving Kachas (or Potts) a scare for a moment, then trundle back."There's nobody there." one of them says."Yeah, well there's a light on inside," the barkeep says, pointing towards your window, "so Potts probably went home."  He looks around at the other four.  "I hope none of you need supplies in the next few days."  The ruffians laugh, again."Bert, you best get along home, now." the barkeep says to the drunken farmer.  The old man nods, and wobbles off, headed the other way.  The barkeep shoots another look in your direction, then mutters something and motions the rest back inside."Better keep an eye on that place for the next few days, boys," he says.  "I don't really care if Potts burns hisself out, but if that place goes up, I don't want it taking the Wild Hare with it!"  More laughter as the men head back inside, slamming the door."Shew!" thinks Kachas, closing the shutter and lighting the lamp with his torch.  Looking around, he sees several more, and spends a few minutes lighting them, too...  It's a bit awkward, with a torch, so he snuffs it, and pulls out that candle he'd shoved in his pocket a bit earlier.Well, one good thing about being thought the town's shopkeeper; you don't have to worry about paying for supplies!  Kachas takes a lamp, blows out his candle, and starts looking around...  Wanting to find a better weapon (maybe even some armor), he starts in the shop, itself.Most of the stuff piled about on tables and shelves seems to be your local housewares and such-like goods...  Aprons, baskets, blankets, brooms, buckets, etc.  Lots of candles, some clothing, all kinds of lamps  and lanterns, oil, musical instruments, pouches, rope (he's been here, before!)...Ah, here we are!  He finds a couple of crates of cutting/hacking and cutting and thrusting swords.  Looking them over, he can tell they're crude work, and given to breakage, then wonders how he knows that, since he doesn't have much skill in weapons.  He looks at the swords, trying to estimate their worth, but doesn't know.  He shrugs, selects one, then grabs a tinderbox, and goes back to pick up a few more candles.The main store area is about 30' x 40'.  It includes all the goods usual for a backwoods shop of its kind (clothing, tools, utensils, food, and a bit of everything else), displayed on shelves, racks, a pair of long trestle tables, hung from the rafters and walls, etc.  There is a counter near the door.  In the NW corner is the curtain that Potts appeared from behind.  Taking the lamp and his new sword over to it (stuffing the tinderbox and candles into his pockets), Potts-Kachas pulls the curtain aside, and peeks in.The back room is a mere 10' wide, but 40' long.  It is crammed with boxes, barrels, and crates (all open), as well as a workbench with tools, and some gardening implements hanging on the wall.  There is a stairway up along the south wall, and another heading down, underneath it.  Kachas wonders if anyone else is home...   He decides to check one room at a time, and investigates all of the barrels, boxes, and crates lying about...  empty.  The workbench has some simple hand tools, and the gardening implements (spade, hoe, hatchet, axe, sickle, and scythe) all look rusty and well-used.***Karl washes down another mouthful and slams his cup down onto the table."Well, hear that, my friends? Our luck is changing. Someone else who says he isn't who he appears to be.  Let us investigate!"The other two (mouths and hands full) look at Karl, then the Elfkin crams his bread and cheese into his mouth, chewing quickly as he stands and grabs his helm off the table.  The half-dwarf stand, reaching for the knife and pulling his hammer, cuts off another large slice of cheese, and stuffs that in his mouth.  The Wylf grabs his bow, and the trio heads for the door.Reaching it, they see an archway ahead into the kitchen (nothing seems to be going on, there), the hallway back to the bar to their left, and a closed door to their immediate right.  Listening doesn't seem to give any clues, so Karl tries the door, through which he'd seen an old farmer-type exit and re-enter, while he was eating.  It leads out back, to a pair of outhouses.  He shuts the door to the cold outside, and looks back down the hall the other way.Past the table of armed ruffians, he can see the old farmer putting his coat on, then walking past the archway  and out of sight.  Heading down the hall (followed by the half-dwarf and Wylf), Karl hears one of the ruffians say:  "Look out, Bernie, that crazy galoot is gonna torch the place!", followed by the sound of a door slamming.  Thereafter, everyone in the barroom is getting to their feet, and moving quickly.  Karl heads that way, followed by the rest of his company.As he comes through the archway into the room, he sees the barkeep squeezing out through the door, holding one of those odd, Gnomish pneumatic hand-catapults, and the three ruffians (all armed) either trying  to push the door open, or follow the barkeep out it.  As he observes, they get it open, and all crowd outside...The three heroes can hear one of them say:  "Where did Potts go, Bert?", from outside.  Karl heads for the door, but hears no answer.  He can hear a couple of people walking off, however."Try the other door." the Wylf says, pointing toward the door on the eastern side.  Karl changes direction, since the one on the north side is apparently blocked.  As he reaches the door, he hears footsteps coming back."There's nobody there." one of them says."Yeah, well there's a light on, inside," the barkeep says, pointing towards a window, "so Potts probably went home."  He looks around at the other four.  "I hope none of you need supplies in the next few days."  The ruffians laugh, again."Bert, you best get along home, now." the barkeep says to the drunken farmer.  The old man nods, and wobbles off, headed south down the track, past you.  The barkeep shoots another look across the road, to the north, then mutters something and motions the rest back inside."Better keep an eye on that place for the next few days, boys," he says.  "I don't really care if Potts burns hisself out, but if that place goes up, I don't want it taking the Wild Hare with it!"  More laughter as the men head back inside, slamming the door.***Looking over the hanging tools, Potts-Rye dropped the crude sword on the floor, and took the axes, instead, figuring that if Potts had used them, this new body would probably be more accustomed to their use...  He briefly considered the scythe, but didn't feel like lugging it around all night...Tucking the hatchet in his belt, he hefts the axe, and moves around to the foot of the stairs going up.  Trying to keep the lamp and the axe handy, he does his best to sneak up the squeaky stairs...  He fails, but shrugs, as the light is a dead giveaway, in any case...He climbs until he can see into the room above him, takes a brief look around, then climbs on up into the room.  There really isn't that much to see.  The entire upper floor is one big, open loft, with a fireplace (currently unlit) for warmth and cooking.  It has some sparse furnishings - a table and four chairs, a bed, a trunk, a cupboard, and various cooking and eating utensils.  Various pelts and hides cover the floor, and one adorns the wall beside the bed...</blockquote>

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