drnuncheon's Freeport Story Hour - Book II: Inheritance
- Thread starter drnuncheon
- Start date
drnuncheon
Explorer
OK, it's the seventh day, and I'm resting. But I figured I'd put up a little teaser anyway, so you all won't be completely Freeport-deprived.
Captain Donnach walked slowly down the dimly lit hallway that led to the Watch archives. Another body without a heart, he thought. An adventurer, an entertainer, a fleeing criminal, and now a small-time pimp. He'd been over the files - hell, most of the senior Watchmen had been over the files - and although there had been a lot of theories, none had given any fruit. He didn't really think the new murder would halp - in fact, he had the sinking feeling it would confuse the issue.
The door to the archives was slightly ajar, and the room beyond dark. Donnach frowned, and reached for the handle, pushing it open. "Spruce?" he called, stepping forward.
Five pounds of stone-ground flour hit him on the head.
The Captain staggered forward through the white haze, coughing and swearing. In front of him, a heavy oaken table had been overturned as a makeshift barricade, behind which a tiny form huddled behind the massively menacing shape of a seige crossbow.
"Spruce!" bellowed Captain Donnach.
The panicked archivist jumped, the massive crossbow slipping from his fingers. With a deep thrumm the bow discharged its quarrel straight up to imbed itself in the ceiling, the fletching slicing the tip of Spruce's nose on the way past.
"Just what in the name of all that is holy is going on here?" Donnach knew what the archivist's words would be. Dru and Di'Fier. It's got to be them. I don't know how, or why, but it's got to be.
He could feel one of his headaches coming on.
Captain Donnach walked slowly down the dimly lit hallway that led to the Watch archives. Another body without a heart, he thought. An adventurer, an entertainer, a fleeing criminal, and now a small-time pimp. He'd been over the files - hell, most of the senior Watchmen had been over the files - and although there had been a lot of theories, none had given any fruit. He didn't really think the new murder would halp - in fact, he had the sinking feeling it would confuse the issue.
The door to the archives was slightly ajar, and the room beyond dark. Donnach frowned, and reached for the handle, pushing it open. "Spruce?" he called, stepping forward.
Five pounds of stone-ground flour hit him on the head.
The Captain staggered forward through the white haze, coughing and swearing. In front of him, a heavy oaken table had been overturned as a makeshift barricade, behind which a tiny form huddled behind the massively menacing shape of a seige crossbow.
"Spruce!" bellowed Captain Donnach.
The panicked archivist jumped, the massive crossbow slipping from his fingers. With a deep thrumm the bow discharged its quarrel straight up to imbed itself in the ceiling, the fletching slicing the tip of Spruce's nose on the way past.
"Just what in the name of all that is holy is going on here?" Donnach knew what the archivist's words would be. Dru and Di'Fier. It's got to be them. I don't know how, or why, but it's got to be.
He could feel one of his headaches coming on.
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drnuncheon
Explorer
Apparently today I'm suffering from one of Captain Donnach's headaches - although I was able to finish off my eye candy for the next session and some other stuff, I don't think I'll be able to muddle through an installment of the Story Hour today.
Instead, I'll show you why it's not a good thing to leave me alone for too long - I get ideas. This one was spawned by the realization that my players needed dice bags - Dru's dice sat on a shelf and I think Di'Fier was transporting his in an electric razor case.
Now, any ordinary human being would go out and buy some dicebags (or at least a lot of Crown Royal), but not drnuncheon. Instead, he took over the dining room table for the better part of a week, covering the apartment in scraps of fabric and bits of thread. Several painful but non-life-threatening wounds later he decided that hand sewing was not the answer: heavy industrial machinery was. Unfortunately Dru vetoed the purchase of a rivet gun so he had to settle for using her sewing machine. After much swearing he figured out how to make the bobbin remain in the machine (instead of launching itself at him) and eventually produced something that would hold a few dice in relative comfort.
The dicebags were presented with all due ceremony at last Saturday's game session. They did not have a noticable effect on the rolling of the dice, but it may be too early to tell.
J
(if anyone's crazy enough to do this, I can write up some instructions.)
Instead, I'll show you why it's not a good thing to leave me alone for too long - I get ideas. This one was spawned by the realization that my players needed dice bags - Dru's dice sat on a shelf and I think Di'Fier was transporting his in an electric razor case.
Now, any ordinary human being would go out and buy some dicebags (or at least a lot of Crown Royal), but not drnuncheon. Instead, he took over the dining room table for the better part of a week, covering the apartment in scraps of fabric and bits of thread. Several painful but non-life-threatening wounds later he decided that hand sewing was not the answer: heavy industrial machinery was. Unfortunately Dru vetoed the purchase of a rivet gun so he had to settle for using her sewing machine. After much swearing he figured out how to make the bobbin remain in the machine (instead of launching itself at him) and eventually produced something that would hold a few dice in relative comfort.
The dicebags were presented with all due ceremony at last Saturday's game session. They did not have a noticable effect on the rolling of the dice, but it may be too early to tell.
J
(if anyone's crazy enough to do this, I can write up some instructions.)
Drusilia Nailo
First Post
Dr. Nuncheon means that the new dicebags didn't have any effect on his dice. I critted three times. 
drnuncheon
Explorer
Session Four, Part One: Not Again...
Di'Fier looked up as his partner swung easily into the chair next to him. "Good morning," he said.
She grinned. "I see you survived the night as well. Do you still have that coded message?"
Di'Fier thought for a moment. "No, I gave that to you."
Dru laughed. "Oh, that's right. But I meant, do you have a copy? I was thinking that maybe we ought to show one to my father."
Her partner frowned a moment. "Yeah, I've got the one Spruce made..." Dim shouts from the rain-drenched street caught his ear, and he looked towards the door.
Dru grumbled as she stalked through the rain towards the inn where she always met her partner. You'd think after a century I'd get used to the rainy season, she thought. I'd kill the rest of the Captain's Council just to see the sun again.
Her murderous train of thought was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a handspan of fletched wood slamming into her shoulder and piercing it. Ambush! She half-ran, half-stumbled forward, drawing her rapier and feeling the fire spreading through her veins from the poisoned bolt. "Cowards!" she shouted. "Come out here and fight!"
Di'Fier turned to glance behind him. That sounded just like Dru, but...
...but his erstwhile tablemate was gone, leaving only a dawning realization in her wake. Oh. Oh, no. They fooled me. They fooled me good. And with that thought, he was racing out the door, the words to his spell of haste tumbling over each other as they fought to escape from his lips. Water flew as he splashed through puddles towards Dru...he hoped.
The fire spread through Dru's body - and then, a sudden sharp pain in her wrists. She looked down, and saw a vile green-black liquid well up from the newly opened wounds...no. Not newly opened - reopened. They were the cuts she had given herself with the Fangs of the Serpent. As she watched, the fire in her veins receded as the tainted blood tricked down her hand and the cuts sealed themselves.
A movement caught the corner of Di'Fier's eye - just enough for him to turn and see the bolt of mystic energy spiralling towards him. No way to dodge...At least there's only one of them, they can't be that good of a wizard, he thought through the pain.
Dru looked up from her wrists to see the sniper fade into view. "Nobody chucks a spell at my partner and gets away with it!" she growled. Her sword clattered on the cobbles as she pulled bow and arrow from under her cloak and loosed an arrow to slice the woman on her arm. Her partner didn't seem to happy about the idea either - with supernatural speed, he flashed forward, landed a blow on her with his blade, and returned to Dru's side.
The air around them echoed with chanting from an unseen source. Another bolt of energy slammed into Di'Fier, then the woman turned and ran - the the chanting continued.
Dru stooped to grab her sword, when the chanting ceased - replaced instead by the the stench of sulfur and an unearthly howl, as a shaggy black wolf materialized in the rainy street. Hellfire danced in its violet eyes, and steam rose from its flanks as it sprang to the attack.
Di'Fier interposed his blade between the creature and his body - and Dru twisted and spun, realizing that something was not right. Her movement took her out of the path of the blade that had been poised to stab her - weilded by a cloaked man who was just fading into visibility. Even as he did so, another voice began to chant.
"Gods damn them all, how many invisible people are out here, anyway?" Dru snarled, her blade slicing only empty air. Strangely, none of their invisible assailants came forward to admit their presence - the only answer was fleeing footsteps, almost inaudible over the rain.
"I think they're all gone. I need to scribe some scrolls of see invisible..." His eyes wandered back to his partner, and he tensed. "How did you get those scars on your wrist?"
She scowled, rubbing at the just healed mark. "You were there. I cut them with the Fangs so we could get the Jade Serpent of Yig."
He relaxed. "Good, you're you. They sent someone to impersonate you to try and get the message." As he thought about the encounter, he looked more and more upset. "...and I went and told them everything. They know you have it, and they know Spruce made copies for us."
"Oh yeah?" said Dru. "Let's see how they like this." Snatching the message from a hidden pocket in her cloak, she pulled a tindertwig from her pouch and scraped it along her belt. The paper caught easily despite the rain, burning into ash. "We'd better go warn Spruce, then."
"Dru...Di'Fier," Jaffar rasped. "Found another one of your heartless bodies down in the harbor."
Dru leaned in very close and studied the man through narrowed eyes. Jaffar swallowed, and moved back a bit.
"Did I ever tell you how I got this scar on my face?" she asked.
Jaffar's jaw fell open. "Huh? Wha-?" Seeing th elook on the elf's face, he hastened to answer. "It was when you an' Di'Fier busted up that za'this game on that one guys boat..."
Dru straightened. "Good enough. We've had some trouble with magical disguises lately. We'll go down to check it out as soon as we've talked to Spruce."
The archivist stared open-mouthed at the two Watchmen. "Magical disguises and impostors?" he said. "We need some way to recognize that we are who we say we are...we need a code word!"
Di'Fier couldn't help but grin as he thought about it. Remembering the disastrous undercover operation early in their careers, he said: "The code word is 'jongleur'. And the answering sign is..."
"Calzone," supplied Dru. "Just work one of those into the conversation and if we respond with the other one you'll know it's us. But be careful - they know that you made copies of that message for us, and they can go invisible. Get an escort before you go home tonight."
"Or better yet, sleep here," added Di'Fier. "Whatever you do, be careful."
The body had been pulled from the water by some helpful bystanders with boat hooks, and now it lay on the dock - shriveled and pale, dined on by fish, the ribs cracked open and the heart removed.
Dru peered at the mutilated face. It looked familiar..."This is the guy that was beating Echo. Tovin. Looks like whoever did this cut him up pretty bad after they killed him." She frowned, studying the cuts on what was left of his face. "It almost looks like they form a pattern."
Di'Fier shrugged. "Not like anything I've ever seen. Better off dead anyway." Looking at the pair of watchmen with the cart, he shrugged. "Get him out of here."
Di'Fier looked up as his partner swung easily into the chair next to him. "Good morning," he said.
She grinned. "I see you survived the night as well. Do you still have that coded message?"
Di'Fier thought for a moment. "No, I gave that to you."
Dru laughed. "Oh, that's right. But I meant, do you have a copy? I was thinking that maybe we ought to show one to my father."
Her partner frowned a moment. "Yeah, I've got the one Spruce made..." Dim shouts from the rain-drenched street caught his ear, and he looked towards the door.
Dru grumbled as she stalked through the rain towards the inn where she always met her partner. You'd think after a century I'd get used to the rainy season, she thought. I'd kill the rest of the Captain's Council just to see the sun again.
Her murderous train of thought was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a handspan of fletched wood slamming into her shoulder and piercing it. Ambush! She half-ran, half-stumbled forward, drawing her rapier and feeling the fire spreading through her veins from the poisoned bolt. "Cowards!" she shouted. "Come out here and fight!"
Di'Fier turned to glance behind him. That sounded just like Dru, but...
...but his erstwhile tablemate was gone, leaving only a dawning realization in her wake. Oh. Oh, no. They fooled me. They fooled me good. And with that thought, he was racing out the door, the words to his spell of haste tumbling over each other as they fought to escape from his lips. Water flew as he splashed through puddles towards Dru...he hoped.
The fire spread through Dru's body - and then, a sudden sharp pain in her wrists. She looked down, and saw a vile green-black liquid well up from the newly opened wounds...no. Not newly opened - reopened. They were the cuts she had given herself with the Fangs of the Serpent. As she watched, the fire in her veins receded as the tainted blood tricked down her hand and the cuts sealed themselves.
A movement caught the corner of Di'Fier's eye - just enough for him to turn and see the bolt of mystic energy spiralling towards him. No way to dodge...At least there's only one of them, they can't be that good of a wizard, he thought through the pain.
Dru looked up from her wrists to see the sniper fade into view. "Nobody chucks a spell at my partner and gets away with it!" she growled. Her sword clattered on the cobbles as she pulled bow and arrow from under her cloak and loosed an arrow to slice the woman on her arm. Her partner didn't seem to happy about the idea either - with supernatural speed, he flashed forward, landed a blow on her with his blade, and returned to Dru's side.
The air around them echoed with chanting from an unseen source. Another bolt of energy slammed into Di'Fier, then the woman turned and ran - the the chanting continued.
Dru stooped to grab her sword, when the chanting ceased - replaced instead by the the stench of sulfur and an unearthly howl, as a shaggy black wolf materialized in the rainy street. Hellfire danced in its violet eyes, and steam rose from its flanks as it sprang to the attack.
Di'Fier interposed his blade between the creature and his body - and Dru twisted and spun, realizing that something was not right. Her movement took her out of the path of the blade that had been poised to stab her - weilded by a cloaked man who was just fading into visibility. Even as he did so, another voice began to chant.
"Gods damn them all, how many invisible people are out here, anyway?" Dru snarled, her blade slicing only empty air. Strangely, none of their invisible assailants came forward to admit their presence - the only answer was fleeing footsteps, almost inaudible over the rain.
"I think they're all gone. I need to scribe some scrolls of see invisible..." His eyes wandered back to his partner, and he tensed. "How did you get those scars on your wrist?"
She scowled, rubbing at the just healed mark. "You were there. I cut them with the Fangs so we could get the Jade Serpent of Yig."
He relaxed. "Good, you're you. They sent someone to impersonate you to try and get the message." As he thought about the encounter, he looked more and more upset. "...and I went and told them everything. They know you have it, and they know Spruce made copies for us."
"Oh yeah?" said Dru. "Let's see how they like this." Snatching the message from a hidden pocket in her cloak, she pulled a tindertwig from her pouch and scraped it along her belt. The paper caught easily despite the rain, burning into ash. "We'd better go warn Spruce, then."
"Dru...Di'Fier," Jaffar rasped. "Found another one of your heartless bodies down in the harbor."
Dru leaned in very close and studied the man through narrowed eyes. Jaffar swallowed, and moved back a bit.
"Did I ever tell you how I got this scar on my face?" she asked.
Jaffar's jaw fell open. "Huh? Wha-?" Seeing th elook on the elf's face, he hastened to answer. "It was when you an' Di'Fier busted up that za'this game on that one guys boat..."
Dru straightened. "Good enough. We've had some trouble with magical disguises lately. We'll go down to check it out as soon as we've talked to Spruce."
The archivist stared open-mouthed at the two Watchmen. "Magical disguises and impostors?" he said. "We need some way to recognize that we are who we say we are...we need a code word!"
Di'Fier couldn't help but grin as he thought about it. Remembering the disastrous undercover operation early in their careers, he said: "The code word is 'jongleur'. And the answering sign is..."
"Calzone," supplied Dru. "Just work one of those into the conversation and if we respond with the other one you'll know it's us. But be careful - they know that you made copies of that message for us, and they can go invisible. Get an escort before you go home tonight."
"Or better yet, sleep here," added Di'Fier. "Whatever you do, be careful."
The body had been pulled from the water by some helpful bystanders with boat hooks, and now it lay on the dock - shriveled and pale, dined on by fish, the ribs cracked open and the heart removed.
Dru peered at the mutilated face. It looked familiar..."This is the guy that was beating Echo. Tovin. Looks like whoever did this cut him up pretty bad after they killed him." She frowned, studying the cuts on what was left of his face. "It almost looks like they form a pattern."
Di'Fier shrugged. "Not like anything I've ever seen. Better off dead anyway." Looking at the pair of watchmen with the cart, he shrugged. "Get him out of here."
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Having only found this story hour last night, and now having read through all of it, I must say, THANKS! I've recently picked up the Freeport City book to use as a source for something I may run in the future, and this Story Hour has given me all sorts of juicy ideas! Keep on writing!
Thorntangle
First Post
Re: Session Four, Part One: Not Again...
"Is it safe?.....Is it safe?" <--- creepy movie reference.
Great action, Doc. A little paranoia never hurt anyone
drnuncheon said:
"Is it safe?.....Is it safe?" <--- creepy movie reference.
Great action, Doc. A little paranoia never hurt anyone
drnuncheon
Explorer
Session Four, Part Two: Dru's Decision
"...so it sounds like Gallowglass has got a serious mad on for Kenzil, and nobody's sure why," Jemis was saying. "But whatever it was, Sol's willing to put down five large for anyone who brings him Kenzil's head."
"Interesting," said Di'Fier. "I wonder if it ties in with the contracts." His mind was already racing, trying to piece this fact in with the others.
"It seems like a heavy price to put on failure," Dru observed. "I wonder if there's something more behind it." She levered herself out of her chair and stretched. "Let's see if we can find out anything about the war down by the harbor." The morning had been full of Di'Fier's theories, and she'd had an earful of talk. Maybe they'd get lucky and someone would attack them.
"Yeah, everybody's all worked up about it. Naïlo ain't the only one bein' hit. Finn lost a coupla-three guys too. It looked like an overdose of chakar, but Finn ain't never let his guys near that stuff, not on duty. He ain't stupid, it was a message."
Di'Fier frowned at the informant Dru had dug up. "How about the Blue Lantern Gang? Have they been hit?" He didn't think they had so much magical firepower, but...
"They been layin' low," shrugged the beefy man. "Guess they're hopin' whoever it is don't take notice of them until the big boys are out of the way. But..."
Shouts from down the street cut him off, and Di'Fier peered out into the rain. Was that a flicker of orange in the street?
Alarm bells began to ring, and the shout came: Fire!
Captain Donnach walked slowly down the dimly lit hallway that led to the Watch archives. Another body without a heart, he thought. An adventurer, an entertainer, a fleeing criminal, and now a small-time pimp. He'd been over the files - hell, most of the senior Watchmen had been over the files - and although there had been a lot of theories, none had given any fruit. He didn't really think the new murder would halp - in fact, he had the sinking feeling it would confuse the issue.
The door to the archives was slightly ajar, and the room beyond dark. Donnach frowned, and reached for the handle, pushing it open. "Spruce?" he called, stepping forward.
Five pounds of stone-ground flour hit him on the head.
The Captain staggered forward through the white haze, coughing and swearing. In front of him, a heavy oaken table had been overturned as a makeshift barricade, behind which a tiny form huddled behind the massively menacing shape of a seige crossbow.
"Spruce!" bellowed Captain Donnach.
The panicked archivist jumped, the giant crossbow slipping from his fingers. With a deep thrumm the bow discharged its quarrel straight up to imbed itself in the ceiling, the fletching slicing the tip of Spruce's nose on the way past.
"Just what in the name of all that is holy is going on here?" Donnach knew what the archivist's words would be. Dru and Di'Fier. It's got to be them. I don't know how, or why, but it's got to be.
He could feel one of his headaches coming on.
Dru and Di'Fier stood in front of the Jolly Roger, watching as the flames licked from the front door and first floor windows. Most of the inhabitants had made it out, and were clustered in varying states of undress in the street.
As they watched, a window on the third story shattered, and a woman started to crawl through. Smoke poured through the opening behind her.
She'll never make it, thoguht Di'Fier, his hand automatically going to the scroll tube that hung at his waist. The rain splattered on the scroll as he read, making the ink run - but the spell held true, and he began to climb up the side of the building.
He saw Dru quaff a potion and leap, pulling herself up to a window on the second story and climbing into the building. Then he was at the woman's window, and rather distracted by the state of her undress as she clung to him. He began to make his way back down the side of the brothel.
Inside, Dru ducked low to avoid the smoke and raced along the halls, pounding on the doors and listening for a response. Nothing on the second floor...nor the third. She heard the timbers of the building creak far below her as the fire did its work. Was that a muffled sound behind the door? She pressed her hand against the cool wood for a moment, then stepped back and planted a firm kick.
On the bed - no, chained to the bed, and gagged, clad only in a leather posing pouch - was Judge Alfred "Bloody" Ubu, the most violent sadist to grace the city's courtrooms. "Good evening, Your Honor," Dru greeted him cheerfully. "Living on the other side a bit? Don't worry, we'll have you out of those chains in no time." Ignoring his frantic mumbling around the gag, she rummaged around for the key. "No key? Hmm."
Out came another potion vial, and Dru's head swam as her perspective suddenly changed. Now her head scraped the ceiling of the tiny room, and the judge looked upon the elven giantess with a mixture of fear, awe, and...and she didn't particularly want to think about it.
"Let's try this," she said in a voice an octave deeper, grabbing hold of one of the chains and planting her foot on the bedpost. The wood protested as she heaved, but it still held.
"Need some help?" asked Di'Fier as he entered - taking the enormous Dru completely in stride. He nodded to the bound man. "Hello, Your Honor. Don't worry, we'll have you out of those chains in no time." The judge did not look reassured, but Di'Fier pushed back his sleeves and raised his hands, speaking a word that caused Dru's muscles to surge with even more power.
Dru wrapped a cloth around her hand and took hold of the chain. The bed emitted a splintering shriek as the wood finally relenquished its hold - a noise that was echoed by the timbers supporting the building.
"I think we'd better hurry," said Di'Fier, forcing the window open. "Good thing I've got one scroll of spider climb left." As Dru ripped the second chain from its mooring, he cast the spell on her. The third and fourth chains followed in short order, and Di'Fier climbed out the window, a still gagged Judge Ubu following. They started down the side of the building.
Dru moved across the room and began to squeeze through the window. It had been big enough - barely! - for Di'Fier and the Judge, but her new seven foot frame was too much for it.
Her partner looked up from the base of the wall. "Hang on, Dru!" he cried, as the building swayed. Got to get this just right, he thought. If I dispel the spider climb as well as the enlarge, she'll fall... Tendrils of magic rose at his command, picking apart the effects of the potion. Suddenly released, Dru pitched forward, swinging down to catch herself on the windowsill and then rapidly descend the rest of the way.
The rear of the building sank down in a majestic collapse, and the bucket brigades fought to contain the flames.
Late that night, a figure crossed the rain-silvered streets of the Old City, bulky oilskin-wrapped packages under each arm. It threaded through the mazelike alleys of the Kesir, stopping only when it came to a nondescript house on a nondescript court.
The figure stood in the rain for a moment, as if gathering its courage, and then stepped forward as the door opened, and spoke.
"Tell Papa I've come home."
"...so it sounds like Gallowglass has got a serious mad on for Kenzil, and nobody's sure why," Jemis was saying. "But whatever it was, Sol's willing to put down five large for anyone who brings him Kenzil's head."
"Interesting," said Di'Fier. "I wonder if it ties in with the contracts." His mind was already racing, trying to piece this fact in with the others.
"It seems like a heavy price to put on failure," Dru observed. "I wonder if there's something more behind it." She levered herself out of her chair and stretched. "Let's see if we can find out anything about the war down by the harbor." The morning had been full of Di'Fier's theories, and she'd had an earful of talk. Maybe they'd get lucky and someone would attack them.
"Yeah, everybody's all worked up about it. Naïlo ain't the only one bein' hit. Finn lost a coupla-three guys too. It looked like an overdose of chakar, but Finn ain't never let his guys near that stuff, not on duty. He ain't stupid, it was a message."
Di'Fier frowned at the informant Dru had dug up. "How about the Blue Lantern Gang? Have they been hit?" He didn't think they had so much magical firepower, but...
"They been layin' low," shrugged the beefy man. "Guess they're hopin' whoever it is don't take notice of them until the big boys are out of the way. But..."
Shouts from down the street cut him off, and Di'Fier peered out into the rain. Was that a flicker of orange in the street?
Alarm bells began to ring, and the shout came: Fire!
Captain Donnach walked slowly down the dimly lit hallway that led to the Watch archives. Another body without a heart, he thought. An adventurer, an entertainer, a fleeing criminal, and now a small-time pimp. He'd been over the files - hell, most of the senior Watchmen had been over the files - and although there had been a lot of theories, none had given any fruit. He didn't really think the new murder would halp - in fact, he had the sinking feeling it would confuse the issue.
The door to the archives was slightly ajar, and the room beyond dark. Donnach frowned, and reached for the handle, pushing it open. "Spruce?" he called, stepping forward.
Five pounds of stone-ground flour hit him on the head.
The Captain staggered forward through the white haze, coughing and swearing. In front of him, a heavy oaken table had been overturned as a makeshift barricade, behind which a tiny form huddled behind the massively menacing shape of a seige crossbow.
"Spruce!" bellowed Captain Donnach.
The panicked archivist jumped, the giant crossbow slipping from his fingers. With a deep thrumm the bow discharged its quarrel straight up to imbed itself in the ceiling, the fletching slicing the tip of Spruce's nose on the way past.
"Just what in the name of all that is holy is going on here?" Donnach knew what the archivist's words would be. Dru and Di'Fier. It's got to be them. I don't know how, or why, but it's got to be.
He could feel one of his headaches coming on.
Dru and Di'Fier stood in front of the Jolly Roger, watching as the flames licked from the front door and first floor windows. Most of the inhabitants had made it out, and were clustered in varying states of undress in the street.
As they watched, a window on the third story shattered, and a woman started to crawl through. Smoke poured through the opening behind her.
She'll never make it, thoguht Di'Fier, his hand automatically going to the scroll tube that hung at his waist. The rain splattered on the scroll as he read, making the ink run - but the spell held true, and he began to climb up the side of the building.
He saw Dru quaff a potion and leap, pulling herself up to a window on the second story and climbing into the building. Then he was at the woman's window, and rather distracted by the state of her undress as she clung to him. He began to make his way back down the side of the brothel.
Inside, Dru ducked low to avoid the smoke and raced along the halls, pounding on the doors and listening for a response. Nothing on the second floor...nor the third. She heard the timbers of the building creak far below her as the fire did its work. Was that a muffled sound behind the door? She pressed her hand against the cool wood for a moment, then stepped back and planted a firm kick.
On the bed - no, chained to the bed, and gagged, clad only in a leather posing pouch - was Judge Alfred "Bloody" Ubu, the most violent sadist to grace the city's courtrooms. "Good evening, Your Honor," Dru greeted him cheerfully. "Living on the other side a bit? Don't worry, we'll have you out of those chains in no time." Ignoring his frantic mumbling around the gag, she rummaged around for the key. "No key? Hmm."
Out came another potion vial, and Dru's head swam as her perspective suddenly changed. Now her head scraped the ceiling of the tiny room, and the judge looked upon the elven giantess with a mixture of fear, awe, and...and she didn't particularly want to think about it.
"Let's try this," she said in a voice an octave deeper, grabbing hold of one of the chains and planting her foot on the bedpost. The wood protested as she heaved, but it still held.
"Need some help?" asked Di'Fier as he entered - taking the enormous Dru completely in stride. He nodded to the bound man. "Hello, Your Honor. Don't worry, we'll have you out of those chains in no time." The judge did not look reassured, but Di'Fier pushed back his sleeves and raised his hands, speaking a word that caused Dru's muscles to surge with even more power.
Dru wrapped a cloth around her hand and took hold of the chain. The bed emitted a splintering shriek as the wood finally relenquished its hold - a noise that was echoed by the timbers supporting the building.
"I think we'd better hurry," said Di'Fier, forcing the window open. "Good thing I've got one scroll of spider climb left." As Dru ripped the second chain from its mooring, he cast the spell on her. The third and fourth chains followed in short order, and Di'Fier climbed out the window, a still gagged Judge Ubu following. They started down the side of the building.
Dru moved across the room and began to squeeze through the window. It had been big enough - barely! - for Di'Fier and the Judge, but her new seven foot frame was too much for it.
Her partner looked up from the base of the wall. "Hang on, Dru!" he cried, as the building swayed. Got to get this just right, he thought. If I dispel the spider climb as well as the enlarge, she'll fall... Tendrils of magic rose at his command, picking apart the effects of the potion. Suddenly released, Dru pitched forward, swinging down to catch herself on the windowsill and then rapidly descend the rest of the way.
The rear of the building sank down in a majestic collapse, and the bucket brigades fought to contain the flames.
Late that night, a figure crossed the rain-silvered streets of the Old City, bulky oilskin-wrapped packages under each arm. It threaded through the mazelike alleys of the Kesir, stopping only when it came to a nondescript house on a nondescript court.
The figure stood in the rain for a moment, as if gathering its courage, and then stepped forward as the door opened, and spoke.
"Tell Papa I've come home."
