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Message: <blockquote data-quote="el-remmen" data-source="post: 1365" data-attributes="member: 11">Session #16 (part I)Ratchis told him.“3 months!” Jeremy cried. “At least,” Martin added. “But they said ‘not long’” Kazrack said. “I guess when you live as long as a gnome that isn’t long,” observed Jana. “I live a long time,” said Kazrack. “Gnomes live longer,” Beorth said. “Are you sure?” “If there is one thing I know, it is when things die,” Beorth said, his face deadpan. “I think we need to return to Ratchis’ first point,” Martin said. “Which is, how do you know the King of Gothanius plans to sell us into slavery?” “Well, I don’t know for certain, but I overheard some slavers I was tracking talk about it. They mentioned caravans of young men being brought to Gothanius to fight a dragon, but that they’d end up as slave. That is why I joined the group,” Ratchis explained. “Then why the ruse?” Martin asked. “Why actually send them out to fight the dragon?” “Fodder,” said Kazrack. “He probably thought he’d get the dragon problem taken care of and get some slaves at the same time and not have to pay anyone.” “We have to get out of here,” Jeremy said. “I am not going to spend three months with these gnomes.” “Well, I will be training in my religious studies with Belear and that may take quite some time,” Kazrack said. “I do not plan to leave before then unless Belear does. However, while we are here we can find out as much as possible about the area, Gothanius and the dragon. Perhaps we can talk to whomever the interim-Interim Chief is.” There was a knocking at the door and it opened. Distil stood there. “Time for Last Meal,” he said cheerfully. “You mean the last meal of the day?” Martin inquired. “Yeah, the fifth meal before you go to sleep. Anybody want some warm milk and muffins?” The group sat around the table once again. The muffins were soft and delicious, with large chunks of walnut in them. Ratchis shoved to whole into his mouth and Chance (who had just stumbled in drunk) cleared his throat. “Oh, you must really like those,” Distil said to Ratchis. “I’ll remember to make more tomorrow.” At that moment there was a loud crashing sound at the door to the first room off the hallway the party was staying in. Bang! Bang! Something or someone was slamming against the door from the other side arhythmically. “Looks like our other guest is getting restless again,” Distil commented, clucking his tongue. “Does your guest w ant to come eat with us?” Martin asked. “We don’t know if it actually eats,’ Distil said. “It doesn’t really have much of a mouth as far as we can tell.” “It?” “Yes, I’ll let it out, but I have to warn you, it is not exactly a pretty thing,” Distil said, walking over to the door that still continued to bang. The old gnome opened the door and jumped back. What looked like a long thin leg of some kind stepped out cautiously, and then suddenly it rushed out. Everyone gasped. Out of the room and down the hall into the common room came the strangest creature any of them had ever seen in their entire lives. “Whut en da Nine `ells is at?” Chance cried. The thing was about four feet tall. It was a four-sided pyramid of pure flesh. In the middle of each of the upper faces of the pyramid it had a spindly arm and a spindly leg, a single large eyes and what looked like some strange bill of some kind. The elbows on the arms looked like the bent in a 180 degree angle, and its hands were fingerless. And it made a sound like a stuck gear or a strangled goose or both. “Haaaaahnt! Hoornt!” It said as it walked towards the table. It stopped by Jana and turned its body to look at her with another eyes. It was a large blue unblinking eye. She shivered. “Haaaaahnt! Hoornt!” “What is it?” Jeremy asked Distil as he walked back into the room. “We don’t know. It just showed up in our territory one day,” Distil explained. “It will kind of follow you around, or go where you say if you push it hard enough. It tends to go in one direction until it can’t any more.” And then as if to prove Distil’s point, the creature walked straight in the wall, its legs still moving futilely for a moment until it turned and then turn again walking back towards the table. It then stopped and laid the bottom part of its body on floor, tucking its legs upward. “Is that some kind of talk?” Kazrack asked. “The noise it makes?” “We think so,” Distil said. “When the master illusionist, Creedadal was here he cast a spell that allowed him to understand what it said, but it only said one thing over and over, Hurgun’s Maze.” “Hurgun? Who’s that?” Martin asked. “The Stone Wizard…” Distil said incredulously. “Where are you from?” “Thricia,” said Martin. “Don’t teach about important people in Thricia?” “I guess not,” Martin said, sounding a bit offended. “Haaaaahnt! Hoornt!” The creatire stood up again, putting all eyes on it again. It walked over to Beorth who handed it a spoon. It took the spoon squatted down and started trying to dig into the earthen floor with it. Everyone was enraptured by watching this creature use the spoon for such task. Even as the metal spoon, bent and failed to break the earth, the creature continued attempting to dig with it for a few moments. It then stopped, stood again and passed the spoon back to Beorth. “Fascinating,” said Martin. “I would like a chance to work with him some and see if I can figure out a way to communicate with it. “Sure, another time, though. Come on little fellow,” Distil said to the creature, walking around it to push it back towards its room. “We only keep it locked up for its own good, because it not it will hurt itself banging into things, or grabbing stuff. We let it out occasionally to stretch its legs when it gets restless.” Distil was gone for a moment and then walked past the table towards the sideboard. Martin looked up and saw Thomas riding Ditsil’s shoulder. “Thomas!” Martin called in his mind. The squirrel turned and looked at him with a stern glare. He turned back as Distil fed him some nuts. “I guess this is your squirrel friend,” Distil said to Martin. “I always feed squirrels nuts. Squirrels are our friends.” “Thomas, would you like a piece of muffin?” Martin called to Thomas. “Does it have nuts in it?” Thomas asked. “Yes, it does.” “Ummmm…okay,” Thomas leapt onto the table and over to Martin who gave him some muffin. “I’m sorry I hit you,” Martin said, rubbing the squirrel under the chin. “If you do that again I’ll have to report you to the familiar’s guild,” Thomas said. “That’s fair,” Martin replied, wondering if there was any such thing. Kazrack addressed Distil, “I was wondering if there was an interim Interim Chief we might talk to.” “Well, that would be a silly title for someone, don’t you think?” Distil said with a smile. “The Interim Chief will be back soon enough. He has the authority to decide what there is to be decided. But as for myself I am deciding to go to bed.” Jana was shaking Chance awake, as he had passed out with his head on the table. She helped him up and over to their room. “Ahve got a present fer ya, Jana” Chance mumbled. When they got into their room, he pulled a lovely pendant with a large sapphire on a silver chain from his pocket and put it around her neck. “Ah got that fer ya,” Chance said. “Thank you, Chance. It is very lovely,” Jana replied with a smile. She leaned forward for a kiss, but Chance was already crawling into bed, moaning about how the room had suddenly started moving. Beorth and Jeremy also went to bed, their muscles aching from the day’s long march, but Kazrack and Ratchis slipped into the latter’s room to talk privately, leaving Martin alone in the common room. The Watch-Mage fell asleep on a comfy chair with Thomas on his stomach. Meanwhile in the room, “So what are your intentions in terms of the group?” Ratchis asked the dwarf. “Well, since you have refused my friendship, I look upon you as partners. So I’ll treat you as I would treat a good partner: With respect, but little else,” Kazrack said. “You are being ridiculous,” Ratchis said. “I have never refused my friendship to you. Nephthys is, in part, goddess of friendship But I saw no need to change my ways because you felt that getting some promise was more important than our friendship.” “I didn’t see the need for you to change. I mean, I saw the oath as an instrument of change, but not for you specifically.” “It is beyond my small brain to understand how this could be of such significance to you,” Ratchis said. “Unless in Verdun, such words have such significance.” “An oath should have significance,” said Kazrack. “And someone who has no fear of breaking it or betraying his friends should have any reservations about making the oath. “Well, I have to live by my own principles, and I will continue to let my actions speak for themselves,” Ratchis insisted. “And I don’t believe that an oath will change people’s behavior. Do you think Jeremy would not have gone into the inn’s basement if he had sworn the oath?” “No, that has nothing to do with the oath; that was just Jeremy’s mind being too nimble for his own good,” Kazrack said. “Well, I think you would be better served to simply judge our group by their actions,” Ratchis said. “I need to get some sleep. We’ll talk about it more another time.” Kazrack went back to the room he shared with Belear, while Martin woke with a start hours later and stumbled to the room he shared with Ratchis. Isilem, 16th of Syet – 564 H.E.Morning came with a bell ringing in the common room, but Kazrack was already awake, on his knees his forehead pressed to his prayer stone. He would not be allowed to leave that position all day, as Belear surrounded him with burning blocks of incense. The others came bleary eyed into the common area where Distil was cooking up flapjacks, and a whole stack of sausage lay on a plate on the table. A young gnome, with a full head of blonde hair and a big bright smile, was setting the table. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully. “That is my nephew, Cornelius,” Distil said. The party took their spots around the table (except for Kazrack who was praying and Chance who felt too sick to get out of bed) and started in on the food. In a few moments, two more gnomes came in. It was Briandel and a gnome dressed just like him, who looked just like him, “This is my brother, Socher,” Briandel said. “Yeah, I have a real gnomish name, not like his faerie name,” Socher said with an evil grin. Briandel hit his brother with his hat, and then both burst into giggles. The joined the others at the table, eating heartily. A few moments later Obenhammer came in, and joined them as well. “I already had first meal (17), but I can nosh on a little something,” he said, wrapping up some sausage in a flapjack and dipping it into a bowl of syrup. “I was thinking we can trade a spell or two today,” Briandel said to Martin. “What kind of spells do you have?” Socher asked. “Well, as I said last night, I am a student of the school of illusion magic, but unfortunately I appear to have left my spellbooks behind,” Martin replied. “Oh, you should never do that,” Distil said, pouring himself some Kafka. “Perhaps there is a way you can help me get a replacement while I am here,” Martin said looking at the gnomish twins. The two gnomes looked at each other and finally Briandel said, “After First Meal  , we’ll take you up to Creedadal’s laboratory. We can talk about it there.” “Who is Creedadal?” Martin asked. “The Master Illusionist,” said Briandel. “He can do things that would drive you mad,’ said Socher in a mockingly creepy voice. “Like make you nightmares comes true and haunt you for the rest of your life.” “Oh, I’m not sure I’d want to learn that one,” Martin said. So after the meal, Martin went up to a series of chambers way up in one of the other hills, which required ladders to climb from room to room. While this was happening, Ratchis spent the morning in deep meditation, praying to Nephthys for guidance, and Beorth and Jeremy went with Obenhammer for a tour of the community from, as he was off-duty that day. Jana spend the morning, caring for Chance. “Obenhammer, how many gnomes live here?” Beorth asked. “You can call me Obie,” the gnome replied “You’re damn right I will,” said Jeremy. “Huh?” said Obenhammer. “Nuthin’” replied Jeremy. “Where are the gardens?” “It’s winter… but I can take you to the moss and mold growing chambers if you want to see those,” Obenhammer replied, happily. --------------- “So Briandel and I talked it over quickly and we’ve decided that we’ll help you get a new spellbook, if you help us,” Socher said. ”Wow! That’d be great. What can I do?” Martin asked. “Well, you can help keep the lab clean. Organize and label material components and maybe scribe a scroll or two for use once you do get some spells scribed in you new book out of those you still have prepared,” Briandel said. “That sounds fair,” said Martin. “Yeah, normally Creedadal would make this decision, but he left me in charge,” said Briandel. “No, he left me in charge,” Socher protested. “No, me!” “You wish!” They suddenly fell into a lengthy argument in their own tongue. After about 20 minutes without their seeming to take a breath, Martin began wandering about the lab looking at jars of components. They seemed to be labeled in three languages. After another half-hour, the two gnomes stopped arguing. “Well, we’ve decided that we’ll alternate days for being in charge,” Briandel said. “So, which of you is in charge today?” Martin asked. “I am,” said Briandel “No, I am!” said Socher. And they fell to arguing again. --------------- Meanwhile, Obenhammer had brought Beorth and Jeremy to the community smithy. Dozens of gnomes labored in leather aprons crafting metal goods of all kinds, from armor to farming implements, to wheels and cogs to weapons. “We make all the metal good our community needs right here,” Obenhammer said, and then waved over a gnome in goggles with long wavy black hair and a long burn scar on his nose. “This is Migdol, the head smith.” “Well met,” Migdol said. “Enjoying your stay?” “Pfft,” was Jeremy’s only answer. “Oh yes,” replied Beorth stepping in front of Jeremy and stretching out a hand to shake Migdol’s. Migdol just looked at his hand funny. Beorth took his hand back. “So you make armor and weapons here?” Beorth asked. “Yes, we are stocking up on such items for certain possible eventualities,” said Migdol. “Maybe if you are here long enough we can make you a nice suit of something.” “Oh, that’d be great!” replied Beorth. “Oh, I don’t think they’re skilled enough to make one in your size,” said Jeremy scoffed. “What?!” Migdol cried. “I can make armor in any size!” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah!” “Let’s see you do it then!” “Fine!” Migdol called over two young gnomes who began measuring both Jeremy and Beorth for armor. “You want a helmet?” Migdol asked Jeremy. “Let me get Herschel. Herschel! Herschel is in charge if making helmets and nose-guards, not that you have much of a nose.” “Well, it is not as nice and shapely as yours,” Beorth said. “Why thank you!” ------------------------ Everyone was gathered back together for the midday meal, except for Kazrack who still had his head against his prayer stone. The afternoon waned and evening fell, and some of the party went back to the public house, including Chance who was feeling much better. It seemed they were settling in for what might be a long stay. Osilem, 17th of of Syet – 564 H.E. It was morning again. Another early meal, and the sound of busy gnomes passing by outside, or poking their head in to say hello. Beorth followed Ratchis’ lead and spent his day in deep meditation, exercising his faith for Anubis. Ratchis did the same as he had done the day before, though in the afternoon he asked Distilbowden if there was perhaps some task or job he could help the gnomes with, and the elder gnome promised to find something for him. Martin found his way to the quarters that Socher and Briandel shared and from there they went to Crededal’s lab and he began his chores. In the afternoon, he practiced illusions with Socher, while Briandel bound his new spellbook. Kazrack spent the morning on his hands and knees on the snowy ground, while Belear watched him from a top a large stone. He was looking for the flat slate-like rock that would become the foundation for his runestones – they holy emblem and tool of the priesthood of the dwarven gods. The majority of his training would be focused on crafting these runestones – learning the letters of the xoth.  (18)Jana spied Kazrack just as he solemnly selected the stone he sought. She had spend the day wandering as far around the perimeter of the gnomish community; testing the bounds. No one stopped her, though those that saw her waved. One gnomish soldier told her that it wasn’t safe for her to wander so far, and later she saw him watching her from a distance, so she returned to her quarters. Chance was just waking up when she returned. She noticed he was getting dressed, but had no socks or shoes. “Oh hey,” he said weakly as she came in. “Did you lose your shoes?” Jana asked him. “Ah bet `em… annah larst” He looked up with a sad face. “Can I borrow that necklace I gave you?” “Sure,” Jana said without thinking twice. “I promise I’ll give it back,” Chance said. “I know you will,” she said, and they fell into each others arms. An hour later, Chance slipped the necklace off her neck as Jana slept and went off to get his shoes back. --------------- Immediately after First Meal, an armored gnome arrived, asking for Jeremy. “Um, I’m Jeremy,” the Neergaardian said, “Okay, come on, you are supposed to come with me,” the gnome, whose name was Hatzel said. “We are going to need your help with drills and sparring today.” “So you want me to teach the gnomes?” Jeremy asked as they left for the armory where he could pick up his gear. “Not exactly,” Hatzel said. “We want to use you as sort of an example.” “Like how to fight big folks?” Jeremy asked, being shown where his chain shirt and his short sword were. “Exactly.” At supper everyone gathered together in the common area to eat. They were joined by Obenhammer, Hatzel, and Cornelius. Jeremy was sore from the practice he “helped” with, and had to sit on a pillow. The game of gnomish tag (19)  that they ended the drills with hadn’t helped either. Before they knew it, another evening was spent in the pub (except Kazrack and Beorth) and another day was gone. Tholem, 18th of of Syet – 564 H.E. And another day came and passed much quicker than they thought days could pass. Chance was not seen all day. Jeremy went out to help Hatzel with some other task and ended up watching gnomish children in the nursery. Martin started the long process of transcribing his prepared spells into his new spellbook, after doing more chores, which included equally distributing an amount of ectoplasm of a troll’s ghost from one large to several smaller containers. Jana wandered out in the nearly by stony hilltops and the forest, looking for a deserted spot. Ratchis continued with his absolutions in the morning and helped lugging stones out of the mine in the afternoon. Kazrack continued with his priestly study, and began carving his first runestone. Beorth spent the day much as Ratchis did, but in the evening he tried to tell a tale in the public house as a form of payment for the armor the gnomes were making him, but the gnomes all agreed afterward that he should avoid telling stories in the future. “Let me tell the story of the 13 Tzaedikil,” Migdol said. (20)And the day ended. ...............And two days turned into a week… Kazrack continued diligently with his runestones. The others continued with their tasks and pursuits. Jeremy came to like working in the nursery, and Martin joined in readily with Socher and Briandel’s playful fights. Snow began to fall heavily, and entire days were spent indoors, and when it cleared up the gnomes employed Ratchis’ strength to clear paths. Chance would disappear for three days at a time, sometimes returning clad in jewels and with many gifts for Jana; other times, shivering, coatless and shoeless. Beorth spent most of his time to himself, and sometimes would go an entire day without eating or speaking. And every night there was the tradition of the public house. However, despite how comfortable the party became, they still felt some anxiousness, and wondered when and if they could leave. Jeremy began to ask Distil everyday when the Interim Chieftain would be back and Distil said the same thing, “Soon enough.” Then he began to ask that the party be allowed to speak to Captain Fistandlus Ironhammer, after Kazrack at dinner got Distil to admit that if there was an emergency while the Interim Chieftain was away that everyone would do what Captain Fistandlus said to do. “So he is the leader,” Kazrack had said. “No, he’s just the one who would know what to do if there was an emergency,” Distil replied. “So he is next in command?” Kazrack insisted. “No, he’s just smart, and everyone respects him,” replied Distil. Finally one day when Jeremy asked for what seemed like the hundredth time, Distil said, “I have had word sent to him. He is out on extended patrol, but should not be back faster than you’d think.” And so the party waited, and one day while Kazrack was repeating the Twelve Blessing of the Work Day, Belear cocked his head. “Continue,” he told Kazrack. “I have to check something.” He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him and down the hall to the common area. The place was silent. Distil was not around, and all of Kazrack’s companions were off doing one thing or another, and then he heard it again. It came clearly from Jana’s room – The screech of a fiendish and unholy beast! Belear pounded on the door to Jana’s room. He could smell something like brimstone wafting out from under the door, and heard a shuffling inside and another low inhuman sound like metal being scraped against stone or bones, but in the cadence of a voice. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Notes:(17) Much like halflings, gnomes have five meals a day. First Meal, Midday Meal, Tea, Supper and Last Meal.(18) Xoth is the ancient dwarven language first taught by to the dwarven people by the god Lehrathonar.  It is only used by rune-throwers now and is well-guarded secret.(19) Gnomish Tag is a game that incorporates elements of tag, hide and go seek, and Johnny Ride the Pony. Actually, tagging someone involves tripping them, forcing them down by sheer numbers or leaping over them somehow and slapping them on the head.(20) This gnomish legend speaks of There is a legend common to all gnomish communities about the 13 Tzaedikil. These gnomes are said to be chosen by Fezzik Istvan himself. They are said to be exemplar’s of good and gnomish behavior – kind, helpful, full of good cheer, never angry. There is no way to tell if a gnome is one of tzaedekil, but gnomes always treat each other kindly because you never know who might be one and to mistreat him would be to make Fezzik angry.  Each time a Tzaedikil dies, another is born or chosen (or however it happens – the legends vary on this point), but they are always peaceful and it is said a tzaedikil would rather die than lift his hand to kill another living thing.</blockquote>

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