Whizbang Dustyboots
Gnometown Hero
Meanwhile, in the Tulgey Wood, Hazel strides through the wood with confidence and caution. Her careful attention to her surroundings and her quarry distract her from the tangled knot of emotions inside. Sneaking after her friends like a thief heats a spark of shame that she resolutely tamps down.
It's not Bufer I don't trust. That wizard, though -- a friend of the baron's or no -- he just ain't right. And Bufer being so ill and all, hardly a week ago, he's in no shape to be looking after his own backside.
Hazel's eyes track the gnome as he moves through the trees; she's glad to see him up and about again, but he couldn't have picked a worse direction.
Why off to the Tower now? Why always walking right up to danger and tweaking its nose?
The ranger stops walking as Skeeter's head swings in her direction, but the hound seems to have merely been bothered by an insect. Releasing the breath she'd been holding, Hazel reminds herself to keep her mind focused on her task.
Just try to stay out of trouble and keep Bufer out of trouble. She frowns, shaking her head. I sound like Da.
"--'preciate your concern, Shillelagh, but this is exactly why I didn't tell the lot of ye about this in the first place," Bufer says wearily to his dwarven companion as they tromp together through the woods. "Recent events to the contrary, I'm perfectly capable of looking out for myself -- I've been doing it a damn sight longer than any of you've known me. Master Barrenackle and Mother Bridger both done gave me a clean bill of health, and this is a very delicate situation I'm walking into, here! The last thing I need is a bunch of nursemaids chasing after me to wipe my ... nose ... every time I so much as sniffle. I'm a hell of a lot cagier than any of ye ever give me credit for ..."
"Haw! No you ain't! This damn mutt chasing a squirrel up a tree is 'cagier' than you are when you want to know what someone else knows."
Emus lumbers a step or two behind Bufer, not paying too much attention to where he's stepping so long as he's in familiar territory. His usual greatclub is absent, left behind with the druids that he and Flower have recently visited. Instead, he wears a small, wooden shield strapped to his left arm, and the war axe Urak hanging from his belt to the right.
"The only reason I tried to invite Flower along is because I figured he could show me the best way around kobold territory, and maybe teach me a thing or two about his kin on the way. And because I thought he'd keep his mouth shut about it," Bufer adds pointedly. "If I'd known the two of ye were in cahoots, I wouldn't have bothered."
"Haw haw! I tell you I wasn't hiding! I was taking a leak, and when I walk out there you was, trying to get Flower to guide you to Apep's tower. Besides, Flower's gonna be busy for a little while, what with learning some druid lore and taking care of his sick buddy."
The gnome shakes his head in frustration, and sighs heavily.
"At least ye had the good sense not to drag Lil' Big'un along with ya," he mutters.
"Haw haw haw! Because that would be such a bad thing."
"You and the mutt want to tag along, fine, be my guest. But the summons was for one, an' I doubt that crapbird wizard is real amenable to uninvited guests." He shrugs and looks down at his feet. "Don't come crying to me if he winds up turning ye both into something unnatural."
"He right, you know. Storm met trees smarter than gnomey."
Bufer stops short and looks up sharply, into the sneering face of the tall kobold standing next to him.
"How?" His heart in his throat, Bufer turns back around to look over his shoulder, to find that neither Emus nor Skeeter have reacted at all to the kobold's sudden appearance. Understanding crashes over him like a bucket of cold water, and he struggles a moment to get his breathing back under control before meeting the kobold's clearly amused gaze.
"You're not really here," Bufer says firmly as he starts walking again, slowly.
"Haw haw haw haw!" Emus chortles behind him. "Pretend all you want, but it ain't going to change nothing!"
Bufer and the kobold both glance absently back at him, then back to each other. The kobold shrugs.
"Maybe Storm here, maybe Storm not," the kobold says cryptically. "Who knows but the wind and the trees?"
"Me, for one," Bufer mutters quietly. "I saw ye die, remember?"
"So? You see stooped boy-knight die too. Now he gnomey's bestest buddy. Gnomey talks to dead things so often, it almost a hobby."
Bufer blinks at him, then sighs.
"Master Barennackle was wrong. I ain't been cured at all. Clearly, I'm still insane."
"Storm always thought so," the kobold nods, then shrugs again. "Maybe nun-whore knock something loose in gnomey's head that can't be stuck back. Maybe make him crazy, imagine Stormy. Or maybe Stormy always here, and nun-whore just help gnomey see. Who knows but the wind and the--?"
"You are not Bejik-Caesin," Bufer hisses.
"Storm," the kobold says sternly. "You dirty name when you use it."
Bufer closes his eyes a moment and counts silently.
"All right, fine," he says finally, "for sake of argument, let's say ye really are Bej—Storm. Is there something ye want, or is the kobold version of Heaven so bloody boring that ye really got nothing better to do than haunt my ass? Why appear to me now, after all this time?"
"Because you like stoopid crying baybee, lost in woods with goblins on all sides," the kobold's voice replies, "just like first time I see you, only now, goblins are giant dragons with five heads, each one ready to chomp down and rip you to pieces, and you, you still just stoopid crying baybee.
"Thing is, Storm hates dragons-with-five-heads," the kobold says, "even more than stoopid crying gnome-babies. Lucky for you."
"Yeah, lucky me," Bufer echoes sardonically, his eyes still closed.
"Or maybe you right, and you just nuts!" the kobold adds cheerfully. "Who can tell but the wind and the trees?"
"Thanks," Bufer snorts as he opens his eyes. "Y'know, as guardian angels go, ye're not very—"
He breaks off as he realizes he's talking to himself. The kobold has disappeared. Blinking in confusion, Bufer frowns, then turns to look over his shoulder.
"Yeah, stare all you want, Fancypants," Emus says to him. "We're still here, and we ain't going no place."
Bufer cocks a bushy eyebrow at him, opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it and faces forward again. He walks in silence for a few moments, staring blankly ahead, then wrenches his eyes shut and wipes both hands tiredly over his face.
"Terrific," he says to no one in particular. "This is just what I needed ..."
It's not Bufer I don't trust. That wizard, though -- a friend of the baron's or no -- he just ain't right. And Bufer being so ill and all, hardly a week ago, he's in no shape to be looking after his own backside.
Hazel's eyes track the gnome as he moves through the trees; she's glad to see him up and about again, but he couldn't have picked a worse direction.
Why off to the Tower now? Why always walking right up to danger and tweaking its nose?
The ranger stops walking as Skeeter's head swings in her direction, but the hound seems to have merely been bothered by an insect. Releasing the breath she'd been holding, Hazel reminds herself to keep her mind focused on her task.
Just try to stay out of trouble and keep Bufer out of trouble. She frowns, shaking her head. I sound like Da.
"--'preciate your concern, Shillelagh, but this is exactly why I didn't tell the lot of ye about this in the first place," Bufer says wearily to his dwarven companion as they tromp together through the woods. "Recent events to the contrary, I'm perfectly capable of looking out for myself -- I've been doing it a damn sight longer than any of you've known me. Master Barrenackle and Mother Bridger both done gave me a clean bill of health, and this is a very delicate situation I'm walking into, here! The last thing I need is a bunch of nursemaids chasing after me to wipe my ... nose ... every time I so much as sniffle. I'm a hell of a lot cagier than any of ye ever give me credit for ..."
"Haw! No you ain't! This damn mutt chasing a squirrel up a tree is 'cagier' than you are when you want to know what someone else knows."
Emus lumbers a step or two behind Bufer, not paying too much attention to where he's stepping so long as he's in familiar territory. His usual greatclub is absent, left behind with the druids that he and Flower have recently visited. Instead, he wears a small, wooden shield strapped to his left arm, and the war axe Urak hanging from his belt to the right.
"The only reason I tried to invite Flower along is because I figured he could show me the best way around kobold territory, and maybe teach me a thing or two about his kin on the way. And because I thought he'd keep his mouth shut about it," Bufer adds pointedly. "If I'd known the two of ye were in cahoots, I wouldn't have bothered."
"Haw haw! I tell you I wasn't hiding! I was taking a leak, and when I walk out there you was, trying to get Flower to guide you to Apep's tower. Besides, Flower's gonna be busy for a little while, what with learning some druid lore and taking care of his sick buddy."
The gnome shakes his head in frustration, and sighs heavily.
"At least ye had the good sense not to drag Lil' Big'un along with ya," he mutters.
"Haw haw haw! Because that would be such a bad thing."
"You and the mutt want to tag along, fine, be my guest. But the summons was for one, an' I doubt that crapbird wizard is real amenable to uninvited guests." He shrugs and looks down at his feet. "Don't come crying to me if he winds up turning ye both into something unnatural."
"He right, you know. Storm met trees smarter than gnomey."
Bufer stops short and looks up sharply, into the sneering face of the tall kobold standing next to him.
"How?" His heart in his throat, Bufer turns back around to look over his shoulder, to find that neither Emus nor Skeeter have reacted at all to the kobold's sudden appearance. Understanding crashes over him like a bucket of cold water, and he struggles a moment to get his breathing back under control before meeting the kobold's clearly amused gaze.
"You're not really here," Bufer says firmly as he starts walking again, slowly.
"Haw haw haw haw!" Emus chortles behind him. "Pretend all you want, but it ain't going to change nothing!"
Bufer and the kobold both glance absently back at him, then back to each other. The kobold shrugs.
"Maybe Storm here, maybe Storm not," the kobold says cryptically. "Who knows but the wind and the trees?"
"Me, for one," Bufer mutters quietly. "I saw ye die, remember?"
"So? You see stooped boy-knight die too. Now he gnomey's bestest buddy. Gnomey talks to dead things so often, it almost a hobby."
Bufer blinks at him, then sighs.
"Master Barennackle was wrong. I ain't been cured at all. Clearly, I'm still insane."
"Storm always thought so," the kobold nods, then shrugs again. "Maybe nun-whore knock something loose in gnomey's head that can't be stuck back. Maybe make him crazy, imagine Stormy. Or maybe Stormy always here, and nun-whore just help gnomey see. Who knows but the wind and the--?"
"You are not Bejik-Caesin," Bufer hisses.
"Storm," the kobold says sternly. "You dirty name when you use it."
Bufer closes his eyes a moment and counts silently.
"All right, fine," he says finally, "for sake of argument, let's say ye really are Bej—Storm. Is there something ye want, or is the kobold version of Heaven so bloody boring that ye really got nothing better to do than haunt my ass? Why appear to me now, after all this time?"
"Because you like stoopid crying baybee, lost in woods with goblins on all sides," the kobold's voice replies, "just like first time I see you, only now, goblins are giant dragons with five heads, each one ready to chomp down and rip you to pieces, and you, you still just stoopid crying baybee.
"Thing is, Storm hates dragons-with-five-heads," the kobold says, "even more than stoopid crying gnome-babies. Lucky for you."
"Yeah, lucky me," Bufer echoes sardonically, his eyes still closed.
"Or maybe you right, and you just nuts!" the kobold adds cheerfully. "Who can tell but the wind and the trees?"
"Thanks," Bufer snorts as he opens his eyes. "Y'know, as guardian angels go, ye're not very—"
He breaks off as he realizes he's talking to himself. The kobold has disappeared. Blinking in confusion, Bufer frowns, then turns to look over his shoulder.
"Yeah, stare all you want, Fancypants," Emus says to him. "We're still here, and we ain't going no place."
Bufer cocks a bushy eyebrow at him, opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it and faces forward again. He walks in silence for a few moments, staring blankly ahead, then wrenches his eyes shut and wipes both hands tiredly over his face.
"Terrific," he says to no one in particular. "This is just what I needed ..."