Ptolus: Midwood - "The Dark Waters of Moss Pond"

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Fourteen piles of rocks. Two piles of twigs and leaves. Two coughing fits.

Emmerson looks up again at the barrow, then at the road, then at Katadid's rock-piles, tunes into Renraw's current monologue and Bufer's recitations.

"So much for a silent vigil," he murmurs, opening the book to continue reading the tale of a former Knight of St. Chausle and the Toruk-Ruk orc babies.

Hazel looks over her shoulder at the rest of the group.

"With all the noise you've been making, half a dozen bandits could be out there and we'd never know it."

"Indeed," Emmerson says pointedly. "Silence from now on."

* * *

"No," Tucker says. "No silent friends."

The constable snorts.

"Make do, then. Find out what the kobolds are up to. Don't offer violence first, but I don't like them wandering around freely. The dragon's gone; this is our land now."

* * *

"-- and then I said to her," Tock says, leaning over his drink, "if it didn't fit before it sure will now!"

Ragglus snorts a slight laugh into his beer and the dwarf just sort of keeps drinking.

"When it comes to sex," Tock winks, "honesty is the best policy. Usually."

Tucker enters The Cat & The Fiddle just as Tock is finishing his story.

"Does that mean you're ready to tell everyone where you really spend your nights, or why you keep sending those letters through the general store? That sort of honesty?"

"I didn't realize you could speak without the constable's arm up your arse, deputy," Tock sneers.

"Stow it. I need a tracker, now. Have any of you seen Tosh around?"

"Not recently. But the other ass-high's gone to sit in the snow outside the barrow in case that note turns anything up. I think he's got the wizards and your boy Grant out there, too."

Without waiting for any more, Tucker grunts, turns on his heel and leaves, not hearing Emus trying to talk to him urgently through a mouthful of breakfast. The dwarf swallows and looks up at Ragglus and Tock.

"I'm gonna catch up with Tucker and head to the barrow. You two might as well come with us," he says, tossing some coins for his meal on the table. "You're not going to get rich in a tavern. And they might have found somethin' interesting at the barrow."

He's about to get up when his second breakfast and the next round of drinks arrives.

"I'm going to catch up with Tucker after I finish this, though."

* * *

Heading north along the frozen banks of the Moss River, Tucker crosses the kobolds' path through the snow within half an hour and then turns, following them southeast. The kobolds appear to be wearing heavily bundled rags or shoes around their feet, instead of going barefoot as they normally do. They are making bad time as a result, and leaving a clear path for him to follow. How many there are, he cannot guess, although as he continues to trudge through the underbrush after them, it becomes clear that they are heading for the Tulgey Barrow.

With the kobold's destination clear, Tucker strikes out at an angle, hoping to get around them unnoticed and warn the stakeout party of what's headed their way.

* * *

Still reading his holy tome, Bufer unscrews the cap off the top of his bottle of brown liquid, takes a sip, swallows, and then jerks as though physically struck.

"Whoo-waah!" he says, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he shakes his head as though trying to jerk something loose, then smiles offers his jar to the rest of the party, who look at him and the jar skeptically.

A loud crashing noise in the underbrush, north of where the adventurers are huddled, suddenly grabs their attention.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Tucker forces his way through the brush on the north side of the clearing He's about to head for the entrance when a loud cough draws his attention to one side. Renraw has his hand clamped over the Katadid's mouth, although the younger wizard is mumbling a greeting through the older wizard's fingers.

"Emmerson, up!" Tucker barks. "Kobolds are coming!"

Hazel rises smoothly to her feet.

"How far back are they? Did they see you? Have you no sense at all?" Hazel keeps her voice to a low hiss, in the hopes that the kobolds are far enough back not to hear it.

She shakes her head and points at the gap Tucker's made in the brush.

"If we're lucky, they'll think it's some dumb buck crashing about. Hurry up and hide, or we'll never hear what they're after."

She gestures at Emmerson to stay down.

"Be ready to spring if you must, but at least let's see what they're doing here. We'll likely learn more if they speak freely amongst themselves than we will if you and Tucker go rushing in with weapons." She smiles slightly. "We can save that for a backup plan."

As Tucker piles into the group's hiding place, Hazel steps out, a branch in her hand, clearing away the deputy's tracks before returning to hiding. Back inside, she crouches down in front of Kat and sets a light hand on his shoulder. She speaks softly in a tone she might use with her little brother.

"You wanted some excitement, eh? If Tucker's kobolds show up, listen careful to anything they say, all right? We might need to know their exact words if they're the ones we've been waiting for." She tilts her head, considering; normally she'd offer her brother a prize of some sort for helping out. "We'll see about making sure the barrow's safe so you can explore a bit yourself later, yeah?"

As Hazel finishes speaking, she hears a soft cough and looks up. Six kobolds, wearing wide-brimmed hats and black goggles, as well as being bundled up to avoid the snow, stand in a semicircle around the group, having just now quietly stepped out of the brush. Five of them bear loaded crossbows aimed at the adventurers. They seem especially unhappy to see Bufer.

The sixth, wearing a necklace with a stylized five-headed dragon around her neck, gestures at the group with her large -- and apparently very sharp -- pick.

Her voice sounds a little bit like a dog's bark as she speaks.

"You surrender, yes."

It's not really a question.

Emmerson leaves his sword on the ground. He crosses his arms and speaks at the kobold-in-charge.

"We mean you and your party no harm." He nods at his companions. "We're looking for a man named Tiberius, whom is supposed to be here this day. You can go about your business in the barrow, if you like."

Renraw stands and speaks to the kobolds in fluent Draconic.

"Illustrious brethren," he begins gratefully, "Many thanks for your timely arrival. There's no telling what this band of gnome-sympathizing ne'er-do-wells was just about to coerce this simple young man and me into doing." He looks at Katadid sadly. "Something we would have deeply regretted, no doubt.

"You see," he gestures, explaining, "Some days past, these and several other disreputable types attempted to loot this barrow of its contents, with me as their unwilling guide and magical expertise. Inside, I am sorry to report, we found three of your number deceased. They carried what they could from this place and now force us to return, to what foul end I do not know. What I do know is that I simply wished to leave your friends' resting place in peace.

"I'll be happy to answer any questions you may have, but please allow the two of us passage from here," he pleads. "With these others you may do what you wish."

Hazel narrows her eyes, irritated at having wasted the entire morning in a stakeout only to be surprised by a haughty group of apple bandits. She keeps her hands far from her weapons, though, unwilling to give the kobolds a reason to shoot. She listens, uncomprehending, to Renraw's lengthy speech, with a growing sense of unease. Surely "I surrender" wouldn't take so long to say. When he finally comes to a halt, Hazel addresses the kobold leader.

"To whom would we be surrendering?"

One of the kobolds holding crossbows on the groups licks his lips. All the kobolds seem to have coated their scales with some sort of oil, which glistens in the midday light.

"Are they too stupid to understand 'surrender?'"

"They die now or when the Queen arrives, either way ..." another interjects.

"Shut up, you idiots! I'm in charge!" the kobold with the pick shrieks before rounding on Hazel, tiny form shaking with fury. "You surrender now! No more questions, corpse-robbers!"

"Listen to me!" Renraw shouts in Draconic. "Truly, these here ARE too stupid to understand and comply. They're thoughtless brutes, defilers, and they have no respect for your traditions. The boy here and I, on the other hand, we'll do exactly as you wish as long as we're allowed to go free. The only fault of ours in this heinousness was being too physically weak to say no to them!"

Renraw's wild eyes dart back and forth, insane with worry.

"We'll tell your Queen whatever she needs to know! We'll put our magic to her service! We'll do whatever it takes so that you let us live! We're innocents, the boy and I! Spare us, and kill the others for their crimes!"

Renraw turns to the group and yells at them angrily.

"Get down on the ground! What are you waiting for? They're going to kill you! There's more on the way and if you don't do what they say I shudder to think what they'll do to you."

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Tucker moves between Pick and Hazel, hands still held about shoulder high, palms out. His sword is stuck point first in the ground, but his mace is still tucked away between his back and his pack.

"Tock Chandler. He's the only one who stole from your ... brethren? Comrades? He's not here, although I don't think we'd have much complaint about giving him to you if he was. The six of us took nothing from your deceased, so you have no complaint with us."

"'Corpse-robbers?'" Emmerson looks at Renraw, his eyes shinning with fury "What in Lothian's name are you saying to them? Speak in Imperial, Renraw! I suddenly have the idea that you being the sole way of communication would benefit you and you alone."

The paladin turns to the kobolds' leader.

"We have not stolen anything from kobolds. We have no problem with you and your group today. Go tend your matter and leave us to our affairs."

"You people," Renraw laughs, awkwardly, running his hand through his lank hair. "You're REALLY straining the limits here. If you do as they say, there's a chance we'll live through this."

"Our chances were severely depleted once you opened your mouth," Emmerson snaps. "Kat, could you translate for us what Renraw said? Just to be clear on his intentions to the group?"

"Leach!" Renraw glares at Katadid furiously, "If you want to live long enough to have access to my library at home, honesty is not the best policy here! There are HUNDREDS of books to read and count and categorize! If you tell them the truth, you'll never see the inside of my house. Tell them that I'm negotiating our release! It's partially true, anyway."

"Renraw," Hazel says in pins her gaze on his face. "I may not speak the language, but I know a liar when I see one." She raises her voice slightly, just enough to feel certain the kobolds are listening. "And whatever else these folk are, they're clever enough not to be taken in by your pathetic scheming."

Renraw leans in to whisper angrily to Hazel.

"Yes, I'm lying, you imbecile! Do you honestly believe they're just going to let us free without some finessing? More of them will be here at any moment. Complying, for now, is the best solution. If the situation becomes intractable, I can try to put them all to sleep!"

"I think we'd all rather you put yourself to sleep," Hazel mutters. "At least then your lying mouth would be silent."

"Nothing angers me more than a craven coward," Emmerson snarls at the wizard. "Renraw Kem, when the time of reckoning arrives, you shall be dealt with."

"A coward I may be, Grant," Renraw replies coldly, "But you'll be dealt with sooner than I, especially if you don't use your head and do what I say. These lizards are playing for keeps."

"All I know is that after talking to you, suddenly we're corpse-robbers," Emmerson whispers between gritted teeth. "As much as you'd like to distance yourself from us, you will share our fate."

Renraw's eyes bug out an unhealthy distance as he strains to keep his voice a whisper

"I said nothing of corpse-robbing! They must've already known about their fallen kin. By Blurrah's tears! You're going to get us killed, you self-righteous turd. I'm working in our best interests, now leave me be!

"Honored sirs," Renraw says, turning to the kobolds, "I beg of you, these men will kill the boy and me because we aren't like them. We hold your people in only the very highest regard. He and I are the only ones that have bothered learning your language, understanding your culture. Go on, Kat, tell them. Please tell them, Kat. Remember the library, and all the books."

"I told you to be quiet," Emmerson growls. "Each word you say in a language I don't understand pollutes whatever remaining trust I have in you."

The kobold leader looks at Renraw, baffled.

"You remember I speak Imperial, softskin?" She gestures with her pick. "Get on your knees and put hands on head. You try and cast a spell, we shoot you in face."

She beckons to Hazel, urging her away from Bufer and the rest of the group.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

"There won't be a next time, Kem, at least not with my participation, but next time, let the diplomat sort things out," Emmerson whispers at Renraw as the wizard very carefully gets on his knees.

"And how would you have us negotiate?" Renraw snaps back. "This one barely understands Imperial. Lothian would want you to live, wouldn't he? Let's make them comfortable communicating with us so that can happen."

"She understood you pretty well, Kem," the paladin replies, "Hence our current situation."

"Did I, heh, did I mention how much I love the kobold people?" Renraw grins hopefully at their captors.

Hazel turns away before she gives into temptation; bad enough the group is arguing in front of the enemy, it'd be even worse if she gave the wizard the slapping he so deserves. She looks at the kobolds' crossbows, weighing her options, then follows the kobold's order. She prays her family won't be picking out her burial dress by nightfall.

The kobold makes a big show of putting her pickaxe away as she walks off a dozen yards or so with Hazel, toward the mouth of the cairn.

"Chatty one, he wizard, yes? He no good to you, wants to trade your lives for his, but I think you and I, we can make deal, softskin."

Hazel sends a glare Renraw's way, then nods her head in acknowledgement of the kobold's words.

"I'd like to know who I'm dealing with, first." She's careful to keep her voice cautious, almost respectful, and her hands open and relaxed. "But what do you have in mind?"

The kobold hisses a little at the insistence for a name.

"My people do not like giving dragon names to softskins. You call me," she pauses and looks around, thinking. "Call me Pick, OK? What you name?"

"My apologies, Pick. I meant no offense. You can call me Hazel."

"Hazel like tree? OK." Pick glances disdainfully at the groups eyeing each other before looking back at the ranger. "We not here to fight you, I not think you here to fight us. So we both do what we want, but no interfere, OK?"

Even though Pick's light-sensitive eyes are hidden behind the dark glass of her goggles, Hazel can feel the female kobold scrutinizing her.

"But to make sure, we do a trade, OK?"

"I think we can all agree not to interfere with you and your group, Pick," Hazel shoots a stern look at Tucker and Emmerson, in case the men are spoiling for a fight. "I would hope that our word on it would be enough to satisfy you, though I can certainly understand why you feel it might not be." Scowling at Renraw, she adds, only half-joking, "Those who can't keep their word can be trussed up and carried back to town like a fine Theoday supper, if need be.

"But I can't agree to a trade without knowing the terms."

Pick, to the extent that Hazel can read the reptilian facial expressions, seems unconvinced that Tucker and Bufer won't attack her men at the first opportunity.

"We tie up your talky-talk wizard, and you tie up one of my idiots, like the talky-talk Wormy, and we each take with us as hostage. We go do what we want in cairn, you do what you want here. You take Wormy back to Apple Town, we take wizard back to Green Mountain. When everyone safe and sound, we send wizard back to you, and you let Wormy go.

"Fair trade. Everyone behave themselves because otherwise hostage go krrrrrk!" Pick makes the universal sign for having one's throat slit with a mitten-covered thumb across her own throat. "You friend with gnome. This is only way we can trust. OK, sounds fair?"

Hazel clamps down the desire to pull some rope out of her pack and ask which one's Wormy.

"Frankly, I'd prefer nothing more than to rid our party of this grasping hanger-on. You've heard him: His mouth's open so often it's practically a breeding ground for flies." Hazel bites her lip and shakes her head with regret. "But I just can't do it. He's a real troublemaker, true, but problem is, he's a big enough troublemaker that the baron's taken notice. Paying off his debt to the community 'n' all. So he goes missin', it gets round to the constable, and I'm the one in trouble, see?"

Hazel looks at the group, wishing she had a diplomat's way with words.

"Perhaps we could simply send our loudmouth back to town with an escort." She gestures at Tucker. "That one's unsuited for silent contemplation anyway."

"Mmmmm," Pick growls to herself, thinking. Hazel gets the distinct impression she's as eager to get rid of Wormy as the ranger is to get rid of Renraw. "We need security. Gnomes are tricksy, can't take their word or word of their friends. Gnomes only understand threat of krrrrrk!"

She makes the motion across her throat again.

"OK, maybe we tie up Wormy, tie up wizard, have one guard from softskin group, one guard from our group, take Wormy and wizard away together. Any funny gnomey or kobold business and krrrrrk. Sound OK? Your baron don't mind if wizard go krrrrrk, I'm sure."

Hazel nods along, weighing the proposal, opens her mouth, closes it, and looks perplexed.

"That does sound like a good solution, Pick, but if we send Wormy and our idiot off with a couple guards, how will the guards know if anything goes wrong? Seems like the trade requires 'em to be in earshot at least, yeah? Better still if we can see 'em: That'd be a clear reminder to be on good behavior.

"Of course, best of all ... " Hazel peers into the kobold's eyes as best she can through the goggles, her face honest and affable. "Well, best of all would be agreeing to abide by the non-interference agreement without the need for threats.

"Beause I'm pretty sure the baron wouldn't see it the way you 'n' I do, and I'd hate to land in trouble on account of that idiot." She jerks her thumb toward Renraw. "Even if everything worked out fine -- which no doubt it would, since we're both honorable folks -- he'd go telling tales to the baron and stir up a hornet's nest. Best just to send him home with nothing to tell."

She looks over at Bufer and sighs softly; he'd no doubt have some sneaky way to slip out of this situation with ease. Hazel's got nothing but logic and patience.

"But it's not the wizard that's the problem, right, Pick? We both know he's an idiot -- and between you and me, I wouldn't want to inflict him on you any more than I enjoy listening to him myself -- but he's an easily contained idiot.

"But the gnome ... Sometimes it seems like they're all pranksters, ignoring the laws of order and common sense when it suits 'em, eh? This one, though, I'd vouch for him: He's a decent sort of fellow, most of the time. But I can see how you, not knowing him, wouldn't feel the same.

"So maybe he agrees to head back to town, too, have a pint on my coppers at the tavern." She looks over at Bufer, then back to the kobold. "Would that suit you, Pick?"

Pick shakes her head.

"I take word of gnome-friend, new big boss make me into pair of boots. Need deal so I can say I get better of gnome." She shrugs helplessly. "I don't want to fight you. You don't want to fight me. But I need to show proof I not risk mission. If you worried about your boss and wizard, how about you be our hostage instead, Hazel-like-tree?"

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Hazel freezes as she turns the idea over in her mind.

"Well, maybe," she says, scratching her head and gesturing toward the cairn. "How long you think you'll be in there? My da'll raise five kinds o' hell if I'm not home at suppertime."

Pick shields her face -- even with the hat and the goggles, she's clearly uncomfortable in the sunlight -- and looks at the shadows on the ground.

"Near high sun now. We go inside before gets too cold. Bad for kobold." She pats Hazel on the arm, an oddly familiar gesture from the creature. "You pick your volunteer, I pick mine. We go with first plan, but not wizard if you don't want."

She steps away from the ranger, back to where the two groups are still facing one another.

"I need a volunteer for hostage exchange! Volunteer for the glory of tribe, step forward ... NOW!"

As one, four of the five remaining kobolds step backwards in lock step, leaving one baffled kobold -- one of the two who had spoken earlier -- looking around in shock and horror.

"Very good, Wormy. You will be our volunteer in the hostage exchange with the gnome-loving humans. We will remember you in our prayers if they betray us, butcher and eat you. Now, hand over your weapons so we can get on with this already*"

Wormy quakes in fear as his fellows disarm him and push him forward. Pick turns and smiles the sort of smile a crocodile would make if it was trying to be ingratiating.

"You tie him up now, OK?"

At the beginning of the chaos, Katadid found himself overwhelmed by the constant demands and quick changes between languages. But as the conversation wore on, a calm came over him. As everyone made their demands, human and kobold, he saw it all stretching out in front of him, simply another puzzle to solve.

"Thank you Hazel," the rest of the party jumping at the sound of his voice, his manic silence being long ago forgotten. "It's obvious that you would be the best candidate to symbolize our trust.

"And thank you, Renraw, for doing your part to negotiate our release."

Kat puts his hand on Bufer's shoulder and shakes his head while squeezing surprisingly tightly as he passes by, hoping the gnome gets the message. Kat turns to Pick and bows slightly.

"Madam," he says. "I see you are as devout in your duty as you are in your faith. I admit that I know little of what occurred here, but rest assured that I am just as interested as you are in this matter. Mysteries intrigue me. I won't waste your time with lengthy speeches, but perhaps we can both exit this day satisfied. I promise you that as long as no harm comes to our companion, none shall come to yours. And I hope that you shall show us the same respect."

Hazel stares dumbfounded at Kat. She shakes her head once, to clear her nerves.

"Right. Right." She uncoils some rope from her pack and reaches for her hand axe, announcing as she does so, "Just need to cut a couple lengths for tying."

She keeps her hands in plain view as she cuts two sections of rope, and sheathes the axe before approaching Wormy.

"Um, arms behind your back, please." Pick roughly pulls Wormy's arms behind him and supervises as Hazel ties a series of knots sturdy enough to hold a lumberjack in a tree overnight.

"One of you lot want to take charge of Wormy?" Hazel asks the group, holding the other end of the rope like a dead snake.

"Uh, hi, Wormy," Tucker says unsurely, taking the rope. "Not your best day, huh? Tell you what: You get hungry, let us know and you can eat the wizard who didn't know when to shut up."

Hazel keeps laughs nervously, looking more pale than usual in the winter air.

"Don't let Renraw do anything stupid, all right?" she says, as she walks over to Pick and holds out the rope.

"So," Renraw says, visibly relieved. "Right, of course. I'll just be standing up now, yeah? No sudden moves."

He climbs stiffly to his feet, his knees audibly popping along the way. As he dusts himself off, he shoots a wry glance at Emmerson.

"Exoneration. No hard feelings, paladin."

Wormy moans in fear.

"Now, if they do eat you," Pick says, "It's your duty to give them heartburn. Remember that."

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

"Hazel, wait," Bufer says, finally speaking up. He's been uncharacteristically quiet up until this point, painfully aware that one wrong word from him could have fatal results for his friends. But now he turns and, making sure to keep his hands where the kobolds can see them, addresses the kobold known as Pick.

"Priestess of Tiamat," he says, as formally and respectfully as he can manage under the circumstances, "I ask you, as one holy servant to another, to take me as your hostage in Hazel's place. Though both brave and wise beyond her years, she's still practically a child as her folk reckon things, and I have been charged with her safety. With all their safety."

He spares a narrow glance at Renraw.

"Even his," he adds wryly.

Before Pick can respond, Bufer holds up one hand to forestall her -- at which several crossbow strings creak eagerly -- and continues.

"I know our peoples don't have much reason to trust one another -- Garl knows if'n you were in my shoes, and me in yours, I don't know if I'd be able to trust you -- but I swear on everything I believe to be holy that as long as the big'uns aren't harmed, I won't be 'tricksy.' You have my word, such as it is."

With that, Bufer reaches up for the rope dangling around his neck and -- with deliberate slowness -- pulls it up over his head, removing his holy symbol. Careful not to touch the gold nugget itself -- which could be interpreted as a hostile act -- he extends his arms and offers it to Pick, hoping that she understands it for the olive branch he intends it to be.

It's fair to say that everyone, kobold, dwarf and human, all stare a moment at this, mouths open in unison.

"Bufer," Katadid says, before turning to the kobold priestess and raising a hand in apology. He continues on in Gnomish. "I think it would be a very bad idea if you are with them. The kobolds will keep their word, but I sincerely doubt you would come through this entirely intact. Their hatred toward your kind overwhelms any ethics they have. I can't stop you, but I would strongly urge you to reconsider. Hazel is the least offensive to their sensibilities. You are, perhaps, the most."

Kat turns to the kobolds and returns to Draconic.

"My apologies. I wasn't plotting anything in secret. I was simply reminding the gnome of your two races' ... history. I leave the decision up to him, but it's acceptability to you."

"I know the risks, Kat," Bufer says in Imperial, without taking his eyes off the kobold priestess. "What's more, she knows I know 'em. But I took responsibility for these idiots the second Fibber gave me that map, and I ain't backin' off from it now.

"It's a priest thing, Kat. You wouldn't understand." He takes a deep, trembling breath and returns his gaze to Pick. "But I'm hoping she does."

Katadid all but vibrates in place.

"You. Will. Get. Hurt. This is a fact."

Pick seems to be breathing shallowly, her head tilted back, hands twitching around her pick.

"Is he your ... volunteer?" she whispers. "For sure?"

"For sure," Bufer says firmly, before anyone else can speak up. "Right and true, so long as you promise the girl ... and these other sorry excuses for humans ... walk free."

The other kobolds seem to sense what's going on and collectively appear to be holding their breath. A small shudder of some intense emotion ripples through Pick.

"While you under my wing," she says slowly, deliberately, "No harm will come to you."

She suddenly reaches out, snatching the holy symbol from Bufer's outstretched fingers. She looks at it a moment and then stuffs it into a pouch around her waist.

"We take gnome," she says to Hazel, "Go do our task. You take Wormy, do your task. We home before nightfall, and let gnome go then. You let Wormy go.

"Any gnomey business ..." She looks at Bufer. All the kobolds grin widely. "Turn around, gnome. We tie you now."

Kat's mouth opens and closes in frustration. His hands and fingers begin vibrating and he makes no effort to stop them from picking up wet leaves to tear apart. Despite himself, Bufer smiles kindly at the wizard's open frustration. He must remember -- if he survives this -- to buy the wizard a drink at The Cat & The Fiddle, sometime. Exchanging glances with Hazel, he nods at Pick and turns around.

"All right," he says, his voice trembling as he holds his hands behind his back. "But I'll have you know I usually make it a practice to have the lass buy me dinner before I let 'er tie me up."

The kobold priestess ties Bufer's hands behind his back roughly, hands uncomfortably bunched at the small of his back.

"He is under my wing and will come to no harm while he is. I will not hurt a hair on his thieving, lying, murdering head," Pick reiterates to Katadid, then smiles sweetly and shoves Bufer forward, toward the black mouth of the cairn. The other kobolds, minus Wormy, fall in behind her, walking backwards, crossbows still in their hands, watching the party to make sure they have not changed their minds. They disappear into the dungeon, leaving the party alone in the snow with a whimpering kobold captive.

"So, hey," the party hears Bufer say faintly, just before he is dragged out of sight, "None of you happens to be named 'Tiberius', do ye?"

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Watching the group disappear, Katadid works himself into a fury of tics and jolts.

"That ... the gnome ... that ..." He spins around and shouts at no one in particular. "That makes NO SENSE!"

Hazel sighs, turning and pointing the wizard back at the group's erstwhile hiding place. If Tiberius is truly coming today, and the arguments and interspecies standoff hasn't already scared him away, it's going to take a lot of work to cover all the evidence that the barrow is being watched.

Tucker, however, has other things on his mind. He wraps the loose end of rope tied to the captive around his arm so Tucker's hands are both free, and walks back toward his abandoned sword in the middle of the group. He follows after Katadid, his kobold hostage in tow.

"Kat, apologize to Wormy for me," he asks, as he slips something from his belt. "And make it clear this is neither a punishment for him nor in any way his fault."

Before anyone can react, Tucker reaches out and grabs Renraw, clamping a manacle on the wizard's good arm, then attaches the other half of the restraint to Wormy.

"You may not be our sacrificial hostage, Beancounter, but that doesn't mean you're free to scurry off to save your own hide. I don't speak lizard, but we can all recognize a rat, and Lothian help me, if you don't sit down, shut up and generally behave yourself until this is over, I'll tell Wormy he's free to go home with the new snack we've just given him. If you're needed, act. Until then, don't."

With that, Tucker leads the bound pair to a tree and helps Wormy sit down gently. Tucker offers his pack, warmed by being pressed against the deputy's back during the hard hike out here, as a cushion, so the cold-blooded creature doesn't have to sit on the icy ground. The cold-blooded wizard will have to fend for himself.

Hazel turns a pine branch over and over in her hands, watching the mouth of the cairn. Her hands shake slightly, and can't seem to pull her thoughts together. Then, certain of a task that she can do, she methodically clears every trace of tracks, leaving the forest's carpet of wet leaves, muddy ground and snowy patches as seemingly undisturbed as she can make it. After wiping out her own tracks, she backs into the cramped space and tugs a pair of branches across the entrance.

She looks over the party, giving Renraw and Emmerson a hard glare.

"Be quiet this time. And if you can't manage it, I'm sure the deputy will happily drag you back to town by your boot heels." She peeks out through the bushes. "I need to watch for this Tiberius fellow. Tucker, are you taking responsibility for Wormy, then? Make sure he stays in the shade. Kat, be sure to ask him -- quietly -- every so often if he needs water, all right? We want to send him back as the best-cared-for kobold in the barony."

She shifts until she finds an acceptable break in the branches for peering out at the clearing and settles in, turning back once and reaching an arm out to touch Kat's sleeve.

"And starting tomorrow, you're teaching me Draconic, yeah?"

"Yes, certainly. I think it will soon prove to be a most useful language to know," Katadid says vaguely.

* * *

Half-running, half-dragged through the unlit cairn, Bufer looks over at the kobold priestess of Tiamat.

"You're here for the bodies, right?" he asks, as he stumbles over an uneven stone on the floor. "The four corpses that Chandler told you about?"

She ignores Bufer's question, just as she had ignored his first. She holds up a hand, now that the kobolds are well inside the dungeon, and they pause. She pulls her goggles off her eyes, as do the rest of them, and they blink, bleary-eyed after wearing the goggles so long.

Now totally out of earshot of the party, she looks at Bufer and makes a comment in Draconic. Another kobold, whose name she apparently mentioned, looks up, looks at the gnome, and nods, smiling.

Another barked command, and the party is moving again, down the line of sarcophagi where animated skeletons once hid. For the first time, Bufer realizes the lid is back on one sarcophagus, and the group stops beside it. Pick keeps one hand on the gnome's leash, but the kobolds drop their gear and encircle the sarcophagus, deft fingers slipping under the lid. With a grunt and what sounds like a good deal of swearing by the kobolds, the lid is lifted off. Two kobolds spring up onto the lip of the sarcophagus and then drop inside and begin lifting out their prize: The bodies of their fellows Bufer and his companions had found two weeks ago, concealed here at some point after that.

Pick makes another comment, this time for Bufer's benefit -- or at his expense -- but it's a clipped comment in Draconic and it brings smirks to the lips of her team.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Outside, the forest is cool and silent, save for the sound in the distance of yet more trees losing their winter coats of ice and snow. Wormy fidgets a little, but does not attempt to get away. He clearly is anxious and wants something, but seems perplexed as to whether to ask or not.

Emmerson has been staring at the opening of the cairn silently, his mind racing. He gestures to Katadid furiously, as if one hand held an invisible parchment and the other an invisible pen. Kat lends him a piece of paper, ink and a pen and the paladin writes at a feverish pace. He hands a note to Renraw.

"Moron," it reads simply.

Renraw crumples up the note and turns to the kobold he's been shackled to.

"So, Wormy," he pats the confused, frightened kobold on the shoulder, "What's your crime? Probably too smart for the others, am I right?"

Wormy recoils from Renraw's touch.

"When are you all going to start a fire, please? It's cold in this shade. Or is this your filthy plan, to let me freeze to death?"

"I ... I'm sorry, I don't think they'll start one," Renraw says, taken aback. "They're supposed to be lying in wait for a criminal. A fire would only alert him to our presence. But I'll see what I can do."

Tucker gets Renraw's attention and nods questioningly at Wormy.

"Fire," Renraw answers quietly. "He's cold. I told him no, but has anyone got a blanket, or some spare clothes we can bundle him in?"

* * *

Bufer blinks in surprise as the kobolds begin lifting their dead up and out of the sarcophagus.

"You hid them here? Why? Why wouldn't you just take them back to Green Mountain?"

Frowning, his curiosity overriding his fear, he looks up at Pick.

"Those cysts in their chests," he says, inclining his head towards the three leather-clad corpses, "What are are they? Some kind of affliction? I'm a healer, of sorts, but they aren't like anything I've seen before."

The kobolds make wry comments in Draconic as the gnome continues to question them, but they never respond in Imperial. Putting the bodies down, the kobolds unfold a set of wide stretchers from inside bags carried by two of the kobolds and pile the bodies on them.

Pick stands in the corridor, looking deeper into the dungeon, considering, but then shrugs and pulls her goggles down and goes around, doing the same for the other four kobolds.

They troop back outside. Pick peers at where the adventurers are hidden, nodding in their direction and points at Bufer with a wide grin, as if to show he's still intact. The group then heads north through the cold and damp of the Tulgey Wood.

"How 'bout a traveling song, then?" Bufer says as he stumbles along with his captors. "Does anybody know the words to 'Onward, Onward, Brave Soldiers?'"

Hazel watches them disappear, torn between wanting to trail after them quietly and waiting for Tiberius, certain Bufer would want to know whatever she could learn about him.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

"...and the one-legged paladin says," Bufer says, "'Do not despair for me, sirrah, for I dost ride side-saddle!'"

He glances around at the kobolds jogging along side him, a wide grin on his face. He actually veers a little closer to the nearest one, and elbows it gently in the ribs.

"Huh? Huh? Sidesaddle, get it? Huh? OK, now you tell one..."

* * *

Tucker helps Renraw and Wormy up, their shackles jingling quietly. The deputy moves with them to the area Katadid indicated.

Emmerson follows, leaning in to mutter in Katadid's ear: "Question him."

"Wormy," Kat says to the shivering kobold. "I have been asked. The paladin requests questions. I will now do so. I'm not particularly interested in what he wants to know, but I am interested in what I want to know. In return I will answer any questions of yours."

Katadid has made a box of sticks in the ground in front of him. He begins arranging lines inside with smaller sticks, and his eyes focusing on his task.

"Shall we begin?"

Wormy, who seems a little warmer in this spot of sunshine, turns towards Kat, tilting his head curiously.

"Ah, the interrogation! Do you intend to torture me, too, or is that saved until later?"

Kat's lips purse and his brow furrows.

"If I have anything to say about it there will be none. However, the rest of my party is currently operating under the assumption that treating you well will guarantee their friend's safety." Kat's eyes narrow. "Contrary to popular belief, I am not that naive. As far as I am concerned the gnome knew the risks and reprisal would be hypocritical, but it is very possible the others may not see it that way when Bufer returns missing fingers after your priestess has conveniently transferred the gnome under someone else's 'wing.'"

Kat sets a long twig in the middle of the square, bisecting it before speaking again.

"So I suggest we do this quickly before what is left of him finds his way back. First, what was your task in the barrow?"

Emmerson watches the interrogation begin, but his attention continues to shift to where Bufer and the kobolds disappeared.

"I cannot remain here any longer," he says, gnawing his lower lip. "I'll check on Bufer."

Tucker shakes hands with the paladin before he leaves.

"Don't get too close, and don't let them know you're there," he says. "Someone shadowing them might be taken as a violation of our treaty, and you don't want to be the one responsible for Bufer getting hurt. Lothian protect you both."

Without another word, Emmerson sets off at run after Bufer and the kobolds.

Wormy keeps whipping his head from Kat to Renraw to anyone else he can see, so that he can see the flaming hot poker -- or whatever other torture implement -- coming.

"We were picking up the bodies of our fellows. The scouts who found them hid them so that they would not be more disturbed by filthy grave-robbing gnomes and their friends, but they did not have what they needed to bring the dead back home to Green Mountain. I suppose you just eat your fallen comrades."

"I see. Is that your question, then?" Katadid smiles slightly at Wormy's befuddled look. "You gave the supposition that we eat our dead. Would you like to know if we do? Remember, it is now your turn to ask me something."

Kat picks up a stick and looks at it before holding it out to the cringing kobold.

"This is not an interrogation, Wormy. This is simply an exchange of ideas. A question for a question. It would be insulting to not give you something in return for your answers. Ask, please."

Kat folds his hands and places them under his chin as the kobold looks thoroughly confused at the twig in his hands.

"There is much to learn from each other," Katadid says.

"The dead can learn nothing from the dead," the kobold scoffs.

Kat shakes his head.

"Neither of us are either yet. Very well, the answer is no, we do not eat our dead. We tend to bury them. Some burn them in a ritual fashion. Perhaps other humans do it differently, but that is what we do. You can even see stones over the buried in our town if you looked." Kat puts another twig on the pile. "Do you know anything of a Tiberius who was to meet at these caverns?"

Not understanding a word of the conversation between Katadid and Wormy, Hazel turns to Tucker.

"The kobolds have gone; why don't you head back toward town with Wormy and wait for Bufer? We'll all feel better when he's safe." She peers at the shivering kobold. "Probably shouldn't take him into town, though; it might cause trouble if anyone sees a kobold and gets the wrong idea."

"As soon as Katy's done with his initial line of questioning, I think I'll do just that," Tucker nods. "Renraw's behaving himself so far, and I don't think a bit more minor hardship will do him harm.

"Do me a favor? You know what will burn best around here: Get me a decent bundle of kindling that will last through the night, if necessary. We don't know what time Bufer will be released, and I don't want Wormy to freeze to death if we're out in the woods all night. There's no way I'm taking him anywhere near town; we'll head to the north side of the orchard and wait there."

Renraw overhears Tucker speaking with Hazel about the possibility of being out "all night" and suddenly grows very uncomfortable.

"No," he says. "No, there's no need to stay out here all night. I don't care what this Tiberius character has got, if anything. It's cold and I'm shackled to a thing with scales. In fact, I'm done with this, right now. This 'stakeout' was a horrible idea. That blustering, holier-than-thou Grant probably ruined it, anyhow, just like the half-wit's going to ruin the deal with the gnome. I hope you all enjoyed knowing him. Gods know I didn't have much use for a healer who didn't heal."

He turns to Wormy and Katy.

"Continue this in transit. We're returning to civilization."

* * *

Pick says something and the other kobolds slow their march and begin looking around until she hisses something else, at which point they stiffly look straight ahead. She drags Bufer along faster than the rest of the group, looping his leash around the belt of one of the marchers, who loudly growls at Bufer before Pick slaps him on the snout. She then steps off into the underbrush and vanishes at the other kobolds keep marching.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Renraw tugs on his chain in an effort to get Wormy moving back in the direction of town. Katadid blinks in agitation, snapped out of the comfortable pattern he had established with the kobold.

"Um, wait. The cairn ... my questions," he stammers. He turns to Wormy. "A moment. Just a moment."

He walks up to Tucker, pulling at his sleeve.

"Th-the cairn. I want ... Well, I haven't," He sighs deeply, obviously flustered. He turns, finding Hazel. "Lessons, you'll need lessons."

"Kat? I know you really want to investigate the barrow, but Bufer's life could depend on you going with Tucker and translating," Hazel says, ducking down and trying to catch the young wizard's eye. "You're right, though, I do want those lessons. And you can start teaching me Draconic tomorrow while we hike back out to the barrow so you can investigate. I'll keep you company all day long in that place if you like."

Renraw whines, jerking the chain again, which yanks Wormy, drawing a fierce look from Tucker.

"We're not waiting for Tiberius, we're waiting for Bufer," Renraw snaps, "Which is why we're not waiting here. Now Wormy, I and your right hand are going to go the orchard. If you want to come with us, then fine; if not, get chewing.

"Care to come along, Kat? Your linguistic skills will be valuable, and like Hazel says, the cairn will be waiting for you tomorrow. Half of today is already wasted; come back tomorrow and you can spend the entire day exploring. It'll be fun."

Staring intently at the ground, Katadid nods.

"Sorry," he mutters to Wormy as the group begins to move. "Distractions. So, Tiberius, yes. Is he familiar to you? Oh, and think of your question. Things must remain even. Can't have any odds, no."

"Leach," Renraw interrupts, "You are, of course, free to go where you wish, but don't for a minute believe that this lawman has your best interests at heart. If you would have preferred to stay back with the girl, explore the barrow, and perhaps get to the bottom of this 'Tiberius' puzzle, you should have said so. I would have been more than happy to ask the kobold your questions. If, on the other hand, you actually wanted to come with us, of course, I offer no argument. I just want to make sure you know that the choice is yours, and definitely not his. You're not the one in shackles."

Renraw takes a breath and continues on in a sober tone.

"Sometimes, I find, when someone like that one wants you to do something, it may be the best thing for all parties not to cooperate. I'm not saying that's the case in this instance, of course. I'm sure you're well aware, those in power rarely have the same interests as you and I, and in most cases they actively work against those interests. Those who would pursue knowledge are dangerous and frightening to people in positions of power because such investigations could reveal just how tenuous their authority really is. Our Gallaway here is a small man, a small man with a small mind. Do not allow him to limit you."

Katadid sputters, trying to process all of this.

"Please, just let us ... Please." He turns back to the kobold with a desperate expression.

Wormy looks between the two wizards, listening intently.

"No, I do not know a Tiberius. That sounds like a human name. The only one I have ever met before today is Khenemet-Apep," the kobold says, referring to the Wizard of Green Mountain. He thinks a moment, then turns back to Kat. "A question for a question. How many constables and deputies are there in your town?"

Katadid looks as though he were struck.

"Ah, I was expecting we would get to that. Disappointing, but not unexpected." Kat looks toward the constable and back to the kobold. "I don't care about such things. And, it's ... it's insulting ... to both of us. That isn't the purpose of this conversation. At least not for me. You can ask another question. I won't ask you any questions that will hurt your people."

Wormy snorts.

"The dead will learn nothing from the dead. Any more questions you have, you will have to torture me for the answers, servant to a gnome."

Katadid boggles at this. He looks from Renraw to Tucker and back to Wormy.

"Are-are you sure?" Kat asks quietly. "Who is the 'she' Pick mentioned? The new 'big boss?' What do you eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner? How do you go to the bathroom?"

His mouth opens and closes helplessly, like a trout pulled from the Moss River and now lays gasping on the shore.

Renraw laughs. It's not a pleasant laugh.

"And what if I answer instead?" he asks, addressing Wormy. "Could we continue our little question-and-answer game then?"

Renraw sees his face reflected in the dark glass of Wormy's goggles.

"That depends on how my question is answered." the kobold replies.

"Why, truthfully, of course. What use do I have for those hayseeds? You've seen me betray some of them once already; imagine how I must feel about a whole town full of them?"

"It's not a game," Katydid pleads in Imperial. To calm his agitation, he begins knocking on the trunks of passing trees.

"Then answer, wizard," Wormy replies to Renraw, keeping his voice even and calm. "And know that my tribe watches Apple Town closely. If you lie, you will need to begin your much-delayed torture."