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Ptolus: Midwood - "The Dark Waters of Moss Pond"
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<blockquote data-quote="Whizbang Dustyboots" data-source="post: 4380072" data-attributes="member: 11760"><p>Half an hour passes, and Bufer and Khenemet-Apep approach the front door of the Black Tower.</p><p></p><p>Bufer isn't sure what he was expecting from Baraj Al-Aswad, but he's greeted with something that he suspects would look more at home in the desert wastes of Uraq: It's a squat stone tower of dark bricks topped by pale spikes jabbing upwards, like the lower jaw of some beast. The windows, each hidden behind intricately woven grills of cast iron, suggest that the building has three above ground levels, not including the roof.</p><p></p><p>The front door is in inscribed with what Bufer at first assumes are merely decorative symbols, but if he squints, he thinks they actually look like Uraqi writing, twisted about into decorative shapes. But something about the writing looks older still, and somehow malevolent and a shiver runs down the gnome's back.</p><p></p><p>Khenemet-Apep says a quiet word before laying his hand on the cast iron handle and inserting a thick black key. It turns with a clank and Bufer realizes that the wizard and his cat were holding their breath until the door unlocked.</p><p></p><p>The Wizard of Green Mountain opens the door and steps to the side, heels together, hands beckoning Bufer in.</p><p></p><p>"Ebuferpaly Whitethatch Malpractice Bearscave Fancypants Potentloins," Khenemet-Apep says, smirking a little to see Bufer's surprise at hearing all his names rattled off with practiced assurance, "You are a guest in my home. Come and share salt with me."</p><p></p><p>Bufer stares wordlessly at the wizard for a moment, ice water running through his veins as the full litany of his names echoes in the recesses of his mind.</p><p></p><p><em>No, not quite. He didn't use Bejik-Caesin. He doesn't know your true name, not really ... at least, not yet.</em></p><p></p><p>Forcing himself to breathe, Bufer actually manages a polite smile for Khenemet-Apep and his mangy cat.</p><p></p><p>"Thank ye, Mister Wizard, sir," he says, sketching out an awkward bow. "That's most kind of ye. You honor me with the recital of my full name -- part of which, I'll have ye know, was chosen on account of something ye said to me once -- although 'Bufer' is fine from here on out. Oh, I just remembered: I have something for ye!"</p><p></p><p>Looking down, Bufer mutters to himself as he digs in the pockets of his threadbare sackcloth robe for a moment, then produces a small, metallic cube that sits comfortably in the palm of his hand.</p><p></p><p>"It's a gnomish puzzle box," he says, displaying it proudly to the wizard. "My Pa makes them, for Tootenfest. I used to love them when I was a young'un. I thought your <em>luritas</em> might be one to appreciate a good old gnomish riddle."</p><p></p><p>Khenemet-Apep turns the puzzle box over in his hand, looking as though Bufer has deposited a dog turd there.</p><p></p><p>"Thank you," he says at last, "But the spirits of Green Mountain require rather more to mollify them than a gnomish gewgaw."</p><p></p><p>Nevertheless, the Wizard of Green Mountain places the puzzle box on the shelf beside the front door.</p><p></p><p>The heavy door closes behind the wizard and gnome with a decisive thud and Hazel and Emus pop their heads over a gravel-strewn ridge 100 feet below the tower.</p><p></p><p>"Well," Emus says, picking something between his teeth with a fingernail, "What now?"</p><p></p><p>"We need to be closer," Hazel scowls. "What if he's casting a spell on Bufer like he did on Ren? And nobody would know what it did but him."</p><p></p><p>She lightly shifts her weight, grimacing at the miniature rockslide.</p><p></p><p>"It's too noisy here, and there's no cover. Bunch of kobolds come up the trail and, bam, hit us from behind."</p><p></p><p>Just as Hazel starts to move forward, Emus places a hand on her shoulder keeping her stationary.</p><p></p><p>"And what if they're in there just having a sip of tea? Just like you said, there's no way to know. Why don't you tell me your plan before you go skulking all through the wizard's bushes?"</p><p></p><p>"The plan is to make sure Bufer's safe."</p><p></p><p>Emus's measured stare flusters the young ranger, eventually flooding her face with color as she drops her head to the gravel.</p><p></p><p>"I'm an idiot." Hazel crosses her forearms and rests her chin atop them. Her eyes avoid Emus, concentrating instead on the tower door. "I didn't think of anything past Bufer. Not the mountain or the tower. Of course the wizard's got defenses. Living here, who wouldn't?"</p><p></p><p>Her voice drops to a thin thread; she's almost talking to herself, now.</p><p></p><p>"But Bufer, he gets hurt. All of the time, like it ain't no never mind to him. Nearly died twice this year and the leaves hardly even on the trees yet."</p><p></p><p>"For what it's worth, I ain't worried about Bufer all that much," Emus says, shaking his shaggy head. "The baron trusts him more than a little bit, and if that weren't enough, the wizard knows that there's a witness who saw Bufer head off with him.</p><p></p><p>"And you know, he may be little, but he ain't entirely helpless," Emus says, recalling the fight with Artos Nachtmann. "Let's head back. Now that we know where the tower is, we'll come back and check on him in a couple days."</p><p></p><p>"Days?" Hazel's panicked outburst is louder than she expected. Her expression holds an apology as she turns to the dwarf. "You think he'll be in that place for days? If he ain't back tomorrow, we ought to just march up to that wizard's door and demand he send him out."</p><p></p><p>Her shoulders sagging under the weight of Emus' silence.</p><p></p><p>"Or wait until he's done on his own time," she mumbles.</p><p></p><p>Hazel lets Emus take the lead; she follows silently for the most part, chastened by the dwarf's calm acceptance of Bufer's decision. Still, she can't help but worry about the gnome.</p><p></p><p><em>You know he's bound to say something offensive. Please, Estanna, let the wizard be the honorable fellow the baron thinks he is.</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Whizbang Dustyboots, post: 4380072, member: 11760"] Half an hour passes, and Bufer and Khenemet-Apep approach the front door of the Black Tower. Bufer isn't sure what he was expecting from Baraj Al-Aswad, but he's greeted with something that he suspects would look more at home in the desert wastes of Uraq: It's a squat stone tower of dark bricks topped by pale spikes jabbing upwards, like the lower jaw of some beast. The windows, each hidden behind intricately woven grills of cast iron, suggest that the building has three above ground levels, not including the roof. The front door is in inscribed with what Bufer at first assumes are merely decorative symbols, but if he squints, he thinks they actually look like Uraqi writing, twisted about into decorative shapes. But something about the writing looks older still, and somehow malevolent and a shiver runs down the gnome's back. Khenemet-Apep says a quiet word before laying his hand on the cast iron handle and inserting a thick black key. It turns with a clank and Bufer realizes that the wizard and his cat were holding their breath until the door unlocked. The Wizard of Green Mountain opens the door and steps to the side, heels together, hands beckoning Bufer in. "Ebuferpaly Whitethatch Malpractice Bearscave Fancypants Potentloins," Khenemet-Apep says, smirking a little to see Bufer's surprise at hearing all his names rattled off with practiced assurance, "You are a guest in my home. Come and share salt with me." Bufer stares wordlessly at the wizard for a moment, ice water running through his veins as the full litany of his names echoes in the recesses of his mind. [i]No, not quite. He didn't use Bejik-Caesin. He doesn't know your true name, not really ... at least, not yet.[/i] Forcing himself to breathe, Bufer actually manages a polite smile for Khenemet-Apep and his mangy cat. "Thank ye, Mister Wizard, sir," he says, sketching out an awkward bow. "That's most kind of ye. You honor me with the recital of my full name -- part of which, I'll have ye know, was chosen on account of something ye said to me once -- although 'Bufer' is fine from here on out. Oh, I just remembered: I have something for ye!" Looking down, Bufer mutters to himself as he digs in the pockets of his threadbare sackcloth robe for a moment, then produces a small, metallic cube that sits comfortably in the palm of his hand. "It's a gnomish puzzle box," he says, displaying it proudly to the wizard. "My Pa makes them, for Tootenfest. I used to love them when I was a young'un. I thought your [i]luritas[/i] might be one to appreciate a good old gnomish riddle." Khenemet-Apep turns the puzzle box over in his hand, looking as though Bufer has deposited a dog turd there. "Thank you," he says at last, "But the spirits of Green Mountain require rather more to mollify them than a gnomish gewgaw." Nevertheless, the Wizard of Green Mountain places the puzzle box on the shelf beside the front door. The heavy door closes behind the wizard and gnome with a decisive thud and Hazel and Emus pop their heads over a gravel-strewn ridge 100 feet below the tower. "Well," Emus says, picking something between his teeth with a fingernail, "What now?" "We need to be closer," Hazel scowls. "What if he's casting a spell on Bufer like he did on Ren? And nobody would know what it did but him." She lightly shifts her weight, grimacing at the miniature rockslide. "It's too noisy here, and there's no cover. Bunch of kobolds come up the trail and, bam, hit us from behind." Just as Hazel starts to move forward, Emus places a hand on her shoulder keeping her stationary. "And what if they're in there just having a sip of tea? Just like you said, there's no way to know. Why don't you tell me your plan before you go skulking all through the wizard's bushes?" "The plan is to make sure Bufer's safe." Emus's measured stare flusters the young ranger, eventually flooding her face with color as she drops her head to the gravel. "I'm an idiot." Hazel crosses her forearms and rests her chin atop them. Her eyes avoid Emus, concentrating instead on the tower door. "I didn't think of anything past Bufer. Not the mountain or the tower. Of course the wizard's got defenses. Living here, who wouldn't?" Her voice drops to a thin thread; she's almost talking to herself, now. "But Bufer, he gets hurt. All of the time, like it ain't no never mind to him. Nearly died twice this year and the leaves hardly even on the trees yet." "For what it's worth, I ain't worried about Bufer all that much," Emus says, shaking his shaggy head. "The baron trusts him more than a little bit, and if that weren't enough, the wizard knows that there's a witness who saw Bufer head off with him. "And you know, he may be little, but he ain't entirely helpless," Emus says, recalling the fight with Artos Nachtmann. "Let's head back. Now that we know where the tower is, we'll come back and check on him in a couple days." "Days?" Hazel's panicked outburst is louder than she expected. Her expression holds an apology as she turns to the dwarf. "You think he'll be in that place for days? If he ain't back tomorrow, we ought to just march up to that wizard's door and demand he send him out." Her shoulders sagging under the weight of Emus' silence. "Or wait until he's done on his own time," she mumbles. Hazel lets Emus take the lead; she follows silently for the most part, chastened by the dwarf's calm acceptance of Bufer's decision. Still, she can't help but worry about the gnome. [i]You know he's bound to say something offensive. Please, Estanna, let the wizard be the honorable fellow the baron thinks he is.[/i] [/QUOTE]
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