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Ptolus: Midwood - "The Dark Waters of Moss Pond"
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<blockquote data-quote="Whizbang Dustyboots" data-source="post: 4392339" data-attributes="member: 11760"><p>The antechamber of the Black Tower is dark, with closed three closed doors, but little else, save an iron chandelier shaped like intertwined snakes, with candles in their mouths. Only one candle is lit.</p><p></p><p>"Follow me," says the Wizard of Green Mountain, heading up a staircase to the second level of the tower. His cat watches Bufer until the gnome begins to move, and then darts past him to the next floor.</p><p></p><p>Bufer resists the urge to kick the mangy cat as it darts past him, and follows it and the wizard up to the second level, struggling a little with the stairs that have clearly been built with only human legs in mind.</p><p></p><p>As he climbs, he glances up and around at the dark antechamber in the flickering light of the lone candle, his eyes lingering a moment on the snake-motif chandelier.</p><p></p><p>"Cozy," he remarks, slightly out of breath.</p><p></p><p>At the top of the stairs, Khenemet-Apep gestures for Bufer to turn right, into a large parlor facing a fireplace with no fire burning. A pair of great divans, one covered in unidentifiable fur, the other buried beneath layer upon layer of blankets, form a small space facing the fireplace. The walls of the wizard's parlor boast floor to ceiling shelves, each full of books, scrolls and assorted mementos, including a several small gold statues of faeries. A bowl on a small chest between the two divans has chunks of broken chocolate in it -- Bufer's gnome twitches at the scent; gnomes have adopted the treat from the Distant South as their own -- and it too seems to be broken pieces of chocolate statues once shaped like faeries as well.</p><p></p><p>"Sit, Ebuferpaly." The wizard seems to be posing beside the fireplace, toying with an ornamental scimitar hanging over the mantle. "I have news of great importance to impart."</p><p></p><p>Bufer does as the wizard bids him, and clambers up onto one of the divans, looking up and around the room as he does so in curiosity.</p><p></p><p>"Quite a library ye've got here," he remarks. "Oktav would probably faint dead away from sheer ecstasy if he saw it. Whoo-wee, this is more books than I ever saw in my entire life, much less been in the same room with! I imagine ye've read them all, too. You know, my ex-uncle's half-sister's cousin's former flat mate holds the world record for most books ever read in a single sitting, as we gnomes record these things. Not on purpose, mind ye, it was just a really bad crop of apples that month, if ye catch my drift, and a body's got to keep himself occupied somehow, after all. Ye wouldn't happen to have any first editions by Dergunswoon on hand, would ye? I've been told I ought to be reading up on him, and the only one I ever come across got bundled up and carted off to Middleborough without me so much as glimpsing the table of contents, ain't that always the way? Not that I ever been much for book learning, mind ye, but it still would of been nice to ... you know, I really like your fairy collection, too, I got to say. It's, um, kind of eccentric, but it works for ye. Really. Say, if a man has a fetish for faeries, does that make him a faetishist? Ye mind if I help myself to some chocolate?"</p><p></p><p>Bufer's gaze finally lands on Khenemet-Apep, and he finds both the wizard and his mangy cat staring at him with identical expressions of bemused irritation.</p><p></p><p>"Sorry," he says. "Ye were saying something?"</p><p></p><p>"Please," Khenemet-Apep says, "Feel free to occupy yourself with as much chocolate as you wish; anything to keep you from talking. Now, as you may have heard, Flavivirus is dead."</p><p></p><p>Bufer, his mouth full of chocolate faerie, gives him a blank look.</p><p></p><p>"Flavivirus," the wizard repeats, putting his hands together and making a flapping motion. "Flav. Iv. Irus. The dragon? The Lord of the Floating Cave? Oh, honestly, I'm surrounded by ignorant hill people.</p><p></p><p>"Flavivirus was a black dragon who lived in the swamp east of Erish-aga, before some Delvers -- the Order of the Ancient Egg -- decided they wanted his treasure and that he was in the way. It was quite an impressive feat. In any case, they've chopped him up and have been selling off all the parts as they make their separate ways back to Ptolus. His blood has been sold off, his hide has been turned into armor, his wings have been made into boots and gloves, his teeth have been used for a magical staff of some sort, and so on.</p><p></p><p>"His entire corpse, as I understand it, is gone or spoken for at this point, all except for a single scale. The swashbuckler Valerius has let it be known that he will be passing through the Duchy of Southerly on his way to the Low Road and a ship to the Sea Kingdoms. He should be at the Graywall in a week.</p><p></p><p>"I mention this, of course, because the Children of Tiamat's plan relies on five dragon scales, one for each color of Tiamat's heads. The green scale, of course, they will get from within Glangirn at some point, and they already have their red scale. According to a particularly talkative member of the Blackbones, the Dragonlord is sending the five champions of Tiamat south with a chest full of jewelry taken from Glangirn to buy the scale from Valerius, whom I doubt will have any problem selling it to them. This will put the Children of Tiamat two-fifths of the way through their plan and destroying the barony and Wit's End. I imagine you'll want to stop them from getting their hands on it."</p><p></p><p>The wizard pauses, enjoying the reaction the chocolate-stuffed gnome has had during this speech. Khenemet-Apep can plainly see the gears of his little gnomish mind turning behind his eyes.</p><p></p><p>"Oh, and you might want to mention to your paladin friend: The cleric of Tiamat apparently gained quite a bit of status from killing him. She's been promoted to the ranks of the five champions. She'll be leading the group to purchase the black scale."</p><p></p><p>After a moment, Bufer grimaces and struggles to swallow down the chocolate in his mouth.</p><p></p><p>"Emmerson and me can raise a party of six or seven in a right hurry, if need be," he says gravely, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "I expect the baron knows about this, and was probably him what suggested ye send for me. I expect he'll disavow it if he's asked, but is our mission to be securing the scale itself, or just keeping Pick and her crew from getting their claws on it?"</p><p></p><p>Khenemet-Apep toys with the scimitar hanging over the mantle.</p><p></p><p>"I told him I had news. What you do with it -- and what you are capable of doing with it -- is up to you. For myself, I'm paying attention to how many scales the kobolds get, because I have no illusions that the Children of Tiamat will want me around once their plan has come to fruition."</p><p></p><p>He seems to suddenly realize he still has his burlap sack in one hand, and with forced casualness, tucks it behind his back, under one armpit.</p><p></p><p>"Is there anything else? I have work to do besides telling the baron's errand-gnome information Wit's End should already know, if your people have any real interest in not sharing in the fate of the Treeline gnomes."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Whizbang Dustyboots, post: 4392339, member: 11760"] The antechamber of the Black Tower is dark, with closed three closed doors, but little else, save an iron chandelier shaped like intertwined snakes, with candles in their mouths. Only one candle is lit. "Follow me," says the Wizard of Green Mountain, heading up a staircase to the second level of the tower. His cat watches Bufer until the gnome begins to move, and then darts past him to the next floor. Bufer resists the urge to kick the mangy cat as it darts past him, and follows it and the wizard up to the second level, struggling a little with the stairs that have clearly been built with only human legs in mind. As he climbs, he glances up and around at the dark antechamber in the flickering light of the lone candle, his eyes lingering a moment on the snake-motif chandelier. "Cozy," he remarks, slightly out of breath. At the top of the stairs, Khenemet-Apep gestures for Bufer to turn right, into a large parlor facing a fireplace with no fire burning. A pair of great divans, one covered in unidentifiable fur, the other buried beneath layer upon layer of blankets, form a small space facing the fireplace. The walls of the wizard's parlor boast floor to ceiling shelves, each full of books, scrolls and assorted mementos, including a several small gold statues of faeries. A bowl on a small chest between the two divans has chunks of broken chocolate in it -- Bufer's gnome twitches at the scent; gnomes have adopted the treat from the Distant South as their own -- and it too seems to be broken pieces of chocolate statues once shaped like faeries as well. "Sit, Ebuferpaly." The wizard seems to be posing beside the fireplace, toying with an ornamental scimitar hanging over the mantle. "I have news of great importance to impart." Bufer does as the wizard bids him, and clambers up onto one of the divans, looking up and around the room as he does so in curiosity. "Quite a library ye've got here," he remarks. "Oktav would probably faint dead away from sheer ecstasy if he saw it. Whoo-wee, this is more books than I ever saw in my entire life, much less been in the same room with! I imagine ye've read them all, too. You know, my ex-uncle's half-sister's cousin's former flat mate holds the world record for most books ever read in a single sitting, as we gnomes record these things. Not on purpose, mind ye, it was just a really bad crop of apples that month, if ye catch my drift, and a body's got to keep himself occupied somehow, after all. Ye wouldn't happen to have any first editions by Dergunswoon on hand, would ye? I've been told I ought to be reading up on him, and the only one I ever come across got bundled up and carted off to Middleborough without me so much as glimpsing the table of contents, ain't that always the way? Not that I ever been much for book learning, mind ye, but it still would of been nice to ... you know, I really like your fairy collection, too, I got to say. It's, um, kind of eccentric, but it works for ye. Really. Say, if a man has a fetish for faeries, does that make him a faetishist? Ye mind if I help myself to some chocolate?" Bufer's gaze finally lands on Khenemet-Apep, and he finds both the wizard and his mangy cat staring at him with identical expressions of bemused irritation. "Sorry," he says. "Ye were saying something?" "Please," Khenemet-Apep says, "Feel free to occupy yourself with as much chocolate as you wish; anything to keep you from talking. Now, as you may have heard, Flavivirus is dead." Bufer, his mouth full of chocolate faerie, gives him a blank look. "Flavivirus," the wizard repeats, putting his hands together and making a flapping motion. "Flav. Iv. Irus. The dragon? The Lord of the Floating Cave? Oh, honestly, I'm surrounded by ignorant hill people. "Flavivirus was a black dragon who lived in the swamp east of Erish-aga, before some Delvers -- the Order of the Ancient Egg -- decided they wanted his treasure and that he was in the way. It was quite an impressive feat. In any case, they've chopped him up and have been selling off all the parts as they make their separate ways back to Ptolus. His blood has been sold off, his hide has been turned into armor, his wings have been made into boots and gloves, his teeth have been used for a magical staff of some sort, and so on. "His entire corpse, as I understand it, is gone or spoken for at this point, all except for a single scale. The swashbuckler Valerius has let it be known that he will be passing through the Duchy of Southerly on his way to the Low Road and a ship to the Sea Kingdoms. He should be at the Graywall in a week. "I mention this, of course, because the Children of Tiamat's plan relies on five dragon scales, one for each color of Tiamat's heads. The green scale, of course, they will get from within Glangirn at some point, and they already have their red scale. According to a particularly talkative member of the Blackbones, the Dragonlord is sending the five champions of Tiamat south with a chest full of jewelry taken from Glangirn to buy the scale from Valerius, whom I doubt will have any problem selling it to them. This will put the Children of Tiamat two-fifths of the way through their plan and destroying the barony and Wit's End. I imagine you'll want to stop them from getting their hands on it." The wizard pauses, enjoying the reaction the chocolate-stuffed gnome has had during this speech. Khenemet-Apep can plainly see the gears of his little gnomish mind turning behind his eyes. "Oh, and you might want to mention to your paladin friend: The cleric of Tiamat apparently gained quite a bit of status from killing him. She's been promoted to the ranks of the five champions. She'll be leading the group to purchase the black scale." After a moment, Bufer grimaces and struggles to swallow down the chocolate in his mouth. "Emmerson and me can raise a party of six or seven in a right hurry, if need be," he says gravely, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "I expect the baron knows about this, and was probably him what suggested ye send for me. I expect he'll disavow it if he's asked, but is our mission to be securing the scale itself, or just keeping Pick and her crew from getting their claws on it?" Khenemet-Apep toys with the scimitar hanging over the mantle. "I told him I had news. What you do with it -- and what you are capable of doing with it -- is up to you. For myself, I'm paying attention to how many scales the kobolds get, because I have no illusions that the Children of Tiamat will want me around once their plan has come to fruition." He seems to suddenly realize he still has his burlap sack in one hand, and with forced casualness, tucks it behind his back, under one armpit. "Is there anything else? I have work to do besides telling the baron's errand-gnome information Wit's End should already know, if your people have any real interest in not sharing in the fate of the Treeline gnomes." [/QUOTE]
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Ptolus: Midwood - "The Dark Waters of Moss Pond"
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