NOW LIVE! Today's the day you meet your new best friend. You don’t have to leave Wolfy behind... In 'Pets & Sidekicks' your companions level up with you!

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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Sagiro" data-source="post: 424288" data-attributes="member: 726">Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 156 “Hey Eddings, you’re sure Skorg had nothing to do with this meal, right?”“Yes, Master Proudfoot.   Our guest has been out all morning.  This is bread from the Icebox, accompanied by expensive cheeses I purchased yesterday from the market.  I’m sure it’s not up to Ernest’s standards, but I trust it will be to your satisfaction.”Flicker picks up a large platter of food from a butcher block.  “It’s just that the smell down there is already pretty bad, and I don’t want to make it worse!”He carries the tray down to the basement.  As he reaches the bottom step his nose crinkles up reflexively.  He averts his head quickly to avoid coughing on the food.“I’ll just leave this bread and cheese on the bottom step if anyone wants some,” he says.  “I wouldn’t worry about the cats getting it.  They have enough sense not to come down here.”Flicker bounds back up the steps.The basement of the Greenhouse has been transformed into a large laboratory, replete with bubbling flasks, palettes of various powders, alembics, mortar-and-pestles, retorts, funnels, fermentation chambers, and dozens of additional pieces of alchemical apparatus.   Ernie stands over a large basin, carefully measuring herbs and chemicals into a progression of glass vials.  Dranko’s workbench has some coarser tools – chisels, a hammer, an engraving knife – in addition to iron pots of glowing inks and dyes.   Morningstar is alternately turning a long black wand over a small fire, and painting it with a fine brush.  And Aravis, whose workplace reeks of something sulfurous, tinkers with some gold wire that will be looped through his Headband of Intellect.  “I still plan on going into the Maze once this is done,” he says.  “Somewhere are the previous Keepers of the Maze who have had experience using it.  Well, in theory they’re in there.  I’m pretty sure.  Anyway, it’ll be fine.”“Tell us that again when you really are smarter.”  Kibi points to the Headband.“He’ll be smarter, not wiser,” Ernie observes.Kibi and Grey Wolf are still setting up their own work spaces in different corners of the basement; they have spent the past several days cloistered in their rooms scribing spells into their spellbooks.  (Kibi is particularly excited about adding teleport, and is eager to try it out , but he also wants to get everything prepared properly for making sashes of transparency for Grey Wolf and Dranko).  “Oh… drat!”Ernie is sitting at his small table, a flask in either hand, having just been dripping the contents of one carefully into the other.  Said other is now foaming over with a stinking black froth and spilling onto his hand.“Oh dear, oh dear!  And quickling sweat is so expensive…”He chucks the flask to shatter against the side of the basin.  There is a small flash, a puff of gray smoke, and then a pleasing smell of fresh fruit that lasts for almost a minute.“Everything’s under control.”He grins nervously at the others, all of whom have paused in their own projects to stare. * * *Another day passes, and things are for the most part going smoothly, but Ernie and Grey Wolf are both feeling ill, and some of the others are noticing a disturbing shortness of breath.  Ernie comments to Kibi about it during lunch, and the dwarf promises to come down from his spell scribing and have a look.  He spends a few minutes sniffing the air and examining everyone’s reagents before stopping at Dranko’s table.  Dranko is working on improving his whip of the searing tongue, but on the corner of the table he is steeping sparrow feathers in a thick infusion, anticipatory of the winged shield he intends to make for Ernie.  “Ah!” says Kibi.  Here’s the problem.   The vapors from the yellowvine extract Dranko’s using for his bird wings are mixing with Aravis’ sulfur.   You don’t want those things to mingle in the air – it’ll thicken in your lungs and give you the wheezes.  The extract’s pretty thick though, and the vapors don’t travel far.  Aravis, you should probably switch places with Morningstar.  That should solve the problem.  And we should all get cure disease spells in the next couple of days.”The arrangements are made, and work continues apace.  The only incident that comes of the switch is when Edghar, finding himself closer to Aravis’ pungent project, vomits on the floor.  Aravis glances up only long enough to observe:“Save that.  Spell components.” …before returning to his headband of intellectOne Certain Step has stumbled into an unusual way to avoid boredom.  Only a few days into the item-crafting frenzy, the Kivian paladin finds himself the only one in the living room.  Flicker is off honing his roguish skills on an unsuspecting citizenry (and the less Step knows about that the better), and the others are all either down in that horrific basement or shut in their rooms with their spellbooks.  He has spent the morning out in the back yard hacking up a practice dummy, and is enjoying a cup of juice on the sofa when there is a knock on the door.   Eddings is in the kitchen cleaning up and doesn’t hear, so Step gets up and answers the door himself. He greets a young teenager, a boy of fourteen or so years, wearing a tabard denoting him as a novice of Werthis.  The youth is clearly nervous, and Step (after applying the Farazil Test himself) invites him into the Greenhouse.“I am Foster, from the Church of Werthis,” he says.  “You must be…er… One Certain Step, right?”“Yes,” says Step.  “You know me?”“This is the Greenhouse, right?  I was told that the Heroes of the Kalkas Peaks lived here.  The ones who also helped Faskel Giantbane kill the Ventifact Colossus.  That’s you, right?”“While I personally was not involved with the Colossus, yes, you have come to the right place,” says Step.  “What can I do for you?”“Er.  Well.  We were, um, hoping that you could help us.  Over at the church, I mean.  Of Werthis.”“Take a deep breath, boy,” says Step, giving a reassuring smile.  “I’m sure we can help you.  What do you need?”“Well, it’s kind of embarrassing, but…er… we need warriors.  To train the kids.  You see, the place is pretty much emptied out what with the war going on, but there’s always the need to teach the next group of students.  One of our last trainers just got called to duty down on the Peninsula.  Mosca is the only one left, and said we could really use the help, but all the likely people are gone, except for some city guardsmen who can’t take the time with manpower stretched so thin already, and someone said that there were fighting men and women in the Greenhouse who might be able to help, so they sent me to… er…”Step stands up and bows to the boy.“Foster, I would consider it an honor to come and assist in the training of your young warriors.   Please, lead the way.”Foster is dumbstruck but delighted.  He stammers out an expression of gratitude and the two of them head for the door.“Eddings, please tell the others that I will be at the Church of Werthis for the remainder of the afternoon.”“Very good, sir.”A few minutes later Step is being greeted by at the Church by Mosca, a strong, heavyset, middle-aged woman in chainmail.  She is overjoyed at the volunteer brought back from the Greenhouse by Foster. “We have two classes,” she says to Step, leading him down a high-ceilinged corridor.  “They were supposed to start this morning, but Tyveron was called to the war last night.  I can teach one, but there are too many for a single instructor.   The group I was going to give you is mostly teenagers, with a few younger children.  The oldest is seventeen.  Have you taught children to fight before?”“No,” says Step.  “But I am a skilled fighter, and I learned the arts myself at a young age.  I will be able to train them.”“We don’t have as much time as I’d like.  The church leaders want them ready for real conflict in six weeks.  Now, I don’t think anyone intends them to be front-line combatants that soon, but they will serve as runners, aides and servants, and should know what to do with a sword in a pinch.  A couple of the older children have real potential, I think.  And here we are.”She turns from the hallway into a courtyard, where thirty children ranging in age from nine to seventeen are taking the opportunity to misbehave in the absence of adult supervision.   Most are sparring chaotically with their wooden training swords; Step notes that their technique ranges from decent to atrocious.  Mosca clears her throat and the students snap to attention, forming up in ragged rows in front of her.  The gawk at Step, an impressive figure in his magical plate mail.“Children, this is One Certain Step.  He has seen many battles and vanquished many enemies.  He is going to help make you into strong warriors.  You will treat him with the respect due to any elder of the Church, and obey his commands as they were my own.  Understood?”Thirty heads bob up and down.  Step looks out over the ranks of kids – mostly boys, but with a few girls as well – and picks up a wooden sword that leans against the wall.  Without saying anything he walks to the nearest boy (a gangly kid about twelve years old), flicks his sword out, and trips him with a clean sweep.  The boy falls with a thud on his posterior. The other kids start to laugh, but Step is already moving to the next kid.  Whoomph!  A sixteen-year old tomboy is sent sprawling.   Before ten seconds have passed, another three kids have been knocked on their butts.  The others, realizing what’s going on, start to defend themselves.  It doesn’t matter.  Step moves gracefully through the crowd, leaving bruised, scattered children on the ground in his wake.  One minute later, all thirty kids have been knocked down.  Only the oldest boy, the seventeen-year-old (whose name is Thommel) forces Step to execute so much as a single feint.  The paladin returns to stand by Mosca and watches while they stand, groaning and muttering. “That was the first lesson,” he says gravely.  “How to fall down.  The next lesson will be how to fall down without hurting yourselves so much.   Let’s begin.”Mosca turns, somehow manages to suppress a grin, and murmurs “have fun” before leaving her students alone with their new teacher.* * *Step returns in the early evening, satisfied that his students have made progress.  By tomorrow their bruises should have healed well enough for another session.  Mosca was pleased that Step wanted to return, her students somewhat less so.  The others of the Company are greatly amused to hear what Step has been up to.  Several of them express interest in helping with the training with some of their few free hours – Ernie especially, who knows plenty of tricks useful for shorter combatants.Kibi announces that he’s going to leave for Eggemoggin in a few minutes.“I’m going to teleport he says proudly.  “Anyone want to come with me?  It’ll just be for the evening, so I can surprise my folks.  We’ll be back in the morning.”“On your first teleport?”  Morningstar raises her eyes skeptically.  “I’m sure there won’t be any problems.  We’ll go to my front doorstep – I’m very familiar with it, so the chances of a mistake are really small.”Morningstar agrees to accompany him – she just wants a few minutes to pray for the spell water breathing.  Step also agrees to go with him.   Kibi waves his arms around, utters some arcane syllables, and in a sliver of an instant the three of them are standing safely outside Kibi’s childhood home.  The sun is setting over the mountains, and the sounds of dwarven laughter come from a neighbor’s house.“It worked!”  Kibi exclaims.“Just as you said it would,” says Step.  “Well done.”Kibi knocks on the door, and is soon swept up in the overjoyed embrace of his mother.  “Bim!  Your son is here!  He just magicked himself over straight away from Tal Hae!”A warm family reunion follows.  Kibi notices that his parents have acquired more expensive furnishings since his last visit.  It seems that the prestige afforded the father of one of the Heroes of the Kalkas Peaks has increased the demand for his stonecutting.  Business has been booming for Bim Tazhadson.  Overnight in the Bimson household, Morningstar goes into Ava Dormo to meet again with Evenstar.   Evenstar introduces a dozen or so of her sisters from Kivia, training in the field outside the dream of Amber’s church in Tal Hae.  There are others, says Evenstar, who are busily scribing scrolls of direct dreaming so that they can all come to Charagan when the pinch comes.  They discuss matters of personnel and training techniques for a few moments, before Evenstar suddenly holds up a hand.“Excuse me, Morningstar.  I am being addressed.  Please guard my body for a moment.”  Her eyes glaze over for a second, and she stands mute.  Morningstar looks on, puzzled.  A minute later Evenstar’s eyes refocus.“My apologies,” she says.  “One of my sisters had a message for me to give to you.”“How did you do that?”  asks Morningstar, intrigued.  “I mean, communicate with someone in the waking world while also staying here with me.”“Don’t you know?”  Evenstar looks surprised.  “It is one of the dreaming techniques my mother taught me.  I can maintain a general awareness over my real body while I walk in Ava Dormo.  If someone approaches or addresses me, I will know it.  If I wish, I can move my consciousness from one aspect to the other, depending on where my awareness is needed.  For a short period of time, I can even act in both places at once.  If you’d like, I can teach how the techniques.”“I’d like that very much.  But what was the message?”“It was a query from your associate Snokas.  He wishes to know if you give your permission for him to return to his home in southern Kivia.”Morningstar thinks for a moment before answering.“I’d like for him to stay with you a little while longer,” she says at last.  “But tell him soon.  He has served us well, and I’d like to have him as a possible guard and messenger until out business – whenever that is – is concluded.”“As you wish.”* * *The next morning Kibi teleports back to Tal Hae, again without mishap.  Most of the Company settles in for another day of busy crafting and scribing, while Flicker hits the streets and Step heads over to the Church of Werthis to continue his volunteer work.  All is going smoothly, when Grey Wolf (in the midst of drawing a tricky symbol of the spell assassins’ senses) hears a sharp sound from down the hall.  He sits bolt upright.  It sounded like the start of a high-pitched shriek, cut off after less than a second.  It was a familiar sound.  It was…“That was the crystal ball!” cries Ernie, bounding up the stairs.  “It’s Ozilinsh!”  They rush into the secret room, expecting to see Ozilinsh’s face (or maybe Mrs. Horn’s) in the glass globe upon the table.  Instead they find that a piece of paper has been stuck to the – well, the “inside” of the crystal ball.   It’s bowed out (from their point of view) in a convex curve, making it hard to read.  The badly scrawled handwriting doesn’t help matters any.  But soon the whole Company is crowded around the crystal ball, and together they make out the content of the message: cannot disengage now.  3 months at outside, probably less.  Tell Crunard, assemble troops at Verdshane.   Stasis will double as 48-hour warning when it falls....to be continued...</blockquote>

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