Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 11
The three companions, Ruphos, Zenna, and Arun, faced off against a gnomish locksmith who was clearly involved in some quite shady dealings. At the moment, he was holding a knife to the throat of their friend, who had been knocked unconsciousness through some unknown magic.
“Drop your weapons!” the gnome commanded. “And keep your distance!”
Arun dropped his heavy warhammer, which landed on the stone floor with a solid thunk. But he only used that as an opportunity to draw out on of the lighter hammers from his belt, and he hefted it easily in his hand, a missile ready to be hurled in an instant.
“You harm her, you will face the justice of the Soul Forger,” he said, his voice flat with deadly earnest.
Zenna’s mind whirled, as she tried to come up with something that could ease this situation, and save her best friend in the world... her only friend. But it was Ruphos who stepped forward, who tore the magical hat from his head to reveal his true features.
“Keygan! I’m Ruphos Laro, of the church of Helm! Keygan, don’t do this!”
“Ruphos?” the gnome said. His entire body was trembling, now, but he did not release his grip on the dagger, nor did its edge dip from Mole’s throat.
“Keygan, you’re a respected member of this community? What are you doing? Whatever trouble you’re involved in, we can help you!”
The gnome shook his head. “Look, just go, get out of here. I’ll let her go if you leave, and don’t come back!”
“We can’t do that, Keygan,” Ruphos said. “Keygan, they took children. From the orphanage, four innocents.”
The gnome let out a sob, and staggered. “I’m... I’m so sorry,” he said, heaving the dagger away from him and releasing Mole. Zenna was there in an instant to catch her friend, while Arun kept the gnome under close scrutiny, his hammer still noticeably handy in his fist. But all fight had gone out of Keygan Ghelve, and he sagged to the floor, a broken man.
Mole was stirring, and she seemed all right, just stunned. Zenna helped her up, and the four of them faced the gnome, who seemed to shrink under their scrutiny.
“You’d better start from the beginning,” Arun intoned.
* * * * *
The gnome’s tale answered some questions, but left others tantalizingly unanswered.
Deep within the volcano, far under the city of Cauldron, lay various networks of tunnels and caverns. Many of these were natural, formed by ancient volcanic action while the volcano was still active, while others had been expanded and altered by residents who came after. One such group were the gnomes of Jzadirune.
Jzadirune had been a thriving underground community of gnomes who had prospered in the early days of Cauldron. Created by practitioners of the arcane mysteries, it had become known for a time for its magical creations, including rings and other miscellaneous items of great power. But Keygan told them that about three generations ago, the community had experienced a very sudden and dramatic decline. The gnome’s information was vague on the details, but apparently a sickness of magical origin had emerged within the community, claiming many of its members. The survivors had gathered their possessions and left Jzadirune behind for some distant and unremembered destination.
By now most Cauldronites had forgotten that the gnome city had even existed, but the Ghelve family had maintained one link to this history. Under his shop lay a hidden staircase, the sole remaining access from the surface to the gnomish enclave. Keygan had all but forgotten about it—he certainly wasn’t going to go exploring there—when one day some months ago, his life had changed.
They came through the secret door in the middle of the night, catching him by surprise, subduing him before he could defend himself. To compel his obedience, they’d taken captive his closest friend and companion, his rat familiar. Through the bond that existed between wizard and familiar, he could sense Starbrow’s distress, alone and hungry in a dark place somewhere below.
Ghelve told them everything; there was no reason for him to hold back, now. The creatures came in two varieties; “tall ones”—skulks, like the one they’d killed, and “short ones.” The latter Ghelve described as sinister gnome-like beings, except with pale, sickly flesh, bulbous noses, and cloven hooves for feet. There had been no leader that Ghelve had seen, indicating that whoever was coordinating these attacks might possibly have remained below the city, in the abandoned gnome enclave, or perhaps deeper. Ghelve acknowledged that he really didn’t know what else lay below the city, but it was possible that other occupied caverns lay deeper, or perhaps even an access to that deepest of caves, the Underdark.
The gnome was able to give them one final guide: an ancient parchment that contained a finely traced map of the gnome enclave. This useful document Mole took into custody, examining it for several minutes before rolling it carefully and tucking it into her belt pouch.
An hour after they had entered the shop, the four companions gathered at the base of the stair, near the secret door. The boards were cracked where the skulk had slammed into them, making the edges of the hidden portal more obvious. The dead creature had been pushed into a corner, his corpse just a lump under the cover of a carpet. Ghelve, still under the watchful eyes of the dwarf paladin, fidgeted, his hands and feet bound securely by a length of rope that Mole had found in one of the rooms upstairs. The room was dim, as they’d closed the drapes in the display window. Ghelve’s Locks was, for the moment, closed for business.
“Better gag him, too,” Mole suggested, putting her own suggestion into effect by stuffing a kerchief into his mouth even as the locksmith opened it to protest. Working quickly, she wrapped a length of cord around his head, securing the makeshift gag.
“You seem to be enjoying that,” Zenna said.
Mole shrugged. “It’s my own fault, I let him catch me off guard.” But she did seem a bit eager as she tested the gnome’s bonds, giving each a good yank and ignoring Ghelve’s grimace each time.
“I still say this is foolish,” Ruphos said. “We should contact the proper authorities... at least let me go and notify Jenya of what we found!”
“The messenger we sent will give her enough information to find her way here,” Mole said, as she stood. “But we cannot afford to delay. Remember the last line in Jenya’s divination: Half a dwarf binds them, but not for long. We have to act quickly, especially if that skulk was able to send a warning to his friends below.”
Ruphos persisted, saying, “But... we don’t know how many there are, there’s just the four of us!”
Arun sent him a cold look. “Go then, priest, if you think it best. I fear not the dark places under the earth, and certainly not those scum,” he added, indicating the lump that was the dead skulk.
“I’m not afraid,” he said defiantly, but then he shook his head. “All right, so I am afraid, but it’s also common sense! What happens if that man you hired decides not to deliver the message to Jenya, or gets run over by a wagon in the street? At least let’s rouse the Guard!”
Zenna came up behind Ruphos and touched him on the shoulder. “We’re all afraid, Ruphos; this is deadly serious stuff, not something we’re doing on a lark. But we have to assume that whoever is holding the children is going to be aware that this part of his operation has been discovered, if he hasn’t already. If we wait, or head down there with a large armed force, we may lose our chance to find them.”
Arun, who’d unlimbered his heavy shield and warhammer, looking fierce indeed in his scaled armor and helm, snorted. “Enough talking, let’s do this thing. Go with your warning, priest. Tell your friends they can follow the bodies of the evildoers we’ll leave in our wake.”
Ruphos looked at Zenna, who nodded. But the cleric swallowed and said, “All right, let’s get going then.”
Mole and Zenna exchanged a look, then moved into position behind the dwarf. Ruphos fell in behind them, hefting his mace.
Arun tucked his hammer into the crook of his shield arm, and with a mighty wrench pulled open the damaged secret door, revealing a black space beyond that waited expectantly for them.
The three companions, Ruphos, Zenna, and Arun, faced off against a gnomish locksmith who was clearly involved in some quite shady dealings. At the moment, he was holding a knife to the throat of their friend, who had been knocked unconsciousness through some unknown magic.
“Drop your weapons!” the gnome commanded. “And keep your distance!”
Arun dropped his heavy warhammer, which landed on the stone floor with a solid thunk. But he only used that as an opportunity to draw out on of the lighter hammers from his belt, and he hefted it easily in his hand, a missile ready to be hurled in an instant.
“You harm her, you will face the justice of the Soul Forger,” he said, his voice flat with deadly earnest.
Zenna’s mind whirled, as she tried to come up with something that could ease this situation, and save her best friend in the world... her only friend. But it was Ruphos who stepped forward, who tore the magical hat from his head to reveal his true features.
“Keygan! I’m Ruphos Laro, of the church of Helm! Keygan, don’t do this!”
“Ruphos?” the gnome said. His entire body was trembling, now, but he did not release his grip on the dagger, nor did its edge dip from Mole’s throat.
“Keygan, you’re a respected member of this community? What are you doing? Whatever trouble you’re involved in, we can help you!”
The gnome shook his head. “Look, just go, get out of here. I’ll let her go if you leave, and don’t come back!”
“We can’t do that, Keygan,” Ruphos said. “Keygan, they took children. From the orphanage, four innocents.”
The gnome let out a sob, and staggered. “I’m... I’m so sorry,” he said, heaving the dagger away from him and releasing Mole. Zenna was there in an instant to catch her friend, while Arun kept the gnome under close scrutiny, his hammer still noticeably handy in his fist. But all fight had gone out of Keygan Ghelve, and he sagged to the floor, a broken man.
Mole was stirring, and she seemed all right, just stunned. Zenna helped her up, and the four of them faced the gnome, who seemed to shrink under their scrutiny.
“You’d better start from the beginning,” Arun intoned.
* * * * *
The gnome’s tale answered some questions, but left others tantalizingly unanswered.
Deep within the volcano, far under the city of Cauldron, lay various networks of tunnels and caverns. Many of these were natural, formed by ancient volcanic action while the volcano was still active, while others had been expanded and altered by residents who came after. One such group were the gnomes of Jzadirune.
Jzadirune had been a thriving underground community of gnomes who had prospered in the early days of Cauldron. Created by practitioners of the arcane mysteries, it had become known for a time for its magical creations, including rings and other miscellaneous items of great power. But Keygan told them that about three generations ago, the community had experienced a very sudden and dramatic decline. The gnome’s information was vague on the details, but apparently a sickness of magical origin had emerged within the community, claiming many of its members. The survivors had gathered their possessions and left Jzadirune behind for some distant and unremembered destination.
By now most Cauldronites had forgotten that the gnome city had even existed, but the Ghelve family had maintained one link to this history. Under his shop lay a hidden staircase, the sole remaining access from the surface to the gnomish enclave. Keygan had all but forgotten about it—he certainly wasn’t going to go exploring there—when one day some months ago, his life had changed.
They came through the secret door in the middle of the night, catching him by surprise, subduing him before he could defend himself. To compel his obedience, they’d taken captive his closest friend and companion, his rat familiar. Through the bond that existed between wizard and familiar, he could sense Starbrow’s distress, alone and hungry in a dark place somewhere below.
Ghelve told them everything; there was no reason for him to hold back, now. The creatures came in two varieties; “tall ones”—skulks, like the one they’d killed, and “short ones.” The latter Ghelve described as sinister gnome-like beings, except with pale, sickly flesh, bulbous noses, and cloven hooves for feet. There had been no leader that Ghelve had seen, indicating that whoever was coordinating these attacks might possibly have remained below the city, in the abandoned gnome enclave, or perhaps deeper. Ghelve acknowledged that he really didn’t know what else lay below the city, but it was possible that other occupied caverns lay deeper, or perhaps even an access to that deepest of caves, the Underdark.
The gnome was able to give them one final guide: an ancient parchment that contained a finely traced map of the gnome enclave. This useful document Mole took into custody, examining it for several minutes before rolling it carefully and tucking it into her belt pouch.
An hour after they had entered the shop, the four companions gathered at the base of the stair, near the secret door. The boards were cracked where the skulk had slammed into them, making the edges of the hidden portal more obvious. The dead creature had been pushed into a corner, his corpse just a lump under the cover of a carpet. Ghelve, still under the watchful eyes of the dwarf paladin, fidgeted, his hands and feet bound securely by a length of rope that Mole had found in one of the rooms upstairs. The room was dim, as they’d closed the drapes in the display window. Ghelve’s Locks was, for the moment, closed for business.
“Better gag him, too,” Mole suggested, putting her own suggestion into effect by stuffing a kerchief into his mouth even as the locksmith opened it to protest. Working quickly, she wrapped a length of cord around his head, securing the makeshift gag.
“You seem to be enjoying that,” Zenna said.
Mole shrugged. “It’s my own fault, I let him catch me off guard.” But she did seem a bit eager as she tested the gnome’s bonds, giving each a good yank and ignoring Ghelve’s grimace each time.
“I still say this is foolish,” Ruphos said. “We should contact the proper authorities... at least let me go and notify Jenya of what we found!”
“The messenger we sent will give her enough information to find her way here,” Mole said, as she stood. “But we cannot afford to delay. Remember the last line in Jenya’s divination: Half a dwarf binds them, but not for long. We have to act quickly, especially if that skulk was able to send a warning to his friends below.”
Ruphos persisted, saying, “But... we don’t know how many there are, there’s just the four of us!”
Arun sent him a cold look. “Go then, priest, if you think it best. I fear not the dark places under the earth, and certainly not those scum,” he added, indicating the lump that was the dead skulk.
“I’m not afraid,” he said defiantly, but then he shook his head. “All right, so I am afraid, but it’s also common sense! What happens if that man you hired decides not to deliver the message to Jenya, or gets run over by a wagon in the street? At least let’s rouse the Guard!”
Zenna came up behind Ruphos and touched him on the shoulder. “We’re all afraid, Ruphos; this is deadly serious stuff, not something we’re doing on a lark. But we have to assume that whoever is holding the children is going to be aware that this part of his operation has been discovered, if he hasn’t already. If we wait, or head down there with a large armed force, we may lose our chance to find them.”
Arun, who’d unlimbered his heavy shield and warhammer, looking fierce indeed in his scaled armor and helm, snorted. “Enough talking, let’s do this thing. Go with your warning, priest. Tell your friends they can follow the bodies of the evildoers we’ll leave in our wake.”
Ruphos looked at Zenna, who nodded. But the cleric swallowed and said, “All right, let’s get going then.”
Mole and Zenna exchanged a look, then moved into position behind the dwarf. Ruphos fell in behind them, hefting his mace.
Arun tucked his hammer into the crook of his shield arm, and with a mighty wrench pulled open the damaged secret door, revealing a black space beyond that waited expectantly for them.
