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Sniktch's Story Hour Prelude - From the Beginning (UPDATED 04/22)
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<blockquote data-quote="Sniktch" data-source="post: 430863" data-attributes="member: 7704"><p><strong>Rats for breakfast and the puzzle solved</strong></p><p></p><p>Thanks, Harp. If my readers are enjoying this as much as we enjoyed playing it and I enjoy writing it, then I can't really ask for anything more.</p><p></p><p>Anyway, on with the next installment:</p><p></p><p>Welby awoke before the others, as was his habit, and found that Artimas had also risen early, and scribbled in a book by a small flickering lamp, glancing up from time to time and studying the sleeping companions. The shadows thrown across the scholar’s face by the lantern gave it a sinister bent, as if the old man was staring at him with seething half-lidded eyes and an expression of pure malice. </p><p></p><p>Welby jumped up and gave a little yell, and Artimas seemed to actually see him now, dispelling the illusion. The mage smiled and his face looked friendly and compassionate again as he beckoned the halfling to join him.</p><p></p><p>“Good morning, my little friend. I apologize if my appearance startled you in some manner, or perhaps you are just used to being the first person up. Why are you up so early?”</p><p></p><p>Welby scowled, little creases spreading across his childlike brow, “You first.”</p><p></p><p>“Fair enough,” Artimas extended his hand, offering the book to the halfling. Welby glanced at the page and saw a picture drawn on it; Artimas had sketched him while he was asleep! He wasn’t bad, either, Welby was forced to admit as he examined the picture closer. It really looked just like him.</p><p></p><p>As Welby handed the book back a rumbling growl erupted from his belly. He grinned at Artimas, explaining, “Me hungry. Always hungry. Get up for snack before breakfast.” The halfling collected his weapons, slinging his axe over his back and readying an arrow before starting to creep softly into the cave. </p><p></p><p>Artimas was puzzled. “Welby, the trail rations are right over...” he began, but the warrior was shaking his head, cutting him off.</p><p></p><p>“Like rat better.”</p><p></p><p>Artimas put his book down, grabbed the lamp and started following Welby. “Really? Is it because its fresh? Then we should go to the room where Jack and Eli fought the ghouls - rats and ghouls are nearly synonymous.”</p><p></p><p>They headed down the hall, unbarred the door, and stepped inside. The air hung with a faint charnel reek of death, and a number of rats did run squeaking from their light. While Welby hunted down as many as he could, Artimas examined the moldering old coffins and their skeletal contents.</p><p></p><p>“Hey, Welby, look at this,” he called, and the halfling turned to find him holding a beautiful steel axehead, still razor sharp even after its owner had rotted away. He eagerly accepted the metal piece, and moments later pried the pitted, iron blade from his axe’s handle and replaced it with the steel dwarven craftsmanship. He gave it a few practice swipes before slinging it over his back again, satisfied.</p><p></p><p>Artimas looked at the fruit’s of Welby’s hunt, a half dozen rats neatly skewered on the arrows that killed them. Alright, so he was hungry and curious, but he was going to cook it at least. “Welby, mind if I take one of these?”</p><p>____________________________</p><p></p><p>When they returned to the supply room the rest of the companions were moving about. Ike prepared a meal whilst the rest studied spellbooks, strapped on armor, and exchanged light banter. Welby was polishing off his third rat, raw of course, while Artimas delicately picked at his. The mage had used one cantrip to hold the rodent suspended in the air and a second to roast it.</p><p></p><p>Jack stormed over when he saw Welby, a deep frown on his face. “Ya little savage! Disrespectin the dead!” He pointed at the new blade on Welby’s axe as he spoke. Welby looked nonplussed, so Jack continued, “Ya stole one o’ them blades from the other room, ya filthy thief - ya stole from the dead!”</p><p></p><p>Welby shrugged. “This one better, make trade.”</p><p></p><p>Jack was turning a deep shade of violet when Artimas came to the halfling’s defense. “Look, it isn’t like the person he took it from needed it or is going to miss it. That person is dead, and their spirit is in the afterlife, no longer burdened by mortal concerns. Besides, isn’t that what adventurers do? Steal from the dead?” He paused for dramatic effect. “If not, what are we doing in these ancient ruins? Isn’t everything we gather from this place, in a way, stealing from the dead?”</p><p></p><p>Jack sputtered, “That’s different!”</p><p></p><p>“How so different? Because he took it right off their bodies or because they were dwarves?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, because they were dwarves! Stealin from yer enemies isn’t even theft - its well-earned spoils fer slayin scum! But stealin from the interred remains o’ fallen honorable warriors is disrespectful and wrong.”</p><p></p><p>Eli joined the argument, laying a soothing hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come Jack, it is not prudent that we allow strife to grow among us. Remember not all share your beliefs and values, and we must tolerate their freedom of will.”</p><p></p><p>Stumpwater Jack turned angrily and stomped away. “I’ll be waitin at the lift, then,” he growled as he departed. Eli raised his hands in silent apology before following.</p><p>__________________________________________</p><p></p><p>The next few hours passed very slowly. They had all loaded onto the lift and gone back down to the third floor, then headed for the room with the hole in the floor. In the center of the chamber, a circular depression several inches deep was engraved in the exact middle of the room. Six grooves fanned out around it like spokes on a wheel, running up to, and, they discovered, continuing under, the walls. A message inscribed on the archway leading into the great hall read, “The dwarven spirit is filled with secrets.” </p><p></p><p>The tension grew thick in the air as each silently contemplated the pattern on the floor and the one clue they had, trying to put the pieces together and understand what it meant. At one point Eli discovered that the floor sloped gradually upwards towards the center of the chamber, but they weren’t entirely sure what to make of that, either. Finally, an exasperated Jack cried, “Look, I’m a dwarf an’ I’m tellin ya the only dwarven spirits I know is beer!”</p><p></p><p>Ike exclaimed, “Jack, that’s it!” and pulled out his waterskin, moving to the center of the room. He dumped the contents into the hole, and they watched as it ran down each of the spokes and flowed under the walls. Six distinct clicks were heard a minute later and then, as they waited anxiously, a lound grinding noise reverberated through the hall. As they watched one of the wall sections, on the east wall, slowly slid and scraped out of the way, leaving a dark aperture in its wake. Breathless with excitement they rushed over and found themselves standing at the top of a dark, dusty flight of stairs, leading further and further down...</p><p></p><p>Next: the **** hits the fan</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sniktch, post: 430863, member: 7704"] [b]Rats for breakfast and the puzzle solved[/b] Thanks, Harp. If my readers are enjoying this as much as we enjoyed playing it and I enjoy writing it, then I can't really ask for anything more. Anyway, on with the next installment: Welby awoke before the others, as was his habit, and found that Artimas had also risen early, and scribbled in a book by a small flickering lamp, glancing up from time to time and studying the sleeping companions. The shadows thrown across the scholar’s face by the lantern gave it a sinister bent, as if the old man was staring at him with seething half-lidded eyes and an expression of pure malice. Welby jumped up and gave a little yell, and Artimas seemed to actually see him now, dispelling the illusion. The mage smiled and his face looked friendly and compassionate again as he beckoned the halfling to join him. “Good morning, my little friend. I apologize if my appearance startled you in some manner, or perhaps you are just used to being the first person up. Why are you up so early?” Welby scowled, little creases spreading across his childlike brow, “You first.” “Fair enough,” Artimas extended his hand, offering the book to the halfling. Welby glanced at the page and saw a picture drawn on it; Artimas had sketched him while he was asleep! He wasn’t bad, either, Welby was forced to admit as he examined the picture closer. It really looked just like him. As Welby handed the book back a rumbling growl erupted from his belly. He grinned at Artimas, explaining, “Me hungry. Always hungry. Get up for snack before breakfast.” The halfling collected his weapons, slinging his axe over his back and readying an arrow before starting to creep softly into the cave. Artimas was puzzled. “Welby, the trail rations are right over...” he began, but the warrior was shaking his head, cutting him off. “Like rat better.” Artimas put his book down, grabbed the lamp and started following Welby. “Really? Is it because its fresh? Then we should go to the room where Jack and Eli fought the ghouls - rats and ghouls are nearly synonymous.” They headed down the hall, unbarred the door, and stepped inside. The air hung with a faint charnel reek of death, and a number of rats did run squeaking from their light. While Welby hunted down as many as he could, Artimas examined the moldering old coffins and their skeletal contents. “Hey, Welby, look at this,” he called, and the halfling turned to find him holding a beautiful steel axehead, still razor sharp even after its owner had rotted away. He eagerly accepted the metal piece, and moments later pried the pitted, iron blade from his axe’s handle and replaced it with the steel dwarven craftsmanship. He gave it a few practice swipes before slinging it over his back again, satisfied. Artimas looked at the fruit’s of Welby’s hunt, a half dozen rats neatly skewered on the arrows that killed them. Alright, so he was hungry and curious, but he was going to cook it at least. “Welby, mind if I take one of these?” ____________________________ When they returned to the supply room the rest of the companions were moving about. Ike prepared a meal whilst the rest studied spellbooks, strapped on armor, and exchanged light banter. Welby was polishing off his third rat, raw of course, while Artimas delicately picked at his. The mage had used one cantrip to hold the rodent suspended in the air and a second to roast it. Jack stormed over when he saw Welby, a deep frown on his face. “Ya little savage! Disrespectin the dead!” He pointed at the new blade on Welby’s axe as he spoke. Welby looked nonplussed, so Jack continued, “Ya stole one o’ them blades from the other room, ya filthy thief - ya stole from the dead!” Welby shrugged. “This one better, make trade.” Jack was turning a deep shade of violet when Artimas came to the halfling’s defense. “Look, it isn’t like the person he took it from needed it or is going to miss it. That person is dead, and their spirit is in the afterlife, no longer burdened by mortal concerns. Besides, isn’t that what adventurers do? Steal from the dead?” He paused for dramatic effect. “If not, what are we doing in these ancient ruins? Isn’t everything we gather from this place, in a way, stealing from the dead?” Jack sputtered, “That’s different!” “How so different? Because he took it right off their bodies or because they were dwarves?” “Yes, because they were dwarves! Stealin from yer enemies isn’t even theft - its well-earned spoils fer slayin scum! But stealin from the interred remains o’ fallen honorable warriors is disrespectful and wrong.” Eli joined the argument, laying a soothing hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come Jack, it is not prudent that we allow strife to grow among us. Remember not all share your beliefs and values, and we must tolerate their freedom of will.” Stumpwater Jack turned angrily and stomped away. “I’ll be waitin at the lift, then,” he growled as he departed. Eli raised his hands in silent apology before following. __________________________________________ The next few hours passed very slowly. They had all loaded onto the lift and gone back down to the third floor, then headed for the room with the hole in the floor. In the center of the chamber, a circular depression several inches deep was engraved in the exact middle of the room. Six grooves fanned out around it like spokes on a wheel, running up to, and, they discovered, continuing under, the walls. A message inscribed on the archway leading into the great hall read, “The dwarven spirit is filled with secrets.” The tension grew thick in the air as each silently contemplated the pattern on the floor and the one clue they had, trying to put the pieces together and understand what it meant. At one point Eli discovered that the floor sloped gradually upwards towards the center of the chamber, but they weren’t entirely sure what to make of that, either. Finally, an exasperated Jack cried, “Look, I’m a dwarf an’ I’m tellin ya the only dwarven spirits I know is beer!” Ike exclaimed, “Jack, that’s it!” and pulled out his waterskin, moving to the center of the room. He dumped the contents into the hole, and they watched as it ran down each of the spokes and flowed under the walls. Six distinct clicks were heard a minute later and then, as they waited anxiously, a lound grinding noise reverberated through the hall. As they watched one of the wall sections, on the east wall, slowly slid and scraped out of the way, leaving a dark aperture in its wake. Breathless with excitement they rushed over and found themselves standing at the top of a dark, dusty flight of stairs, leading further and further down... Next: the **** hits the fan [/QUOTE]
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