D&D 5E Tap Tap Tap

[BoldItalic]

Two dwarves were arguing over a heap of coins that had spilled from a sack, and they didn't notice the elf creeping up on them.

"By Zog's Beard," said one, "We should have equal numbers, fair and fair alike. Start counting."

"Not so fast, Halgrim," said the other, "They aren't all the same size. We should weigh them out."

"Oh yes? And which weighs more - a pound of silver or a pound of gold? Answer me that, Balgrim, answer me that!"

Rylnethaz motioned to BoldItalic to come up quietly. "They have found a way in, perhaps they know the way out?" he whispered. BoldItalic was about to whisper a reply when he sneezed suddenly. The dwarves stopped arguing about silver and gold and started accusing each other of making sneezing noises.

"You trying to trick me, Balgrim? I don't fall for the noises-off trick that easily."

"You're the trickster, cousin Halgrim. You made that noise yourself!"

BoldItalic decided that waiting outside would accomplish nothing and walked purposefully forward. "Your pardon, gentlemen, I regret that it was my sneeze. I am BoldItalic, and this is my friend Sir Rylnethaz."

The two dwarves span round to confront the new arrivals. "It's a trick!" shouted Halgrim, "There aren't any people down here!"

"I assure you that we are indeed people," said BoldItalic smoothly, "but as to being down here, well, that is something we might discuss. I would like to offer you a trade."

"What sort of trade? This money is ours, we found it fair and square."

"No we didn't!"

"Yes we did!"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, we are not here for your money. But I can suggest how you might divide it fairly between you, and in return I would ask you a favour."

"What sort of favour?"

"We desire to leave this place and return to the surface, but my friend here and I are debating over the quickest route. He thinks one way and I think another. I wonder, could you settle it for us?"

The two dwarves looked at each other. "This human is stupid," said Balgrim. "Yeah, stupid," agreed Halgrim. "I said it first!" "No you didn't!" "Did!" "Didn't!"

BoldItalic interrupted their squabbling and said "Shall we begin? Halgrim, you must divide the coins into two piles, however you wish, but as equally as you can. When you, yourself, are satisfied that the division is fair, Balgrim will choose one or the other for his own and you take the remaining one."

"But he will take the bigest pile!" objected Halgrim.

"You must ensure that neither pile is bigger than the other, so it matters not to you, which he chooses."

"Nah, he'll just divide it into two small equal piles, I know him," protested Balgrim.

"It must be two equal equal piles of coins."

"Completely equal? No cheating?"

"Indeed."

The penny dropped. Or at least, the gold piece dropped. "He's right. You can't cheat." "But I want to cheat!" "And I want to cheat first!" "Okay, but I get the sack!" "No you don't!" "Yes I do!"

This could have gone on for some time, had not BoldItalic interrupted again. "Do we have a bargain, gentlemen?"

Halgrim glared at him and, as if in answer, unrolled a huge map that showed a maze of tunnels and stairways. He traced a route with his thumb. "That's the shortest way. There you are, now push off."

Balgrim objected. "Nah, that's not the quickest way. You want to go that way," and indicated a different route.

BoldItalic nodded to Rylnethaz and they both memorised the routes, as best they could. "Well, thank you for your assistance, gentlemen, we must be going. Pressing matters to attend to, you know how it is."

The dwarves turned their attention back to their heap of coins and the two friends crept away. They came to a fork in the tunnel. "I think it's this way," said BoldItalic. "No it isn't!" "Yes it is!" "Why are we arguing? What's wrong with this place?" "It's those dwarves. We've caught something from them." "You're right." "No, I'm not, you're right!"

They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Rylnethaz showed a coin that looked remarkably like one of the dwarves' and span it in the air. "Heads!" called BoldItalic. "Heads it is. We'll go that way," said Rylnethaz.

After a while, they felt that they were getting higher towards the surface. "Was that one of the dwarves' coins?" wondered BoldItalic. "Yes. You see," explained Rylnethaz, "they had 12,347 coins and that would never divide equally, so I took one away. Now they can have 6,173 each with none left over and they will never miss this one."

BoldItalic laughed.

 

[Rylnethaz]

Rylnethaz gave the coin another spin, caught it in the air and quickly put it in his pouch. “It seems we are getting closer to the surface, the air feels fresher and lighter. Assuming we don’t run into any more grave robbing half breeds or untold monstrosities, we should be on the surface soon. What do you think we should do, where do you think we should head? Is there any place nearby of a particular interest?”

BoldItalic pursed his lips and was lost in thought for a while.

 

[BoldItalic]

"I think," said BoldItalic after mumbling to himself for a while, "that, if we are going to go around adventuring together, we must gather a party before venturing forth."

"Do you mean, find some followers? We seems to be doing quite well, just the two of us."

"True, we have been fortunate and with your sword and my spells we have done much. But it was a close-run thing at times, was it not? My thought is that we should visit a hostelry that I know, to see who might care to join us. Besides," and here BoldItalic looked slyly at his friend, "a king needs a retinue."

"A day's rest and refreshment in a comfortable inn would certainly be welcome," agreed Rylnethaz, "And cheerful company is always a boon. Where is this place you propose?"

"The Crown and Unicorn, in the village of Backwater. It is about half a day's journey from my cabin. I have been there a few times - the ale is quite excellent, the pies passable and the clientele might reasonably be described as colourful."

"Then lead the way."

---

The walk along the road to Backwater was quite uneventful. They did stop to aid a miller who had rats in the cellar of his mill, and the miller's wife did press upon them some most excellent cakes, but you would expect that, wouldn't you? And there was the pool where they stopped for a drink (to wash down the cakes) that happened to be the dwelling-place of a distressed nymph who needed someone to recover her hoard of diamonds from a dried-up cave that she could not herself enter, but that is hardly worthy of mention. After all, to a future king and his future vizier, a gift of a diamond apiece the size of hens eggs is all in a day's work, is it not? And as for the pack of wolves surrounding a messenger on horseback, well, there were only five of them. One curious thing, though, is that the messenger was called Rufus and his horse was also called Rufus. Sometimes the gods have little jokes like that, don't they?

---

"That is Backwater, down there by the river," announced BoldItalic as the sun was beginning to set behind the distant hills, "and the large building with the smoke curling from the chimney is the Crown and Unicorn."

 

[Rylnethaz]

“So this down there is the Crown and Unicorn. My kingdom starts from a tavern Well, there are worse ways to start, I suppose.”

“Take it as an omen Rylnethaz, the inn has a crown in its name. It is obvious. It is written!”

“Nevertheless, I think it would be premature to announce myself as king Rylnethaz to these good people before asking for ale.”

“Of course not, it is neither proper nor fitting! We should have someone announce you! It is the kingly way,” said BoldItalic barely holding back a smile.

“That is not exactly what I meant BoldItalic. Besides, if we are going to do this we might as well use the right terminology, it should be Coronal Rylnethaz!”

“Coronal?”

“Yes, Coronal, the elven word sounds more fitting, don’t you think so, High Vizier and Grand Mage?” said Rylnethaz almost laughing, “we should have someone announce us as such before entering the village. It is proper, and fitting!” mimicking the pompous way BoldItalic had just used.

“On second thought, you are right, let’s start small and we’ll see from there. But we do need followers.”

The villagers of Backwater were a silent breed, minding their own business and never did they glance back a second time as the two adventurers made their way to the Crown and Unicorn. The sign over the inn entrance indeed depicted a unicorn galloping through a golden crown.

The smell of freshly baked pie filled the air as our heroes entered the main hall. The inn was filled with customers, more than BoldItalic usually found the last time he visited.

BoldItalic said, “Either the pies got better or there is something else going on. It is usually not that crowded here.”

 

[BoldItalic]

They made their way to the bar, where a rather overweight barkeeper wearing a chef's hat was putting up a blackboard. His name was Roland Butter.

Today's Special

• Bat Soup with Rafters
• Pork Dragonne
• Turnips Fumée
• Cheerful Cherry Pie

"Good evening, Roland," said BoldItalic, "Two flagons of your best ale, please."

"There was a halfling in here earlier, asking after you," remarked Roland as he drew the ale from a large oak cask behind the bar. "Didn't give a name. A bit shifty, if you ask me. Not the type we like to encourage in a reputable establishment, if you get my meaning. Caught him trying to steal the shine off a man's boots. Friend of yours, is he?"

BoldItalic glanced at Sir Rylnethaz and raised an eyebrow but the elf shook his head. "No-one we know," he said firmly.

In a far corner of the room, a group of priests wearing vestments and embroidered hats were clustered around an archpriest, laughing politely at his jokes. The archpriest was shorter but had a booming voice and a taller hat, so there was no mistaking who he was. One of the priests detached himself from the circle and came to the bar. "S-Six f-flagons of ale and a p-peppermint cordial, please," he stuttered, "and the b-blessings of Myrristra be upon thee."

"Certainly, your reverence," said Roland as he placed the flagons on a tray, "And would the cordial be for Archpriest Nathanuel?" He was wondering what size cup to use.

"N-No. It's f-for me," explained the priest, whose name was Brother Clotbert the Pathetic, "Ale gives m-me w-wind."

"I might know a spell to fix that," offered BoldItalic. "Simple alchemy, nothing difficult."

Clotbert's eyes went round with fright. "N-No! It is f-forbidden to d-dabble in the arcane!" and he flourished a silver chain with some sort of pendant on it, as if to ward off evil spirits. Except he was holding it backwards so if anything, he would have banished himself.

"Are you travelling far, tomorrow?" enquired Rylnethaz tactfully, to ease the tension of the moment.

"I-I don't know. W-We're going to the Temple of Myrristra in Ambletown, but n-nobody's told me where Ambletown is. I th-think I'm s-supposed to j-just know. If I ask n-now, I'll j-just look s-stupid."

"Have you considered running away?"

Clotbert's eyes went even rounder. It wasn't easy because you can't get much more circular than a circle, but he managed it somehow.

"You could be on secondment. Bringing the word of Myrristra to the ungodly. That would be me and BoldItalic, here. We don't worship her nearly enough. Hardly at all, in fact."

Clotbert's lips worked soundlessly for a while, as if one lip was arguing with the other. Then his eyebrows started arguing too. It gave a whole new meaning to the phrase 'inner conflict'. Eventually one side gained the upper eyelid and when he spoke, his voice had completely changed. "Right. When do we leave? My pack's unpstairs. Shall I get it down now? Is that my ale?" He swiftly downed four flagons of ale from his tray, one after the other, and offered the cup of peppermint cordial to a passing wench who giggled and made a saucy remark. "Join you later," said Clotbert over his shoulder, as he followed the wench out of the room.

"Strange are the ways of the gods," remarked Rylnethaz. "I get the distinct feeling that this was all arranged and we were lured here by Myrristra, just for Clotbert's benefit. We only thought we came here of our own free will."

"Let's hope so," replied BoldItalic.

"You don't feel manipulated?"

"I don't mind in the least. We came here to recruit some companions and any cleric who gets that kind of personal service from his deity without even asking, is good enough for me."

"I see what you mean," agreed Rylnethaz. "Well done, thou good and faithful vizier. But what about the halfling the barman mentioned? Should we try to recruit him too?"

"Do you still have that dwarven gold piece?"

"Yes, it's still in my pouch."

"If he's any good, it's not there."

 

[BoldItalic]

"Landlord, we will lodge here tonight. Your best bedchambers, please."

"Certainly, gentlemen. Would you care to give me your names?"

"Coronal Rylnethaz Redshield and his vizier BoldItalic. We may be joined by Archpriest Clotbert."

"Thank you, Coronal, that will be 8 Ducats. If you will attend a moment, my wife will show you to your rooms."

Upstairs in the Crown and Unicorn, it was quieter than in the crowded common-room downstairs. They were given an oak-panelled bedchamber furnished with four box beds, pleasantly warm and with a good log fire burning in the grate. Candles stood ready on a side table, for it was after sunset and would soon be dark, and a chest for belongings stood open beside it. A door led along a short side-passage to a private day room with a plain oak table and six uphostered chairs.

Rylnethaz pronounced the accommodation satisfactory and the innkeeper's wife left them. He unstrapped his pack, placed it in the chest and began to remove his armour. "Will our valuables be safe in here, do you think?" he asked BoldItalic, "There are halflings about, and it would be a shame to lose a crown before gaining a kingdom."

"Hmm. A little magic should secure it well enough." He closed the lid briefly, wove an Arcane Lock spell on it, then opened it again. "It will now open for you and me, but no-one else," he explained. "I will remove the spell before we leave. I will also set alarms on the doors and windows. If an intruder tries to get in, an invisible bell will ring loud enough to wake us if we are sleeping and, probably, frighten away any would-be thief. You might wish, however, to sleep with your sword beside you, as I shall my staff. Just in case."

"Well done, my noble vizier, I knew I could rely on you."

"Your majesty is too kind."

At that moment, Clotbert entered looking flushed and with his vestments on backwards. Rylnethaz pretended not to notice. "Ah, good, we are all here," he remarked, "Now we can put our heads together and make plans for establishing my kingdom."

"There are traditionally only two ways of doing it," suggested BoldItalic, "You could raise an army and capture a city and the country around it, or you could marry a princess and inherit her father's kingdom."

"I can do weddings," offered Clotbert helpfully, "Can you conjure up a princess?"

"Possibly, but I don't think it's as easy as that. She would have to be nobly rescued from the clutches of an evil dragon or some such, then fall madly in love with the Coronal. A lot could go wrong in that scenario. Love-philters might be arranged, but there is still the matter of the dragon. It would have to be a real one."

"Maybe not, then, but raising an army and beseiging a city sounds awfully difficult too. Accidents could happen. People might get hurt," countered Clotbert.

BoldItalic looked at Rylnethaz. "Perhaps it is time for the king to make a decision."

 

[Rylnethaz]

“An excellent and keen analysis as always my friend,” said Rylnethaz.

“Thank you but I was merely stating the options available.”

“You don’t have to be modest, your analysis represents our situation with perfect clarity. I also think that the best course of action is perfectly clear now. As you have already said there are two ways, I will merely put it in different words, the way of the sword and the way of the ceremony.”

“Ah, I see what you mean,” said BoldItalic, “the truth is I had a feeling you would choose that way, even before you told me so, and it is the only fitting way for a Coronal.”

“I knew you would understand. That is exactly the reason you are the High Vizier. Now we have to arrange for the details of the matter.”

Clotbert stared puzzled first at Rylnethaz then at BoldItalic and then back at Rylnethaz. When he could not hold himself any more he asked in a desperate tone, “So? What did he choose, I don’t get it, did you understand? How is it that you understand, he didn't say anything!”

“And he didn't have to, it is plainly obvious,” replied BoldItalic.

“High Vizier, I think that the faithful Archpriest has earned one of your inspiring and famous expositions, don’t you think?”

“Certainly Coronal, with pleasure. My dear Clotbert, Rylnethaz says that a kingdom should be earned, created in the fire of battle and not obtained through the shortcut of a fortunate wedding.”

“Exactly! Besides, I can always find and rescue a princess too when I am a king.”

“But why bother then, you will already be a king,” asked Clotbert.

“Why did you run after the wench Clotbert? I like princesses! Especially beautiful, elven ones!”

That last remark from Rylnethaz made them all laugh for quite a while. BoldItalic got everyone back on track by asking, “so, an army then, what would our next step be Coronal?”

“First we need money, armies are not raised without money, so we have to find an ancient vault, a tomb of a necromancer or something similar. We would also need a sword, a magical blade, every Coronal has a magical sword. After that, I am sure we will find a city under a tyrannical ruler to liberate, it seems tyrants are not rare these days.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said BoldItalic.

“Oh now that I remember, that dwarven coin is gone, your Halfling seems quite capable, how are we going to contact him, he would certainly prove indispensable. Am I to assume you know how to find him?

 

[BoldItalic]

BoldItalic motioned for silence, then, while announcing in a loud voice "NO DOUBT HE IS LONG GONE AND FAR FROM HERE," made a complex twisting motion with his hand. Clotbert blanched and made a sign as if to ward off evil as BoldItalic's hand seemed to extend from his arm, reached across the room and flung open the small door that led to their private day-room. A diminutive figure was revealed, crouching as if caught in the act of listening through the keyhole, which indeed he had been. It was a halfling, clad in sombre clothes with a hooded jerkin and wearing soft boots over his hairy feet. He squealed involuntarily as BoldItalic's magic hand propelled him forward into the room and into the blue light that blazed suddenly forth as Rylnethaz drew his silvered sword, Gruesbane, from its scabbard.

"Speak, wretch!" demanded Rylnethaz, "Name yourself and account for your presence, or draw your last breath in silence!"

The halfling gibbered. "I meant no harm, your lordships, please, I'm .. Bumble, yes, that's it, Bumble. I was just about to knock at your door. Room service. To lay the fires for the morning. I'll just be going now. Good Evening." and he moved as if to leave by the door to the stairs. But the door would not open, for all that he rattled the latch and pulled the bolt, for Rylnethaz had earlier taken the precaution of locking it and pocketing the key. The halfling looked around with a hunted look on his face, then sagged and, seeing the game was up, dropped his attempt at deception.

"I'm sorry, but I had to be sure," he said, "I am Fingers, son of Toes the son of Knuckles, of the Longfoots of Stealthside. I am at your service," and he bowed low with a flourish but all the while with a calculating look on one side of his face. "Nice sword," he continued, "I can get you at least 300 ducats for it come Friday, if you like. Blue on silver is very fashionable this year, for swords. Gold plated is better of course, at least double for a gold one. Ow!"

This last exclamation was the result of BoldItalic cuffing his around the ears. "Well, Fingers son of Toes, it seems your impertinence knows no bounds," admonished the vizier. "You would seek to cheat the Coronal? A named sword is worth at least a thousand ducats in any market. But that is of no consequence. Gruesbane is not for sale. You can, however, return the two gold coins you took from the Coronal's pouch earlier."

"But there weren't two, there was only one," protested Fingers. Then he realised what he had just said. "Oops," he added quietly.

"Quite."

Fingers reached somewhere into the pockets of his jerkin and awkwardly handed Rylnethaz his gold coin. Then he handed a surprised BoldItalic the gold figurine of a horse, remarking that wizards really ought to take more care of their valuables, there being so many rogues in the world. Finally, he returned the belt from Clotbert's trousers to its rightful, if somewhat embarassed, owner. "Do I get the job?" he asked hopefully.

Rylnethaz laughed. "I have need of a factotum," he decided. "You start immediately. But keep your thieving hands off our property in future or your headless corpse will feed the crows."

"Thank you, your honour, I won't let you down."

"He is telling the truth," declared Clotbert, removing his hat and doing something complicated with his own ears. "He will not deceive us again. He has been sent by Myrristra to aid us in our endeavours."

"Thank you, Archpriest," said Rylnethaz graciously, "You have confirmed my intuition. Now, Fingers, since you have undoubtedly overheard all our planning, you will know that I need to raise an army of conquest. How would you propose we do it?"

The halfling made a swift mental calculation. Then he made a slower calculation, using his eponymous digits. Finally, he shrugged. "The way I see it," he began, "is this ..."

 

[Rylnethaz]

“There is a tomb of a long dead noble family, a mausoleum really, that no one has dared enter for as long as anyone remembers,” Fingers said.

“Interesting,” BoldItalic remarked, “And why is that?”

“The stories are abound that the family practiced demonomancy. There were stories that, at several nights, strange lights could be seen in their manor and demonic voices could be heard. Finally, the whole place went up in flames, everything was destroyed in the blast except the, mostly underground, tomb. As the stories go, the family had amassed a great wealth through demonic gifts.”

“So, all this supposed wealth is still there?” asked Clotbert.

“Mostly yes, but…” Fingers hesitated.

“Stop mumbling and tell the Coronal everything there is to know,” demanded BoldItalic.

“Do go on, what is the matter? What do you mean mostly yes?” Rylnethaz inquired.

“It is not exactly accurate that no one has ever been there. You see, the infamy of the family was such that demon cultists are sometimes attracted to the area. And let’s not forget the occasional demon that might still be lurking about the place. It might not be a greater demon but a demon is always a demon.”
“Rylnethaz,” BoldItalic said, “I think that place fits our requirements. Besides, how many demons could there still be left in the place? A grand adventure, to rid the world of a demonic pustule plaguing the innocent population. A pustule ready to burst, spilling its unholy content on unsuspecting villagers.”
“Excellent, and well said High Vizier” exclaimed Rylnethaz, “we should leave for the tomb as soon as possible, but we have to prepare first. Let’s go out in the town for supplies and if possible leave by the first light of the day tomorrow.”

 

[BoldItalic]

After a quick breakfast, the four set out just as dawn was breaking.

It was fortunate that they left early for barely an hour later, Rufus galloped into the stableyard of the inn with Rufus on his back. He, Rufus, delivered a bundle of handbills proclaiming "Fingers the Halfling - Wanted for Grand Theft. 300 Ducats Reward. All Information to Edrath Pinchsneeze, Mayor of Ambletown." Roland Butter reported having seen Fingers and successfully claimed the reward, then used the money to buy his own restaurant. He became quite famous as a chef, moved in exalted circles and eventually married the Countess Amelianna de Pomme de Terre y Tarragon, who was very grand, and they lived happily ever after.

But I digress.

Our heroes reached the market town of Fortwell by lunchtime. Fingers led them to a shady dealer in "Antiques and Curios" where BoldItalic sold the silver cup that came from the interior of the grue for 137 Ducats and no questions asked. Then they visited various other merchants in the town where they used the money to buy supplies and equipment for the task ahead. Rylnethaz advised Clotbert what to look for in a coat of mail, while Fingers slipped away and came back with a hand crossbow and a goodly supply of bolts hidden inside his jerkin. When they felt they were all as well-prepared as they could be, they marched boldly along the North Road towards their goal and set up a temporary camp in the ruins of the burnt-out manor. It being nearly sunset by then, they drew lots for who would stand watch.

During the night, they were attacked by fiends from the Abyss - foul and repulsive creatures made from the souls of those who had perished in the conflagration and lingered still in the ruins. The rumours were true, it seemed.

BoldItalic was dismayed to discover that his spells of fire and lightning had little effect upon the screeching horrors that confronted him. "What are these?" he cried, as he fought to bring his staff to bear on a something that was reaching out a ghastly hand to claw his face.

"I believe these are manes," said Clotbert. "I've read about them in Demonological tracts. There is a way to overcome them, but ..." and here his voice trailed off.

"BUT WHAT?" yelled Rylnethaz as he flailed about with his sword, seemingly to little effect. "BUT WHAT?"