Sage, Psion, Rat, and Kender, Part 2

Lord Tallcastle sat at his beautiful antique desk, writing a letter to one of his many business partners. He was unaware of the wheels of Fate that were weaving around this desk. Threads that could possibly destroy him, and everyone that he ever came in contact with.

• * * * *

Kraz looked over the mansion. Points of entry: 34. Points of entry usable by the bugbear: 8. He would need some rope, and a grappling hook. Now, those adventurers they just passed, they had a grappling hook, and they weren’t using it right now. Kraz was sure they wouldn’t mind if he borrowed it.

"I’ll be right back."

Kraz walked out to go find the items he would need. T’willic turned to Gimble and Rat.

"Are you sure he can get us in?"

"Boss, let me handle this one."

Gimble waved his hand, letting Rat continue.

"Well, Willie, there’s a saying that goes ‘Anywhere a rat can go, two kender have already been,’" said Rat. "That’s how I found the desk, I asked my unintelligent cousins."

The psionicist nodded. A moment later, Kraz returned with a grappling hook.

"Gimble, toss this hook thingy over that tower."

"The one with the guards?"

"Yeah, that one, with the lights on."

"Won’t they notice?"

"If they didn’t have the lights on, maybe, but they aren’t paying attention."

"Eh, how can you tell? I mean, it ain’t like they got a big sign saying ‘Not Paying Attention’" said Rat, climbing down from Gimble’s shoulder, as the big goblinoid picked up the grapple.

"Have you ever sat in a brightly lit tavern, and tried to see what was going on outside? You can’t, your eyes are used to the light, and you can’t adjust quickly. If the light is on, then they aren’t paying attention."

T’willic looked at the small creature and nodded. Gimble shrugged and begins swinging the grapple. His tendons rippled with the force that went into swinging the rope. With a grunt, he let the twisted metal grapple fly.

• * * * *

"Hey, Bart, did you hear something?"

The older guard looked at the young man. A slight smile crossed his lips; they’re always jumping at shadows on the first night on wall watch.

"Of course not, besides, are you in or out? This is for 2 crown!"

"I’m out. I don’t have anything."

The master of the watch smiled, collecting the young man’s coinage. Hopefully it will last him for a while, seeing as that he is not going to be master of the watch once daylight comes.

• * * * *

The swirling magic of a crystal ball was focused in on the trio busy scaling the wall of Lord Tallcastle’s estate. A pair of delicate wrinkled hands swirled over the ball, and an equally delicate whisper was heard.

"These are the four that defeated you, Elmcross? A dwarf, a kender, a rat, and, ugh, a Bugbear?"

"Yes, Master. The dwarf and the bugbear. The dwarf must be a Magi of large power. He transformed into a crystal spider to slay L'allen, and T’neal."

"Fool! Dwarves cannot wield the Arcane. 1 "

"Since the Twilight Times, many things work differently."

"Perhaps, perhaps. Gather a force. Outnumber them. We MUST control the Armory!"

"Yes, Master."

The young elf backed out of the room, bowing in difference to the man who taught him to make a blade sing.

• * * * *

Kraz hoped over the parapet, waiting for the muscle. Looking over to the guardhouse, he wandered over.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. They forgot to lock this door. I had better lock it for them."

The kender reached into his pocket, and took out the lock he had recently liberated from the door of Gimble’s shop. He then sat down; waiting for muscle was always a problem. Muscle is so slow!

T’willic rolled over the wall, and looked ready for a counterattack. Kraz had to stuff his hoopak in his mouth to prevent from laughing at the dwarf. Gimble and Rat then heaved themselves over the grappling hook’s reach. Panting heavily, Gimble brushed off the dust of the wall.

"Where to now, Rat?"

"Follow me, Boss."

Rat started walking down the steps of the wall, followed closely by Gimble. T’willic fell in to the support position right behind the leader, a position ingrained into him from the years following other dwarves into dangerous positions. Kraz, on the other hand, had to run to catch up, since he was busy watching the master of the guard take the young guard's money.

• * * * *

Lord Tallcastle put a cover on the brightly-lit coin 2 on his desk, having finished his writing. With these papers, his treasury would increase tenfold. He then walked out of his office, and on the way to the warm bed with his wife in it, he thought about the warm bed with the new blonde housekeeper in it. Sometimes it doesn’t pay to idly wish for something that would never happen. The young housekeeper was described as a testament to the beauty of the commoner, and Lord Tallcastle was a testament to keeping children away from open flame.

• * * * *

Rat led the oddly matched group to the storm cellars. The doors where heavy and made of wrought iron. The lock was old and impressive. Gimble looked at it thoughtfully, then turned around and pulled the enchanted elven moonblade out of its scabbard.

"Kraz, can you get this lock?"

"What lock?"

Gimble turned quickly. There was no lock on the storm doors. T’willic had a look of utter amazement at the door.

"He’s good, Boss. We should keep him around."

"You couldn’t have said it any better, Rat."

• * * * *

The guardhouse on the parapet was filling with a chilling fog. The master of the guard and young Bart, overcome by the fog, were quickly losing conscience. They got one glimpse of the intruders before slipping entirely into the long magical sleep. Elves.

• * * * *

Elmcross quickly restrained the guards with the men’s own belts. The others he had brought along were all former half-elves, now fully elven, and absolutely devoted to the elven way of life. Not to mention completely expendable. One of the elves tried the door, only to find it locked. Elmcross didn’t flinch as his wrist snaked out, holding a long sword, cutting cleanly the door from its hinges.

"We waste no time, Gentles. If anyone bothers me with such a problem in the future, I will kill him where he stands. Understand?"

The revolutionaries nod, all realizing that they have just signed on to a suicide mission with a mad sergeant. One almost slipped to say a prayer to Ceridwah, to ask for the necessary strength to bear this load. It is fortunate that he did not. Elmcross has no tolerance for human superstition.

• * * * *

Having climbed several flights of stairs, Rat stopped and smelled the air.

"Boss, you smell something?"

"Metal, sword oil, sweat. Guards. T’willic, follow my lead."

T’willic nodded. The sage grabbed a shield bearing Tallcastle’s coat of arms off a wall. He then held it up, at head level. Kraz looked at the bugbear, not knowing what the bugbear was doing, but it sure must be interesting, because the dwarf was doing it now. Since the two shields in the hallway were taken, Kraz grabbed a cushion off of a nearby couch.

"HEY! You three! Identify yourself!"

"NOW!" shouted Gimble as he bent over and charged forward, his upper half protected by the lord’s decorative shield. T’willic followed, shield rushing with the family crest of Tallcastle’s wife.

"Fall back!" uttered the guard master, as he was bowled over by the hundreds of pounds of shield-bearing strength bearing down on him and his fellow patrol. They all scattered, only to be knocked into each other. Many of the guards went down with concussions. The Guard Master began to sit up, and a smaller force of cushioned fury bore down on him. Cushions, as a rule, do not hurt terribly much, but unknown to either the Guard Master, or the Kender, this particular cushion happened to be where Lord Tallcastle’s dog had hid Lord Tallcastle’s codpiece for a set of full plate mail. As a general rule, metal hurts a lot.

• * * * *

Elmcross held the medallion in front of him, its glowing light leading him ever closer to the sacrilegious bugbear. He was more determined then ever to reclaim his family’s moonblade. For bearing it, the creature deserved to die, the dwarf would die for killing his kin, and the kender would die, because it was a kender. Turning a corner, Elmcross came across five guards, knocked out. Lying beside them was a pair of shields, and a cushion. Elmcross picked up a shield, trying to figure out what had happened in the corridor. He heard a moan; the Master of Guards was stirring.

"Elves? You shield rushed us? HA! A shield rush never takes anyone down for a long time, and you boys just don’t have the weight to do it right. Boys! To arms! Intruders!"

The other guards got up on their feet, rather shakily. Elmcross sighed at the delay.

"Kill them."

"But, Elmcross! Those are not our targets! They are just house gaaaa…" said one of the elves as Elmcross slipped his long sword into his belly.

"I said, ‘Kill Them.’"

With a threat of death from their commander, the elves drew steel. The guards, realizing that it was now a life or death situation, leveled their halberds. The fight was joined in earnest. Blood stains, even the cold stone floor of the corridor. The guards died to the man, defending with their lives the honorable Lord Tallcastle. Elmcross sighed at the further delay, and walked with the glowing medallion, alone, towards the bugbear.

• * * * *

Lord Tallcastle was awakened by the sound of pounding on the door.

"What is it? What is so important you must disturb me?"

"My Lord! There are intruders in the manor. Guard Master Draxton was found dead!"

Tallcastle’s face paled. He picked up his familial blade. He had never used it. He only wore it when formality demanded it. There are some things that a noble must do. When someone laid down their life defending yours, they deserved to be avenged. With a determined look on his face, and a nightgown on his body, Tallcastle strode out to do battle with whoever had killed Guard Master Draxton, his bastard half brother.

• * * * *

Gimble broke into office of Lord Tallcastle, with a quick chop with the moonblade.

"You know, Gimble, its a lot easier to just use the doorknob," said Kraz, while playing with the still working, still unlocked, now parted from the door, doorknob.

"I share my impatience with the rest of my race. In."

T’willic shrugged and walked in. The only item of prominence was a large roll-top desk. It was obliviously an antique. The rest of the room seemed to be decorated around this desk. The whole room spoke of understated elegance.

"That it, Gimble?"

"I think so, T’willic. There’s only one way to make sure." Gimble walked over towards the desk, bent down to the lowest drawer on the right hand side, and knocked three times.

• * * * *

The kender was close, very close. The Flaming Ghoul was closing in on the enemy he dedicated his unlife to destroying. The cistern in Tallcastle’s manor was big enough to hold the Sewer Thing. More then enough room for the undead creature. He stepped out of the cistern, which was where the small pond in the estate emptied. Four floors up, the kender was there. With a scorched grin, the Flaming Ghoul looked up.

"Blood! Blood!"

• * * * *

Lord Tallcastle held his brother’s severed head close to his breast as he let loose the first tears he had since his mother had passed on those many years ago. He held his half brother’s head up in his left hand.

"Draxton, I never truly knew you. But you suffered the cuts and slashes of elven blades in my defense. I will never forget what happened to you, nor will I forgive the elven bastards that did this to you! They will perish by our father’s blade!"

Lord Tallcastle grabbed the familial blade with his left hand, opening a smooth cut on his left hand, the hand of the heart. A blood oath. He gave his brother’s head a kiss, and walked with a renewed fury towards where the blood trailed. He would never know the truth of the words he spoke. Even as full-blooded elves, the revolutionaries were still bastards.

• * * * *

Elmcross stared at the now brightly glowing light of the medallion, and readied a spell to his lips as he heard three knocks on a drawer in the room beyond.

• * * * *

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

"Boss! There’s someone outside!" screeched Rat, causing Gimble to forget to say the name of a weapon.

• * * * *

Elmcross finished his spell as the rat screeched. Waiting for it to take effect, he drew his blade and walked in.

• * * * *

T’willic felt confused. The world did not make sense. His senses were playing tricks on him, his psychic abilities were unavailable to him, and he couldn’t concentrate. He was locked inside a small room in his mind. He tried to walk, but couldn’t. He was stuck in place. For someone so used to experiencing everything that his body told him, he was effectively deaf, dumb, and blind.

• * * * *

Kraz felt magic hit him. What a peculiar feeling. It wasn’t a FUN feeling. It was just different. He then realized that he could fly! What an ability! To see what the pigeons of the city would see! To swoop down on unsuspecting people, what fun that would be! Or to attack everything in sight! What more fun that would be! He charged the bugbear, who quickly, and unthinkingly, threw him out the window into the pond outside the manor.

• * * * *

Rat was a rat. No talking, no thinking. Just a rat, like any other rat. Not even the desire to look down barmaids’ shirts. He scurried into a hole in the wall to go find some food.

• * * * *

Gimble felt something snap. He knew, he didn’t know how, that the confusion spell broke another spell. He could remember something. Something about a beautiful raven-trussed female woman in blue leather mage robes, something important. He didn’t even feel himself react when the kender attacked him; he just used Kraz’s momentum to throw him out the window 3 .

• * * * *

Elmcross smiled. He strode in, brandishing his longsword, and smiled.

"I’m going to enjoy killing you, sage," said Elmcross, his scorn showing itself in the last word. "You have held my family's blade for too long. It is a blade dedicated to the Elven way of life, and you have sullied it. Do you have anything to say?"

Gimble just nodded.

"Speak, before I kill you."

"Gun."

• * * * *

It all came flooding back. Sycron’s collection of weapons. The lost notebook, full of designs. The elf was babbling at him. There was one weapon, more terrible then the rest. One weapon that could save him and his friends. It was a gamble.

"Do you have anything to say?"

Gimble smiled inwardly, and nodded.

"Speak, before I kill you."

"Gun 4 ."

• * * * *

The Lord Mage of Highmoon sat straight up, spilling a little steaming liquid onto his robe. A creature with a giant orb of an eye with more jutting out at every angle turned toward him and spoke.

"Is there a problem?"

"The bugbear…"

"Gimble, the weapon sage?"

"Yes, Kasharin. The same. He broke one of my spells. Well, more precisely, someone did, I doubt he has the power to. I can feel more snapping, loosening my suggestions."

"Can you repair them?"

"Of course. But not right now. I think we have hit a crux with the young Gimble. My scrying crystal."

"Right away."

• * * * *

The kender came flying out the window, and hit the pond full force. The Flaming Ghoul waited, hating the water. Now out of the influence of the spell, Kraz regained his senses, and walked to the edge of the pond. He twisted out his topknot, and looked around, his gaze falling on the Flaming Ghoul.

"Blood! Blood!"

"Blood-Blood? I thought you were dead! Well, more dead!"

Kraz grabbed his Hoopak, and running at Blood-Blood, the ghoul prepared to dodge the blow. At the last second Kraz dug in his hoopak, and sailed over the ghoul, falling down into the cistern.

"The sewers! Oh, man! I’ve already been here before!"

The Flaming Ghoul followed his adversary back down to the sewers of Highmoon 5 .

• * * * *

Gimble pointed the tube at the elf, holding onto its crossbow grip. The elf stopped.

"This is a .357 Magnum, the most powerful handgun ever made. A weapon more dangerous then most magic, because it can be used even untrained."

"You dare threaten me? You can’t possibly even use that thing, whatever it is!"

"I am a sage of exotic weapons; you don’t get more exotic then this. I can use any weapon with ease, and I am an extraordinary shot. It holds six bolts. Now, the question is, do you feel lucky, elf? Do you?"

Elmcross paused for a moment. The bugbear, spurred on to action, threw the metal machine of death, and smashed the elf’s hand, knocking the longsword aside. The elf grabbed his hand in pain.

"Of course, I forgot to mention it only works in the land it came from. Even renowned sages make mistakes 6 ."

"You tricked me!"

"What do you want with me?"

"That moonblade! It belongs to my family."

"Fine. Take it. I’m scared. I was going to break it anyway."

The Weapon Sage pulled out the Moonblade and slid it across the floor. The elf bent over to pick it up.

"You do realize that when I pick this up, I will kill you with it."

"Fine then, be done with it. Just shut up."

Elmcross picked up the moonblade, and it began to glow.

"It has chosen me! I rescued it from a non-elf, and it is going to accept me!"

Gimble stood stoically. The fine mithril of the elven blade began to shimmer. Then it began slowly creeping down the elf’s arm, and the elf screamed. Gimble just kept looking at the elf. The elf lost the concentration keeping T’willic and Rat in thrall.

"Gimble, what is happening to that elf?"

"The blade didn’t accept him, T’willic. Rather than serve him in any capacity, it chose to destroy itself."

"Boss, why would it do that?"

"He wasn’t worthy. Irredeemably unworthy. A real bad seed. Imagine, an elven moonblade that would rather be wielded by a bugbear than that elf."

The three stood staring at the elf as the molten mithril coated his arm. The stench of burning flesh was filling the room.

"Boss, can we go? I think I found a shortcut."

"Lead on, Rat. T’willic help me with the desk, it isn’t heavy, but it is awkward. Just let me grab something."

The elf screams as Gimble picks up the gun, and redeposit in the Armory of Highmoon.

"What was that, Gimble?"

"Nothing, T’willic. Nothing at all. Nothing of any importance."

The psionicist knew the bugbear was lying, it was all over his aura, but did not probe the matter further. He just helped the sage lift the desk.

• * * * *

Lord Tallcastle turned the corner towards his office. He heard the screaming elf long before he saw him. He grabbed the elf, and spun him around, ignoring the scorching heat of the metal.

"I am Lord Tallcastle. You killed my brother. For that you must die!"

In the only act of violence in his life, Tallcastle slid the familial sword into the heart of the elf that killed his brother. The screaming died down, and Tallcastle removed his blade. He turned to the remnants of the House Guard.

"Someone go get the city guard, and the meat wagon. There is a mess to clean."

• * * * *

"This isn’t very much of a short cut, Rat."

"Yeah, I know, Boss, but we avoided the advancing guards."

Gimble nodded as they turned a corner. Gimble then dropped his end of the desk.

"Gimble, friend, is there something wrong?"

The sage just motioned towards the bodies of guards and elves lying in the corridor.

"You could say that. Come on, let’s go. I need to have a very long talk with Sycron."

• * * * *

Outside of Lord Tallcastle’s manor, Gimble grabbed a passing garbage wagon to help him take the desk to Sycron.

"This is where our paths separate, T’willic."

"I can sense as much. You soul is troubled."

"Troubled, yeah, that would be a good word for it. Anything better, I probably couldn’t pronounce."

"What of the kender? Where did he go?"

"He’s a kender, he’ll show up, they always do, usually when you want them least, but can use them most."

"Very well, Good luck with your audience."

"Thanks…and T’willic. If you never see me again, I’m dead."

The Waybinder nods and heads off, knowing that his friend spoke the truth.

• * * * *

The Beholder stared at the Lord Mage of Highmoon.

"Well?"

"It seems that Gimble has learned something today. Kasharin, please prepare the house for his arrival. I believe that he just paid the admittance to the Library in the loss of innocence."

"A bugbear, innocent?"

"There are more mysteries in the multiverse then even I can collect. This is just another of them. Now, please prepare, Gimble and I will have a lot to talk about. Not all of it pleasant. Please get out that delightful ale you served him last time. It will put his mind at ease."