The Professor also casts Detect Magic.
With the exception of the magical auras on the party members, the Professor detects the following auras:
One faint aura of magic on Father Dumpkin's cloak.
Two faint auras of magic on Mr. Gribb, one on his cloak and one of the bracers he wears.
Two faint auras of evocation on both Bray Burrowfoot and Tark Toughtoe, detected through the sheaths of their shortswords.
"Pesh, I'm afraid. Of his own fool doing."
Poison of a sort, self inflicted, perpetuated by foolishness... he abuses pesh. "Of all the wonders in the world what is the most wonderous? That a man, though he sees death all around him, believes he will never die," so says the Book of Magic.
Father Dumpkin thinks on your response for a moment, stroking the waddle-like skin and grizzled stubble on his neck. "Drugs? Well, Silas has been a good customer and has always donated generously when he's been here. Will you get the pesh away from him and keep it away?"
Without waiting for a response, Father Dumpkin clutches his holy symbol and casts another spell. Once more, a strong, earthy scent fills the wagon and a green light spreads across Mr. Gribb's chest.
remove disease vs. DC 20 addiction
This time, however, a darkness rises within Mr. Gribb and pushes back against the light. It winks out, and the sweet smell of burning pesh fills the air.
"Hmmm...well, boys, it seems like it's the old-fashioned way. Maybe Ol' Deadeye will grant me that spell again at morning prayers. Bring him into the inn, would you? Up the stairs, second door on the right. I'll tell my brother Brethon to tend to him while you eat your suppers and we talk." With that, Father Dumpkin turns around and shuffles back to the inn.
Bray and Tark untie Mr. Gribb and start carrying him inside.
Denge, Penelope, Professor Bellerophon, and Rafaelis are alone in the yard with the wagons.
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The Professor also casts Detect Magic.With the exception of the magical auras on the party members, the Professor detects the following auras:
One faint aura of magic on Father Dumpkin's cloak. ** spoiler omitted **
Two faint auras of magic on Mr. Gribb, one on his cloak and one of the bracers he wears. ** spoiler omitted ** ** spoiler omitted **
At Dumpkin's Inn, on the path from Maheto to Belhaim, Taldor - Toilsday, 31 Pharast, 4715 A.R.
Bray takes charge of the caravan in light of Mr. Gribb's state and orders rooms and meals for everyone.
Soon the mules are watered and stabled, Mr. Gribb is bedded down and comfortable, the crates of wine are stowed securely, and everyone sits down to a fine meal, courtesy of Mr. Gribb.
Father Dumpkin's brother, Brethon, is up with Mr. Gribb. There are several rooms on the second floor. Mr. Gribb has his own room. The halflings share one. You have been assigned three others, each with two simple beds, a large chest, a washbasin, a small table with a chair, and a number of candles.
Once you are settled, Dumpkin sets out a large but simple meal of onion soup, boiled white asparagus, roast pork with a mushroom sauce, bread dumplings, and beer.
Father Dumpkin strokes his beard in contemplation as you eat and speaks. Whether he's talking to himself or to you is not entirely clear. "Hmmph...Brethon can tend to Mr. Gribb tonight while you sleep. I'll pray to Ol' Deadeye in the morning for some more spells to try to cure the addiction and heal the worst of its effects. You all are going to have to keep him away from the stuff, or it'll be for naught."
"If he relapses, the only person in or around Belhaim who could cure the addiction is the local druid of the Wildwood Lodge, Amzur Kell. After that, the nearest help is in Wispil, another week away. If he relapses on that leg, he might not recover," he continues.
Looking at you, he says "I can probably scare up a vial of antiplague or two, but not enough for the whole trip."
In addition to Father Dumpkin and his brother, Brethon, who does not seem to be a priest of Erastil, there are two young men who vaguely resemble Brethon, Fors and Brod. They each wear practical garb and look more like a forester's apprentices than servants in an inn. Nevertheless, they cook the food, refill your cups, water and stable the mules, and seem to do most of the work. Each of them wears a wooden bow and arrow symbol similar to Father Dumpkin's. Theirs are very crude in comparison.
The youths linger in the common room as you eat. Father Dumpkin repeatedly has to shoo them into the kitchen to fetch more food and beer. Each time he shouts at them, they startle and say, "Yes, Uncle," or "Yes, Father Dumpkin."
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Good Father, whomsoever chooses to tend Mr Gibbs throughout the night need not suffer through lack of sleep be it your bother Brethon here or Proffesor Bellerophon, so long as they refrain from physical exertion. I will extend some of my modest power to allow them to keep watch. Knowing not your brother's skill at leach craft I will defer to you and Professor Bellerophon as to who should receive the spell.
Looking a bit ill at ease, she tries to stay close to Denge, and does not make eye contact with any of the others.
At the same time she wants to be near the people in the inn, and she also feels very uncomfortable to be in their presence.
Unsure what else to do, she stays close to Denge and watches the others out of the corner of her eye, careful not to make eye contact.
I will extend some of my modest power to allow them to keep watch. Knowing not your brother's skill at leach craft I will defer to you and Professor Bellerophon as to who should receive the spell.[/b]
Father Dumpkin nods. "That would be a kindness as he has chores tomorrow. No skill is needed tonight. We have done what we can for poor Silas today. Tomorrow morning we will see whether Erastil will help him further. Get some rest, it is a long journey to Wispil, and your skills will surely be needed in the morning and on the road."
Father Dumpkin excuses himself and goes to bed.
After dinner and assisting Rafaelis with seals, he will engage Brethon (with Penelope hovering nearby). " So Master Brethon, do you work here at this fine establishment or are here temporarily to assist your brother?"
Denge and Penelope find Brethon with Rafaelis, who has just cast keep watch, in Mr. Gribb's room. Mr. Gribb is sleeping peacefully, but still looks quite weak.
Brethon is a bear of a man who looks to be in his early 50s. He is balding and has a thick brown beard shot through with gray. He is dressed in the breeches and jerkin normally associated with lumberjacks and certainly has the build for that kind of work. Unlike the others in the inn, he wears no holy symbol.
"Good evening, sirs. Thank you for the spell. Aye, I suppose I work here. I sent my boys to foster with Dumpy many years ago. They took to the faith and became acolytes when they were grown. When my poor Katty died last year, I moved in to be near my boys and Dumpy. I help here and there, but truth be told my boys do most of the work. After a life of logging, I mostly read now."
Brethon taps a thick tome on the table where he was sitting when you came in. "I never had time for the arcane arts as a lad, but I always wanted to learn. I've been studying this book, trying to learn what I can now. I suppose it's too late for me, though."
Brethon stands up and stretches. "Aye, that spell of yours is good. I'll be reading tonight, not dosing by this poor fellow's side. Thank you again."
"Dumpy and the boys said you're headed to Wispil? If you can talk Hunclay out of another tome on the way back, I'll pay what you paid him, plus twenty percent for your trouble. I've about gotten as far as I can with this one, and I'll be ready for another by then. None of that strange stuff he craves. Plain, useful wizarding is what I'm after. Stuff like that spell this fella," he points to Rafaelis, "cast just now. Things to make life easier for Dumpy and my boys."
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"While I am not a practitioner of the arts, I know of Master Hunclay and some of his works with the Dark Tapestry."
"I am certain we will visit with Master Hunclay while we are in Belhaim. I will be sure to ask or have one of my fellows ask to purchase a tome as you seek.."
"May I see the book you are reading? It will help me gauge the type of tome to obtain on your behalf."
"May I see the book you are reading? It will help me gauge the type of tome to obtain on your behalf."
Brethon shrugs and hands the book to Denge, "I don't see why not. How much should I give you to get Hunclay to sell me another?"
Blood, dirt, wine, and more stain this white leather book. The name “Jack Were-son” is stamped into the cover. No more information about the author is immediately evident. The first five pages of the book set forth a preparation ritual for casting transmutation spells. Eighty pages of utility spells follow. The last fifteen pages are blank. Several of the ritual and spell pages contain careful diagrams and illustrations of somatic gestures and material components done by a competent but uninspiring artist.
Preparation Ritual
Defensive Transmutation (Su) When taking another shape, you can increase your defenses. Spend this boon’s effect as a free action when you cast a transmutation spell with a range of personal. As long as you are affected by that spell, you gain a +2 natural armor bonus for the duration of the spell.
Protection The book has an average lock and an arcane lock (DC 35) that opens when it is held and the words “Nethys guide me” are spoken.
Opposition Schools Illusion and necromancy
Value 2,900 gp
Spells
0—standard plus drench, root, scoop, and spark
1st—alarm, animate rope, ant haul, blood money, comprehend languages, crafter’s fortune, endure elements, expeditious excavation, feather fall, floating disk, forced quiet, hold portal, infernal healing, lighten object, mount, polypurpose panacea, protection from evil, snapdragon fireworks, unseen servant, windy escape
2nd—air step, alter self, animal aspect, arcane lock, book ward, communal ant haul, bull’s strength, buoyancy, codespeak, darkvision, glide, greensight, knock, levitate, mirror hideaway, retrieve item, rope trick, acid arrow, spider climb, whispering wind
Tark Toughtoe is nonplussed when Rafaelis tells him the crates have fake seals. Tark merely nods at this information.
His demeanor changes when Rafaelis mentions that the crate contains 20,000gp in pesh. His eyes widen, then narrow as he stares directly at Rafaelis and asks how he knows. His stony countenance returns when Rafaelis tells him it is through occult means. He nods at this information.
"Hmm...the seals are intact, and he had no more on him. Odd. Better guard this closely. He'll try to get more." he says quietly.
Tark pulls out a pipe and some tobacco, stuffs and lights the pipe, and starts smoking. He stares in the distance as he does so.
From clear across the common room, where Bray is teaching Fors and Brod a card game, without missing a beat or even looking up, Bray says loudly "Tark, why would he not have enough pesh for the trip but a Bearded One's ransom of the stuff in the hold? It doesn't make sense."
Tark replies curtly, "No. No, it doesn't." He continues to smoke and Bray continues to play cards with the acolytes.
The acolytes, in contrast are agog. They are clearly very interested in talk of smuggling pesh. Their gazes pass from Bray to Tark to you and back again, no longer concentrating on the game.
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Tark pulls out a pipe and some tobacco, stuffs and lights the pipe, and starts smoking. He stares in the distance as he does so.
1d20+9
From clear across the common room, where Bray is teaching Fors and Brod a card game, without missing a beat or even looking up, Bray says loudly "Tark, why would he not have enough pesh for the trip but a Bearded One's ransom of the stuff in the hold? It doesn't make sense."
Tark replies curtly, "No. No, it doesn't." He continues to smoke and Bray continues to play cards with the acolytes.
"Ahh... well, perhaps you haven't thought of this, but... it may be that his sponsor paid him in pesh for his smuggling of the larger load. aAd no man is sane or rationale when they are in the throes of an addiction. He may have simply taken (smoked) all of his personal stash, being a greedy, addicted dunce," suggests Professor Bellerophon to them.
"Ahh... well, perhaps you haven't thought of this, but... it may be that his sponsor paid him in pesh for his smuggling of the larger load. aAd no man is sane or rationale when they are in the throes of an addiction. He may have simply taken (smoked) all of his personal stash, being a greedy, addicted dunce," suggests Professor Bellerophon to them.
Tark looks up at Professor Bellerophon and continues to puff on his pipe. "Hmmm...perhaps."
He looks toward Bray. "It's getting late," he says.
Bray jumps up and drops his cards on the table. "Yes, so it is." He turns to the acolytes. "Isn't it time you headed to bed?" he asks.
The two acolytes blush, quickly clean up the card game, and say their goodnights.
Once they are gone, Tark snuffs out his pipe and stands up. Bray hesitates looking at each of you briefly as if wanting to say something. Tark shoots him a look. Bray then says, "Ms. Waystrider, gentlemen, if there's nothing else...." Tark shoots him a second look. Bray continues, "I think we'll be headed to bed ourselves."
At this point, Father Dumpkin enters the room from the kitchen holding a tray of leftovers with an empty glass on it. "Fiddlesticks!" he exclaims, as he moves over to Bray's table and sets the items down. "You boys know old Silas smuggles fake wine to Wispil every spring. Now he's into something much harder, and using it himself. You aren't doing yourselves any favors by keeping secrets from your own guards." He makes a sandwich from some bread and leftover pork, then waves it at Bray. "Spill!" he commands.
Bray hesitates and looks to Tark. Tark gives out a slight, "Harrumph," and heads upstairs.
Bray sits down, makes a sandwich for himself, and starts talking.
"Well, every spring he passes of some cheap swill as Kyonin wine. It's been the same boxes each year. He gives Gana the same snow job about keeping them for his kids to build dollhouses from every time, and she falls for it."
"I hear he ran into some financial trouble with Dark Lil' recently." Father Dumpkin scowls at the mention of the name.
Bray continues, [b]"I guess she strong-armed him into moving some pesh for her this time and gave him some, too. Do you think she's trying to get him hooked, or killed?
Dumpkin considers his sandwich. "Don't know. What do you guards think? I don't envy you, getting caught up in Lil's business." He stands as if to go, turns back to make a second sandwich, and heads back through the kitchen. "I had best stay out of it myself," he says over his shoulder. "Goodnight. Deadeye's blessing on you all."
Bray looks at all of you pleadingly. "We need you in the woods and to tend to Mr. Gribb. Don't leave us," he asks, looking down at the table.
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Never too late to study The Art. I am not above sharing what I have uncovered with a fellow enthusiast. We've not much in terms of time. If you like, you may copy from my tome but you must vow to keep an open mind and a closed mouth. My people's ways are not for the faint of heart.
I know not of this Hunkley. Dark Tapestry you say Mr Denge? Dangerous indeed but not without merit. Rafaelis peers over Denge's shoulder to examine the book as well. 'A mere logger could not have afforded this unless he owned a logging company or was head of a guild.'
Hmmm... may I ask how much you paid for this particular tome?
Brethon raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Pay? I didn't pay. It belonged to my late wife's father. I found it in her trousseau after she died."
"Why, are they very expensive?
"You're kind to offer to exchange spells, but I have to watch over Mr. Gribb here. You're welcome to copy some of mine if you'd like."
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Mr Burrowfoot, I am afraid that your loose talk may have over excited the young gentlemen. Young men often have overly romantic imaginations, as such they may do somethong foolish. I certainly do not want them to blather to any travelers no matter how innocent they appear. Whoever gave Mr Gibbs that Pesh will not be pleased if they hear of its discovery. We have yet to determine the reason for Mr Gibbs's precipitous leave-taking of Maheto. Trouble may come nipping at our heels.
Rafaelis cocks his head in thought. He starts and says , his voice tinged with sarcasm
Surely Gibbs or Dark Lil has a business associate somewhere ahead on this road to whom the crate is to be delivered either in Belhaim or Wispil. No doubt they are of a pleasant, forgiving nature. Hail and hearty well met sorts. A trademark trait of those in this particular branch of the import/export buisness. Would not the authorities want to meet such nice people? No doubt we shall meet. I hold out the possibility that Gibbs may be a partial dupe in this game and not know of what he is carrying.
Rafaelis looks down at his hands
Danger afore and aft and us betwixt. We are forewarned though. Moving forward seems the safer of the two alternatives. Besides, I foresee opportunity here.
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My good sir exactly who was your late father-in-law? Rafaelis laughs putting his hands to the sides of his head in disbelief This book is indeed very valuable. I was sore tempted to offer you a mere pittance but it is worth 2,900gp
Copy a spell or two I will! That ritual as well. If you wish, I may try my hand at selling it for you either in Belhaim to that Hunclay fellow or in Wispil. You may not get all 2,900 but close.
My good sir exactly who was your late father-in-law? Rafaelis laughs putting his hands to the sides of his head in disbelief This book is indeed very valuable. I was sore tempted to offer you a mere pittance but it is worth 2,900gp
Brethon responds, "Well, he's gone now, so I suppose it doesn't matter. His name was Jack. He was a woodsman in what is now Andoran. In his youth he ran away to become an adventure and did study as a wizard. He always hinted his father was some kind of lycanthrope. If he was, it skipped Jack and his daughter, my late wife."
Copy a spell or two I will! That ritual as well. If you wish, I may try my hand at selling it for you either in Belhaim to that Hunclay fellow or in Wispil. You may not get all 2,900 but close.
Brethon thinks for a moment. "To be honest, the book gives me headaches. I never could get the ritual to work. I learned to cast that spell that cures drunkenness and the one that keeps you warm in the winter and cool in the summer and a handful of the lesser ones, but the rest just won't come."
"And I never could figure out why the spells all require little trinkets. They work just as well without them."
Demonstrations of magic would be a much more effective way for him to learn. Even then, his repertoire will always be quite limited. It is more than likely that he saw his father-in-law cast the spells and that reading the descriptions triggered memories that helped him develop his innate talent.
It's possible, but quite unlikely, that he learned the spells by looking at the illustrations. However, there are illustrations of the particular spells he mentioned.
"Tell you what, the book's really not helping. If you can fetch it to Hunclay and trade it to him for another, I will reward you for your time. If he won't trade, try to sell it to him or someone else in Belhaim or Wispil. When you come back through, we'll settle up. I'll pay you if you trade or let you keep a cut if you sell. We'll work out a fair amount based on how much work you have to do."
Brethon closes the book and hands it to Rafaelis. "In the meantime, copy what you can out of it."
Trouble may come nipping at our heels.
"That would be awful!" Bray exclaims.
Surely Gibbs or Dark Lil has a business associate somewhere ahead on this road to whom the crate is to be delivered either in Belhaim or Wispil... Would not the authorities want to meet such nice people? No doubt we shall meet. I hold out the possibility that Gibbs may be a partial dupe in this game and not know of what he is carrying.
"I hope you're right," Bray replies.
"Well, if there's a chance Mr. Gribb's associates are going to come looking for us, we should probably be well-rested. Good night, everyone."
Bray excuses himself and goes upstairs to the room he shares with Tark.
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"Bray is not lying very well. He does not think that Mr. Gribb's trouble from Maheto tracking down the caravan would be a bad thing at all. If anything, he is excited at the prospect."
The Professor rubs his chin, and continues to his compatriots, whispering quietly, "Moreover, he does not think Mr. Gribb is innocent. When Rafaelis mentioned that the authorities might want to meet Mr. Gribb and Dark Lil', you noticed that Bray briefly smiled, then ducked his head to cover the expression. He knows more than he's letting on."[/b]
A revelation comes upon the good Professor and he exclaims, "The LAW! err...," more quietly, these two are actually officers in Taldor's secret police. They WANT the damned trouble to find us, so they can arrest or eliminate the criminals."
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"Well, if there's a chance Mr. Gribb's associates are going to come looking for us, we should probably be well-rested. Good night, everyone."
Indeed! Exactly what I was trying to flush out. A complicated ruse to identify these dealers in misery and death. We must do our best to keep their secret in order to enable their mission. Nothing wrong with getting in good with the authorities...especially since they are our ride. I look forward to liberating the ill gotten gains from these criminals, particularly the rich ones, post mortem. Allows me to practice my trade. I do not think the halflings would begrudge us some well earned compensation if we proved valiant in a fight.
I LIKE these halflings even if they are trying to dupe us a little. Makes life more interesting. They are good people and they associate with good people. Nice to witness that in my life, for once. Even Gibbs is nice, deep down, I sense it.
Rafaelis stands and stretches
Off to my room for the night. Much studying to do. A fare evening to you all. Miss Waystrider, Mr Denge, Professor Bellerophon
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"To be honest, the book gives me headaches. I never could get the ritual to work. I learned to cast that spell that cures drunkenness and the one that keeps you warm in the winter and cool in the summer and a handful of the lesser ones, but the rest just won't come."
"And I never could figure out why the spells all require little trinkets. They work just as well without them."
Most likely you are a natural spell caster, probably a sorcerer, which means that you have innate magical abilities. It runs in your blood! Studying books of this nature are not much use to you. Experience is a far better teacher for you. Witness different types of spells being cast: see them, smell them, taste them , feel them, imagine them. Research your ancestry, most likely there is someone unusual from whence your gift has come. Are there any tricks you can perform that no one else can do? Has anything weird happened when you were under a great deal of stress? Read stories or question traveling bards about famous spell casters. Recall old wives tales especially ones in your family. Perhaps you can ask your brother for Erastl's guidance?
"Tell you what, the book's really not helping. If you can fetch it to Hunclay and trade it to him for another, I will reward you for your time. If he won't trade, try to sell it to him or someone else in Belhaim or Wispil. When you come back through, we'll settle up. I'll pay you if you trade or let you keep a cut if you sell. We'll work out a fair amount based on how much work you have to do."
This book will do you very little good. I would be glad to fetch it hither and read it whilst I do for a book like this would do me a world of good. No cut is necessary for the longer I have it the more value I may glean from it's pages. Truly a rare delight this is! All Seeing One, you bless me!
hmmm...Jack Were-son, who was this mage? Son of a lycathrope, adventurer, lived in eastern Andoran, quite a grimoir this...
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Rafaelis presents a well used book to Brethon
A small exchange is in order. This book provided me with much insight into The Art. Perhaps you would like to read some of it tonight. If it proves to your liking, you may keep it as my gift. I have practically memorized it, and can get another as I travel.
Rafaelis presents a well used book to Brethon
A small exchange is in order. This book provided me with much insight into The Art. Perhaps you would like to read some of it tonight. If it proves to your liking, you may keep it as my gift. I have practically memorized it, and can get another as I travel.
Brethon smiles broadly. He takes the book and starts paging through it. "By gum, yes! This is the sort of thing I was hoping to read! Thank you. Thank you very much!" He grabs Rafaelis in a bear hug that lifts the wizard off the ground.
Most likely you are a natural spell caster, probably a sorcerer, which means that you have innate magical abilities. It runs in your blood! Studying books of this nature are not much use to you. Experience is a far better teacher for you. Witness different types of spells being cast: see them, smell them, taste them , feel them, imagine them. Research your ancestry, most likely there is someone unusual from whence your gift has come. Are there any tricks you can perform that no one else can do? Has anything weird happened when you were under a great deal of stress? Read stories or question traveling bards about famous spell casters. Recall old wives tales especially ones in your family. Perhaps you can ask your brother for Erastl's guidance?
Brethon watches the display with great interest. His face lights up when Rafaelis casts prestidigitation. "I can do that one, too!" he exclaims. Then he starts casting spells. First he creates a glowing symbol of a bear paw on the wall. "I make these to find my way in the woods." Then he reaches up, tears his shirt, and waves his hand over it, magically repairing it. Finally he snuffs out the candle, leaving the room in darkness, but reignites it magically. "Those three were in the book in the parts I understood," he says sheepishly.
"Like I told you earlier, I can also cast one that cures minor problems, like when I drink too much, and one that keeps me warm all night and cool all day. I've been able to cast both of those since I was a teenager."
"This one, too." He says a gutteral word and as he twists his right hand, in the blink of an eye a club appears in it. At the same time, his skin darkens and becomes gnarled in places, flaky in others, like tree bark. As soon as he drops the club, it vanishes, but his skin remains gnarled for nearly half a minute. Then it returns to normal.
His brow furrows as his skin transforms back. "That's always happened with that spell. I tried to learned the ritual in the Manuscript that's supposed to do that, too, but I never could get it to work. Now, thanks to you, I know why!"
Finally, Brethon casts keep watch on Rafaelis. He looks down at the floor as he does so. "Sorry, when you cast this earlier, I just knew I could do it, too. I was going to wait to try until tomorrow, but maybe it will help you stay up and read, too."
"I've felt like I could do more for a very long time now. And the feeling has kept growing, until today. Its not quite so strong now since you cast that spell on me. In fact, it's less now that you showed me that frost spell and that trick with the lights. I think I could do those now."[b] He tries, repeating your words and gestures crudely, and conjures up four bobbing, green glowing lights." He marvels at the open-mouthed.
Then he tries to mimic the ray of frost. It doesn't come naturally to him, and nothing happens. "Huh," he says. "Well, I'd rather be able to use the one called drench from the Manuscript that's supposed to put out fires. Could you show me that one?"
He hesitates, takes a big breath, and quickly says, "I just know I can do more than that. Something big. Can you show me one of the big ones from the book? Like that spell ant haul that lets a group carry more, the one called greensight that lets you see through brush, the one called whispering wind that lets you send messages, or the one called air step that lets you walk on air?", he says pointing to the Manuscript eagerly.
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Seems you have a several influences in your blood! One is of the verdant variety indicating ancestors who have a deep and abiding connection to the plant world. Another is, based upon my observation of your muscles swelling, your body becoming increasingly stronger with every spell you cast, indicates you have a rare giant kin bloodline. The latter I might have guessed...er uh... after that bear hug...I uh... noticed that......mmm... you have LOTS of "personality."
Your bloodlines are intersected giving you some attributes of both. As such you might be able to throw things VERY hard or create a vine to trip, entangle, snatch items, but not both. Sadly, some of these spells are beyond my current power at present. These are the ones I could possibly memorize however, my path thru The Art, is one of toil. Long hours of study followed by customized note taking is required. I may be able to interpret the notes in this book to memorize a few spells. A greater variety of spells I may cast, more flexibility, but fewer in number. Once cast, they are gone from my mind until once again I study after a full night's rest. For this reason, I have not shown you all. I must keep the more puissant spells in reserve in case danger presents itself in the night.
You must also rest. Come morning, take a quarter of an hour to focus your powers. Internally summon your reserves. The Keep Watch spell does not interfere, so long as there is no great physical exertion to break the spell. You have your limits as well. With practice, experience, patience your powers will grow.
This is much to take in so short a time, read the book keep watch over your charge, ponder your life, and follow your hearts desire. Life is precious, and death, our friend, is ever near reminding us to focus on what is truly important. Good night, I will be in my chamber, studying the spells, and trying to reproduce that trick you do conjuring that great club of yours whilst it resides fresh in my mind.
The rest of the night passes uneventfully.
At Dumpkin's Inn, on the path from Maheto to Belhaim, Taldor - Wealday, 1 Gozaran, 4715 A.R.
The following morning, there is quite a ruckus downstairs at Dumpkin's. A Taldan naval patrol boat has moored in the canal where it is closest to the inn. Several Taldan sailors are in the common room enjoying breakfast. Father Dumpkin, Brethon, Fors and Brod bustle about serving them porridge, eggs, bacon, and flapjacks with syrup and butter.
Mr. Gribb is downstairs eating. He still looks terrible, but he is at least conscious. He keeps to himself, sitting away from the sailors.
Four of the sailors in the inn are young Taldan men in their late teens and early twenties. One sailor is also a Taldan man, but older, in his late 30s or early 40s. The sixth sailor is a gnome. The older Taldan man is sitting a bit to the side of the other sailors, speaking to the gnome as they eat.
"Don't take it too hard, recruit. Not everyone is cut out for the Navy. I'm sure you're a terrific boomer. Look, you could stay on with us to Maheto and hitch a ride back to Wispil with a caravan or barge from there. However, we could also try to get you a ride to Belhaim with the caravan that's here now. In Belhaim, Petty Officer Arnaus can arrange transport back to Wispil for you in time for you to find work on the boomers. But the way things are going, I think going to Maheto with us is a bad idea." the older human man says. He hands the gnome a piece of parchment. "Either way, here are your discharge papers."
"And here is your pay and an allowance for travel. The Navy will pay the fee for travelling with whatever caravan or barge you choose."
The older man hands the gnome something very small.
The halfling drivers are not in the common room. However, through the front windows, you see them hitching up their mules out in the yard.
As Rafaelis, Professor Bellerophon, Denge Fever, and Penelope come down the stairs, Father Dumpkin shouts out a hurried greeting, "Good morning! Have a seat, porridge will be out first, then fresh eggs and flapjacks." He points toward an empty table. "As you can see, we have our hands full with this patrol. After breakfast, before you leave, I'll ask Erastil to help Mr. Gribb again."
Father Dumpkin, Brethon, and the two acolytes rush back and forth setting out porridge, eggs, bacon, flapjacks, butter, and syrup for you.
Albern sees four humans coming down the stairs. Three are male, one is female. One of the men is clearly Varisian. One wears face paint and might be Mwangi or Shoanti. The third might be Taldan. The woman might be Taldan as well.
Seems you have a several influences in your blood! One is of the verdant variety indicating ancestors who have a deep and abiding connection to the plant world. Another is, based upon my observation of your muscles swelling, your body becoming increasingly stronger with every spell you cast, indicates you have a rare giant kin bloodline....Your bloodlines are intersected giving you some attributes of both. As such you might be able to throw things VERY hard or create a vine to trip, entangle, snatch items, but not both.
Brethon responded, "No, I've never conjured any vines, but I can throw things really far."
Penelope Waystrider is tall and beautiful, almost luminescent coming down the stairs. She keeps her hair in the hood of her robes and her head lowered. She wears full robes and gloves, you are able catch glimpses of her beneath her robes.
Head lowered, she does not see the interaction between the the human and the gnome.
Penelope stays oddly close to Denge, always moving to interpose Denge between her and others. Her body language shows fear and anxiety.
She sits next to him at the table and waits silently.
After a moment she starts a whispered conversation with Denge.
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Then he tries to mimic the ray of frost. It doesn't come naturally to him, and nothing happens. "Huh," he says. "Well, I'd rather be able to use the one called drench from the Manuscript that's supposed to put out fires. Could you show me that one?"
"Sadly my friend, I will not be able to demonstrate the cantrip 'Drench' today. I could tomorrow, perhaps. Today I can attempt the minor form of Ant Haul from which you may extrapolate the communal form, but I encourage you to travel with us instead to see either Hunclay or the druid Amzar Kell. Either of them should be able to cast the spell 'Greensight', which would perhaps be more useful to you and yours. Be warned, your selection, once made, will not be easily changeable. Be prudent."
"Pox and Bother! I cannot bend my mind around Ant Haul and Windy Escape today. Let us try...
Brethon's eyes light up, "I could, couldn't I? Could I travel to Belhaim with you?" Brethon turns to Father Dumpkin, "Dumpy, can you spare me for a few days while I go to Belhaim to speak to Hunclay?"
Father Dumpkin thinks for a moment, then nods. "Yes, of course. Get your things while I see to Mr. Gribb's healing. These folks are going to want to get going."
Brethon rushes out the back before Father Dumpkin even finishes speaking. He turns to Rafaelis. "He's been morose since his wife died and he came to live with us. Thank you for giving him something to look forward to. Please watch out for him for us. May Old Deadeye watch over you all."
Brethon returns a short while later with a bindlestiff and the book Rafaelis gave him. "I'm ready!" he exclaims. Father Dumpkin, the acolytes, and the sailors all chuckle.
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Rafaelis perks up at the news, obviously pleased.. "Thank you good father, may Old Deadeye indeed watch over us. Seems the hands of the gods are upon us. Many a strange and unusual circumstance hath arisen and our venture is but barely started! Sore is our need for doughty men like your brother. Mark me, there be more to your bother... nay your family than apparent. More over, there is safety in numbers. Sigh! Would that we had more.". Rafaelis thinks, "I must ask him more about his and late wife's family. There is more than one tale there I am sure." He looks down at the ground a moment. "Surely Brethon has much to teach on woodcraft, animal lore, names and uses of plants. Such knowledge would be of benefit in the woods. My skills are laughably poor."
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Coming down from upstairs, Professor Bellerophon breathes deeply, then smells the wonderful aroma of home cooked food, or at least inn-cooked food.
"Wonderful! Food!" he says loudly, before moving to a table with the oblivious Rafaelis. He immediately tucks in.
It is clear from the Professor's clothing and demeanor that he isn't used to missing meals. Not that he's fat. Just that he assumes food will be available, as it always has been in the past. His clothes, though are a bit threadbare. The trAveling so far has darkened them with dirt and dust. Anybody observing will note they appear to be standard set of traveling clothes. But some of the buckles are incorrectly fastened and the weapon belt, upon which a dagger rests, poorly sheathed, is crooked, making the drawing of the dagger problematic.
The professor throws a kit upon the ground near the table, though he does so gingerly, obviously taking some care. Symbols of healing and Pharasma are inscribed upon the kit. The symbols closely match the holy symbol that can be glimpsed within the Professor's shirt.
"Rafaelis, did you know the etymology of 'ouch'? Really quite fascinating! Let me explain for a moment..."
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An odd looking gnome - which is a stunning statement given the typical outlandish appearances of gnomes - appears to be on the edge of tears.
"You don't understand; a sailor! The open ocean, salty seas. I have to have this!"
He is amazingly tall for a gnome - 3'7"! Well-muscled - clearly a working gnome. His hair is rather tame for gnome (red - not purple, not green with polkadots - just red). However, that hint of mundanity is well offset by his reddish-purple skin, not to mention the enormously large exotic blade slung over his back. He is dressed in solid looking leather armor with his travel bag slung over his shoulder.
"I can quote Admiral Kasaba's Stormy Seas word for word - well, at least the first two paragraphs. I can tie a sheet bend while hanging upside down from the yardarm singing the Lobster's Wife"
As you look upon the gnome you can see his skin goes a little pale, and his hair goes a bit whiter - a bit of a salmon color really.
The gnome paces up to the bar, purchases a stein as large as his head, and without invitation sits down next to the Professor and proceeds to engage in an awkward combination of crying and drinking.
"This is it. The bleaching... I can feel it coming on. This is the end of everything!"
As you look upon the gnome you can see his skin goes a little pale, and his hair goes a bit whiter - a bit of a salmon color really.
The gnome paces up to the bar, purchases a stein as large as his head, and without invitation sits down next to the Professor and proceeds to engage in an awkward combination of crying and drinking.
"This is it. The bleaching... I can feel it coming on. This is the end of everything!"
The older Taldan sailor with whom the gnome has been speaking grimaces as the mention of The Lobster's Wife. He jumps up from the table. "Well, men," he shouts, "It's time we were going. We can't lay about here all day, we have a towpath to patrol." The sailors shovel a few last forkfulls of breakfast into their mouths and start to file out of the inn.
The older man then turns toward Albern. "I'm sure you'll be alright. You weren't ever going to get to sail the sea working a patrol boat on the Maheto canal anyway. Go back to the boomers, get one to Cassomir, and try your luck with the merchant marine!"
"I think, under the circumstances, it would be best if we parted ways here." He looks at Father Dumpkin. "Father, please bill the meal to the Navy's account, as usual."
Father Dumpkin nods, "Of course."
The older Taldan man then approaches Rafaelis, Denge, Penelope, and Professor Bellerophon. "I'd like to hire you to take this gnome, Albern Fee, to Belhaim. Wispil, if you're headed that far. I'll pay 10 gold if he can travel to Belhaim with you. Thirty if he can go to Wispil with you." He reaches into a pouch and draws forth three platinum pieces, holding them out.
Mr. Gribb nods weakly at the party and the offer. "Take it. Wispil," he croaks out.
"Outstanding!" the Taldan man exclaims as he places the coins in Denge's hand and races out of the inn.
At the mention of money, his books snaps shut. He looks up at the officer calculatingly and says, rubbing his chin, "Hmmm... I don't know... he looks like trouble... more so than the typical gnome...40 gold!"
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"No offense Mr... Uh... Fee? But that officer who left looked like he could have been convinced to pay a little more. One does not pass by such an opportunity lightly." He finally notices the sorry emotional state of Mr Fee. "Prythee tell, what be the source of your consternation? How does sitting on a river barge far, far inland advance your stated purpose of sailing the high seas?"
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The gnome looks up from his despair; green tears running down his cheek.
"Sitting on river barge? Sir, I am a gnomish steersman of Wispil. It is our sworn duty to get our cargo - the finest logs used in constructing the Taldan fleet - to Cassomir. I have been up and down the Sellen River thousands of times. We fight off lizardfolk, river pirates and othes in our journey." He pats his oversized sword. "Just because our vessels are not masted or seaworthy does not mean that I cannot splice a line or climb rigging - I mean, I've practiced on nets I strung up in the trees hundreds of times. I can do it blindfolded! I was meant for the sea."
"Sitting on a barge indeed." He pouts again, and his skin becomes a little paler.
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"Indeed sir I was not questioning your abilities but rather trying discern your logic. The rational for your consternation if you will. Here you are freed the bonds of service, payed passage to Wispil, quite able to join the bargemen to work your way south to Cassomir, and from there embark on a life of adventure on the high seas. The world being your oyster, why so glum? Assuredly there will be opprtunities to exercise your sword arm on the way along with many fine adventures." mayhaps this gentleman is hard of hearing or is it hard at listening?