"Dyrant, might I suggest trying your healing touch one one of these? Twould be interesting to examine the effect."
"Oh, thanks Glim. This will...come in real handy. I could...cook satay on it?"
Finneas looks at the piece before shrugging and putting it into his belt pouch.
It takes a while, but faces soon stop forming on the pillar. A check with detect magic reveals it to be no more magical than the rest of the area. Assuming the party proceeds to destroy the rest of the pillars, it will take an hour or two.
Dyrant oversees the destruction of the pillars, trying his touch just once to see the effect (for research): healing.
"When we are done here, we can return rest or begin walking home. Seeing as it's quite late, resting might be the better option."
Atol begins to setup camp, and takes out the traveling dishes from his pack. Once things are more or less laid out, he'll cast Create Food and Water for another Cauldron Five Feast!
In between bites, he'll ask the others, "So what's our next move? After we go home of course."
"Do we wait for them to strike again? ...or is there someone we can root out?"
Dyrant nibbles on Atol's Cuthbertine feast with great gusto, hoarding most of the choice bits of gristle and end-breads for himself. He sammich he makes for himself contains no less than three different meat fats and an ornery amount of cheese rinds (or, as Dyrant calls them, 'cheese gristle'...aka the best part).
"Yep, we're sleeping here tonight and on the morrow, I'll try to get us home quickly. I can do that for everyone except Cog, but that's that, I suppose," Dyrant says between mouthfuls. "Atol, maybe next feast you could ask for extra chili paste on the satay? This seems a bit light on the fire...what do you think, Finn?"
Dyrant eats and thinks and ponders...deciding what he is going to do when he gets back. Occasionally, he will toss a bit of meat or bread to Cog when Glim isn't looking.
Stealth Feeding
Atol sleeps soundly trusting that the others have a plan. He dreams of many cudgel shaped staves, each slightly different from the last - all with the mark of the Cauldron Five at their base.
He's looking forward to the teleportation in the morning, it's always such a strange experience - reality flitting in front of your eyes.
He prepares his spells after a good long prayer.
Angel HP: 46/46
Weapon Equipped = Cudgel
Conditions = Heroe's Feast (1 of 12h)
Channel Energy Left: 8/8
Healing Touch: none
Resistant Touch Left: 8/8
Strength Surge Left: 8/8
Bestow Resolve: 1/1
Purifying Touch: 1/1
Pearl of Power Left: first (2/2)
Cassock of the Clergy: Spark; Bless, Sanctuary (DC11)
Chainmail of Luck: Hit re-roll (1/1w)
Lesser Metamagic Rod of Silence (3/3)
Spells Remaining:
0) Create Water, Guidance, Light, Purify Food & Drink, Stabilize -- Arcane Mark, Detect Magic, Read Magic
1) Protection from Evil, Ant Haul, Command, Endure Elements, Obscuring Mist, Liberating Command, Protection from Evil
2) Bull's Strength, Pilfering Hand, Restoration(lesser), Sound Burst, Sound Burst, Suppress Charms and Compulsions
3) Remove Blindness/Deafness, Create Food and Water, Daylight, Dispel Magic, Invisibility Purge, Prayer
4) Spell Immunity, Blessings of Fervor, Blessings of Fervor, Holy Smite, Protection from Energy Communal
5) Righteous Might, Air Walk (communal), Breath of Life, Flame Strike, Summon Monster V
6) Greater Dispel Magic, Heal
And casts Heroe's Feast as usual in the morning for a 'healthy' scone-filled meal.
Toffitt does what he can to make himself and the party comfortable, and arranges his body into cross-armed mummy position for several hours of sleep. In the morning, he rises ready to return to Cauldron. "We must ensure the safety of young Terrem Kharatys, not to mention our friend Finneas. It may also be helpful to begin investigating the names on our list of Cagewrights. Perhaps Lady Rhiavadi will be able to light on our new information."
"I do like my satay spicy, but this is just fine Atol. Thanks for cooking."
***********
"Keep me safe? I'm safe. Why would they be coming after me? What does this tattoo mean?"
"Well, to the Cagewrights it apparently means you're a key to unlocking Cauldron's doom. Mm, not that spicy, but divinely complex flavors. I didn't know they had fenugreek in heaven."
With the soul pillars destroyed, the party teleports back to Cauldron the next day.
Presuming there are no clear emergencies the moment we return home, Atol tidies up the house while the party splits up the treasures, heads to Skies to sell them, etc. He catches up with the gardening, airs out the bedrooms, and generally fixes up the place as is his want after a trip out of town.
As the party returns from Skies, cash in hand, Atol takes a portion of his share and heads to the church that afternoon to tithe. He puts 1,250 gold in the poor box and spends an hour or two praying at the high altar, thanking god for another successful trip. As evening approaches, he'll seek out his brother to fill him in on the latest.
"...and I thought for sure I'd have to jump into the pit to save my friends. I might have to find a way to fly, everyone seems to get so far away from me, I cannot heal them! There are so many things to buy these days, just to keep up. I haven't the cash for it all - but I'm sooo very wealthy."
"Odd isn't it?"
As dark settles in, he trundles home again to prepare dinner (create food and water) for the Cauldron Five and settles in for a nice long sleep in his own comfortable bed.
The next couple days are spend scribing scrolls while he discusses with Dyrant how best to spend his cash.
Lesser Restoration (3) x2 (750gp)
Remove Paralysis (3) x2 (750gp)
Freedom of Movement (7) (2,275gp)
Dyrant rolls out of bed, anxious to get to breakfast. Dyrant, by nature, had always been an early riser, but the arrival of the Holy SconeFeasts of the Sacred Cudgel each morning had really reinforced his up-and-at-'emness. Quick strapping on his haversack and tending to his washings, Dyrant jumps down the stairs (there is no chance of hurting himself and it saves valuable seconds) to go help set the table for the holy repast.
I hope we get persimmon and macadamia scones this morning, Dyrant muses as he sets a place for Glim, uncertain whether (or when) Glim will be coming for breakfast. Always nice to see Cog.
When the table is set, Dyrant will retire to the meditorium to commune with Aralynn, ever cognizant of St. Cuthbert's blessings. Emerging and having fasted and prayed, Dyrant attacks the feast with the same force as Glim tackling a dragon...with a pointy stick. He jabs a scone through a skewer, followed by some morning ham, then desert cheese, a layer of mustard, more ham, another scone and dollops it all with the groovy grape gravy.
* * *
***BUUUUURRRRRRP!*** Dyrant belches loudly to signify his satisfaction with the meal. "As usual, Atol, the angels have blessed us with a repast worthy of the Holy Host. Do give them thanks," Dyrant says, giving Atol a smile.
Soon Dyrant will return to his work on Finneas' cloak, then out for gristle stew, then returning to his nightly feeding and ministry (Dyrant still hopes one day to have his own flock again), but something about Atol catches his eye. Dyrant sits back and pats his belly.
"Atol, your phylactery. Would you...would you mind if I prayed upon it for a bit? It might be that additional attunations to the sacred planes might be enjoined. Maybe when I finish with the cloak, I could take a look at it?" Dyrant asks while removing a forcibly jammed piece of ham gristle from his teeth with his fingers, sending the tidbit across the table.
"Atol, your phylactery. Would you...would you mind if I prayed upon it for a bit? It might be that additional attunations to the sacred planes might be enjoined. Maybe when I finish with the cloak, I could take a look at it?" Dyrant asks while removing a forcibly jammed piece of ham gristle from his teeth with his fingers, sending the tidbit across the table.
"Er, I dunno..." Atol fingers his beloved phylactery, well, lovingly. "I suppose it couldn't hurt."
"It won't hurt, will it?"
After breakfast, Atol prays a while and heads to Skie's briefly before starting in on his scroll work for the day.
"Good Morning Skie! I hope all is well with you!" He makes small talk as best he can for a while (a real struggle for poor Atol) and eventually gets around to his purpose.
"I'm looking for some boots. I've heard of boots that will increase my speed and jumping ability. I was wondering if you would please get me a pair at your leisure."
Toffitt stops by Skie's and quietly steps up to the counter. His almost complete lack of breathing makes his friendly smile perhaps a bit disquieting. "Skie. How are you, my dear? Has Glimmil been treating you well since our return?" He glances over her for signs of pregnancy.
"I have a rather expensive item to request. I've heard tell of elvish armor that is infused with the power of angels. Dyrant's sort of thing, usually, but I fear our feud with devils and demons makes such an item helpful to me, as well."
. . . . .
Toffitt pays a visit to the orphanage not long after the party's return. "I would like to see the child, Terrem Kharatys. How has he been fairing?"
Mother Tashykk agrees to meet Toffitt outside while the children remain inside.
"Are you okay? You look rather unwell."
"Terrem is fine. He sleeps through the night now and rarely speaks of what occurred. Youth are resilient as long as we don't bend them back and forth too many times."
Skie gladly welcomes the party members that stop by, happy that their latest adventure did not keep them away too long.
"These are quite the items you are seeking. I worry about sending this much treasure to Sasserine. Perhaps when the items are ready Dyrant could pop over there to pick them up and bring them back. It wouldn't do at all to either lose your treasure or your purchases to common thugs. Surely you could find them, but that would take you away from the city and I feel much safer with all of you here."
Finneas first notices the bright green hair with sparkles as Ellywinkle rounds the corner and approaches him.
"There you are. I heard you were back. I'm glad to see you're all right what with the assassins and the trouble at the church of Wee Jas and who knows what other trouble you got yourself into."
She stares at his eyes for a minute.
"Just the one eye still. I like the asymmetry. Do you like my hair? It's green for the planting season."
"Any ideas for the gate yet. It's been a week. We've cleaned up the old site, but didn't want to start doing anything without a plan. You should see some of the crazy plans people have been coming up with too. There's no way we could ensure people's safety with some of them."
Finneas smiles as Ellywinkle approaches, a smile that begins to wane as she speaks. Those who know him would swear he was turning even greener than normal.
"Uh...yeah, just one eye. We made it out just fine. Dyrant had a really fun spell for me, this dragon almost had me."
He begins to absently scratch his head and catches himself before adjusting his cod piece.
"Well, uh...how many people do you want to go through your gate? If it's just one or two a day then you don't need anything fancy. If you're expecting a lot of traffic then you'll want a gate that opens and closes fairly easily. Also how wide do you think you'll need it? Let's take a look at those plans, maybe we can find a good one?"
Ellywinkle stretches out her arms. "At least this big."
She looks from fingertip to fingertip. "Well, uhm, very big. Several people across. Everyone is going to want to visit. And then there'll be the crowds going to the shows and the merchants and..."
"But it does need a gate. Something strong to keep things out if needed. It could be a place for people to go and hide from dragons--not that one of those have been seen in Cauldron in forever."
She bounces excitedly from side to side and even turns a bit as the gears in her head spin. "I guess it will need to be fire proof, too. We can't have it burn down if some more fire elementals show up like at that other place. It should probably be acid proof, and cold proof, and wind proof, and rain proof, and snow proof, and everything proof."
Glimmil, hands full with a load of acquired weaponry and armor, turns the corner and comes to a complete stop.
Off in the distance, observing Finneas and a certain green-haired gnomess chatting, he hesitates - uncertain if he's been spotted.
Sighing, he does several mental calculations, several involving the trajectories or lobbing biscuits for Cog to catch, before remembering he was supposed to be calculating alternative routes to Skie's shop to arrange for the sale of the Cauldron Five's latest wares.
Stepping backwards and retracing his steps, Glimmil instead ducks into the shop of a gnome haberdasher - likely a distant cousin - before emerging from the back door into an alley. Moving quickly, just in case he was indeed spotted, and knowing green-haired gnomes have supernatural powers for finding things, he rushes himself, breathing heavily before finally penetrating the Skie's back door.
Turning towards some invisible observer, Glimmil make a face that seems to suggest total innocence of dirty metaphors.
Dropping the pile near the counter, he calls out to his favorite gnome.
"Honey! I'm home!"
Toffitt presses Mother Tashykk a bit, smiling in a way that seems genuinely mortal. "I'm sure you're doing your best with Terrem. Alas, the Five have reason to believe he's yet again in danger. I'd be grateful if I could see him this day. If you'll allow, we may do what we can to protect him further."
. . . . . . . . .
At Skie's, Toffitt agrees. "I dare not volunteer Dyrant for teleporting so far. But surely he'd welcome the chance to spread Cuthbert's word in Sasserine. Mustn't horde all of his accumen here in Cauldron."
Dropping the pile near the counter, he calls out to his favorite gnome.
"Honey! I'm home!"
The equipment clanks and clatters on the counter top before coming to a rest. The sounds echo through the building before silence reigns. Glancing around reveals no sign Skie.
Having come in the back door, Glimmil only now notices the front door locked and the sign reads CLOSED.
"I'd be grateful if I could see him this day. If you'll allow, we may do what we can to protect him further."
"Of course. I will bring him out."
---
Mother Tashykk returns with Terrem a short while later.
"Hello. What do you want?"
Toffitt drinks an extract of heroism and of echolocation while Mother Tashykk is retrieving the lad. He examines the boy carefully with echolocation as they arrive, attempting to verify that it's truly him and that he's well.
"Hello. It is good to see you... well... Terrem. I, um, hope you don't have hard feelings about what happened when we first met. I meant only to save you from those men..." Toffitt smiles a bit nervously, but manages not to come off as that creapy guy.
"My friends and I have pledged to protect Cauldron from any harm, and I make that pledge to you. If you like, and if Mother Tashykk allows, it would be my honor to tutor you in the arts of alchemy. It will be challenging, but I think you'll take to it quickly." He looks to Mother Tashykk and smiles.
Atol rises early the next day, and is scarcely seen at breakfast (though he certainly doe snot skip a meal). After his morning prayers (even those are cut a little short!) he rushes to his gardening workbench and begins to pray.
He takes out his cudgel, and lovingly places it among the few pots of herbs, cuttings, and shears littering the table. He pushes a few things back out of the way, and beings incantations... incantations that will make this wooden cudgel into more than it appears.
Sweat begins to bead on his brow and still he does not stop - he does not stop until the rumblings in his stomach tell him dinner's going to be late. Late as it will be for the next fortnight as he continues his fervent prayer over his simple cudgel.
For two weeks he locks himself in his private space and crafts. For two weeks he puts the best of himself into the gnarled wood under his calloused hands. For two weeks he toils to produce his first staff. And finally, it is finished.
He reaches out and activates it, summoning the power of Prayer over the cramped space. He grins not unlike a madman as the Blessings of Fervor roll out of the staff next. He knows he must be cautious and must now recharge what he has wrought, but it is complete, and ready for use against those who would stand against Cauldron.
He rushes upstairs to tell Dyrant the good news, but he finds him in his own room pouring his thoughts over some tattered cloak. Sighing, he hooks his cudgel to his belt and returns to the kitchen to prepare dinner as usual - though even that is spicier than expected - somehow more alive...
He looks to Mother Tashykk and smiles.
Toffitt notices nothing unusual about Terrem.
"Alchemy? Blowing up things?"
Mother Tashykk steps in. "I'm not sure he's ready for an apprenticeship and there are many...safer pursuits for such a young lad."
Frowning at the pile, Glimmil scoots it off to a corner to not be so obvious to any potential customers that may later be browsing Skie's shop.
Glimmil calls out a second time into the quiet.
"We're back!"
Turning down to Cog, Glimmil potentially spoils an interesting game of hide and seek.
"Coggy-boy, where do you think she's hiding at? Find Skie!"
"Um...ok. That's a lot of gate. Maybe just a good strong door? Really you don't need all that other stuff do you?"
Finneas is obviously confused by her enthusiasm for a gate.
"Um...ok. That's a lot of gate. Maybe just a good strong door? Really you don't need all that other stuff do you?"
Finneas is obviously confused by her enthusiasm for a gate.
"Yes we do. We certainly do!"
"The gate is what the world will first see of us. It must be grand. Otherwise, they tend to look over us." Her head drops momentarily.
"And it must be strong and resilient like the gnomish people."
"I'll bring you some sketches, you can just tell us how to build it. Okay?" She gives you her best coquettish looks.
Turning down to Cog, Glimmil potentially spoils an interesting game of hide and seek.
"Coggy-boy, where do you think she's hiding at? Find Skie!"
Glimmil's anxiety level drops quickly as a little investigating reveals a path of rose petals leading up to Skie's bedroom. Cog waits at the bottom of the steps.
"No, not blowing things up, my good lad. We would be studying something much more miraculous: how to help the body live long and healthfully. The alchemical healing arts. No danger in that, eh, Mother Tashykk? He'd practice his letters and figures as well. Mayhap even some light practice in the defensive arts. Have you ever wrestled with a gnome before?"
Toffitt excuses himself from Terrem and draws Mother Tashykk aside. "We've the head of the churches of Cuthbert and Kord to help oversee his tutelage should we be called to serve Cauldron, and two of the finest minds in Cauldron. The boy's life is... Well let's just say he needs some better angels to look in on him now and again. He's got a big future, and I'd like to ensure it's a bright one. Please. Ma'am. In exchange, I'll ensure free medical care for some hours per day until our duties again call us."
"No, not blowing things up, my good lad."
Toffitt excuses himself from Terrem and draws Mother Tashykk aside.
Terrem's shoulders droop as Toffitt explains his version of alchemy. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll be fine."
Mother Tashykk finds Toffitt's arguments convincing though. "It would be good for the boy to learn a trade and there are always people in need of healing. You'd have to promise to not leave the boy alone; he's only nine years old after all. Not for a minute mind you."
"I shall make certain he's kept occupied while he is in our care. Mind, it may be that he spends some of his time learning some catechism from the Cuthbertites or wrestle-prayers from the priests of Kord. But you have my word we'll see to him while he is in our care."
"Having said that, I will need to make firm arrangements with them. For now, I can guarantee a few hours of study with me each day. I will need to confirm with the others. Perhaps we can arrange a more comprehensive regimen."
He returns to Terrem. "Don't look so sad, my friend. You'll be learning a great deal more than just chirurgery." Assuming they are able to leave immediately, he waits until out of ear shot before saying, "Have you done any fencing? I've found that it's a fine way to learn about physiology."
Returning to the house, Toffitt announces his intentions. "Mother Tashykk has agreed to put young Terrem in our care for tutelage. I'll be teaching him some of the healing arts and fencing. But there's no reason he shouldn't also learn some catechism in the garden or wrestling at the temple of Kord."
When Terrem is out of ear shot he confides, "If he and Finneas are part of the Cagewrights' plans, I'd rather we find a way to keep him in a secure place. Perhaps we could get one of the temples to agree to house him, in addition to any tutelage we provide."
Glimmil frowns at the petals.
"What's this Cog? It looks like a florist came by earlier. The petals look healthy, but there's so many of them---"
Glimmil meets the eyes of his furry companion who seems to be looking at him quizzically and saying.
Really, boss?
"What?"
Glimmil looks at Cog. Cog looks back.
"OHHH!!!"
Glimmil drops the handful of petals he has collected and rushes up the stairs as fast as he can while wearing a suit of magical full plate armor.
Returning to the house, Toffitt announces his intentions. "Mother Tashykk has agreed to put young Terrem in our care for tutelage. I'll be teaching him some of the healing arts and fencing. But there's no reason he shouldn't also learn some catechism in the garden or wrestling at the temple of Kord."
"A child? Here? I don't have any toys..." Atol putters about nervously at his workbench, and moves some plant shears to a higher shelf.
"I don't know that this is a good idea." he moves a digging trowel, "This place isn't really for children." He takes a scone out of his satchel and hands it to the child at arms length like it'll bite if he gets too close.
When Terrem is out of ear shot he confides, "If he and Finneas are part of the Cagewrights' plans, I'd rather we find a way to keep him in a secure place. Perhaps we could get one of the temples to agree to house him, in addition to any tutelage we provide."
"Oh, it's a guard mission. I see. Can we keep him locked up? You know, for his own protection."
He's looking at me! I know, I'll smile back. Atol grins lopsidedly and clearly uncomfortably.
Toffitt gets a puzzled look on his face. "I should think you'd delight in sharing Cuthbert's good example with the lad. Some work in the garden, and perhaps some reading lessons at the scrivener's table?" Though I'm not sure who will be teaching whom...
"That, uh, that would be great. I'll just go back to working with my sword. Take care now."
Once the gnome is gone Finneas will return to vigorously attacking imaginary foes with his sword.
Toffitt gets a puzzled look on his face. "I should think you'd delight in sharing Cuthbert's good example with the lad. Some work in the garden, and perhaps some reading lessons at the scrivener's table?" Though I'm not sure who will be teaching whom...
Atol moves some of his more expensive inks for scribing the better scrolls into his pack, "No, no, no, I'm not really any good with children. Especially the smart ones."
He peacebonds his cudgel so the lad can't run off with it somehow, "Best to keep the child to yourself I think."
Atol rises and heads out to the garden to work. He thinks about moving the more delicate herbs back to the church for a time while the child is running rampant in his home. And he frets...
Toffitt harumphs. He accuses me of being a monster, but can't bear to be around children. These Cuthbertites are loons. "Might you at least ask Jenya if she'll spare a tutor? No doubt they could teach him letters by reading that holy horticulture book of yours. What was it called? The Book of Common Scents?
He returns to Terrem and shrugs. [b]"Hey, I hate a notion." He finds a couple of sword-length sticks. "We'll start with anatomy lessons. En garde! Now, try to hit my clavicle. What, you don't know what a clavicle is? Well try to hit something and I'll tell you what it is."
Atol looks at Doctor Toffitt and ruffles through his pack a moment before taking out a worn red book. He reads the flyleaf a moment and turns back to the doctor, "Our book is simply called the St. Cuthbert Gospel, as you would know if you cared for my religion at all. Feel free to make fun of me if you must, but do not disp... uh, disp... speak badly about the church of St. Cuthbert! I do not see how this is a good idea." he gestures to the boy.
He puts his book away with anger and storms off to find out if Jenya does indeed have a tutor for the child now underfoot. Our home is no place for children. We definitely need a nanny of some kind to keep an eye on him.
On his way to the church however a thought occurs to him. Is this really something for Jenya? Seems to me she has more important things to do than to care for our self created problems. He instead goes to this brother Alexander for advice.
"...so now we have a child in our home and no one to properly care for him. Doctor Toffitt is teaching him something, but he'll tire of that and the boy will be loose, creating his own fun and doing who knows what mischief. And we'll be responsible for it!"
He pleads with his brother, "So what should I do?!"
Toffitt leans in and whispers, "Um, Atol, what are those words above "The Gospel of St. Cuthbert"? I believe they say "The Book of Common Sense." I was making a pun. Oh never mind." Smiling, he continues. "I meant to infer that you might teach him Cuthbeet's ways through the art of gardening." Clearly not through letters yourself...
The shame of his own stupidity brings a flush to his cheeks.
Open mouthed he says nothing to Toffitt, and continues to storm off in search of Jenya, then Alexander for solutions to his problem child...
Dyrant continues to work hard on his crafters, mostly on a divine cloak for Finneas, but also exploring the overlaying of auras on Atol's phylactery. Between that and his ministry, Dyrant has no time for children and while he wishes safety for the child, he has more important things to do.
He pleads with his brother, "So what should I do?!"
Alexander listens patiently to Atol with sympathy in his eyes before answering, "That is quite the predicament, brother. Perhaps I could help you out. I've always regretted to some extent my chosen path. I will never know what is is to have a family and bounce a baby on my knee. Perhaps this would be a chance to help you, the Church, and myself."
He returns to Terrem and shrugs. "Hey, I hate a notion." He finds a couple of sword-length sticks. "We'll start with anatomy lessons. En garde! Now, try to hit my clavicle. What, you don't know what a clavicle is? Well try to hit something and I'll tell you what it is."
Terrem takes up the stick and tries whacking Toffitt several times. "Head! Arm! Leg! That's easy. Do I get a prize?"
Toffitt deftly dodges the boy's blows, countering with the names of Terrem's body parts as he lightly calls coup.. Temporal lobe. Kidney. Solar plexus. Here, hold your sword like this. And you're too much weight on your left heel. Stand like so. There you go."
After a few hours, Toffitt finds himself exhausted with the boy, but feels more humane than he has in ages. Maybe in saving the city, we'll also help the boy make something of himself. Let's hope.
Alexander listens patiently to Atol with sympathy in his eyes before answering, "That is quite the predicament, brother. Perhaps I could help you out. I've always regretted to some extent my chosen path. I will never know what is is to have a family and bounce a baby on my knee. Perhaps this would be a chance to help you, the Church, and myself."
Atol lets out a long breath, losing some of his tension as he does so. "YOU? That would be great! You could see what I've done in the house garden. I'm sure Jenya will let you stay with us a few days while we sort everything out. I'm not really sure why we're protecting the kid in the first place, but I guess it's important."
Atol rushes with Alexander to get Jenya's permission and, assuming it's granted, makes room in the house for Alexander - giving up his own bed if need be (he'll sleep on his bedroll on the floor).
Atol continues to spend his days crafting his cudgel and stops thinking about the child though he does enjoy his brothers company at meals and such.
Atol lets out a long breath, losing some of his tension as he does so. "YOU? That would be great! You could see what I've done in the house garden. I'm sure Jenya will let you stay with us a few days while we sort everything out. I'm not really sure why we're protecting the kid in the first place, but I guess it's important."
Before Atol can finish his thanks Alexander bursts out laughing. "You believed me?"
"I hate kids almost as much as I do demons. In fact, I'm fairly sure they're one in the same. I definitely rather face a demon like you have than spend an extended amount of time with a boy."
Alexander pauses as he waits for it to sink in with Atol. "Of course, we really haven't had any demons come by lately. What about that tavern you're always eating at? I'm sure they could use another boy to wash dishes and clean tables. He'll definitely be under constant supervision there."
After a few hours, Toffitt finds himself exhausted with the boy, but feels more humane than he has in ages. Maybe in saving the city, we'll also help the boy make something of himself. Let's hope.
Terrem pouts for a while when no prize is forthcoming, but eventually gives into the irresistible temptation of swordplay. After a few hours he collapses into a corner with some water and leftovers from Atol's heroes' feast.