During the lull in lessons, Toffitt follows up on his request of the Cuthbertites and Kordians. "You do recall, I trust, that Terrem is listed as one of the Shackleborn, just like Finneas. Protecting him may mean saving Cauldron. Finding housing for him in one of the temples may mean he'd be protected from, say, teleporting kidnappers. More so than in the orphanage, at any rate. I'll gladly ask Jenya or the priests of Kord myself, if you like."
Dyrant continues his crafters and nighttime sermonizing, often delivering the lessons of the Cauldron 5.2 into his orations.
"...and do not ask for whom the DracoDragon roars, it roars for the Cudgel. For the Cudgel stands fast where lessers would flee in terror. Put thy faith in the Cudgel and give no ground to those who would meddle in Cages, nor those who bind with demons..."
"He can stay at the Temple of Lordly Might, Doctor. Did wonders for me, coming out of the orphanage. Let's go there now to ask them."
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."
It does take a little time, but when it does sink in Atol joins in the revelry, "Hahaha! That is a good one Alexander. That's a good idea. I'll see if Dr. Toffitt wants to go that route. Could be a good way to keep an eye on him."
Atol resolves to suggest just that to Dr. Toffitt as he heads back home to get to work on his cudgel.
"Sounds like a great plan, Finneas." Although it would be nice if they taught the art of ablutions oneself at the temple...
"He can stay at the Temple of Lordly Might, Doctor. Did wonders for me, coming out of the orphanage. Let's go there now to ask them."
Asfelkir welcomes in Finneas and any others that join him. The other priests still eye Finneas's eye warily, but clearly no discussion is allowed on the point as not a one says a word.
"You would like the boy to remain here? Does he want to follow Kord? Does he have the strength to follow Kord? We can protect him, but do you wish us to train him also?"
Dyrant continues his craftery and nighttime sermonizing, often delivering the lessons of the Cauldron 5.2 into his orations.
"...and when the trail of roses leads up, do not tarry for the whims of womanfolk are strange...cast aside thy armor before the...and use both hands to gently...keep the halflings out of the...and then remember to remove the candlestick."
"The Doctor has decided to train him. If you think he is strong enough to withstand Kord's teachings too, we should train him. What do you think Doctor?"
"Surely you have some fun trials for those who are just beginning to explore Kord's lessons...? If you could protect him, let him test out Kord's lessons, it might then be easier for him to answer himself."
Who are Cagewrights?
Atol works hard on bending magics to his will and continues to forge his cudgel-staff.
Taxes not being used for rebuilding Cauldron.
Sweat beads on his brow as he handles a particularly tough section of hand and body gestures.
Half-orcs added to city guard.
He completes the days final spell and 'seals' the magics tightly in the cudgel.
The mayor is working in the best interests of Cauldron and the church of St. Cuthbert.
He sits a moment, resting, as his sweat evaporates into the cooler night air.
Lord Vhalantru is NOT working in the best interests of Cauldron and the church of St. Cuthbert.
After a while, he seeks out Dyrant. "Is Lord Vhalantru a Cagewright? If he is, why haven't we smote him yet?" Atol thinks a long moment and adds, "Or did we? We've smitten so many, I get confused. I'm sorry. It seems he has the ear of the mayor, who's trying to do the right thing, but maybe he's not doing the right thing because Lord Vhalantru is advising him poorly, maybe even evilly."
Dyrant sits upright at Atol's question.
"What if Vhalantru is a Cagewright? Hmmm..." Dyrant asks himself as he adds another aura to Finneas' cloak. "That's a good question, Atol. Why were you thinking upon that? That's interesting indeed. One moment...and we shall explore that further," Dyrant weaves the aura of displacement over the next, each one adding to the completion of the craftery that will lend its magics to the cloak.
While Aralynn prepares to commune with the Archons, Dyrant continues his chat with Atol.
'You're quite right, Atol. We have smote so many in the name of the Cudgel...but that's only because there is so much evil here in Cauldron. And I expect our cudgels will smite again before our work is done,' Dyrant pauses his work, remembering some of the delightful cudgelings of the past.
'I've been under the assumption that Vhalantru is a Cagewright, but realize that I might be wrong. I certainly expected to deal with him soon enough. We just needed to prepare more...like this cloak here...and your new mighty cudgel. I look forward to seeing that in action, Atol. Now that I have you here, why don't you enjoin with me to ask questions of Aralynn; she should be ready to hear our questions and offer the holy words of archons in response. What would you ask of her?"
Having happily handed Terrem into the care of the Temple of Lordly Might (though still keeping his promise on several hours of tutelage each day), Toffitt spends time enjoying the company of the other four-point-two.
"We know that he has some congress with the Cagewrights. It could mean he is one. It could mean he is their pawn. Or it could mean they are his. I might suggest asking the angels about all of these options. Or perhaps this: Does Vhalantru also seek to open a portal between Cauldron and Carceri?"
"What if Vhalantru is a Cagewright? Hmmm..." Dyrant asks himself as he adds another aura to Finneas' cloak. "That's a good question, Atol. Why were you thinking upon that? That's interesting indeed. One moment...and we shall explore that further,"
"I, uh, I dunno. I was just working on my cudgel and the thought came to me. Work today was more physical so my mind wandered. I guess I just don't trust Vhalantru and don't like that he's so close to the Mayor. Seems like a loose end we should tie up if we can."
'I've been under the assumption that Vhalantru is a Cagewright, but realize that I might be wrong. I certainly expected to deal with him soon enough. We just needed to prepare more...like this cloak here...and your new mighty cudgel. I look forward to seeing that in action, Atol. Now that I have you here, why don't you enjoin with me to ask questions of Aralynn; she should be ready to hear our questions and offer the holy words of archons in response. What would you ask of her?"
"What Toffitt said. I want to know if Vhalantru is a Cagewright master, Cagewright apprentice or just a puppet. If he's the former, we need to go get him and take him out. If the latter we need to know who's got their hand up his...uh, I mean who is pulling his strings."
"If there is room, I'd also like to know if the church of St. Cuthbert in Cauldron remains pure. We may need to clean our own rooms you know. So far the church has been solid, but one of our Paladins was corrupted, at least briefly, and I would know if his death ended the evil influence under our roof."
"These Cagewrights are powerful, we cannot make any, ah, assumptions."
Dyrant nods at Atol's points and remembers what Dr. Toffitt had mentioned during that morning's Holy High Sconefeast and formulates 6 questions to ask the Archons.
"Does Vhalantru also seek to open a portal between Cauldron and Carceri?"
"Is Vhalantru a Cagewright?"
"Do we have the power now to defeat the Cagewrights?"
"Is the Cauldron Church of St. Cuthbert, lead by Jenya, still true and pure to the Cudgel?"
"Has the Temple of Kord in Cauldron been corrupted?"
"Are we too late to stop the planar ritual to bind Carceri with Cauldron?"
Aralynn whips about the room.
Aralynn takes a lap around the room before answering each question. The first time she stops in front of Dyrant's nose, "No. He does not."
The second trip ends with Aralynn next to Dyrant's right ear. "No. He is not."
The third trip ends at Dyrant's other ear. "No. Not yet."
The fourth trip ends at Dyrant's back. "Yes. The church is true."
The fifth trip ends back at Dryant's nose. "No. The Kordites are true."
The sixth trip ends with Aralynn spinning and spinning atop Dryant's head. "It is unclear."
Later, Toffitt returns and listens to the report of Dyrant's divinations. "Let us survey the list of Cagewrights that we have found. If they live hear, under the names listed, we will find them."
He proceeds to do so over the next bit of time, asking his contacts about people matching the names in the found ledgers. While asking around, he pours his considerable alchemical magics into heroic sociability .
He continues to tutor the child while brewing a number of medicinals.
Finneas nods, remembering fondly the beatings he received as part of his teachings.
"Oh yes, the boy will learn a lot here."
**************************
"Maybe we should be asking about the Mason guys too? They seemed to know a lot about what was going on and they didn't tell us. Could any of them be Cagewrights?"
It doesn't take much work for Toffitt to put together the group's list of Cagewrights and their associates:
- Embril Aloustinai (High Priestess of the Cathederal) - Not seen in town for several months - Only one known for sure to be a Cagewright
- Lord Mayor Severen Navalant
- Lady Thifirane Rhiavadi
- Lord Vhalantru
Toffitt's inquiries indicate that Embril is still out of town. The lords and lady have been rarely seen in public lately, always at planned events and never simply out in public. One notable figure pops up more than once during Toffitt's inquiries. Gau Kleeoch, a female minotaur barbarian. She was seen with Embril last year. She was also seen visiting Lady Rhiavadi's house.
Toffitt enquires as to Gau Kleeoch's whereabouts.
Glimmil tosses his bare feet up on the counter with little concern for the current contents - a feather quill perched in its stand falls over like a surprised gray render charged by Finneas, spilling oily black ink over the surface.
The gnome leans dangerously back in the tall chair that would normally enable Skie to see over the counter's tall height and stretches - placing both hands behind his head. Glimmil revels in his flexibility, as not only is he without his heavy armor, he is completely shirtless.
Bringing one arm back, Glimmil examines it and takes note of the various scratches drawn across his lithe frame.
Shrugging, he returns to the leisurely position of a tax collector during tax season.
The shop door bell tingles as a duo of apparently young adventures meanders within. Both young boys hasten to the front counter upon where they drop a handful of "treasures" - dogslicers and horsechoppers liberating from some nearby goblin warren.
His mind now distracted with other thoughts, Glimmil snorts at their take and shakes his head.
"Magic shop."
He points at the sign that sways in the cool Cauldron breeze outside the window - a sway that reminds him of the way that Skie's hips sway when she...
Glimmil shakes his head again and points back at the door.
"Go look for the smith, maybe he can melt those down."
Both the lads look at each other with some disappointment while one leans over and whispers something to his friend.
Finally one summons the courage to ask the question on his mind.
"Wait, aren't you Glimmil?"
A smile creeps over the gnome's face as the chair thuds back into place as he brings his weight forward.
"You're damn right I am."
Toffitt enquires as to Gau Kleeoch's whereabouts.
Toffitt is unable to find anyone who has recently seen Kleeoch in town. However, he does meet a half drunk peddler who shares his tale.
"Thought she was going to kill me, I did. Almost wish she had. I was on my way here after leaving the Lucky Monkey and she came roaring out of the jungle so fast I thought she was going to knock my wagon over the cliff. But she was smart and knew what she wanted. She skidded to a halt right at the last moment, smirked--didn't know a minotaur could--and asked me if I wanted to live."
"I thought it was a trick question. I thought she was going to kill me either way. Instead she just took all my whiskey. A mostly full cask of Sasserine's finest. It was so smooth you barely noticed it burn as it went down. And man it would clear the sinuses. I almost rolled over and died thinking about dragging my mule up these roads sober. I did it though."
"Where along the path was it, friend. Here, have a sip. You'll feel better." Toffitt offers the man some of his 'kindness' in sippy form.
"It was by the curve, with the grove of trees, and the big black rock. You know, right before the great view, just as your start your ascent to Cauldron."
Toffitt thinks on the area the man is describing. Does it lie near the entrance to underground lake caverns? "Thank you, good sir. Should you need any healing, do not hesitate to visit me at the House of the Cauldron Five."
Atol, finding himself with free time on his hands, offers to craft a staff for the church. It certainly won't be finished in a week, but he can get a good start on it in between eating, sleeping, and gardening. That is if the church will pay the construction fees of course.
Otherwise Atol spends his time trying to piece together the clues they have. Like a blank jigsaw puzzle though the pieces elude him and he has trouble even putting two thoughts together.
I hope the others know what we're doing next. I hate to think they're waiting for me to suggest something.
The others will note Atol getting more and more quiet and uneasy during meals. Every question gives Atol a start like he's being asked something monumental when really they just want another scone...
Dyrant continues his craftery and nighttime sermonizing, often delivering the lessons of the Cauldron 5.2 into his orations.
"...and when comes the cudgel inquisition, do not be afraid to turn in thy neighbor, for the cause is just and evil and wickedness must be beaten out of our followers..."
* * *
Week 3, Holy Sconefeast
"...and I'm almost done with your cloak, Finneas," Dyrant says as he breaks off another holy cinnamon and Camembert cheese scone. "The next order of business is to pray to the Archons again to get more answers. Again, I shall be asking 6 questions and again, I turn to you for questions."
"The next order of business is to pray to the Archons again to get more answers. Again, I shall be asking 6 questions and again, I turn to you for questions."
This is it, they await your wisdom, now's your moment to shine!
"I. Uh, er. There's an emergency at the church garden. I have to go." Atol hikes up the skirts of his cossack and rushes to the church sweating and panting all the way.
I'm sure they'll think of something.
"Thank you Dyrant. What should I do with this old one? Maybe Atol would like it? I suppose I could give it to the church of Kord."
Toffitt thinks a moment on Dyrant's communal questions. "I might suggest these: Will the boy, Terrem, be safe from harm in the Temple of Lordly Might? If not, will he come under threat of danger within the next month? The next week? Is the minotaur Gau Kleech in league with the Cagewrights?"
. . . . . . . .
Toffitt attempts to verify the place of Gau Kleech's assault on the whiskey merchant, taking a ride out of the city with Terrem one afternoon to drill him on flora and fauna.
"I'd like to test myself against a minotaur. They're supposed to be very strong. I wonder..."
Finneas unconsciously sweats and flexes beneath his armor, imagining the various ways he could take the bull by the horns.
Toffitt is able to find the spot the trader described. A few yards into the jungle Toffitt finds a tree stump with some wood scrapings piled up. It appears the minotaur waited here to ambush the traveler.
And making this, I realized we never resolved Fetor Abradius being captured by the soul pillars before the dracolich.
* * *
Dryant dips another Gouda and huckleberry holy scone into the venison gravy and stuffs it into his mouth. He looks at the rest of the Holy Sconefeast eaters while waiting for answers to his question about questions. A bit of gravy dribbles down his chin and onto his shirt. He neither notices nor cares, but only Dr. Toffitt has offered counsel.
Hmm....I should have asked Cog.
Tapping his fingers on the table, he summons Aralynn to the table.
"Aralynn, I have decided. *We* have decided..." Dyrant makes air quotes at the 'we' part of his sentence, realizing it's just Dyrant and Dr. Toffitt who have the brain power to ponder upon the larger issues. "...on what to ask of the archons, Aralynn. Call upon them if you would."
Questions:
1:"Is the minotaur, Gau Kleech, in league with the Cagewrights? "
2:"Do Finneas, as the ruler of Occiptius, have power to change current events?"
3:"Should Finneas flee the city in order to save it?"
4:"Do the Cagewrights have all the shackleborn they need to complete their ritual?"
5:"By our destruction of the Soul Pillars, did we thwart the ritual?"
6:"Is the newly leveled tax increases going to the Cagewrights and their plans?"
Dyrant sits back and puts his hands over his stomach as if deciding if he has room for another catfish and sweet potato scone dipped in chocolate-cherry jam.
Maybe. Another scone after the communing.
The last month (28 days) pass like a dream for the party.
Their first obvious lead, interrogating Fetor, never gets started. As Toffitt stands guard the night the party returns, the beholder pops in, disintegrates Fetor, and pops out before Toffitt can get more assistance.
Toffitt chases leads about the minotaur without any luck. He finds a few more stories of the minotaur raiding lone traders on their way to Cauldron, but he can find no pattern to the attacks.
Dyrant and Toffitt read more of the accumulated notes and become convinced that Lady Thifirane Rhiavadi and Lord Vhalantru might not be Cagewrights, but they are definitely aware of the Cagewrights and complicit in their activities. It's nothing that could be easily presented to the public, but it's quite obvious to them with their knowledge of all the events.
Toffitt--and Finneas by default as he is at the church of Kord--tutor Terrem while keeping an eye on him.
Atol and Dyrant fill the rest of their days with crafting as the party seeks enough information to act on.
Finneas's month is less restful as his nights are filled with awful dreams of demons and Occipitus. In some dreams he cuts them down by the hundreds. In others he is ripped apart by them. Other nights, he spends the whole night encased in one of the cysts, his body dissolving and mixing with the other fluids. During the days, Ellywinkle drops by every so often with grander and grander plans for the gate. By the end of the month, the plans are finalized and a foundation laid.
Glimmil has the most relaxing month of them all. He spends a lot of time with Skie and acts as a consultant for the upcoming play detailing the reclaiming of Jzadirune called, "When the gnomes come marching in."
Questions:
1:"Is the minotaur, Gau Kleech, in league with the Cagewrights? " - YES
2:"Do Finneas, as the ruler of Occiptius, have power to change current events?" - YES
3:"Should Finneas flee the city in order to save it?" - NO
4:"Do the Cagewrights have all the shackleborn they need to complete their ritual?" - NO
5:"By our destruction of the Soul Pillars, did we thwart the ritual?" - NO
6:"Is the newly leveled tax increases going to the Cagewrights and their plans?" - YES
As Dyrant receives his answers and ponders which leftovers to have for lunch, Glimmil returns reading a note out loud again to himself as he holds a spoon shaped key:
"Dearest Glimmil,
If I am to be worthy of you then I must cut some of the less honorable ties that bind me. If all goes well, then we will toast my new beginning together tonight. If not, I leave the shop to you so that you might continue to protect Cauldron. I have changed the locks in your honor and leave the key with you. Hopefully, one day I will be able to gift you with the key to my heart.
Love,
Skie."
Toffitt facepalms as he hears Dyrant ask his questions. Too many questions wasted on things we can already surmise. He then smiles and pats Dyrant on the back as the tax question is answered. "Well that's a bit of new information, anyway. Nicely done."
Hearing Glimmil's words, he at first misses the point—and then frowns. Your lady love seems bent on distracting us from more pressing matters. Either that or the gods themselves seek to lead us by the nose along some seemingly unnecessary path.
He turns back tot he subject at hand. "If the taxes are going to the Cagewrights, and Vhalantru is behind the taxes, then perhaps he thinks them to be his pawns. Other than confronting him ourselves, it seems our best bet is tracking down Gau Kleech. And to make sure neither Terrem nor Finneas fall into the Cagewrights' hands."
Glimmil arrived promptly at noon for lunch with Skie as agreed. When he arrived though, the door was closed and a small note was attached to the door. "Glimmil, let yourself in. It should be easy."
Glimmil stared at the door for a while before staring at the curved--one would almost say spoon-shaped--new lock on the door. Shrugging, he pulled out a couple of his usual spoons and let himself in.
Inside, everything was in order. On the counter rested a letter and a small wooden box containing a spectacularly engraved platinum spoon.
Dyrant smiles as he hands the new cloak to Finneas.
"With Aralynn and St. Cuthbert's blessing, this cloak is now yours, Finneas. To protect Cauldron," Dyrant smiles, eager to see his work on the warrior.
Dyrant flips the cloak over to show the colors. Well woven black dyed cotton cloth makes up most of the surface area with red and gold trim along the sides. A war-baboon fur neckline and gold clasp highlights the neck area. On the back, a stitched white-gauntleted fist glows with holy power.
"I do hope you like it, Finn...please try it on," Dyrant nods. It is clear that he wants to see if his craft was successful.
"As for your old cloak, it might be that I can strengthen the magicks upon it. Or we can sell it. It was useful for a while. Or it might be that Atol could use it."
* * *
Dyrant considers the actionable intel that the Archons have provided him, hemming and hawing at every possible inference. He seeks wise counsel in the Holy Gardens of Atol, a place of peace and rutabagas.
"Atol, it might be that there are two avenues of exploration: one, we find this minotaur. Find him in a way that might lead us to others. Two, we pursue the tax money...find out where it goes and who as it," Dyrant leans against a tree while watching Atol toil in the soil.
"Tomorrow, Atol, we should visit the Lord Mayor and see if we can gain audience. I would ask him who controls the new tax monies and whether is it only half-orcs that they hire. There is no need for continued taxation."
Dyrant step around the garden to avoid trampling any rhubarb.
"Failing that, we go on a minotaur hunt. Mayhaps we leave him a basket of golden scones. Of course, we use the scones to track him back to his hideout. From there, from there...who knows?"
Dyrant kicks around the dirt, making conversation.
Finneas beams at the new cloak, clearly happy to have such a cunning design. He wastes no time doffing his old cloak and donning the new. Turning around quickly he tests the properties of his new gear.
"What do you think Dyrant? Mighty cunning right?"
"Indeed, Finneas! You should taste dirt and floormat half as often as before! That is a glorious thing as that means the taste of Atol's Holy Sconefeast should last twice as long. Hail Kord! And hail St. Cuthbert! Two churches unsullied by evil!" Dyrant pumps his fist in exultation.
"Yes, the churches are pure as snow. Let us go in search of the minotaur. We have a sense of her comings and goings. Too bad you didn't think to ask whether she knows the location of Embril Aloustinai. But at least we've triply confirmed that Finneas is an important person."
Glimmil stands in Skie's shop, key in one hand, note in the other. Strangely altered by his night with Skie, Glimmil sheds no tear and fears not for Skie, knowing well that she can handle herself.
Distractedly, Glimmil waves off his companion and folds the note up carefully, placing it in an easily-reached drawer. Grabbing a piece of paper, he scrawls a note to alert any of the shop's potential customers about the store's temporary closure and hangs it on the front window where it can be easily seen.
With a calm voice, he meets Cog's eyes.
"Looks like it's just the two of us again tonight. Let's go see what Dyrant and Toffitt have dug up."
Glimmil's voice reveals a subtle change about the gnome, as if he were a boy who somehow achieved adulthood this week.
~*~
As Glimmil is brought up to speed on the results of the divination, he regards Finneas with a look of respect. Gone is the usual worry about Finneas keeling over to the next dragon or demon lord, but instead a profound look that seems to suggest - don't worry big guy, I'll get your back.
"Finn. Take this."
Glimmil hands a shiny platinum band to the ruler of Occipitus, perfectly sized for the half-orc's little finger.
"If the taxes are intended for do-badding, then we should ensure their collection is immediately halted. As the town's primary heroes, we have this power do we not?"
As Glimmil taps his temple, he wonders aloud, thinking of the stories he's read in his "youth", which somehow feels more distant than yesterday.
"Couldn't we cast a spell on the coins collected for this tax? Then trace them with magic? Use that to locate our next lead?"
Hah, about time they saw how important I am. Finally, the respect I deserve.
Fifth: Let's not put on airs.
What? How would you even wear air?
Male: I'm with the boy on this one.
Female: You're both idiots.
Finneas preens as his companions shower him with gifts, making note of the Doctor's lack in this area.
Hah, about time they saw how important I am. Finally, the respect I deserve.
Fifth: Let's not put on airs.
What? How would you even wear air?
Male: I'm with the boy on this one.
Female: You're both idiots.
"As for your old cloak, it might be that I can strengthen the magicks upon it. Or we can sell it. It was useful for a while. Or it might be that Atol could use it."
Dyrant considers the actionable intel that the Archons have provided him, hemming and hawing at every possible inference. He seeks wise counsel in the Holy Gardens of Atol, a place of peace and rutabagas.
"Atol, it might be that there are two avenues of exploration: one, we find this minotaur. Find him in a way that might lead us to others. Two, we pursue the tax money...find out where it goes and who as it," Dyrant leans against a tree while watching Atol toil in the soil.
"Uh huh."
"Tomorrow, Atol, we should visit the Lord Mayor and see if we can gain audience. I would ask him who controls the new tax monies and whether is it only half-orcs that they hire. There is no need for continued taxation."
"Uh huh."
Dyrant step around the garden to avoid trampling any rhubarb.
"Failing that, we go on a minotaur hunt. Mayhaps we leave him a basket of golden scones. Of course, we use the scones to track him back to his hideout. From there, from there...who knows?"
"Uh huh."
Dyrant kicks around the dirt, making conversation.
"Uh huh."
"Getting an appointment with the mayor might be hard - he seems a little dodgy. So we should set it up and then go after the minotaur while we wait. Maybe we should hire a good tracker."
" Too bad you didn't think to ask whether she knows the location of Embril Aloustinai. But at least we've triply confirmed that Finneas is an important person."
Dyrant *facepalms*.
Maybe it's just me and Cog...
"Of course, Doctor! Why didn't I think of that!? We could just ask exactly where people are!? That's genius!!!" Dyrant says excitedly...before deflating and stating what he has stated repeatedly. "Oh yes...that's because the Archons only answer yes and no questions. That's why. Of course, I really can't explain why they won't be more direct, but I suspect that they adhere to a higher order on such things."
Dyrant shakes his head.
If we were truly clever, we'd seal the boy's soul away until all this has passed, returning it to him when things are safe.
Toffitt smiles mischievously at Dyrant. "Clearly a lesson is in order from men of letters. Such a question would be yes or no, a limitation about which I am fully cognizant. That is why crafting your string of inquiry requires subtlty. Hm. Aralyn, perhaps you could take some time instructing Dyrant here In such matters."
Turning to Glimmil, he asks, "That is a most cryptic message. Where do you think she may have gone?"
Dyrant laughs.
"Of course, Doctor. I shall come to rely on your opinion of religious matters. Your opinions on religion really lift my spirits. Tee hee."
Dyrant ponders for a moment, his laughter subsiding.
"While we wait for that momentous day, what do you say we get focused on the present? Glim did have a good idea...we could track our tax payments with magic. I shall pursue that on the morrow. Let me know how I might help in tracking the minotaur."
Dyrant ponders that line of inquiry further, knowing that it might be a slow track, but a potentially interesting one.
In the meantime, Dyrant takes in a deep breath of air as he awaits Glim's response.
Glimmil shrugs at Toffitt's question, more serious than his usual carefree self.
"Not sure. Woman stuff?"
Cog gives Glim a stern look in response.
Hey, who do you think you are? Get out of my head. No vacancy!
Finneas clutches his head, almost in pain. You see his fingers seeking out the smoking pit that has become his eye.