Atol considers loading his crossbow.
Last time we were all together we were jumped.
He fingers his phylactery instead.
Finneas nods and follows "Come Glim, let us find your friend."
"Yes, yes!" Glim eagerly leads the others to the locksmith's shop, sharing what he knows of Ghelve along the way.
On the way walking to Ghelve's, Dyrant will ask the good gnome, "So, my friend Garl, where did you say were you from again?"
Outreach from the weary one! This is my chance!
Glimmil looks upward at Dyrant and flashes him a grin. "Why, Cauldron of course. Third generation cobbler." He glances downward at the Dryant's shoes and frowns.
"Those shoes... look like they've seen a lot of walking, tell me how is your sole?" he inquires, innocently yet with particular emphasis on the last word.
Dyrant walks and tests each of his feet and shoes even as his mind gently feels around his heart.
Dyrant's eyes wander to the cause of the pain, and he watches Atol having a hard time walking at the same time trying to pull out his crossbow.
It hurts.
"You could say I could use some heeling, I suppose, friend Garl. The truth is that I feel de-feeted too boot," Dyrant admits.
Dyrant sighs and keeps walking, trying to keep his eyes from watering. Dyrant quickly tries to change the subject, lest more tears come.
"Our friend Atol might have it right, there may be trouble ahead. Master Finneas, would you accept the blessing of St. Cuthbert before we walk into that building? If there is trouble, the blessing will help keep you safe."
"Yes!" Glimmil smiles at Dryant. "In fact, I'd suggest instead of trying to repair what you already have, we just throw everything away and start with something brand new!"
The weary one would make a fine gnome, indeed!
Catching sight of Ghelve's, Glimmil becomes even more excited as he peers between the iron bars.
"Locks!" he says, with the same eagerness as a child gazing into a candy store on a holiday afternoon.
Bounding ahead, he pushes the door open wide, holding it open for all to pass inside ahead of him.
"Our friend Atol might have it right, there may be trouble ahead. Master Finneas, would you accept the blessing of St. Cuthbert before we walk into that building? If there is trouble, the blessing will help keep you safe."
"I would not object Dyrant, we are friends and masters should not come between us."
Dyrant holds his holy symbol up, directing his focus at Finneas.
Speaking in a deep voice, somber and serious, Dyrant intones:
"The Ward of St. Cuthbert, keep you safe; believe in him and your enemies will find you difficult to strike and fell magicks will be repelled by his power."
Ward (Su): A witch can use this hex to place a protective ward over one creature. The warded creature receives a +2 deflection bonus to AC and a +2 resistance bonus on saving throws. This ward lasts until the warded creature is hit or fails a saving throw. A witch knows when a warded creature is no longer protected. A witch can have only one ward active at a time. If the witch uses this ability again, the previous ward immediately ends. A witch cannot use this ability on herself.
Silfr heads into the shop. Looking around, he takes in the place and greets the gnome.
"Good evening, are you Ghelve, the owner of this establishment?
"Good evening, are you Ghelve, the owner of this establishment?
This storefront smells of wood and pipe smoke. Two padded chairs flank a hearth containing a small yet lively fire. The fireplace's carved mantle bears a tinderbox, a small vase of dried smoking leaves, and a finely wrought collection of pipes. A burgundy strip of carpet leads from the entrance to the wall across from it, where dozens--perhaps hundreds--of keys hang from tiny hooks. They keys come in all shapes and sizes. A handsomely engraved mahogany counter stretches along one wall. Behind it hangs a red curtain that neatly hides the rest of the store.
Keygan casually closes the book in front of him, slides it under the counter, and stands up to be face to face with Silfir. "Yes. I am the proprietor and the master locksmith who designs the works of art that can protect your art. How might I assist you today? What is it that you need secured? I'm sure I have exactly the thing for you. If not, I can have it made in a few days."
That is a tall gnome.
"The Ward of St. Cuthbert, keep you safe; believe in him and your enemies will find you difficult to strike and fell magicks will be repelled by his power."
Truly he is skilled. I've never heard of such a spell! He is definitely blessed! He is one to watch and learn from.
Hrm. Everything looks harmless enough. But it did this morning when we left the bar too. Something is up, I just know it!
Atol continues to fumble with his phylactery, tracing PRIEST along the well worn groves in the front. He strides nervously into the room and looks out the window for a possible ambush being setup somewhere in the streets.
Dyrant will move to F2, have a seat, and begin to check the bottom of his shoes.
I don't see anything wrong.
With everyone now inside, Glimmil smiles and closes the shop's door.
"No reason to be nervous!" he cheerfully tells Atol as he notes the man looking through the windows outside. Although it's unclear if the reason is because the shop is safe, or merely the gnome's confidence in his abilities to defend the others.
Perhaps I should ensure that Silfr gets the special gnome treatment!
Glimmil hops over to the counter and smiles at Ghelve.
"Hi Ghleve!" he eagerly greets the other gnome. "My friend Silfr here has some questions about some locks you made, be sure to take care of him!"
Confident that he did enough to assist Ghelve, Glimmil's eye continue to distractedly look around the shop.
"Oh, can I have a test lock to examine, too?"
Glim's fingers itch with the need to touch something.
"Oh, can I have a test lock to examine, too?"
"There are a few samples on the hearth. Feel free to examine them, but please don't take them apart." He points to the fireplace and there are indeed several locks there. There are a couple typical padlocks for securing a chest, but there are also bolt locks, tumbler locks, pin locks, and even more exotic locks for examination in a variety of metals from iron to steel. Some are very plain while others have intricate scroll work and come together like two puzzle pieces. There are also more colorful locks obviously intended for decoration and not actual security.
That is a tall gnome.
Yes he is. If Glimmil did not mention it, you will notice that he is wearing stilts.
Everything appears normal outside. An occassional person walks by, a few of them rushing by as the 5th evening bell will ring soon and shops will soon close.
With everyone now inside, Glimmil smiles and closes the shop's door.
Keygan casually closes the book in front of him, slides it under the counter, and stands up to be face to face with Silfir. "Yes. I am the proprietor and the master locksmith who designs the works of art that can protect your art. How might I assist you today? What is it that you need secured? I'm sure I have exactly the thing for you. If not, I can have it made in a few days."
Interesting, a book on familiars. Perhaps generating some common ground would do us well. At least it would provide a baseline to compare after asking about the quality of locks, to which anyone would react defensively.
"Mr Keygan, I have business involving locks to discuss with you, as my retinue has indicated. But first a question related to my family's business," and while speaking Silfr casually gestures to the well designed amulet representing the symbol of his noble house.
"Pardon the persipcacity of my old eyes, but as we entered I saw you reading about familiars. Is this an area that particularly interests or animates your thoughts? It interests me as well."
With the appetite of a starving beggar, Glimmil descends onto the hearth and begins to examine the locks displayed there.
His eager hands first wrap themselves around a lock adorned with blue enamel, worn from being a display model for many years.
Looking up towards Ghelve, he sees the old gnome has already engaged in conversation with Silfr. He turns his head towards them for a brief second to ensure things are going well.
Familiars? Oh! The nobleman likes animals, too!
Glimmil is happy - after Dryant, he was worried most about Silfr - who seemed to be a little too serious in Glimmil's opinion. He wondered what kind of familiar Silfr might choose for himself. A cat? No, that would be too witchy, and Glimmil was afraid of witches. Perhaps a mole like one of Glimmil's gnomish friends who was studying magic? No, not that either.
Glimmil knew! Silfr would pick some form of bird - an eagle or a falcon. Yes, that would be it - something noble for the nobleman. He would need to ask him about his eagle later.
Turning his attention back to the enameled lock, Glimmil pulled a bent spoon from one of his pockets along with a rusty fragment of a spring. As Ghelve requested, he wouldn't disassemble anything, but he'd verify their "security."
Fail
Fail
Fail
Fail
"Pardon the persipcacity of my old eyes, but as we entered I saw you reading about familiars. Is this an area that particularly interests or animates your thoughts? It interests me as well."
"Yes, sir. You could say that I am most preoccupied with them these days. While my business has provided me a comfortable life, I find that I have reached the end of my imagination in regards to locksmithing. The mysteries of the arcane are not unlike those hidden within a lock's casement and I find their similarity intriguing. Perhaps I shall incorporate the two of them together."
Frowning at his lack of success, Glimmil glances upward towards Atol and Dryant and mouths to them with a knowing nod.
"Good locks."
At this point, the gnome appears ready to increase his level of concentration and dedication to the task.
With the metal spoon now in his mouth, Glimmil digs around in his bags and produces an extremely small scrap of metal, which upon closer inspection appears to be the tiniest of spoons.
He concentrates on the implement, whispering to himself.
There is no spoon...
He reaches for a new lock and begins to ply at it's inner secrets with the new utensil, a bead of sweat forming at his brow.
He reaches for a new lock and begins to ply at it's inner secrets with the new utensil, a bead of sweat forming at his brow.
Glimmil picks up an average looking iron lock and begins to fiddle with it. He works for what seem like forever until a bead of sweat falls onto the lock. Whether it was the bit of lubrication the lock needed, or perhaps the magnifying effect of the bubble of water on the keyhole, it finally opens...barely.
"Yes, sir. You could say that I am most preoccupied with them these days. While my business has provided me a comfortable life, I find that I have reached the end of my imagination in regards to locksmithing. The mysteries of the arcane are not unlike those hidden within a lock's casement and I find their similarity intriguing. Perhaps I shall incorporate the two of them together."
"I commend you on the worthy goal of self improvement, and hope you find delight in the endless diversity of the arcane. Security is a natural application of magic for the residential wizard. And if you should desire a familiar at some point, I recommend the services of the noble house Sparrow, should your designs turn to small birds such as the Thrush, Finch, or our namesake the Sparrow. Though robins, crows and other corvids are considered. But I distract myself!"
"This subject or security, or rather ars magica cautela, relates to my visit. I believe we will share a mutual desire for discretion on the following topic, namely kidnappings from behind doors secured by your fine locks." Here Silfr throws up a hand to ward off interruption, then hurriedly says, "Let me be clear, the likeliest explanation is that magic is involved, since as we know a powerful wizard can compel even the best locks to yield their treasures."
"I am united with this assortment here in asking your help in this matter, so we may track down who is kidnapping the people of this town. Your benefit, as I see it, is the maintenance of your well deserved reputation in the event magic is being used against these crafty locks."
Gesturing at Glimmil, he says "Why even our clever gnomish friend is struggling with your basic demonstrative models! What do you say, can you assist us?"
Dyrant stares in rapt attention at the gnome and his furious efforts to open the lock. Dyrant's hands fiddle and faddle as if he was trying to open the locks himself, as if his hands would help Garl's efforts.
Sitting on the edge his chair, he cheers and pumps a fist as the tear of sweat enables the lock to be opened.
Ah! Sweet victory! Over what, I have no idea, but that was fun to watch.
What do you say, can you assist us?"[/b]
Ghelve's head doesn't move, but his eyes dart side to side. "I've heard of some kidnappings. A most tragic thing, but I was unaware that my locks were being overcome. I can't imagine what I would do if someone I loved was taken. I believe your suspicion that something is amiss involving the arcane is the most apt explanation. I'm confident no one could have bested my locks without a key and they are all here."
Ghelve's eyes roll backward towards the curtain and his thumb twitches in the same direction as he continues. "Feel free to look around for yourselves. I have nothing to hide. I would then ask you to leave as it is time for me to close shop."
Dyrant's head ticks as he listens to the gnome speak.
Is he telling us that one of his own has been taken?
Dyrant tries to pattern out the emphasized words.
Intelligence check
Is he telling us that one of his own has been taken?
Finneas looks at Ghelve strangely and attempts to puzzle out his meaning.
"...overcome...taken... suspicion... amiss ... key ... here."[/b]Ghelve's eyes roll backward towards the curtain and his thumb twitches in the same direction as he continues. "Feel free to look around for yourselves. I have nothing to hide. I would then ask you to leave as it is time for me to close shop."
Sense Motive +2 Wis =
Intelligence +2 =
"Ghelve, thank you," and then Silfr will say in an overly loud voice, "We have no further need to look at locks and will continue our business elsewhere." All the while pantomiming that something is amiss and gesturing to the backroom.
Waving his companions who appear clueless close by, he whispers "Ghelve seems to be hinting that something is amiss in the backroom, through his words and their emphasis. I suggest we proceed there presently, ready and wary against assault."
Silfr will then cast a spell,The Able Attentuation of Activity.
Shield = Duration 10 rounds. AC now 12.
Spell slots remaining: 2 @ 1st
Having a clear understanding of what is happening, Dyrant will rise and pull a scroll out from his pack.
Finneas enters the room with sword drawn and looks around .
Black curtains partially obscure a window niche that faces the street. Ornate locks and complex locking mechanisms are neatly displayed in the niche. The room itself looks tidy, but live in. Carpets cover the stone floor, and a broom leans against the railing of a wooden staircase leading up to a second floor balcony. Three wooden chests rest in the middle of teh floor, their lids bound shut with sturdy iron padlocks. Small tables, shelves, and benches hold various knick-knacks, and a framed portrait of a silver-haired gnome hangs next to a tall wooden box at the base of the stairs. The wooden box contains an intricate array of ticking gears, counter-weights, and cylindrical chimes, surmounted by a circular face that bears the numerals 1 through 12 on its circumference
New Map
Finneas eyes the room warily, seeing nothing out of place.
Nothing out of the ordinary. I wonder why he's wearing stilts?
Atol, as quietly as he can, loads his Crossbow and checks the street again.
I knew it! I knew something was wrong!
Seeing nothing amiss on the street, he looks around the room at his companions for a sign as to what to do next.
Finneas opens the curtains and looks around again.
Ghelve whispers, "They're always watching me. They've got Starbrow. They'll kill him."
On his next round Silfr will follow Finneas to the room behind the curtain, looking into the "north" room on the way.
Looking around as he steps into the next room...
...Silfr is surprised to see an elaborate clock here, as such things can be quiet expensive. He glances at the clock's face - the ticking gears suggest it is operational, is it showing the proper time, approaching 5pm?
He will then look and listen for anyone on the balcony above.
Silfr is surprised to see an elaborate clock here, as such things can be quiet expensive. He glances at the clock's face - the ticking gears suggest it is operational, is it showing the proper time, approaching 5pm?
Silfir finds the north room empty and without doors. He enters the room with Finneas and notices nothing. The clock is accurate.
The alcove beyond the curtains is fully visible.
Dyrant will pad in to the bookshelves(?) (E11-12).
to examine the bookshelves.
Ghelve whispers, "They're always watching me. They've got Starbrow. They'll kill him."
Atol continues to look blankly around the room waiting for a clue. He keeps trying to catch Dyrant's eye in the hopes of getting direction After failing for a while to attract Dyrant's attention, he'll look back out the window into the street.
What's going on? Did I miss something? The shopkeeper looks awful.
Okay...calm now. What are we missing? Angel, give me patience.
Dyrant will take 20 on the squares he is in and the nearby area, scanning it inch by inch.
We are missing something, I am sure of it.
After successfully picking the lock, Glimmil plants both hands firmly on the hearth and sits, breathing hard and staring at nothing in particular in front of him. For all intents and purposes, the gnome appears as if he just finished a marathon.
Finally, he takes the spoon from his mouth, and stows it away.
It takes several moments for him to realize the others are striving to get his attention and alert him to possible danger.
This seems to suddenly break the gnome from his mental exhaustion.
With lightning speed, Glimmil leaps to his feet, unstrapping his mighty axe and holding it in his hands.
It's hero time!
Glimmil moves into the room beyond the curtain with eagerness.
Perhaps there will be a vicious monster beyond that Finneas and I can slay!
Once in the room, Glimmil looks around. Seeing no monsters, his attention is first drawn to a small portrait of a gnome on a table by the stairs.
As always, his concentration is swiftly broken by the sounds of the inner workings of the clock.
Hello! How does this work?
Letting his axe fall to one hand and his side, Glimmil reaches up to move any easily moveable parts of the clock.
For heroic research, of course.
*Tick* *Tick* *Tick*
Ghelve drops his head into his hands and begins to whimper. "No. No. No."
*Tick* *Tick* *Tick*
Dyrant begins to peruse the books:
"Locksmithing for Dummies"
"Cantrips for Dummies"
"My First Familiar"
*Tick* *Tick* *Tick*
*Tick* *Tick* *Tick*
People look around. *Tick* *Tick* *Tick*
Atol -
Dyrant -
Glimmil -
Finneas -
Silfir -
*Tick* *Tick* *Tick*
Dyrant stops his detailed search to pick up My First Familiar and browses the table of contents, looking for the 'Angel' section.
Remarkable!
Glimmil stands on his toes, despite being quite tall already.
When I move the large lever, the smaller lever moves as well.
He grins like a fool at Finneas as if to telepathically say You simply must try this!
Glimmil sets the small hand to "3" and the large hand to "7" in a celebration of his towering gnomish stature, and takes a small step backward to admire his work.
Look, it tells me I'm growing taller by the second!
Ah, I see Finneas spotted it as well! A secret door.
Looking at Finneas, Silfr will cast the common cantrip Guidance and then point to the door.
Finneas nods at Silfr and opens the door
Initiative
Atol -
Dyrant -
Glimmil -
Finneas -
Silfir -
Dark cloaked figure -
As Finneas reaches for the secret door a crossbow bolt strikes Finneas squarely between the shoulders and he drops to the ground with a gasp.
- Confirming Crit
Damage
Those in the room can look up to the balcony above I6. There is a banister providing cover to a dark cloaked figure.
Initiative Order
Glimmil
Dyrant
Dark Cloaked Killer
Atol
Silfir
Finneas
With a gasp, the clock's charms that enraptured Glimmil dispel.
The gnome looked around. He saw Silfr standing near Finneas, laying in a pool of his own blood on the ground.
Suddenly the locksmith's shop was no longer safe.
Glimmil looked around, he knew evil was about - if he were clever, he would have thought to look for it sooner. As his eyes scanned upward, he saw the shadowy figure and knew what must be done.
"Up the stairs... do-badders!"
Reciting the words to an old Steinneblin charm, shiny lights began to illuminate the balcony.
Glimmil wasn't there to appreciate the effect - he was already on his way up the stairs to become a hero.
wakedown