"It would be a better use than to leave it here. It is surely paid for through illicit gains. That said, we should ensure that Jurin receives his fair inheritance out of his father's legit legitimate earnings."
”Yeah...it’s his now. And if we profit off of this, it will just bring suspicion on us. Thanks to, well, me, we can’t do anything that would paint us in a bad light. The people need to trust us, as I’m sure that his men have been spreading many lies while we were away.”
As talk turns to dividing the spoils betwixt yourselves, Jurin, and the Consortium workers, your eyes are drawn to the other containers that were formerly hidden within the compartment: the coffer and folio. Their contents remain unknown.
'Right, I meant just to help the boy redecorate. This is all a bit...' He frowns again around the room. 'much.'
Inconnu makes sure to wear gloves as he begins to check through the folio. "He's a good lad, his father might have been scum but I don't want to steal from the boy."
"It does not sit well with me to leave Jurin with any ill-gotten gains of his father. But separating them from legitimately-earned will be difficult and contentious."
The folio contains a thick sheaf of official-looking, notarized documents. After giving them a closer read, Inconnu discovers that they are property deeds. At the top of the stack is the deed for the very manor within which you now stand. Beneath, you find deeds for the sawmill, the cutyards, the tribunal, the lumber warehouse, the docks, and a majority of the other homes and shops in Falcon's Hollow.
'Sounds like the boy owns the town. What's next?'
"Is there anywhere else to check. If not we should talk to the Commander. I don't know if everyone was paying him rent or what was going on... if these are legitimate you might be right Dugan. If thats true then at least the boy has a kinder heart than his father... if the Consortium doesn't own much legally speaking this could break their grip on the town."
”I’m no barrister. All of this should go to the authorities, to ensure that justice is done.”
The scuff marks upon the desktop remain the last curiosity left to investigate.
They suggest that someone heavy stood upon the desk, perhaps examining the ceiling above.
"To the authorities then. Someone lighter than I should check that ceiling."
'And someone taller than I.' Dugan barks a laugh.
Inconnu- with no small amount of trepidation- gets up onto the desk and begins to examine the ceiling and upper wall.
The ceiling of the office is a tessellation of broad, square wooden panels joined with elaborately scrolled wainscotting. An unaware visitor to the office would never suspect its presence, but the alert Inconnu identifies a panel among the woodwork that can be lifted free. With only a modest amount of force, it could be lifted up and slid aside to reveal a recess, crawlspace, or even attic above the office.
"Nicely done."
"This is probably trapped... Everyone else out of the office while I open it." Once everyone else is outside Inconnu checks it one last time for traps before pushing it open.
Inconnu does not detect the pressure plate before lifting the wooden panel from its niche. As he pushes it open while standing atop the desk, something strikes his wrist from within the dark crawlspace with the speed of a viper. He tries to pull free but soon discovers that his arm is held fast.
Taking a moment to examine his situation, Inconnu discovers that something akin to a spring-loaded manacle has lurched out and snapped shut upon his right wrist. The manacle is affixed to an iron bar, which itself connects to the half-seen mechanism that governs the trap.
”Damn it! Hold still. I’ll get you out.” Ulark hurried over, intent on forcing the trap open to free his friend.
"I shall assist you, Ulark!"
Micheo rushes over and attempts to boost Ulark or seize the trap as is most expedient.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Dugan spots the men standing atop the desk, in case one looses their footing.
The angle is too awkward for Micheo to effectively lend his strength to the effort. Ulark's muscles, long conditioned by swinging axes and dragging saws, manages to bend the iron bar that connects the manacle to the apparatus, and he does so with minimal strain upon his bound friend. However, the trap bends but does not break, and Inconnu remains held in place.
Peering up into the crawlspace, you notice that the contraption is far more elaborate than you would reason is necessary for a mere manacle trap. This leads you to, worryingly, suspect that there may be a second stage to this trap.
"Inconnu, can you wriggle free?", asks Micheo with concern.
"I'm afraid not... and unless someones been holding back at lockpicking skills brute force is the only thing that'll get me out. One way or another I think this trap is going off." Inconnu takes a slow breath.
"We've got two choices, get help or we bite the arrow. Everyone else clears out of the room. I activate the trap and then ye try to help me after."
Micheo looks torn then nods.
"I will remain just outside, ready to heal any wounds you accrue."
While struggling and assessing the mechanism, Inconnu also spots what Kreed kept hidden in this trapped crawlspace. Several ledgers, free from dust as though moved frequently, are tucked away up here.
"I can smell oil leaking out and ledgers. If I had to guess there's a pressure plate under them... if we move them the ledgers and I are going to be set on fire... and from there the rest of the house will go up. That might be what the warning was about."
"We need a clever solution for this... and I'm not thinking of anything great. The best thing I can think of is we have someone hack through from another room but even thats risky... still better than definitely setting it off."
"As you say, Inconnu. Dugan, Ulark, together we can surely break through from another angle. There is no time to waste!"
With that, Micheo makes for the door.
”Alright, just hold still. We’ll go around and get you out. It’ll take awhile, as we need to do this very carefully.” Ulark said with tredipation.
'You sure you don't want us to just cut the arm off? Might be quickest.' Dugan asks with a smirk on his way out the door. The dwarf follows along to assist in breaking through.
The combined strength of Ulark and Dugan proves to be too much for the already bent iron. The bar breaks free from its joint upon the larger mechanism. Now freed from its hold, Innconu stumbles and tumbles down from the desk. The short fall leaves him sore but does no lasting damage. However, he still has the manacle band around his wrist, now dragging the half-yard long, bent iron bar with it. Fortunately, it is only the width of a thick wooden dowel and is not terrible heavy.
"Alright now for those journals... if we could get a shovel or something similar... have some kind of metal container box over it... try to get out the ledgers without them being burnt to cinders." Inconnu looks around. "Please tell me someone has a better plan because that sounded terrible... maybe if we have shoved in an iron shield above them to stop the oil getting on them? That idea sounded a bit less insane but someone can do better."
"I am glad that you are safe, Inconnu. I fear for the evidence though. Are there any among the Diamond Regiment whom could aid us with this? Or in town? If not, through the wall seems best."
'Could we just stop the oil from coming out instead? Seems that would save the papers and the house.'
"I'm not going anywhere quickly, but this is outside our skill set. The commander will hopefully have someone with a useful set of skills for this situation."
The largest trouble proves to be not convincing the Diamond Regiment to provide aid but rather to simply keep up with Specialist Tobblemouth when he hears the first word about Kreed's device. Despite his middle age and short stature, the purple-haired gnome in heavily modified uniform sprints with great haste towards Kreed Manor.
Giving the gnome alchemist a boost back in the office, he examines the trap from which Inconnu was so recently freed.
"Oh my my my. So fascinating," he coos. "Gentlemen, I've got good news, bad news, and worse news. The good news is that no oil or other combustible is leaking from this device. The bad news is that, rather than relying on a pressure plate, this trap operates on a timing mechanism. The worse news is that there is less than three minutes remaining before activation."
Despite such grim tidings, the gnome seems not at all worried. In fact, he seems to find the situation exciting.
"Quite spectacular work. I never would've guessed Kreed could construct such a thing. I'd always heard him characterized as something of a brute or bully. He was quite skilled. Daring, too, to install a fire bomb that would surely destroy not just his office but his entire home. I suppose he believed in a scorched ground philosophy."
Dugan winces as Tobblemouth shifts to study the trap atop the dwarfs shoulders. 'Three minutes? Can you stop the count? If not we need to get those papers out of here and get a bucket brigade formed.' He grunts.
"Good idea Dugan. Lets get the paperwork out of here. Everyone make sure the building is cleared. Good sir gnome if you're willing to try to disarm it I could use a little bit of magic to help you focus on the task at hand if I stay here. After removing the documents could we drill a hole where the oil is stored and drain off the liquid to limit the fuel source?"
”Three...?” Ulark said worriedly. But still he stood there and watched, trying to follow the gnome’s hands. Traps were a major problem, and he hoped to learn a thing or two from this. If they survived.
Micheo stows his weapons, ready to carry whatever he is needed to.
"Oh yes, I could use a bit of encouragement," Tobblemouth calls down to Inconnu. "Although almost the entirety of my mechanical experience - quite fortunately - hinges upon taking things apart, none of them had nearly the explosive potential of this doozie.
"Be a chap and hand me my tools," he says, pointing to the trail-worn satchel he set down beside the desk.
"Hand the man his tools and start clearing out..." Inconnu licked his lips nervously.
"You're a very experienced man I'm sure you can handle this."
'I'll stay with the Specialist. Someone will have to help him reach and I can drag us both out if need be.'
"I will wait immediately outside of the likely blast radius. I can withstand flame better than most so have the best chance of rescuing either of you if you do not make it out but yet live."
"Now, you'll know if I make a mistake because you'll feel a ringing in your ears, but not to worry! You won't be anywhere near them."
Before you can inquire whether the gnomish army irregular is joking, you hear a series of metallic grinds and squeals as he sets upon the device with the celerity of a chef cutting into a roast.
The seconds crawl on agonizingly as Specialist Tobblemouth dissects the trap. Suddenly, all becomes quiet.
.
.
.
"Finished!" he calls happily in a sharp, sing-song trill that startles you as much as any explosion.
He clambers down from Dugan's shoulders and wrings the sweat from his unkempt purple hair plastering his forehead.
"It's such a shame. I'd love to see if I could reassemble this contraption, but I just know the commander won't let me take this back to my workshop. Oh well," he shrugs, completely unfazed by the disaster that loomed over you only moments ago.
Dugan lets out a long breath he didn't know that he'd been holding and wipes the sweat from his own brow before clambering down from the desk. 'Nice work, glad neither of us ended up cooked.'
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
”That was intense. Do you think you could teach me how you did that? It might save our lives in the future.”
Micheo salutes the gnome.
"Well done! The evidence is secured."
"I think I have a few dozen gods to pray to let's get back to the camp and look over the paperwork... I have a feeling there'll be at least one or two surprises left in them."
As you recover the ledgers from the now-disarmed crawlspace, Tobblemouth takes an interest in the unfinished letter, written in red ink.
"How curious! Is this some manner of cipher or code? I've never seen anything like it. It looks awfully sinister," he announces excitedly.
You scarcely need to even ask before the gnome volunteers to attempt to decipher the message.