Fuin frowns behind his face mask. "As a rule, no, I don't truck with burning books just because they might be dangerous. Lots of people with very narrow views of 'dangerous' have used that excuse to do heinous things, including purging precious knowledge. That said, this book sounds pretty awful, so I'll leave it up to you guys. Far as I'm concerned, I'm just the hired help." Far from sounding sardonic or otherwise displeased with the notion, he seems oddly cheered by the idea.
Fuin's never been much of a leader. Not really a follower either, per se, but he's never thought of it as a binary. Being hired help sort of takes some of the guesswork out of his place in this group of unusual folk. A little lonely, maybe, but he's been lonely for a lot of his adult life. Nothing new there. Mayhap a time will come when he feels differently, like maybe he's part of something again, but for now he's content with being the "new guy."
After a moment, he pulls his mask down just enough to scratch his nose before pulling it back into place. "From what you've told me, it seems like we cleared this level, yeah? Maybe we can pop back into town. Get some rest, sort through the new gains. Talk about what to do with these runes," he adds, waving the pick. "Still like to have that striking rune, but I suppose Lough or Kka could use it too."
Kvit seems interested in the journal and stack of papers and scrolls. "Looks like I have a lot of reading to do once we get back. Hopefully there will be some useful tidbits in here."
He eyes the holy text of Nhimbaloth with a mixture of interest and something else... He looks over Lough's shoulder as the foolish mortal fighter peruses the book. "Lough, be careful, I believe Cherry when they say its dangerous. Though if it can be used to fight incorporeal undead, we should definitely not destroy it. We should study it and see if we can use it. We've gotten lucky fighting these ghosts so far, but that will run out, especially as we get closer to Belcorra."
"Lets head back for now. We have some information to study and we have enough to get more supplies."
.
Sneakers gives the "holy" text a wide berth. "Yeah, lets get back, I'm hungry!"
”Turn to the last page, all the good stuff is always written on the last page. At least in all the books I read.”
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He eyes the holy text of Nhimbaloth with a mixture of interest and something else... He looks over Lough's shoulder as the foolishmortalfighter peruses the book. "Lough, be careful, I believe Cherry when they say its dangerous. Though if it can be used to fight incorporeal undead, we should definitely not destroy it. We should study it and see if we can use it. We've gotten lucky fighting these ghosts so far, but that will run out, especially as we get closer to Belcorra."
Lough shrugs "I feel fine" as he claps shut the Holy Text of Nhimbaloth "I can hold onto this" he states plainly, with false casualness, in an attempt to conceal guilt!
When Lough claims the Holy Text of Nhimbaloth, Kka shrugs. "Knock yourself out big man."
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Kka recognizes that look in Lough's eyes and takes an involuntary step back. "Uh, just make sure to only use it against the baad guys..." She pauses, and deciding that may not have been precise enough for the changeling, adds, "... which means not us. Okay? We've got enough trouble dealing with Belcorra's minions without haaving to watch our own baacks."
Some strange thread pulls our hero's mind "Let me see that" grabbing the Holy Text of Nhimbaloth and sitting cross-legged on the floor "Something seems..." he cannot finish the sentence, instead drawn into the pages by some foul compulsion to unravel...
Lough doesn't know anything relating Nhimbaloth, but Cherry Berry does. They pointed out before that Nhimbaloth is the Outer God of ghosts, despair and will-o'-wisps. Definitely very evil, and certainly not mentioned in polite society.
Kvit spends one day reading Gauntlight's manual. It is an artifact that has two types of uses: it can animate undead in the region, and it can teleport almost anything within the lighthouse to a location within one mile, both once a month. In its current state, it can only create very weak undead and teleport weak creatures, but if Gauntlight is restored back to full power, it can teleport and create incredibly powerful beings.
This leads you to conclude several things:
- Considering the carnage brought about by the weak zombies, having to deal with that every single month will be disastrous, not to mention when it is fully powered up.
- Something is down there, messing around with the lighthouse.
- Right now, it's been about two weeks since the last time Gauntlight was activated.
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Feverish Dreams!
...unbodied, Lough realizes that he is only his head, floating through some perverse levity, in the direction of will, immaterial, wispy... ...he visits his own grave, the headstone blank, wordless, the soil recently upturned, no body inside, no footsteps, an open casket, dust covering, untouched, unoccupied... empty death... ...1,000 lonely years pass as Lough floats never more than several feet from a long river with infrequent passengers, who, voiceless, avoid his presence with speed greater than he can muster with bodiless flight... days are non-existant, the night is everlong, he hungers for something he cannot define, nor taste, nor touch...
...
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Fuin stares blankly at Lough's claim about the book for several awkward seconds.
Then he shrugs. "Okie-dokie," he says nonchalantly, then turns around and heads toward town. Nice guy, that Lough. Weird, but nice.
----
Fuin has very exciting plans to spend a great deal of time during the day holed up in the room Wrin has set aside for him, dozing and lounging during the day. When evening settles in, he slips out to the outskirts of town to train, running forms with his meteor hammer and appreciating the magically-enhanced impact from the striking rune. The first few swings are wild, and he nearly sends the weapon sailing off into the trees because he's not expecting the force with which it whips through the air, granted heft and power beyond its mass by the magic rune. But Fuin has been training with weapons for over a decade, and he gets the hang of it pretty quick.
By the time he returns to his bed, exhausted and happy, it's well past midnight. Thankfully it sounds like they're going to have plenty of time for him to catch up on sleep--and get more training in, which is exactly what he does for the next two nights. The second night goes much the same as the first, but with his forms improving slightly with each pass.
The third night, however, doesn't go quite the same as the first two. As he slowly loses himself in a particularly complex kata--one whose intricacies had long escaped him but has finally started to click in his brain, at least a little--the world begins to fall away. There are only the four spruce trees he's marked as targets (by stripping away a circle of bark using particularly hard hammer blows) and the tangled undergrowth beneath his feet. He dances around roots and shrubs as he whips the ball of the meteor hammer from target to target, the angry black iron of the ball bouncing off the trunks, leaving deeper and deeper indents with every strike. His brain registers movement out of the corner of his eye, and his instincts kick in before the rest of his brain can. The meteor hammer roars over his shoulder in a single graceful flick of his wrist toward the movement...
... directly toward the form of a woman in soft, dark blue robes.
He can't stop it. The world slows down as if to make him watch every gruesome step in the chain reaction as the hammer comes crashing down toward her face. Even with his eyes taking in minute details, her face remains a hazy blur. He doesn't even have time to say the word "no", only think it. His arm outstretches, following the chain of the meteor hammer as it rockets toward its target over the course of an age. As the limb extends, his fingers form a strange pattern of their own accord, and the image of the woman ripples, like a stone striking a pond at the center.
Excruciating pain bursts through his skull, and Fuin collapses to the damp underbrush, grasping his head and wailing. Somehow, he understands that he did that, caused the ripple and the pain to himself, but his head is full of buzzing, stinging botflies and he can't quite think.
Finally, the pain subsides and he stands shakily to his feet. He feels something warm trickle from his ears, and touches an exploratory finger to it. He guesses at what it is before he brings the finger to his face and peers in the dim moonlight. Sure enough, it's blood.
He looks up to see if the woman is alright, but she's nowhere to be seen. Where she stood, he finds two small-ish footprints that seem to glitter faintly in the moonlight. He stares, dumbfounded, at the scene. What in the Nine Hells was that...?
But he knows, doesn't he. Who else could have allowed him to do what he just did but the same goddess who lets him heal wounds and call the shadows to protect him? Who else but the Great Dreamer?
His injuries are minor, so he doesn't bother expending his healing energy on it. He supposes he'll just sleep it off. He trudges through the trees toward Otari, mind still racing, thoughts struggling to form through the mild concussion, as he wraps the chain of the meteor hammer around his arm absently. Nobody's going to believe him. Hells, he's not sure he believes him, and he was there. Before slipping into Wrin's home to collapse in his makeshift bed, he turns his gaze up to the cloud-spattered moon and stares for a moment.
Why him? Why some lowly kayal running away from his past like a scared boy? Why the "warrior" who prefers a weapon that keeps everyone further than arm's reach from him? Why the most cowardly "warrior" he's ever met, too skittish to even go toe-to-toe with his opponents? What in the world did he do to make a deity think he was worth blessing with her gifts?
And good gravy, what is this new gift?? "Not as pleasant as your first one," he grumbles, touching a finger to his ear again. This time it comes away more or less clean, however, as the blood has already dried.
Doesn't matter. Sleep it off. Figure it out in the morning. With one last glance at the moon, he slips inside and slinks off to bed.
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Kvit doesn't mind Lough hanging onto the dangerous book for now, "Can't possibly make him any more unstable. Probably."
"Just be careful with it Lough, we'll need it in one piece if we're going to use it."
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Kvit spends the first day back in town holed up in a study alcove of the Dawnflower Library. Sneakers is nowhere to be found, which Kvit was glad for this morning. While a loyal and helpful familiar, he was terrible at being quiet during long boring stretches at the library.
He pulls the journal and stack of papers out. He starts with the pile of papers and scrolls marked with the Gauntlight . The only thing more difficult than speaking Aklo is trying to read it. The characters seem to swim and change as the reader's eye crossed the page. Though he had a long way to go, this was clearly a manual of some kind for the gauntlight, which was apparently constructed for nefarious purposes at the outset. The disorganization of the papers as well as the language made deciphering what it did and how difficult. The mental exertion begins to overheat the ratfolk and he begins swishing his long tail through the air, trying to keep himself cool.
After a few hours of reading the foul language, he begins to feel like something is watching him. He looks up to see one of the numerous statues of Sarenrae facing him. He stares at it for a moment suspiciously before shaking his head as if clearing a thought.
"Hey Boss!" Sneakers calls out as he climbs up onto the table. Kvit startles as several papers fly up and a rolled scroll falls off the table and bounces.
Kvit shouts in alarm sputtering in Aklo. Then realizes it is just sneakers and calms down. He asks rhetorically, "Why in the world would you do that. You know this stuff messes with the reader."
Sneakers scurries around checking out some of the text, oblivious to the heart attack he gave Kvit, Not being able to read, he mostly just gets in the way. "So when ya taking a break? Want to go down to the Fishery, visit our old Friend Tamily?"
Kvit picks up the scattered papers and scroll and sighs. "Not right now, got a lot to sort through here and you bothering me doesn't help. This Gauntlight is bad news, which we already knew, but not how bad it was.
It seems the Gauntlight was created to create undead or maybe transport undead from the Gauntlight but it seems inconsistent."
Sneakers sits back on his haunches and cleans his whiskers. "Well, like they say in the Katapesh markets, "Why not buy both?". If they went through all that trouble building the thing..."
Kvit nods and flips through the sheets of parchment for a couple different ones and puts them side by side. "You do make yourself useful occasionally, that would make this whole bit make a lot more sense. It can both transport undead from the tower elsewhere as well as just animate them on the spot. And it looks like it can only be activated every month? Which would mean maybe in a couple weeks from now. Someone is definitely down there messing with it. Whether it is Belcorra or not, I don't know."
Sneakers nods and looks pleased with himself, "Ah, well great! I'll leave you to it and see you later at the Nook, I think the gang is getting together tonight."
With a bit of renewed vigor, Kvit powers through the rest of the papers that afternoon and gets a decent handle on the workings of the Gauntlight itself. Though how to destroy it was something else entirely...
After reading the manual, Kvit sends Sneakers off to contact the group to meet at the Nook that evening.
Later that evening, Kvit sits at their usual table and orders a large mug of ale, his head was pounding from the days effort.
He awaits the others to show up, or maybe in Kka's case, to get off work.
After a long day at the market dickering with the merchants to sell them the loot they found and buy something actually useful, Kka slogs back to the Crook's Nook with her new purchases and crashes onto her cot exhausted. Not five minutes go by before Yinyasmera's voice calls out from the bar below. "Kkaaa! You better not be laying about up there. Get your feathered rump down here and start wiping down these tables."
Kka groans. "How did she know I was here? I snuck in quietly through the window. Ugh!" She lifts herself off the bedding and calls down. "Coming Boss!" Switching her working leathers for her working apron, she heads dejectedly down the stairs and back to her usual work in the bar. "A girl's work is never done."
Not wanting to chase the customers away with her usual acerbic personality, she plasters on a fake smile and pretends to be someone friendly.
Earn Income w/ Performance (Trained, Task 4, DC 19), Day 2: @ 7sp
Earn Income w/ Performance (Trained, Task 4, DC 19), Day 3: @ 7sp
Earn Income w/ Performance (Trained, Task 4, DC 19), Day 4: @ 7sp
Earn Income w/ Performance (Trained, Task 4, DC 19), Day 5: @ 1sp
Earn Income w/ Performance (Trained, Task 4, DC 19), Day 6: @ 1sp
Earn Income w/ Performance (Trained, Task 4, DC 19), Day 7: @ 7sp
Earn Income w/ Performance (Trained, Task 4, DC 19), Day 8: @ 7sp
Earn Income w/ Performance (Trained, Task 4, DC 19), Day 9: @ 7sp
A little over a week later, Kka looks down at the measly few gold and silver pieces that constitute her pay, and wonders why she bothers. "At least nobody tried to kill me in some gruesome manner, but come on! This is peanuts!"
So when Kvit appears on the 10th day, Kka is surprisingly happy to see the little rat-faced wizard and his even smaller rat-faced familiar. "Kvit! How's it been haanging? Good? Finaally got your snout out of those books, I see. Did you find anything interesting? Are we going to get those precious teleportation circles of yours working? Hold that thought. I'm off the clock now. Baack in a minute." She drops off his mug of ale and heads to the back. She quickly tosses her apron into the laundry basket and yells something to Yinyasmera in the back office. "I'm done for the day Yaz. Not sure when..." "or if..." "I'll be baack though. Probably going to hit the Gauntlight again tomorrow with the gaang. We've got to find a way to turn thaat thing off or we're all going to be in a lot of trouble one of these days." Yinyasmera sticks her head out of the office. "Try not to get yourself killed. It'll be a pain to have to find a replacement in this tight job market."
She heads back to Kvit's table with a drink of her own and slumps into one of the chairs. "Please tell me thaat we're going baack out there tomorrow. If I haave to serve one more beer or wipe down one more table, I think I'm going to scream."
7sp
9sp
7sp
7sp
1sp
1sp
Total: 3.2 gp
Fuin spends some nights frequenting the local taverns and offering to perform a few dance routines to entertain the patrons. He doesn't wear his usual armor getup, but rather a strange black-and-white garb of flowing sleeves and sashes, with a mask that is black and white, split unevenly down the middle with a meandering line, favoring slightly more black than white. The dance routines are freeform and strange, ethereal events that are more transfixing and thoughtful than one might expect in a jaunty locale like a tavern.
The first few nights go surprisingly well--especially the second night--but by night 5, the tips quickly die off. Apparently in a small town, there's only so many people to see a novel show like his, and most seem uninterested in checking out a repeat performance--despite the fact that it's improvisational and no two shows are the same. Guess they want more River Kingdoms footwork than Nidalese interpretive dance. He sighs. Hopefully the group is ready to go back to the lighthouse tomorrow; he doesn't know if he can take more critiquing. He's pretty sure the crowd on night 5 was a hairsbreadth away from throwing tomatoes.
Kka takes a sip and puts down her mug. "Did you caatch Fuìn's little song-and-daance routine he did here yesterday? A bit weird if you ask me, but it went over pretty well with the regulaars."
Kvit blinks slowly at Kka, not quite understanding at first. "No, I didn't, what do you mean yesterday? We were several levels below ground yesterday and there was certainly no dancing. Wait-" He suddenly looks around as if looking for a calendar or something to give him a clue. "Wait, what day is it? I've been in the library going over the Gauntlight manual. It hasn't been more than one day has it?"
He sighs and slumps in the chair. He takes several large gulps of ale, which under more pleasant circumstances would be amusing. The ale fills his cheek pouches as he gulps and then they subside as he swallows the ale a little more slowly than the gulping. "No wonder I'm so exhausted. Trying to decipher this stuff would be a pain as it is, plus it's in Aklo which just-" He shakes his head "It's just that much harder"
He sits up as the ale starts to take effect. "Anyway, we don't have a lot of time to be dancing or bartending anyway. The gauntlight is essentially a weapon, anywhere that beam can reach is in trouble. It can both create undead, like we saw in the graveyard, and it can transport creatures from under the gauntlight, like the Scalathrax that showed up right after. Good news and bad news next."
He sits up and braces himself to give the news. "The good news is that it can only be activated about once a month. The bad news is that should be any day now. I think. I still need more time to go over Belcorra's journal and to finish speed learning Infernal..."
"We have to shut it down. " Cherry says a little reluctantly. "It's a level of danger the town shouldn't need to deal with alone."
Kvit nods as everyone apparently agrees with the assessment. "Well, let's not waste any more time. I think I should still go through Belcorra's journal before we head back, but I'll skip finishing learning Infernal for now. Two days from now meet up at the usual spot."
He drains the rest of his ale and order another. "I don't know if I can take another day of reading through this stuff though."
"That doesn't mean we shouldn't take time to stop and take care of our responsibilities in town." Cherry clarifies, "Erastile doesn't exactly approve of adventuring like we are doing, but abandoning the town in its time of need would be even worse."
Kvit takes a day to translate Belcorra's journal.
Her earliest journal entries give a good backstory on why she built the Vaults in the first place. She and her family used to live in Absalom over 500 years ago, where she secretly practiced dark magics. People found out about her activities and exiled them from the city. While the rest of her family continued their practices elsewhere, Belcorra took this exile personally, and vowed to destroy Absalom for their injustices.
The journal rants on for several years and Kvit quickly skims over those parts. The final few pages say the following:
Abadius 1st: 4239: A new year, hopefully more fruitful than previous years. Progress on the Abomination Vaults is progressing laboriously. My servants continue to complain about the time it takes to burrow through solid bedrock, and no amount of lashings nor threats will get their indecent prattle to stop. My so-called apprentice, the amusingly vain Volluk Azrinae has taken to using a stone-shape ritual just to expedite work in an ill-conceived attempt to appease me. I just think it makes the workers even lazier.
Calistril 20th, 4239: I tire of the connections to the Darklands and am considering cutting them off for good. But no, the trade routes with the dark elves are too valuable. But the bothersome dark knife-ears vex me so. First Volluk, now this 'Chandriu Ivisar' has come from the drowlands, begging to join my cause. I don't know what they put in the water down there but I don't see how the Drow procreate. Chandriu chases Volluk around like a love-sick puppy, just like Volluk chases me around. Any more 'volunteers' from these drow and I think I should go mad.
Pharast 17th, 4239: I am making not insignificant progress on enchanting the lighthouse to serve my needs, and work on the vaults is proceeding nicely with Volluk's stone shape rituals. I am also proud to say I have attracted some peons with some minor magical talent and retained them as scribes and librarians. Their puny magics cannot aid in construction but can get some things done. Nahkazarin is the only one worth noting here, she helped finish the last of my fleshwarping facilities and has since been reassigned as head librarian. Her knowledge of necromancy has been. . . . useful. Almost too useful. . .
Gozran 28th, 4239: The ranks of my servants continue to swell, though there are few of note. Most are simply craven imbibes hoping to fleece me for a quick magic lesson or hoping that I'll reward them with a position of power once Absolom falls, but some are truly loyal to the cause. I've had to convert a large amount of the first basement to sleeping quarters, as well as several bunkrooms here in the library to handle them all. I wonder if Tar-Baphon ever had to worry over such mundane tasks.
Desnus 31st, 4239: I am beginning to grow restless. While my work on the lighthouse artifact occupies the majority of my time, and logistics for the vault occupies the rest, I am growing increasingly tired with both. I need a good rest an entertainment. To such an end I have ordered the construction of a fighting colusseum: one where champions of my choosing can fight to the death for my amusement. Possibly too the amusements of others, maybe my trusted servant or my so-called apprentice Volluk. I'll have to see once it is completed.
Serenith 12th, 4239: My personal chef overspiced my meal and I threw him in the library dungeon for thirty days as punishment, but that got me thinking, I only have the one small prison in the library. I should have a much larger prison section . . . in case the workers get uppity.
Erastus 2nd: 4239: Prisons are proceeding well. Nahkazarin suggested also adding some torture rooms. Fairly obvious she just wants more torture to increase the chance that their deaths generate some undead, but I'm generally not against that, so I have approved the addition of torture chambers to the prisons.
Arodus 19th, 4239: I've finally found it! The gift from the outer gods that my dreams-no, my visions have lead me to! While excavating I, (well, my minions) stumbled upon an ancient temple where once the Empty Death herself brushed against this fragile world. Oh, it is glorious! I have ordered the temple to be repaired and reconstructed with all due haste! Oh, it will be wonderful!
Rova 7th, 4239: FINALLY, my personal suite is finished. Situated on the level below the library, it will have all the necessities for me to relax and not be bothered by the staff. No longer will I be forced to 'slum it' with such abysmal chambers as I had on the ground floor or first basement. Work proceeds slowly on the temple, workers keep dying . . . or going insane . . . or going insane THEN dying. But it'll be worth it in the end I bet!
Lamashan 14th, 4239: Word has finally gotten back to me from the Absalom Thieves' guild. They say they will be willing to meet next year sometime. They think they can command ME to wait?! I should kill them all where they stand for their impudence, but alas, they are currently more useful to me alive than dead. I need information on Absalom's defenses and they are the easiest way I can acquire such knowledge. I WILL revenge myself on them at some point though.
Meanwhile, at the temple of Erastil, Cherry Berry overhears some commotion. When they go and check it out, they find a group of merchants clutching several wounds yelling to the head priest.
"It is preposterous! Suddenly these robed maniacs jump our caravan and demand toll! Some maniac with a cleaver say they didn't want simple coin, he demanded a flesh offering! A finger would suffice, or a part of our skin if necessary. I don't know what they intended to do with it, but we weren't having any of it, so we sent our guards at them. But they froze right up when they got attacked, and the bandits just walked past them and chewed off my hand on the spot!
"Look, we are insured against common bandits, but if this town suddenly has some cannibals hanging around, we're never coming back! And I thought Erastil was all about community, right? Well, this community is about to become a lot poorer if you don't restore my hand!"
"Oh dear," Cherry says, "Where did this happen?"
The merchant turns around to address Cherry Berry. "On the road between Absalom and here. They're maybe an hour outside of town, sitting on the other side of a bridge. Those freaks said that since we'd already crossed the bridge, we owed them toll! When we offered to turn around, they said we'd be using the bridge a second time and would owe them even more!"
The head priest throws a desperate look at Cherry Berry in a plea to help her out. "I'm sorry sir, I would be happy to help you, but the regeneration ritual is not something we prepare for each day. If you excuse the pun, we simply do not have it on hand at the moment, you'll have to wait until tomorrow..."
"Seems like a strange band of bandits. I'll go motivate the town guard to do something about them, and if necessary I know of a group that can take them out."
"Hrmph, if you say so. But I'll be first in line tomorrow to get my hand back, and if not, your little lumber town will find it very difficult to get rid of all your wood."
The merchant stomps off, the other merchants following him in equally grumbling voices.
The head priest turns towards Cherry Berry. "Thank you Acolyte, for helping defuse the situation. I'd better instruct everyone to prepare some Regeneration spells tomorrow."
"Seem like very strange bandits." Cherry replies. "I am going to talk to some people about that."
Kvit frowns as Cherry gives the news of the cannibalistic bandits. "Yes, that's all very terrible, but it sounds like something the guards should be able to handle. There is be much bigger problems if we don't find a way to deactivate the Gauntlight. It sounds like a few ghouls from the Canker cult or whatever made their way up to the surface."
Kka listens as Cherry explains the situation with the bandits and Kvit gives his opinion. "I dunno. If it's some of those Canker Cult ghouls, then they're out here 'cause we chased them out of the Gauntlight, which kinda makes us responsible. They're also pretty nasty creatures and if the merchants' guards couldn't handle them, then I doubt the city guard is up to the job either. Maybe we should go by there on the way back to the Gauntlight and see what the deal is before we decide to get involved. It shouldn't take a lot of extra time."
Seeing that he is outvoted, Kvit throws his hands up. "Alright, fine let's be the heroes above and below ground."
He looks to Cherry to lead the way, "where's this bridge or toll?"
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Sneakers pipes up, "what kind of merchants? Do you think they'll give us stuff for it?"
Fuin snorts at Sneakers' questions. "Not likely. I've worked for plenty of merchants before as a caravan guard. They probably wouldn't have paid me if they thought they could get away with it. They seem to think we should just be grateful for the opportunity to volunteer." He snorts. "Still, that doesn't mean I approve of anyone hacking off chunks of their flesh. I'm for looking into this and putting a stop to it, if we can."
Cherry shrugs at Lough. "I haven't asked directly. HE isn't really big on adventurers. I know we sort of fell into it, but I have been a little scared to ask."
Despite the half-mask, Fuin very clearly frowns, as it reaches his eyes. "I mean, He's the god of community, right? We're protecting the community. Surely that's more important than not slapping the big 'A' label on yourself, right?"
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Lough wonders what SHE would think of Adventurers... that is, he suddenly realizes, what he is, having recently this past week been on a few. He preferred it to working at the log mill. For indeed, both posed significant danger - not less than a few loggers falling victim to terrible accidents over the years - a difference being the instigation: Actively walking towards the danger.
And what of it?
They had called him king, he had abandoned the throne. So many manner of ghost and ghoul and fiend lurking below, and each time the spoils of one the armaments of the next. A king's wealth spent on a king's ransom, license to kill, to die. Looking down at his own hand, our paranoid hero recalls his own brush with death, and feels the dimmed pulse of his natural heartbeat supplemented by the occult engine in his mechanical arm.
"We fought, then freed, the Canker, leaving them to fester elsewhere" and raising his sterling dynamo "Time to sever the limb!"
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"It's a matter of the ones who don't really have a home." Cherry explains. "The ones that breeze in and out while leaving trouble behind them."
Cherry looks distressed. "I mean, I know what we are doing is different, but a plant worries you know?"
Fuin blinks in mild surprise at Lough's outburst. "Yeah! Uh, I have no idea what that means, but it sounds exciting, anyway."
He pauses at Cherry's statement, then scratches his nose and gives a lopsided grin behind his mask. "I generally spend my days actively avoiding worrying about things until they're right on top of me and I can't avoid them anymore. It, uh. Doesn't usually work out. But old habits, and all that. At any rate, I think you're probably safe. Otari is your home, and your forays away from it are not only close by, they're for the town's safety. I don't think you have to worry about His disfavor. Matter of fact, I think He probably greatly approves. He still gives you His gifts every day, right? I think that's a good sign."
He goes to pat Cherry reassuringly on the shoulder, realizes the shoulder is way too far down to pat easily, struggles to figure out what to do with his hand for several seconds, and finally settles for an unbearably awkward thumbs-up.
Crawling out of Lough's mouth and skittering over to , our tiny arachnid climbs with eight spindly legs up onto the kayal's shoulder, stopping just short of his ear, and begins spinning a tiny web into the shape of a thin disk, showing it's progress to it's spontaneous mentor.
Fuin stands very still, his eyes ready to bug out of his head. In a very small voice, he mutters:
"What. What is. Happening. Help."
Kvit puts a hand out to Fuìn, "Don't worry, it's just his familiar, I think."
.
Sneakers laughs as Fuìn tenses up. "Hah! Or maybe that's the real Lough all along!"
.
Kvit, hefts his pack and staff and starts walking. "Alright then if we're done talking and playing classroom, let's go take care of the remnants of the canker cult"
Satisfied doubly - the second no doubt on account of the proximity to a startle reflex - Shalinnis scuttles back down Fuìn's back, shoots a web onto Lough's mechanical arm, and with a swinging motion, propels itself back to it's master, landing squarely upon his chin, and disappears back into his mouth...
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..."Ah, I see"
Lough closes his eyes and clenches his silver fist.
A moment passes before a sudden whirring sound crackles and translucent purple energy coalesces like a faint electric storm in a hemisphere around his arm and shield, inches in diameter longer than the implement itself. He waves to and fro, the tense sound of force that penetrate the air particles barely audible. And in a moment, the energy recedes completely and is quiet.
He smiles at Fuìn and nods "Thank you"
Fuin gives several slow blinks as his brain tries to register what in the Hells just happened. After the fourth or fifth cascade failure in his neurons, he just mumbles, "Welcome."
You head out on the path to Absalom and after an hour of walking you come across the bridge the merchants were talking about. Two ghouls in tatty robes flank a third ghoul who is sitting on a stool and seems to be busy embroidering something. As you get closer, it's clear that it's not an embroidery, but he's tattooing something on a patch of skin. Your mind immediately goes back to the workspace you found earlier.
The two ghouls see you coming and nudge the craftsman-ghoul. He looks up, places his work on the ground, and draws a shiny cleaver from his side.
"Well, looks like we have some travellers. Are you ready to pay the toll for crossing the bridge? We're very reasonable, a finger will do. I mean, when was the last time you used your pinky anyway?"
Kvit is following just behind as Lough launches himself towards the ghouls and is caught by surprise. "Lough wait, we need to ask about the tattoo things, bah, oh well."
He holds his staff up and prepares to help. He spies several loose rocks and branches that would make decent projectiles.
Sneakers sits on Kvit's shoulder. "Woah, the new Lough is uh, aggressive..."
"Agreed" Cherry says to the familiar, "But honestly, I am not going to fault him here."
Kka nods and gives Lough an impressed look. "I guess we're done with the talking for the time being." She turns to the ghouls and tilting her head to indicate Lough, says, "I know that look in his eye, so if you know what's good for you, you'd already be running as far away from here as those rotting legs of yours can carry you."
As she spoke to distract them, Kka was stealthily preparing herself for the almost certain fight about to break out.