"I know a fair bit. What would you like to know?"
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"Don't think of it that way. Now you're free to pursue your law career." Fizkin looks serious for the first time. "Something needs to change here. I will help you."
Fizkin eyes the beers and shrugs. He grabs two, thrusts one into Togril's hand, and takes a deep draught of his own.
*disapproves*
"Please, my good man. Vent not your wrath on good Sir Emberforge here. 'Twas my fault that he strayed from the forge. How or why is not important when you look at the larger picture." Fizkin produces a single, gold coin. "Here are his wages for 3 days, plus a silver-lined gratuity at that." "Is there something else you require of the man? I mean to educate this dwarf on the virtues of drinking many beers."
"I've never see a forge up close, I'll come too!" Fizkin stands to follow the dwarf. Better not leave his side for now, the fuzz'll be looking for me. Besides, I'm sure there's mischief to be found in a smithy!
"Better ask the name of the wind dwarf! I am wanderer. Singer. Minstrel. Beggarman. Drifter. Noble. Scoundrel. Husband. Schoolboy." "I am the sadness of the valleys, and the pride of the mountains; the song of the fields, and whisper of rivers; the roar of the sea, and the danger of the desert." "I am chance destiny. Fate's wildcard." The gnome shrugs. "Most cannot remember all that, and so I am known as Fizkin." An impish grin awaits the paladin's reply.
Fizkin chooses an inn where the revelers are already well into their cups. He takes a seat at a small table and invites the dwarf to sit.
"Huh. Well that couldn't have gone better." Fizkin shrugs and walks out of the hall. "Come on Dwarf. I'll get you some ale."
Fizkin, looking boldly contrite, approaches the justiciar and speaks in a voice too low for the thugs to hear. "I think we both know how this works." As if from nowhere, 15 gold coins appear on the table before the official. "Moreover, we both know this is more than an amble payoff. The extra money is to rip these agents a new one in front of this dwarf. Why would you do this? Because the dwarf is an upstanding blacksmith and warrior whose word is beyond weighty with his ilk. Cater to him, and you'll have no troubles in the lower quarters. If that isn't reason enough..." Five more gold coins flash onto the counter.
Let's see what the Dwarf makes of this.
I won't run, not now anyway. There might be a song, or a coin, in this stubborn venture."
Fizkin, keeping the dwarf between himself and the thugs, grows visibly more and more nervous as they close the distance to the Hall of Justice. Finally he leans over and whispers to the dwarf. "This is a bad idea."
Fizkin keeps the dwarf between himself and the thugs.
"Gladly." Fizkin says to the dwarf. He turns to the two thugs. "Now what are your names? Not that we can't make the report on your faces alone: such memorable faces. Still, it would be faster with your names."
Fizkin leans in and whispers to the dwarf. "These men abuse their true authority. Please don't get hung up on the law in the letter. They will hold me unjustly and hurt me for no reason." To the men, Fizkin speaks loud enough for all around to hear. [b]"I am Fizkin Noblejinx and I deny all charges and denounce you as crooked and corrupt. You may have real authority, but your abuse of that authority shows your unworthiness to wield it. You are no servants of the people. You are covetous pervayers of unbridled self-interest. I denounce you, and I urge all good people to report these to the Fen for summary judgment for the charge of defaming his honorable character."[/b
Fizkin wildly runs through his knowledge of Fen and what 'justice' might entail.
...stuff...
"Of course it's true! Why would I lie? Just think of them as iron ready for shaping. Teach them a lesson!"
Fizkin skids to a halt just behind the blacksmith and unfastens his whip for easy access should he need it. "These two are trying to steal what I earned playing in the market."
"Dwarf! Get out here! Child sized people are in trouble! Save me then feed me dinner! That's your thing right!?"
Fizkin scrambles between the two men and makes his way into the market proper. Upon hearing the rhythmic clang of a hammer, Fizkin recalls one of the hairy dwarves saying he like to smith. The Gnome races for the smithy screaming, "Blacksmith! Get out here!"
"Very astute gentlemen! Very astute indeed." "In fact, I am an officer of the law: a Justicar in case you wanted to know. I have been undercover for sometime. This man, Irve, is an informant of mine. He saw you two coming and panicked. I could not let him go obviously. Now, it seems, I'll be getting to speak with you two as well." Fizkin casually lifts a hand to point with a flourish of his hand. "Hear that? My associates are coming to escort you to my offices. I'd suggest you clear out of here if you'd rather not come along. Oh! And I'll need my coins back."
From where I sit, It looks like we need some GM adjudication. ...and maybe something to bring the party together into a group?
"What's going on, my fine sirs, is that this man here..." Fizkin gestures to the sleeping man. "...was just describing to me a condition he's been afflicted with. The symptoms include taking things you don't want, running when you do not wish to, and acute racism against gnomes. I explained to this man that the only cure was a good nap, and, in fact, we we heading to the nearest inn when his symptoms flared. He took my boot and ran. I did the only humane thing I could: I put him to sleep." "Now, it is plainly obvious that I cannot lift this man's weight, but it is imperative that he be taken to a bed post haste. Would you good Samaritan's be up for it?" As if from nowhere, Fizkin produces two shiny gold pieces and flips one to each man. "The inn is just there. Thank you, kind gentlemen."
Fizkin starts out after the man, but quickly realizes that a foot chase is not his forte. He flicks his hand and speak a word of arcane power.
I think I've heard this one ;)
Full Disclosure: I'm dying for a plot hook. That is all.
Finishing his breakfast, Fizkin head to the market and fills the air with delightful fiddle reels. The grateful passersby toss what coins they can into the Bard's violin case. Clearly most are inspired by the gnome's presence and will consider how they will better their lives as a result.
I agree with Fezik! Togril! My bad. I think a Princess Bride kind of silly would be fun. It would certainly fit Fizkin :)
Fizkin abruptly appears from behind the wall and strikes a dashing pose as he pulls a mighty riff from the strings of his violin. The air around the strings sharpens with the clear, ringing chord. A half smile crosses the gnome's impish face as he looses the sharpened air at the monster, careful not to hit the dwarves.
Without revealing himself visually, Fizkin launches into a song of battle to inspire his allies.
What in the Nine Hells is that!? Fizkin wracks his brain as he bolt for cover and a better position.
Fizkin wonders the same thing.
Fizkin fumbles down the oversized stairs, orders a breakfast of brown bread, blackened bacon, 2 eggs over medium, and a fried fish with lemon washed down with a good, dark stout. The gnome eats quietly.
A fuming Fizkin fumbles up the oversized steps and disappears into his room.
"Put me down you fool! I am no clown to be handled so!" Fizkin wrenches himself free of the drunken hands and slams into the floor. "DAMN YOU!" Noblejinx shouts in indignation. "You will regret this mockery Dendoren the Dolt! I shall eviscerate you in fiction. You shall be the most damnable fool ever to trip on a pile of dung. Children and fathers alike will laugh at the very mention of your name!" "Barkeep! I find I have the coin required. Give me your nicest room and be quick about it!" The irate gnome slaps his hand to the bar and removes it, leaving behind a golden coin. He hold his hand out for the key. "I expect one of your women to come and get my clothes in 10 minutes and have them cleaned and pressed by the time I want breakfast. Keep the change and make sure breakfast is good. I like rolled oats with butter and brown sugar. And bacon! Plenty of bacon..."
Fizkin frowns back at the crowd. "Come now! Surely some of you will put up the cost of the drink you would have bought for the cost of a room for one night. I concede that the best room might be a bit extravagant. A normal room will suit me fine. Now please, pay the tavern master so I might get some sleep to better entertain you all tomorrow."
Fizkin raps his knuckles on the bar to get the old tavern keeper's attention. "The key to your best room?" He holds out his little hand palm up.
Finally feeling the wine and ale clash in pitched battle at the end of his song, Fizkin sways slightly on his stool as Sorn bids him a goodnight. "A wise suggestion my friend, I believe I will to bed as well." "Barkeep! Your best room! My good friends..." He sweeps his hand across the crowd of men ready to buy him drinks. "will be happy to pay for it."
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