# A Lonely Path: a Shackled City Story Hour, (updated 30 Apr 2008)



## hbarsquared (Jun 25, 2006)

_The city of Cauldron is aptly named.  Nestled in the throat of a dormant volcano, this frontier city has thrived in a hostile environment.  Unfortunately, things are about to grow even more hostile for the citizens of this remote city, as two ancient forces converge upon the region in a dreadful confluence of cruelty and madness.

Driven by the dreams of an insane demon prince, bizarre cultists known as the Cagewrights scheme from ancient tunnels beneath the volcano, stoking it once more to terrible life.  To prevent their agenda, adventurers must brave haunted jungle ruins, slay mighty dragons, and bind themselves to a layer of the infinite Abyss.

Will their swords and spells be enough to save the Shackled City?_​
Hello, all, and welcome to my first Story Hour.  This thread has been _raised_ since the ENWorld Database Crash of ’06, and as a result has lost a level (as well as several prepared spell slots).  The format of the story hour has changed somewhat from its original inception, and many parts that were lost have to be rewritten from memory.  But maybe, from these ashes, something better will be created.

This Story Hour, however, may not be like the ones you have read before.  I am not playing with a group and recording our tales of adventure and woe.  Unfortunately, I do not have such a group that I can meet with regularly.  However, I love to read the books, I love to create characters, and I love the [smallcaps]_Dungeon_[/smallcaps] magazine’s _Shackled City Adventure Path_.  I have recently purchased the hardcover of the revised _Path_, and will be using the information therein.

And so I decided to create a 1st-level character and run her through the _Path_.  I will be DM, PC, and narrator.  All battle outcomes will be determined by the fall of the dice.  If my main character dies, another will come to take her place.

Since I am trying to remain as true as possible to the _Adventure Path_, some of the text I use will be straight from the hardcover, including all of the boxed text.  Anything that I lift from the book I will portray in [smallcaps]dark orchid[/smallcaps] colored text in my story hour posts.

By the way, I welcome all comments, critiques and praise!  Feel free to post!

Like I said, it's hard to find a group at home.  So I present to you, for your critique and hopeful enjoyment . . .

[smallcaps]*A Lonely Path*[/smallcaps]
_by Jeremy_​
Prologue: Leaving Home

*Life's Bazaar*
Chapter One: Gone in the Night
Chapter Two: Ghelve's Locks
Chapter Three: Vanishing in Jzadirune

*Drakthar's Way*
Chapter One: Hunting Goblins

​


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## hbarsquared (Jun 25, 2006)

[smallcaps]*Campaign Notes*[/smallcaps]

The following will include descriptions of any campaign-specific details that might deviate from a generic setting.  For answers to any questions, this will most likely be the place to go.


*The Pantheon* (Updated 6-25-2006)
_[smallcaps]Dragon[/smallcaps]_ magazine #329 is actually responsible for spurring this story hour.  Specifically, the article _Mesopotamian Mythos: From the Cradle of Civilization to Your Game Table_ by David Schwartz.  This pantheon of ancient dieties, straight from the _Epic of Gilgamesh_, was so well-described, so well-representative, that I had to use it.

For those of you who do not have access to the article, the following are brief descriptions of the deities mentioned so far in the game.

*Ea* (Enki, Master Crafter, Keeper of the Ocean Below)
Lawful Good
Portfolio: Crafts, fresh water, skills, wisdom.
Domains: Good, Knowledge, Law, Water.

*Enlil* (Utu)
Lawful Neutral
Portfolio: air, law, order, retribution, truth.
Domains: Air, Animal, Law, Protection.

*Ninurta* (Lord Plough)
Neutral Good
Portfolio: agriculture, youth, athletics, hunting, messages.
Domains: Good, Plant, Strength, Travel.


*Dramatis Personae* (Updated 6-25-2006)
Several characters, both intrinsically a part of the _Shackled City Adventure Path_ and those I have introduced myself, reoccur throughout the story hour.  The following are brief descriptions of NPCs mentioned so far in the game.

*Kevur* (Elder cleric of Ninurta)


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## hbarsquared (Jun 25, 2006)

[smallcaps]*Character Sheets*[/smallcaps]

*Abrina*
1st-level

[sblock=Stat Block]
Female medium humanoid (half-elf)
Neutral Good Cleric (Ninurta) 1

*Init* +1; *Senses* low-light vision; Spot +4, Listen +4
*Languages* Common, Elven
_________________________________________________

*AC* 18, touch 11, flat-footed 17
*hp* 8 (1 HD)
*Immune* _sleep_ 
*Fort* +2, *Ref* +1, *Will* +5 (+7 against enchantments)
_________________________________________________

*Spd* 20 ft.
*Melee* +4 masterwork spear (1d8+3/x3)
*Ranged* +1 light crossbow (1d8/19-20, 80 ft. inc.) or
*Ranged* +2 masterwork spear (1d8+3/x3, 20 ft. inc.)
*Base Atk* +0; *Grp* +3
*Special Atk* spontaneous casting (_cure_ spells), turn undead (+1, 2d6+2, 1st) 4/day

*Common Spells Prepared* (CL 1st, +3 melee touch, +1 ranged touch)1—_divine favor_, _enlarge_*, _magic weapon_
0—_guidance_ (2), _light_
*Domain spell.  _Domains_: Strength (+1, 1/day), Travel (1 round).​_________________________________________________

*Abilities* Str 16, Dex 13, Con 10, Int 9, Wis 16, Cha 12 (32-point buy)
*SQ* half-elf traits
*Feats* Combat Casting
*Skills* Concentration +4, Diplomacy +3, Gather Information +3, Listen +4, Search +0, Spot +4.

*Possessions* chainmail (+5 AC, max Dex +2, ACP -5), heavy wooden shield (+2 AC, ACP -2), masterwork spear, light crossbow (20 bolts), _periapt of wound closure_, smokesticks (2), holy symbol, adventurer’s gear.  10 gp worth of treasure.
_________________________________________________

*Turn Undead (Su)* Abrina can turn or destroy undead creatures.  She may attempt to turn undead a number of times per day equal to 3 + her Charisma modifier.  If Abrina has 5 or more ranks in Knowledge (religion), she gets a +2 bonus on turning checks against undead.

Abrina’s turning check is 1d20 + her Charisma modifier).  If her roll is high enough to let her turn at least some of the undead within 60 feet, roll 2d6 + her cleric level + her Charisma modifier for turning damage. That’s how many total Hit Dice of undead she can turn.

Turned undead flee by the best and fastest means available to them. They flee for 10 rounds (1 minute).  If they cannot flee, they cower (giving any attack rolls against them a +2 bonus).  If she approaches within 10 feet of them, however, they overcome being turned and act normally.  (She can stand within 10 feet without breaking the turning effect—she just can’t approach them.)  She can attack them with ranged attacks (from at least 10 feet away), and others can attack them in any fashion, without breaking the turning effect.

If Abrina has twice as many levels (or more) as the undead have Hit Dice, she destroys any that she would normally turn.

*Strength Domain (Su)* Abrina can perform a feat of strength as a free action 1/day.  Abrina gains an enhancement bonus to Strength equal to her cleric level.

*Travel Domain (Su)* Abrina can act normally regardless of magical effects that impede movement as if she were affected by the spell _freedom of movement_ for a total time per day of 1 round per cleric level she possesses. This effect occurs automatically as soon as it applies, lasts until it runs out or is no longer needed, and can operate multiple times per day (up to the total daily limit of rounds).  Survival is added to her list of cleric class skills.

_Periapt of Wound Closure_ The wearer of this periapt automatically becomes stable if her hit points drop to between -1 and -9 inclusive.  The periapt doubles the wearer’s normal rate of healing or allows normal healing of wounds that would not do so normally.  Hit point damage that involves bleeding is negated for the wearer of the periapt, but she is still susceptible to damage from bleeding that causes Constitution loss, such as that dealt by a wounding weapon.

[/sblock]


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## hbarsquared (Jun 25, 2006)

*Prologue, Part One*

Abrina rehearsed her morning routine with practiced steps and whispered counts in the dusty courtyard as the dawning sun rose above the temple wall behind her.  She cast a long shadow, the outline of her figure a blur.  Her mind fully concentrated on the movements of her legs, her hands, her spear, she destroyed foe after imaginary foe.

Every day, Abrina practiced.  She had been practicing for decades—alone, with instructors, with sparring partners, with friends.  She reveled in the soreness in her limbs, the heat on her neck, the sweat on her skin.  The Games, sponsored by her temple, would begin the following week and drew crowds to their small town of Narim from miles around.  Abrina knew she was a favorite, partly due to the elven blood that ran through her veins.  In the predominantly human region of U’tep, a fertile valley nestled within the arms of a great desert, a half-elf was a wonder and a curiosity.  A half-elf that epitomized the virtues of Ninurta, the god of agriculture and athletics, was a rarity that people from throughout U’tep flocked to see.

In mid-attack, her spear thrust to the side, Abrina froze.  Wisps of her hair fell over her eyes, beading sweat just beginning to roll down her temples. Her muscles bulged, her hands tightened around the shaft of her weapon, and her chest expanded and contracted with deep, though controlled, breaths.  Another long shadow strode across the courtyard, strong, purposeful.

Relaxing her stance, Abrina lowered her spear, point to the ground, and turned to face her elder.

His hair was gray, his weathered face etched with wrinkles, but his intense emerald eyes were sharp, his back straight.  He wore the clerical vestments of their order, the shirt beneath his cloak dyed a green several shades darker than his eyes.  She reached out to him, and he took her hands, enveloping her in a tight hug of greeting.  They pulled back and she smiled.

“Why, good morning, Elder Kevur,” she said, wiping her brow with the back of a dusty arm. “What brings you to the training grounds?”

Kevur smiled in return and motioned her to follow him. “I came to see you. Let’s go inside and talk. I imagine you could use a glass of water?” He walked to the edge of the courtyard, into the shade, and held the door open for her.

She followed, puzzled but intrigued.  Elder Kevur was the highest ranking cleric of their temple of Ninurta, and he rarely spoke with those of their order individually since gaining that status.  He led services, was the speaker at the games, began dinners with a toast and even blessed the clerics in their affirmation ceremony.  Kevur spoke with everyone at the temple, of course, but he rarely invited anyone to his office speak with privately.

Elder Kevur had invited her into his office only once before, when she had been only a child and he a recent cleric of Ninurta.  When he was younger, he led the classes to educate supplicants who wished to become indoctrinated into the faith of Ninurta and Abrina had been a student during his first year.  It was only a few days before Abrina fund herself sitting in the chair opposite his ornately carved desk of mahagony and squirmed under his severe and reproachful gaze.  She had tripped a boy in practice when his back was turned.  Abrina had been older than he, but he had the gall to insult her style in the middle of their lessons.  Entangling her spear between his legs and roughly jerking him off balance had been tremendously satisfying, but she wasn’t entirely sure it had been worth the disappointment of Elder Kevur.

Abrina was older, now, and Kevur wore a smile instead of a frown, but still she fidgeted her seat, tapping the side of the glass of cool water he had given her, as Kevur retrieved an empty scroll case on his desk and began to unstopper its ends.

“This,” he said, pulling a piece parchment from a drawer, “is a missive from the Master Crafter.”

Abrina’s eyes widened. “From Ea Himself?”

Kevur paused and raised an eyebrow. There was a smile behind the crinkling of his eyes.  She sunk back into the chair, her face flushed with embarrassment. Abrina wondered if he remembered the last time she had been in this spot. She figured her did; those eyes saw into her soul.

“No,” he said, “from the temple.  From Helena, the head cleric at the Temple of Ea, actually.”  He rolled up the scroll and tied a ribbon around its center. “A great doom comes, and we are to deliver a message to the city of Cauldron.  Immediately.”

Kevur paused a moment and sighed.  He held a small bowl of wax to the flame of the candle on his desk and poured several drops to the scroll.  He reached for the stamp engraved with his personal insignia and pushed it into the wax, sealing the scroll.  He picked it up and held the missive in his aged hands, as if weighing the consequences of the portent it contained, then slid it into the scrollcase and replaced the stopper.

He held out the scrollcase to Abrina across the desk and motioned to her to take it.

Abrina took the scrollcase he offered without much thought.  After setting it in her lap and contemplating the meaning of what Kevur had said, the realization that she was to be the messenger fell upon her like one of their oxen collapsing in the mid-day heat.

“But, Elder!” she exclaimed, sitting up abruptly.  “The games!  They’re next week!  I won’t be back for at least . . .”  She paused, not knowing where this city of Cauldron was, let alone how many days of travel it would take to reach.

“Two weeks, Abrina, maybe more.”

“More?”

Kevur shot her a wilting glance.

Abrina nodded, slumping back into her chair.  “Yes, Elder.  I understand.  No more whining.”  She would miss the games for the first time in twenty years.  She looked forward to besting the other students of Ninurta every year, not to mention the arrogant storm clerics.  She could do more damage with a stick than they could with their warhammers.  Every year she participated and heard the crowds roar her name, smelled the exotic meats and spices from the vendors outside the arena, saw the magnificent banners waving in the welcoming breeze.  She would miss it all.

“Thank you, Abrina,” Kevur replied.  “The games are to keep us ready for the times Ninurta requires us the most.  This is one of those times.  This is where our faith has led us, and Ninurta will guide you on your journey.  I don’t know what we will do without your help, not to mention your arm, at the festival, but Ninurta has called on us, and it seems he has other plans for you.”

Abrina stood and grasped the spear, the weapon favored by her patron.  “I will not fail you, Elder.”

Kevur smiled wanly and rose.  “I don’t think you will.”


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## Richard Rawen (Jun 26, 2006)

Huzzah!
Now to start reading 

sheesh, conspiracies kept me from catching up till now, yet here I am at last.
More please.


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## hbarsquared (Jul 11, 2006)

Many apologies for the delay, folks.  I really do plan on re-updating the story hour weekly.  In an effort to make reparations, here is a double-dose for everyone.

Enjoy!


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## hbarsquared (Jul 11, 2006)

*Prologue, Part Two*

The following day Abrina stood in front of the temple entrance, surrounded by a small circle of her closest friends, and wished her home of the past thirty years goodbye.  Beams of sunlight dodged through the gauntlet of tree leaves dancing in the warm breeze, creating dancing figures on the stonework of the temple.  Shadows played across faces of figures carved in relief into the marble walls lining the wide path, farmers with heads bowed in grim determination on one side, and athletes laughing in the exultation of victory upon the other.  The farmers plowed fields, picked fresh fruit from the top of trees, and built sluices to direct the waters of the flooding river.  The athletes concentrated intently as they took aim with bows at targets, swam through waters populated with any number of sea creatures, and even bull-jumped.  That last one was Abrina’s favorite.  No one at this temple had put together a bull-jumping competition in years.  It had been her goal to be the first.  

Abrina sighed again, forcing her gaze away from the temple walls and back to her friends.  Otec tried his best to catch her eye and keep her focus on him, but the sunlight forced him to squint and blink away tears.  Shani, with her long deep brown hair braided down her back, stood at Abrina’s side, clutching her hand as she tried to blink back tears, albeit not from the piercing morning rays.  Elder Kevur stood to her right, as well as several others in a larger circle around them.  This was to be her farewell, the likes of which no one could recall for their small temple, in the reclusive town of Narim.

“Abrina,” Kevur began, motioning her to turn toward him.  She did, straightening her back and looking the head cleric in his eyes, and did not turn away.

“Abrina, you go forth this day on a quest for your god.  He who brings tidings for good and ill.  For good, so that we may celebrate with festivals and games, food and drink, friends and family.  For ill, so that we may be warned and prepared for the trials to come.  Your journey begins this day to take ill tidings to our far neighbors in the city of Cauldron.  May your return journey bring tidings that give us reason to celebrate.”

Behind Kevur an acolyte pulled back the string of his bow and loosed an arrow.  It arced overhead, held aloft in mid-air as if Ninurta Himself sought to grasp it and fling it across the land.  Finally, it fell among a riotous garden of colorful flowers, a martial sentinel standing guard over its wards.

Everyone’s attention returned to Abrina and Kevur.  Around his neck he wore an amulet, one Abrina had not seen him or anyone else at the temple wear before.  A bright red stone that seemed to glow with an inner fire dangled from a golden chain, a bead of blood still clinging to the smallest of cuts.  It was this amulet that Kevur slowly removed from his head and placed over Abrina’s own.  A soothing warmth spread through her body as the delicate chain fell lightly over her neck and the stone rested upon her breast.  Abrina breathed deeply and a sense of calm and safety lay upon her heart.

“It will protect you at your weakest, in your greatest need, Abrina.  The Periapt of the Fallen was worn by the founder of our temple, the Great Elder Sanotay.  He had been charged with a message to deliver, a note that rejoiced in the birth of a prince.  He was to deliver it to a noble that lived in the outskirts of this very city, in a time when nobles lived here.  But, as he traveled through the barren lands, all manner of beasts fell upon him, barring his way.  He fought them off, but not without suffering from many wounds that refused to stop bleeding.

“Near death, he found a small stream, and started to drink what he thought would be the last water to ever pass his parched lips.  As he knelt, praying for forgiveness from Ninurta for failing his mission, his hand found purchase in the wet mud along the bank, and his fist clenched around a small, red stone.  As his wounds overwhelmed him, and his sight went dark, he clutched it to his breast.”

Kevur paused, the only sound was the rustling of leaves, the creaking of tree branches, and the murmur of the wind through the grass.  His audience stood rapt, and Abrina had, unconsciously it seemed, brought her hand to the stone around her neck.  Kevur smiled and continued his tale.

“He awoke, many days later, his wounds closed, his energy renewed.  Sanotay had not failed, for he had strove to continue, to the limits his strength could take him.  When his strength could carry him no more, Ninurta blessed him with a gift that allowed him to succeed.

“The Periapt of the Fallen is our greatest treasure, and we give it to you for your journey.”

Kevur reached out and embraced her as she felt her eyes moisten with welling tears.  “May Ninurta guide your path,” he whispered.

“And strengthen my arm,” Abrina returned, her head buried in his shoulder.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Kevur replied, chuckling.  “You have no need of His help to retain your strength.”

“Elder!  Blasphemy!”  Abrina pulled back, incredulous.  He simply laughed again, his green eyes crinkling.

It took the rest of the morning for her to embrace and say good-bye to each member of the only family she had known at the temple.  Each had parting words for her, some gave her small gifts to remember her by.

“It will be only two weeks,” she would say.

“The longest you have been away,” they would reply.  “The longest any of our own have been away.  Be careful.”

And she would nod, hold back a tear, and say good-bye again to the next.


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## Richard Rawen (Jul 11, 2006)

Hey! WB, another fine post, looking forward to getting all caught up... and more!


Huzzah!


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## hbarsquared (Aug 4, 2006)

*Prologue, Part Three*

Abrina packed lightly and left her town of Narim by the north gate, little more than a small and decorative arch of stone with not even a wall attached.  No one stood guard except for one elderly woman tearing out weeds from her garden.  Abrina sat high upon a muscled and energetic young colt, his reigns handed to her by Kevur after the time for tearful good-byes had come to a close.  Eager for the journey, her mount nearly pranced through the arch, and the two left behind the only home either of them had really known.

The Golden Road, running through the center of U’tep, was well-traveled with inns no more than two days ride separating one another.  It paralleled the river for much of its course, turning away into the mountains when the river turned sharply on its journey to the sea.  The foothills ascended almost lazily and the Road curved among the rising peaks to finally cut through a wide, open pass, leading to a slender valley crisscrossed by cold streams and several small lakes.  The land here buckled, as if a giant god had kneeled upon the ground and shoved the rock to one side like a thick blanket.  Cauldron lay on the other side of the valley, one peak indistinguishable from the many.

The journey had been thankfully uneventful.  The weather had been calm, the innkeepers hospitable, the fellow travelers friendly.  Abrina had made good time, and she whispered a prayer to Ninurta in thanks for hastening her journey.

The Golden Road turned south, cradling a large, two-story inn within its bend to the east of the road, partially surrounded by the dense jungle.  The gray and dreary day was just turning into a dark and dreary evening when she led her horse up to the old and well-used building.  The chimneys were stained with soot, the roof sagged, and the wood siding was weathered and stained from last years mildew.  A smaller stable stood to the building’s side in a similar condition.

There had been no rain, but enough moisture in the air soaked the ground to prove troublesome as Abrina dismounted and led her horse to the stables.  Clods of mud fell from her mount’s hooves with every step, streaks of mud stained her cloak and vestments.  As Abrina grumbled to herself, attempting to brush off the larger pieces of wet dirt that slowly ground themselves into her clothes, she passed beneath the faded, gently swinging wooden sign.

Abrina sighed with relief when she recognized the sign that hung above the inn’s door from Kevur’s description.  With what must have once been bright colors, a stylized monkey had been painted on the square piece of wood.  Long arms nearly twice the length of the creature’s body formed a rough “S” shape, each paw grasping what looked like a six-sided die.  Above the animal, in stylized letters not out of place at a carnival, were the words, “The Lucky Monkey.”  The building’s façade sported numerous carved wooden monkeys, many of whom were engaged in risky, death-defying stunts.  In one, a wooden monkey balanced on a narrow tree branch to get a banana hanging over a sleeping tiger; in another, a monkey sat on a boulder completely unaware that a poacher sneaking up behind him was suddenly attacked and eaten by an ankheg.

The sign and the various carvings brought a chuckle from Abrina.  She left her horse with the stableboy and promptly ducked into the inn.  The Lucky Monkey would be the last stop where Abrina could find a place to rest before ascending the mountain; it would be a full day of travel before she reached the volcano-city.

The meal was fair, the proprietor kind.  Abrina paid for a comfortable room for the night and ascended the stairs to rest for her difficult hike up the mountain the following morning.  She locked the door behind her as she set down her traveling pack and the scroll case by the writing desk.  She removed her armor and her vestments, untied the bandana that held her hair back to allow it to fall to her bare shoulders, and brought her fingers to the pendant hanging from her neck.  She had not removed it, nor her holy symbol of Ninurta, since her first day on the road, since Kevur had presented it to her.  Abrina sighed and leaned down to remove her blanket from her pack before resigning herself to the straw-filled mattress and a full night of blissful, uninterrupted sleep.

As she ruffled through her pack something rammed into her back, sending her sprawling across the floor, her breath knocked out of her.  Abrina struggled to rise from the floor, only to have a booted foot come down on her back, forcing her back to the floor.

“What are you doing here, cleric?” a woman’s voice sneered as the heel of the boot ground into Abrina’s spine.  Abrina groaned and tried to twist out from beneath the painful boot, but the woman only leaned her weight on Abrina even more.

“I am passing through,” Abrina managed to say, gasping for air.  “I have a message, in the name of Ninurta.”

“A message?”  The woman’s voice was deep, gravelly.  “Who are you delivering it to?”

Between clenched teeth, Abrina managed to cough out a response.  “That is none of your concern,” she responded with uncharacteristic temerity.

The woman laughed.  “Who are you to deny me?” she asked, her boot remaining in place and pressing deeper.

“I am no one,” Abrina said between gasps, “It’s just a letter, nothing more.”

“Liar,” said the woman, finally removing her boot, but Abrina had little chance to recover before that same boot kicked in her side.  Abrina tried to roll away and scramble for the door.  Nausea nearly overwhelmed her, but she managed to remain conscious and look up into her attacker’s face.

The face was painted, half black and half white, obscuring the woman’s features but not the intent.  Her dark brown eyes were narrowed, boring into Abrina through to the rough planks of the wall behind her.  She was dressed in tight-fitting black clothes, with a dark cloak that billowed behind her.  The attacker moved gracefully, skillfully, as if she was at one with the shadows, and drew close.

 “Listen to me, weakling, and listen well, for I will not repeat myself.  You may deliver your little message, your letter.  It means little to us because our plans are already in motion.  Take it to Urikas and leave, run home, but do not stay in Cauldron.  We know who you are, we know what you are here for, and we are going to give you a chance to leave and not come back.  If you don’t….”  The woman gave Abrina another kick.

“Then we will have the last laugh.”  She threw back her head and cackled, as if she alone understood the punchline to her inside joke.  Abrina cringed, backing into the corner, nursing her side.

The woman passed by the desk, her fingers trailing along the scrollcase.  She turned to the window, open, Abrina noticed for the first time, and leapt into the night.  Abrina heard the soft thump of the woman hitting the soft ground outside, then, nothing.

Bruised and scared, Abrina slowly walked to the window and without glancing outside she shut it and returned to the bed.  She lay down, her blanket forgotten, and replayed the words of the woman in black in her mind.  She grasped the symbol around her neck and stared at the ceiling.


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## Richard Rawen (Aug 5, 2006)

Ouch... so much for the welcome wagon! I forgot how brutal that welcome was, thank goodness (literally) for divine healing =-)
Thanks for the update Jeremy


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## hbarsquared (Aug 7, 2006)

I just edited my latest update, above.  Silly me, I forgot that the Lucky Monkey is not, in fact, in Redgorge.    That's what I get for trying to write from memory.  I have also revised it to include some of the descriptions from the _Path_ hardcover.

Plus, another installment!


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## hbarsquared (Aug 7, 2006)

*Chapter One, Part One*

The climb up the side of the volcano was not a strenuous one, but it was a long one. The path, wide enough for two wagons side by side, detoured around large rock formations and thick copses of trees, switchbacked near steep cliffs, and gradually encircled the entire mountain.  Leading her horse, Abrina was relieved to see the towering black malachite walls of the city finally come into view as steel gray clouds began to gather overhead.  She knew she would be no safer within those thick stone walls, but they nevertheless signified the last leg of her journey.

Abrina arrived at the gate, her supplies carried by her horse and the scrollcase hung protectively from her shoulder.  Several guards inspected merchants coming and going, logging the transport of valuable items, mundane and magical.  One young guard approached her, a short sword dangling at his side, his studded armor clean, well-kept, and free of scrapes and cuts.

“Anything of value?” he asked, holding a partially unrolled scroll against a flat piece of wood.  He held a small writing utensil poised above the paper in one hand.

Abrina shook her head.  “No,” she said, motioning to her packs.  “Just supplies.  I’m a message bearer.”  Abrina patted her holy symbol around her neck.  The periapt remained hidden beneath her shirt.

The guard raised his head and nodded, making a single, simple mark on the parchment.  “Ah, yes.  That will be one silver.  Ninurta speed you.”

“And you as well,” she replied, passing him a coin.  “Thank you.”

The streets of Cauldron were busy on this darkening autumn afternoon.  Tumbling clouds raced across the sky, mimicking the people in the circular, concentric streets.  She stabled her horse and asked for directions to the temple, then set out to explore the city and deliver her message.  As she walked the streets, Abrina noticed that the citizens seemed on edge, suspicious.  She would ask for simple directions from passerby, only to see them hurry off without responding.  Something had happened, or was happening, in Cauldron, though Abrina did not know what.  She heard a rumor, in one of the shops she had stepped into, of a strange type of currency now found among the merchants.  The coins were stamped with the face of a jester, instead of the sovereign.  It unnerved the shopkeepers, certainly, who scrutinized her coins before accepting them, but Abrina did not believe that only money would be the root of the suspicions of everyone else.

Abrina had nearly found herself in the innermost and most dilapidated circle of Ash Avenue, before abruptly turning back.  In the waning light and gathering rain clouds, Abrina climbed back up the inner bowl of the city, following the wide streets that sloped and curved gently upward.

A steady, wretched drizzle began to fall from the ash-gray sky.  The crowded, rain-slicked buildings seemed especially bleak and frightful this evening, hunched together beneath the tireless rain and gloomy skies.  A few lights burned in their windows, but mostly their shutters had been closed for the night.  The scent of chimney smoke filled the air, and Abrina heard the din of water trundling from the rooftops, splashing into dark alleys, and turning street gutters into small rivulets.

A sudden plaintive cry for help split the evening air.  Abrina whirled, spear raised in hand, to find no one around, no one on the street.  The cry seemed to have come from somewhere behind her, she was sure of it.  Peering through the falling rain, she could make out no moving figures, nothing but the wet, tired faces of closed shops.  She paused, listening, and heard some cursing and the sounds of a scuffle slightly muffled by the rainfall.  Gingerly, she followed the noises.  She maneuvered her scrollcase so it hung diagonally across her back, and cinched tight the strap.  She grasped the wet shaft of the spear with both hands and peered down the street.  The noises came from a nearby alley, not ten yards away.


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## Richard Rawen (Aug 10, 2006)

Nice catch on the Inn, I thought about it as I read but said nothing, sorry.
( Bad Editor, No Biscuit! )
Enjoying the gradual build-up again, it's a good storyline, thanks for taking the time with it.


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## hbarsquared (Aug 10, 2006)

Thanks.

I might as well mention this again, here:  I welcome all editing!  Mistakes, grammatical or continuity-wise, are welcomed to be pointed out!


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## hbarsquared (Aug 13, 2006)

*Chapter One, Part Two*

Abrina pressed forward to the mouth of the mist-shrouded alley, wherein she saw three figures assaulting a fourth, who lay face-down on the wet cobblestones.  One of the attackers lifted the victim by the hood of his cloak and thrust him against a wall as another growled, “Stay away from the orphanage, you got that?”

She should have left, should have stayed out of it.  She was a stranger in this city, and therefore should not concern herself with its inhabitants.  They weren’t her province, not her responsibility.  Yet, Abrina could not stand by.  She did not know what orphanage the attacker spoke of or why the man on the ground would visit it, but she would not allow him to be beaten to death in a dark, wet alley.  Abrina stepped into the alley.

“Let go of him,” she called, her voice strong, overcoming the brief gusts of wind and the pelting of rain.  She raised her spear.  “Let him go.”

The attacker shoved the victim against the brick wall and turned to face her.  Abrina sucked in her breath as she recognized the face of the attacker.  A painted face, half black and half white with makeup, twisted into a harlequin’s grinning visage.  But no, this wasn’t the same face as her own attacker.  This was a man, and taller.  But the paint she recognized.

“Bugger off!” the man said with a growl.  He reached to his side and drew his sword from its scabbard as the other two did the same.  Abrina kept her spear raised menacingly, but did not advance.  The bruised and battered young man forced himself to stand and stumbled toward Abrina with one hand trailing along the brick wall.  He was human, and young, with sunken eyes and scraggly hair that clung to his scalp in the rain.

As he reached her, Abrina whispered to the young man, “Are you okay?  Did they take anything from you?”

He shook his head, still taking deep, ragged breaths as he clutched his stomach.  Abrina patted him lightly on the shoulder and slowly turned to face the three men again.  Abrina met the eyes of each, in turn, and slowly lowered her spear.  It was folly, she knew, but these men had some connection to the woman that attacked her at the inn.  She bowed her head, as if in sadness or defeat, and sensed the four men relaxing their stance.

Silently, with eyes closed, Abrina prayed to Ninurta to grant her strength.

She opened her eyes to find the three standing open-mouthed, now looking up at her with open mouths.  Abrina now stood an imposing eleven feet tall, towering over the attackers.  At her side, she heard the young man reciting whispered words, and as he finished she felt the enveloping, familiar touch of a god.  She darted a quizzical glance at him, but he only smiled as he pulled out a mace she had not noticed before from his belt and began another prayer.

The three attackers had regained their senses, realizing they still outnumbered her despite her size, and the teenage cleric had already taken a beating.  They charged with their swords held aloft, and Abrina clutched her spear, digging its haft into the cobblestones at her feet, and prepared to meet them.

Abrina now took up the entire width of the alley and the cleric had shifted in front of her and to the side to meet the charge of the attackers.  The first, swinging his sword wildly, ran directly toward Abrina.  She clenched her spear, holding it rigid, and for a brief moment closed her eyes.  She felt a tremendous jarring, and barely kept her weapon from wrenching out of her grasp.  Her eyes flared open to see the first attacker now impaled on her oversized spear, his eyes rapidly glazing over.  The second attacker had already reached the cleric and Abrina could already see a new wound on his shoulder.  The cleric stumbled, clutching his arm to his side, and fell to one knee on the ground.  Angrily, Abrina pulled back her spear and with a jab at the ground shook off the body, and with a fluid, follow-through motion, she attempted to spear the side of the man stepping forward to take the place of his fellow attacker.  The attacker shifted out of the way and the bloodied tip of her spear found nothing.

Clutching the haft in one hand to ward off the blows of the sword, Abrina leaned over to the small form of the cleric on the ground.  Whispering a quick prayer, Ninurta granted the cleric the energy he needed to rise.  One of the men lashed out with his sword, which she diverted with her spear as she lifted the cleric to his feet with her other hand.  The cleric shook his head, nodded a brief thanks to her, and ducked beneath another swipe of a sword.  Seeing an opening, the cleric swung his mace, crunching into the side of the man that Abrina had just wounded.  The attacker crumpled but did not fall.

Gritting her teeth, Abrina found another hit as the two remaining attackers continued to press.  She did not have time to recover from her strike, and she could not defend herself from the other man with the painted face.  He slid the sword easily into her side, even as she managed to shove the butt of her spear into his shoulder.  Her vision dimmed as the attacker removed his sword and blood coursed down her leg.  She did not feel herself falling.  Abrina only heard a cry from the cleric and caught a glimpse of him crushing his mace into the back of the one who wounded her.  Then nothing.


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## hbarsquared (Aug 21, 2006)

*Chapter One, Part Three*

Abrina awoke with a gasp to find the cleric kneeling next to her, his hands hovering over her side.  The wound had healed, but she could still feel the warmth of wet blood on her skin.  She struggled to rise and found she had returned to her normal size.  Abrina was no longer the towering giant but as she glanced around the dark alley she discovered there were no more enemies to worry about.

“Are you okay?” asked the cleric.

“Yes, I’ll be all right,” Abrina responded.  She tilted her head to one side with a half-smile.  “I should be asking you that.”

The cleric chuckled and offered his arm, helping her to her feet.  “Ruphus,” he offered.

Abrina raised an eyebrow as she steadied herself.  “No, my name is Abrina.  What is yours?”

Ruphus paused for a moment, his mouth opening to explain himself.  Deciding against it, he smiled and said, “My name is Ruphus.”  He turned, taking no notice of her reaction, and motioned with one hand down the alley where lay the three bodies of the cleric’s attackers.  “These men will die without our aid,” he said as he approached the closest one and prayed over his broken body.

Abrina scolded herself for a moment.  “Ruphus, of course,” she muttered to herself, and yanked up her pack that had been discarded during the fight.  She dug through her belonging and found a length of rope.  She would not leave the attackers to die, of course, but neither would she simply watch them walk away.  Quickly, she tied the hands of the attacker that had first challenged her and dragged him next to the others before whispering a prayer to relieve his ragged breathing.  Ruphus revived the others and prodded them with his mace.

The three did not project the same air of confidence they had when attacking Ruphus only minutes before.  Their eyes darted from side to side and they squirmed in the bindings.  Abrina turned her attention to the attacker that had first challenged her and first ended up at the end of her spear.  “Tell me,” she said forcefully to him, “Why were you assaulting this cleric?”

He stared wide-eyed at her, his face turning to glance at Ruphus kneeling at Abrina’s side.  Black and white makeup ran in rivulets down his face, mixing with blood and mud to form a thick clay that fell from his cheeks to the cobblestones.  “I . . . we . . . we were told to roughen him up.  Just a bit.  We weren’t going to kill him or nothin’.”

“Why?”

He glanced at his companions and shrugged.  “We needed the money.”

“No, why did you need to ‘roughen him up?’  Who paid you?”

All three attackers grew increasingly nervous, averting their eyes from Abrina.  In the distance, barely heard over the rain, Abrina could hear the sound of clanking armor and boots striding through puddles.

“Tell me,” she said, nodding back to the street, “and I’ll let you go before the guard arrives.”

One of them spoke up.  “We were supposed to send a clear message to the Church of Enlil not to go pokin’ around the orphanage.”

“What orphanage?  Why not?” Abrina asked.

“The Lantern Street Orphanage,” said the cleric, his brow furrowed.  “Four children were kidnapped from there three nights ago.  That is where I was coming from when they attacked.”

The third man nodded, then shrugged.  “But we don’t know why.  It was nothing big, we weren’t going to hurt him.  Not really, anyways.”

“Who hired you?” questioned Abrina.  “Who are you?  And why are your faces painted like that?  What does Urikas have to do with it?  What about my message?”  Her questions tumbled from her mouth faster than her prisoners could form answers as she shook the collar of one.  He shook his head from side to side, obviously confused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said emphatically.  “We don’t know.  The Last Laugh hired us, Jil was going to pay us—”

He stopped abruptly, a crossbow bolt appearing in the side of his neck.  His body stiffened and his last words ended in a strange gurgle.  Abrina dropped the man, already dead, and fell back, glancing quickly around the dark alley, trying to see shapes through the slanting rain.  The other two attackers scrambled away from the body.

“Well done!” cried out a voice, a familiar voice.  Ruphus scanned the roofs of the bordering buildings and pointed to a dark shape clinging to a section of one wall.  The figure emerged from the shadows and Abrina immediately recognized this painted face.  The woman, the same that had assaulted her the night before, was barely discernable in the moonlight filtering through the streaking rain.  She wore a hooded black cloak that whipped around her in the wind, and her black boots and black leather gloves clung to the brick like the splayed legs of a spider.

“You have no need for any more information he might have given you,” she said, “You have my name, not that it matters much.  The cleric lives because we of the Last Laugh wish it so, not because of your misplaced bravado.”

She pointed a baleful finger at the cleric. “Take these words back to your temple, priest. The children are lost and no longer Enlil’s concern.”  The woman, Jil, Abrina now knew, turned and rapidly climbed the wall like a spider, and before either Abrina or Ruphus could respond, Jil swung herself over the ledge and onto the roof.  The pounding rain covered the sounds of her footfalls and was gone, leaving the two clerics staring into the rain.

Abrina lifted the two attackers to their feet, shoving them against the same brick wall where they had pummeled Ruphus.  She waited for the patrol to arrive, and did not untie them.

“Hey, you said you were going to let us go!” said one, shifting wild eyes from the dead body, half-submerged in the miniature tributaries of rainwater flowing through the stones down the sloping alley, and back to Abrina.

Abrina kept her grip tight on the arm of the one who had spoken as four town guards turned the corner, stopping abruptly at the entrance to the alley.  “I lied,” she said from the corner of her mouth.

The four men wore hooded cloaks in an unsuccessful effort to keep out the rain.  The folds billowed out with every gust of wind, revealing breastplates beneath and short swords strapped to their sides.  Each carried a short halberd, and at the sight of Abrina’s two prisoners and a dead body, the guards brought their weapons to bear.

One stepped forward, unsheathing his short sword.  “What is going on here?” he demanded.

It took some time for Ruphus and Abrina to explain the circumstances, but after both revealed their holy symbols of Enlil and Ninurta the guards immediately lowered their halberds and the captain sheathed his sword.  A cloak was placed over the body of one attacker as a guard was sent for a wagon.  Abrina handed the tied attackers over to the town guards as the captain eyed one intently.

“You may go,” the captain said after taking both their names, not looking at them but waving both away with one hand.

Abrina and Ruphus retreated as the rain continued to pour.


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## Richard Rawen (Aug 23, 2006)

Still readin, Still enjoying.  I know we cannot hurry the story along, but I'm looking forward to chewing on some more action! Darn server crash! 

Bring it on Jeremy, there's other readers just waiting to see what happens next!


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## Richard Rawen (Sep 2, 2006)

**sigh**

I'm bumping my own post!


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## hbarsquared (Sep 3, 2006)

Just for you, Richard.  ​*Chapter One, Part Four*

“You are a cleric of Enlil?” Abrina asked Ruphus.  The Church of Enlil, Kevur had told her, was a significant religious force in Cauldron, and was to where she was deliver her message.  She had not considered that there might be others from Cauldron that did not want the message to be delivered.  Though what the orphans had to do with it she still could not fathom.  She was already on the road, on her way here, three days ago.  There was no way Kevur, or Helena of the Church of Ea, could have known about them.

“Yes,” replied Ruphus, sliding his mace into his belt at his side, “I am.”

“I have a message to deliver.”  Abrina gestured to the scroll case, still cinched to her back.  “I must see high priest Sarcem Delasharn.”

“I can take you to the temple, but Delasharn is currently on an extended visit to Sasserine.  Urikas is his second, and my superior.  She is the head of the order during Delasharn’s absence and is in charge of the temple while he is gone.  I can take you to her, if you seek her.”

Abrina nodded.  “Of course.”

The two clerics climbed the inside of the volcano cauldron in the drizzling rain to their destination, the Church of Enlil.  No one could have miss the large two-story structure, even in the gloom of night and rain, its white marble walls suffused with veins of vivid blue, standing in stark contrast to the buildings of bare black stone that flanked it on the north end of Obsidian Avenue.  A pair of white marble statues depicting armored warriors, sleek with rain, stood on either side of the temple’s heavy oaken door.  Each of the statues raised a large pick to the star-studded sky.  Above the door’s marble architrave were boldly inscribed the words: _[smallcaps]Within Law Lives Hope.[/smallcaps]_

Ruphus motioned her through the imposing oak doors of the church.  Abrina gladly stepped through, into its safe and warm confines.  An acolyte rose from a nearby seat in the entrance hall and approached, her young face carrying an unhidden expression of worry.  The acolyte and Ruphus spoke quickly in hushed tones, and after a moment the acolyte disappeared through a nearby door.

“She will return,” he said, “with some blankets and warm tea.  You are free to stay the night, and I offer you my thanks.”

“But, my message,” Abrina replied as Ruphus began to turn away.  Her voice echoed in the empty hall and Abrina shied back, unused to the vaulted ceilings, the cavernous hall.

“I must first relate to Urikas what has transpired,” Ruphus said without turning.  “She will be out to see you, if she gets the chance.  If not, rest well, and you will meet in the morning.”  He opened another door, opposite the one the acolyte had used, and left the entrance hall.

Grumbling, Abrina tried to wait patiently and piece together the pieces of information that Ruphus had tried to relate to her.  He did not know anything about the men with the painted faces or why they had sought to attack him on the way back from the orphanage.  At first, he had thought they were going to rob him, but it soon became clear they were trying to intimidate him.  No further light had been shed on that mystery, but Ruphus did explain why a cleric of Enlil was interested in the orphanage.

“Three nights ago,” Ruphus had explained, “four children were kidnapped from the Lantern Street Orphanage.  Urikas sent me to console the distraught children and some of the staff, to let them know that Enlil would be watching for them.  In the absence of our high priest, Delasharn, Urikas has publicly vowed for the Church to locate the missing children and bring the kidnappers to justice.”

How the painted faces were involved, and why they were concerned about her, still eluded Abrina.

The acolyte returned soon with blankets which Abrina used to swiftly scrub her hair and skin, patting down her clothing and armor as well.  Hot tea followed soon thereafter which Abrina sipped carefully.  She hated tea, preferring the thicker brews of spiced mead, but wanted to remain polite in the sister temple.

“Hopin’ you’ll enjoy your night, here,” the young acolyte mentioned, refilling Abrina’s tea and not noticing the grimace.  “Jenya will bein’ out to see you shortly.”

“Jenya?” Abrina questioned, blowing on her tea.

The acolyte blushed, averting her gaze.  “I mean, Urikas,” she said.  “She is the high cleric, after all, while Delasharn is gone.  Must show our respects, and all.  She don’t mind her first name, but twouldn’t be right, I say.”

She stepped backwards.  “I’ll just go warm you up some more tea.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Abrina tried to reply, but the acolyte had already fled.

A few moments later, a short woman with premature streaks of gray in her rich brown hair, pulled back into an elaborate bun, arrived with hand outstretched in greeting.  She wore a brown robe with golden trim and the recognizable symbol of Enlil around her neck.  Although several inches shorter than Abrina, the woman seemed somehow taller.  She walked with purpose, each step firmly placed in the exact, desired location, her back straight and her eyes firmly fixed on her objective, no matter the distance.  Now, those eyes fixed upon Abrina, and she wanted to flinch from beneath that intense gaze.

Abrina held, locking her eyes with those of this commanding woman, and straightened herself to her full height, not in hopes of intimidating the woman, but in an effort to match the woman’s impressive stature.

“Good evening,” greeted the woman.  “I have spoken to Ruphus and have learned of his harrowing ordeal, as well as your remarkable heroism.  Thank you for interfering when you did.  I had not realized the danger Ruphus might have been in when I requested he comfort the children.”

Abrina shook her head.  “Ninurta led me.  I could not just leave him to the ruffians.”

The woman smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes and lit her face.  “Well, you have my thanks, as well as that of the Church of Enlil. I am Jenya Urikas, the acting high priest, and I am in your debt.”

Abrina shook her head again, but did not respond, unaccustomed to such praise.

Jenya led her to a private room, down a hallway leading off of the entrance hall, with a warm fire and several plush chairs.  Jenya sat in one, inviting Abrina to seat herself in another opposite Jenya.

“I am told you have come to deliver a message for me?” Jenya asked, her penetrating gaze resting on Abrina.

Abrina forced herself to draw her eyes back from the dancing flames, return herself to the present time and place.  “Yes, I have,” she responded and withdrew the scrollcase.  “It comes from the temple of Ea, in Haven.  You know the head cleric there?”

Jenya’s eyes widened as she reached out to take the scrollcase from Abrina.  “Yes, I do.  But for what pressing reasons Helena would send me a message by Ninurta, I do not know.”  Jenya withdrew the scroll from the case and began to read as Abrina sat across from her, sipping the bitter tea.

Abrina did not know the contents of the letter.  She had been tempted to unfurl the scroll many times on her journey, but she had never once opened the case.  Doing so would have been an affront to Ninurta, betray the church.  Now, she hoped Ninurta would reward her for her strength and Jenya would reveal to her the portents of the message.

After several moments, Jenya sighed and slowly curled the scroll and tied the ribbon around its center.  She turned to gaze out the window into the night, remaining silent.

Abrina coughed.

Jenya turned back to Abrina and smiled wanely.  “I believe Ruphus explained to you what has happened at the orphanage?” Jenya said, whisking away the scroll.  Abrina’s eyes lingered on it as it disappeared into a desk drawer.  Perhaps later, she would learn what message she had delivered into Jenya’s hands.

“Yes,” she answered, returning her attention to the high cleric.  “Something about a kidnapping?”

“Four children, only three nights ago.”  Jenya continued, “Deakon, Evelyn, Lucinda and Terem.  I have vowed to bring their kidnappers to justice, but I fear that these are only the most recent in a long string of strange disappearances.  I believe they are all somehow connected.

“I have requested Enlil’s aid directly, and received a cryptic response.  One of our own has already begun his own investigations into the kidnappings, but has found nothing as of yet.  Our city is not small, but all of our clerics are still easily recognized.  Perhaps you, Abrina, might be able to discover something.”

Abrina hesitated.  She desperately wished to return to Narim.  She was happy, encouraging the crops, mending broken bones, playing in the games.  She was content with that life, and had been hoping to return to it after a single night’s rest in the city of Cauldron.  Her gaze fell on the corner of the desk where Jenya had secreted away the scroll.  Abrina’s thoughts returned to the knot in her gut she had felt when those men had accosted Ruphus.  Painted faces still leered before her in her memories, and she did not know why.  She imagined the children: scared, cold, and beaten by hulking men with faces of white and black….

“What can I do to help?” Abrina said abruptly, interrupting Jenya’s proposal, and something about a reward.

Jenya stood.  “Thank you,” she said, opening the door and leading Abrina out into the hall.  “Let me take you to Handel.”

A bustling dwarf with a neatly trimmed beard and the flowing robes of Enlil hunched over a desk, pouring over various papers and jotting down notes in quick, spasming strokes, as Jenya and Abrina stepped through the door.  Handel glanced up briefly as the two entered and dismissively returned to his work, leaving Abrina’s mouth open in a greeting she did not have the chance to give.

“Handel, this is Abrina, a cleric of Ninurta,” Jenya introduced, though the dwarf did not look up from his papers.  Jenya continued, unfazed.  “She will help you in the coming days, she has offered her help to find the missing children and bring the kidnappers to justice.”

“Indeed,” replied Handel with the characteristic dwarven grumble.  “I doubt there is more that she can glean, but she can sort my notes, if she likes.”

Abrina’s eyes narrowed, insulted, but Jenya simply ignored Handel’s comment and turned to her.

“Only last night,” she said, “I consulted an artifact of our temple, and asked a simple question of Enlil: Where are the children who were abducted from the Lantern Street Orphanage?  I received a reply, though a cryptic one.  Handel has been studying the riddle ever since, as well as the little information we have gathered about the kidnappings.  I’m afraid he has so far made little progress.”

At this, the dwarf looked up from his desk and straightened.  “Nonsense!” he blustered, waving his notes in the air.  “Enlil has provided us with a great deal.  Here, here, allow me to show you.”  He reached over, scattering various drawings, diagrams, and scraps until he found a parchment with six lines of small, precise letters.

“This,” Handel exclaimed, waving the paper in Abrina’s face.  She flinched, backing away from the accosting dwarf.  “This is Enlil’s riddle.”

Jenya neatly plucked it from Handel’s fingers, to his chagrin, and began to read aloud the words she had written the previous night.

_The locks are key to finding them.
Look beyond the curtain, below the cauldron,
But beware the doors with teeth.
Descend into the malachite ‘hold,
Where precious life is bought with gold.
Half a dwarf binds them, but not for long._

Handel grabbed it back from Jenya, clutching it in one hand.  Abrina wondered for a moment why Jenya, obviously a cleric of high standing and the current head of the temple, accepted such treatment from the dwarf.  The thought quickly fled, however, as Handel loudly proclaimed his conclusions.

“We know the orphanage has barred windows and excellent locks on all the doors.  The orphanage has two large bedchambers on the second floor, one for boys and one for girls, and two children from each were kidnapped.  No windows were broken, no doors damaged, and no one at the orphanage, including the staff and the other children, heard anything.  They simply disappeared.

“But this,” he continued, holding the parchment in the air and returning to his scattered notes, “This gives us some clues.  The riddle says, _Look beyond the curtain, below the cauldron._  This must refer to some place beyond the city walls, the curtain, and below the cauldron of the mountain.  The doors with teeth obviously refer to the portcullises of the wall, so one of the guards either knows something or is part of the kidnappings.”

“What about this malachite hold?  Or the locks?  Or the half-dwarf?” asked Jenya.

Handel waved away her questions as he sat at the desk.  “I am not sure.  Yet.  I will get to that, and will notify you what it means when I find out.”  With that, he bowed his head over his notes, retrieved a quill pen, and began to write some more notes on another scrap of paper.  Jenya gently touched Abrina’s arm and pulled her into the hallway.

“I trust Handel, but I think it might be better for you to inquire at the orphanage yourself.  Someone had to have gotten into the orphanage, and if they bypassed the locks on the bedchamber doors then I am afraid it might have been someone with access to the keys.  If that is true, then the children are still in danger.”

Abrina nodded, remembering the first line of Enlil’s riddle, _The locks are key to finding them._  That would be her first question at the orphanage.  She would have the rest of the night to think of what her second question might be.

“First thing in the morning, Jenya,” said Abrina confidently, “I will go to the orphanage, and find out what I can.  With Ninurta’s strength, I will bring the kidnappers to you.”

“Thank you, Abrina.” Jenya nodded, appeared to relax, and led Abrina to a small private room.  She had long since dried off and the bitter taste of the tea had thankfully retreated.  Exhausted, Abrina collapsed into the spartan bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


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## Graywolf-ELM (Sep 6, 2006)

I am bummed out.  I lost track of this one, the old thread gone...  And with my subscription gone too, Missed out on this as it was going.  I'll be reading back through it.

Thanks for starting back up.

GW


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## Richard Rawen (Sep 15, 2006)

jeremy_dnd said:
			
		

> Just for you, Richard.  ​




Why, Thank You!
Well written as usual Jeremy, thanks for sharing the scene.  Looking forward to more... of course!
=-)


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## hbarsquared (Sep 24, 2006)

Wow, many apologies for the excessive delay.  I've been out of town every weekend this month, and the time has gotten away from me.  And, as always, I appreciate any comments and criticisms.  I am always seeking to improve my writing, and any form of feedback is welcomed.  Thanks for reading.  Here's another revised update.​*Chapter One, Part Five*

The orphanage rested on the corner of Lantern Street and Ash Avenue, its charcoal-colored stones held together with mold-encrusted mortar.  The windows on both stories were tightly shuttered, the bleached and splintering wood seemed to droop forlornly in the morning light.  Unlit lanterns hung on either side of the oaken front door, mounted to which was a green copper knocker shaped like a smiling gargoyle’s visage, its nostrils pierced by a copper ring.  Abrina paused and breathed deeply before grasping the ring and knocked on the door of the Lantern Street Orphanage.

The door slowly creaked opened after a few moments and an elderly halfling woman peered out, her eyes flickering with suspicion.

“Who sent you?” she asked curtly, refusing to open the door further than the scant inches it was already.

“Me?” Abrina responded, taken aback.  She had not expected quite so much distrust.  “My name is Abrina, and I was sent by Jenya from the Church of Enlil.  I was hoping—”

“Jenya?” interrupted the halfling with a raspy voice.  “I don’t know any Jenya.”

“Cleric Urikas,” Abrina answered patiently, hoping perhaps the formal name sounded familiar.   “She is the leader of the church in Cauldron while Delasharn is away.  She was the one to give the proclamation to bring the kidnappers to justice.”

The halfling's eyes softened and she opened the door further.  “Oh, yes” she said, motioning Abrina into the orphanage.  “She has sent you, has she?  You don’t look familiar.  What was your name again?”

“Abrina” she replied, stepping into the dimly lit main hall.  “I am actually only a visitor, here.  A cleric of Ninurta.  She requested my help to find the . . . children.”

The woman nodded, closing the door and showing Abrina in.  “I apologize for my attitude.  There have been plenty of other strangers in this place, and still no word of the children.  It’s been frustrating, to say the least.  My name is Gretchyn, the headmistress here.”

Gretchyn lead the way through the hall, leading Abrina past a playroom filled with small toys chaotically strewn across the floor and a schoolroom where a young woman walked among several rowdy children.

“That’s Willow, our schoolteacher here,” said Gretchyn, opening a door to a small room with a small desk in the corner and small shelves bulging with aging books and sheaves of paper.  “She volunteers, mostly, bless her heart.  Without her, I don’t know what Neva and I would do to occupy them.”

“Neva?” Abrina questioned, her eye lingering briefly on the lock of Gretchyn’s door.

“She’s the nurse.  Neva helps me watch the children, fixes up their scraps and bruises.”

Abrina returned her gaze to Gretchyn.  “Who else stays here?”

“Well, we have Jaromir Copperbeard, our gardener,” Gretchyn said, ticking the name off on one finger.  “He keeps to himself, mostly.  Neva Fanister, Willow Atherfell.  Patch, good old Patch, keeps the place clean.  And Temar Flagonstern is our most excellent cook, and he gets along quite well with the children, too.”

Gretchyn winked conspiratorily.  “I believe he sneaks them cookies when I’m not looking.  And I think he thinks I don’t know.”

Abrina nodded, smiling politely.  None of the people she described sounded especially like kidnappers, not that she should be able to immediately tell.  “Does anyone have the keys to the children’s rooms, besides you?”

Gretchyn shook her head.  “Nope.  Just me, and I make sure to lock up every night, both the outer doors and the children’s doors.  Nothing gets in, and the children don’t manage to get into trouble.”

“Then how…” Abrina began, pondering aloud.  _The locks are key to finding them,_ she repeated to herself.  _The locks._

“Have your locks been damaged in any way, recently?  Are you sure no one else has access?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Gretchyn snorted, “and the town guards already asked those questions.  That pair of half-elf investigators working for the lord mayor, too.  The locks’re perfect, you can check them out yourself.  And the locks have been working fine ever since the day I that gnome locksmith, Keygan Ghelve, installed them ten years ago.”

“And he wouldn’t have a copy of the key, would he?”

“Well, I guess he could,” she replied thoughtfully.  “Perhaps.  But I don’t see why.  He’s been in business a while, and no one has ever complained about his locks or reported him.  Besides, it’s been years.  Why would he kidnap children now?”

Abrina nodded.  “You’re right, it wouldn’t make much sense.  Would it be okay if I spoke with some of your staff, and maybe the children?”

Gretchyn rose.  “Sure, you can, just don’t go upsetting anybody.  Half of those children have already forgotten about the whole thing, but if you mention any of the missing kids they might start bawling.”

Abrina followed Gretchyn out of the office, her thoughts in turmoil.  Maybe one of the staff might provide some insight.  Over and over she repeated the divination’s riddle, hoping that its meaning would click in her mind, like a key in its lock.

_The locks are key to finding them._

After over an hour, she came away with as much as when she had begun: nothing.  Abrina had spoken with the schoolteacher, the gardener, the nurse, and even several of the children.  The most she was able to discover was a stilted description of a nightmare one of the children had the other night.  Something about an evil gnome with crooked teeth and a tattered cloak.  The other children quickly chimed in with their own dreams, covering the gamut of monsters lurking underneath their bed to fairies that came in the night.  Exasperated, Abrina left the playroom, prepared to leave empty-handed.

Before reaching the door, a half-orc dressed in wrinkled, stained clothes with a patch over his left eye approached, a broom held tightly in both hands.  He said nothing, but stood in front of her with wide, pleading eyes.  Abrina had not seen him at the orphanage, but assumed this must have been the janitor of the institution and vaguely remembered Gretchyn referring to someone named Patch.  She assumed this was most likely him.

“Yes?”

The half-orc twisted his hands along the wooden handle of the broom as if to wring out any water it might have.  “I need… I… I…” His voice petered out into a long sigh and the half-orc turned to leave.

“Patch?” Abrina called to him.  Did he know something?  Why else would he approach her?  He turned at her voice, eyes still pleading, asking her to discover a secret he was not offering to tell.

“Patch? Is it about the children?”

Patch nodded, but did not elaborate and did not step toward her.

“Do you know what has happened to them?”

He shook his head and once again turned to leave.

“Wait!” Abrina called.  “I’ve been sent by Jenya of the temple of Enlil to investigate the disappearance of the children.  I am trying to find them and bring them back home.  Can you help me?”

Patch glanced around the room furtively, and seeing no one he stepped closer to Abrina.  The thick and acrid smells of sweat, oil and cleaning vinegar nearly overwhelmed her.  “Please,” he said, “you can’t tell no one.”

Abrina nodded.  “I won’t,” she said softly.  “What do you know?”

“It was Revus.  He’s with the Last Laugh guild.  You know, them’s with the black and white faces.”

Abrin’s eyes widened.

“He said I could make a better life for myself, if I kept an eye on Terrem,” Patch continued.  “I did, I kept a good eye on him.  And now he’s gone!”

Tears welled in the half-orc’s eyes as he gripped the handle to his broom and his breathing grew deep and heavy.  He tried to continue, with every other word punctuated by a wracking sob.

“I… didn’t mean… to hurt… no one….  The children…”

“Patch, what do you mean?  Do you know where they are?  Are they hurt?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know.  I was just to watch out for Terrem.”

Uncomfortable and unsure what she could do for the hulking janitor, Abrina reached out and hesitatingly patted Patch on the shoulder, withdrawing her hand quickly.  It did not seem that the sobbing half-orc noticed.

“Don’t tell Gretchyn,” he asked longingly, wiping tears from his eyes as he clamed himself.  “She’d be disappointed in me.”

Abrina nodded noncommittally, but Patch seemed to take it as an affirmation.  Taking his broom he walked past her, sweeping the floor as if he had never stopped her in the first place.  With a bewildered shake of her head, she opened the front door of the orphanage and stepped out.


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## Richard Rawen (Sep 30, 2006)

Heh, I really liked Abrina's reaction to Patch... bewilderment with a strong sense of 'ewww' LOL

Keep it comin!


EDIT: pssst

Pssssst!

PSSSSSSSSST!!!


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## hbarsquared (Oct 13, 2006)

Well, fine then.  Geez.   ​*Chapter Two, Part One*

Abrina walked aimlessly down Lava Avenue in the opposite direction of the church, dodging the merchants leading their wagons up the slanted streets and children running across the sometimes gravelly ground of volcanic rock in every direction.  She did not want to return to the church empty-handed, and she still had no more idea about the identity or whereabouts of this Last Laugh, despite the extra puzzle piece Patch had provided.  She fingered her symbol of Ninurta as she glanced upward at the cramped buildings lining the road, some seemed to be hewn directly from the volcano’s core.  Veins of malachite were everywhere, bringing a small bit of color to an otherwise gray and dreary city.

As she turned down an alley a motion from the shadows caught her eye, a pale, fleeting figure in her peripheral vision that disappeared despite her keen sight.  Her eyes narrowed and Abrina tightened her cloak around her body.  The wind had picked up in the afternoon, and the overcast clouds had begun to take on a darker tone.  With a shrug, she continued but remained alert.  Abrina was determined that those from the Last Laugh not catch her unawares again.  If they were going to follow her among the crowded public streets, then fine.  They dared not enter the Temple when she returned, and she was not going to turn down any dark alleys anytime soon.

Abrina raised her head at the sound of a wooden sign creaking in the wind, swinging back and forth on rusty hinges.  She paused in her walk and stepped back, examining the two-story black stone building that loomed in front of her.  A small turret dominated the façade, with iron bars embedded in the thick window frames.  Beyond the turret’s ground-floor windows, Abrina could see a lovely display of locks, from large to small, simple to complex, plain to intricate.  To the left of the turret, above a heavy oak door, swung the simple sign, and upon it, below a picture of a stylized key, read [smallcaps]_Ghelve’s Locks[/smallcaps]_.

_The locks are key to finding them,_ she repeated to herself.  _Perhaps he might have some clue how someone got past them._

Abrina knocked on the sturdy wooden door of the local locksmith, but was first greeted by only silence.  She waited a few moments before raising her hand to knock on the oaken door a second time, but a muffled voice finally called from within.

“It’s open!” it said.  “Please, come on in!”

Abrina pushed open the door and stepped into the small shop.  The storefront smelled of wood and pipe smoke, tickling her nose with a spicy aroma.  Two burgundy padded chairs flanked a hearth containing a small yet lively fire.  The fireplace’s carved mantle bore a tinderbox, a small vase of dried smoking leaves, and a finely wrought collection of pipes.

A burgundy strip of carpet, a shade darker than the chairs, led from the entrance to the wall across from it, where Abrina could see dozens—perhaps hundreds—of keys hanging from tiny hooks.  A handsomely engraved mahogany counter stretched along one wall, and behind it hung a red curtain neatly hiding the rest of the store.  From around the corner of the counter came a dour man with bushy eyebrows, creased face, and graven frown.  His salt-and-pepper hair was cut short and he sported a well-trimmed moustache and goatee, in a fashion that Abrina had only seen among gnomes.  He wore long pants with a flowing shirt and walked stiff-legged as he came to greet her.

“Welcome, welcome,” he said.  Abrina quirked an eyebrow, for he looked like a gnome, but he was nearly as tall as she.  “I am Ghelve of Ghelve’s Locks.  What can I interest you in, today?  A lock for your door?  Something fancy?”

“You’re a gnome,” Abrina said, almost accusingly.

The man took an awkward step back and chuckled.  “Why yes, I am,” he replied.  “And you’re a half-elf.”

Ghelve bent over slightly and lifted the edge of his pants to reveal the stilts underneath.  “It’s easier to speak with customers when you see them eye to eye.”

Abrina nodded, blushing.  “Why yes, yes, of course.”  She turned away and tried to casually glance around the room.  “Well,” she continued, “I am looking for a set of locks for my home.  A pair for the front and back doors.”

“Oh yes, yes,” he said with a disarming smile, moving back behind the counter.  “I have just what you are looking for.  Wait but a moment?”

Abrina nodded and watched him disappear behind the red curtain.  She walked around the store, tracing her fingers along the intricate carvings of the main counter, continuing along to the wall with the uncountable number of keys.  She noticed that more than one key hung on each tiny hook.  Reaching up, she took three from a single hook and examined their notched edges.  She was no locksmith, but even she could see that each key was unique, each pattern different from the rest.

“What are you doing?”

Abrina whirled around, surprised, with a key clenched in one hand.  “Oh, um, noth… nothing,” she stumbled, scrambling to place the key back on its hook.  The gnome approached the end of the counter, two simple locks in hand and a sly smile.

“You need to match the key to the lock, my lady.  Not the other way around.”

“Oh, yes, yes.  I understand.”  Abrina reached out for the locks and examined the keyholes.  They looked normal enough, as had the ones at the orphanage.  Just like any other keyhole.

“I noticed that you have quite a number of keys already made,” she said, gesturing to the wall.  “If I were to purchase these locks, would I have to worry about a duplicate key?”

“No, no need to worry,” he said, as if recounting a rehearsed speech.  “You see, each key is made expressly for the lock, and I make only one set at a time.  One key, one lock.”

“Can you guarantee me that?” she asked pointedly.

“Why, yes.”  He replied, though with a short hesitation.  “Uh, sure.”

Abrina raised an eyebrow.  “And what about the kidnappings that I have been hearing about? And the orphanage?  They all had your locks and there was no sign of forced entry.”  Ghelve’s eyes widened as he began to shake his head.  Abrina took a step forward.  “Someone found their way inside and got pass your locks.  Did they have a key?  Do you give them one?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he choked, stepping back around the counter, clasping the two locks to his chest.  “I don't appreciate being accused of kidnapping in my own shop.  I think you had better leave.”

Abrina came to the counter, putting her hands on the mahogany.  “I have not accused you of anything, Ghelve.  Should I?  I am not going to leave.  Did you kidnap those children?”

“No!” he said emphatically.  “Of course not!  I would never do such a thing!”

“And the other kidnappings?  What happened to them?  Where are you hiding them?”

Ghelve lowered his head, shaking it furiously from side to side.  “Nothing,” he mumbled over and over to himself.  “I didn’t do anything.”

Abrina sighed and stepped away from the counter.  Ghelve knew something, but she didn’t think he would kidnap three children.  The kidnapped victims from the orphanage were all human children, probably nearly his size.  How could he have managed to carry away four of them, unseen?  No, someone else was involved.  She turned to face Ghelve once again, leaning over the counter.

“I know you did not take the children,” she whispered.  Ghelve looked up at her and nodded silently.

“But you do know who did.”

“No, I don’t” he replied stoically.  Then, he nodded and arched an eyebrow.

Abrina tilted her head.  Was someone else here?  “Then how do you explain the kidnappings?”

“How should I know?” he said, still arching an eyebrow and nodding his head toward the curtain.  “Perhaps someone picked the locks.  I make good locks, but maybe an expert got to them.”

Abrina forced herself to relax and changed the direction of her questioning.  “Well, how can I know I’d be kept safe if I purchased one of your locks?”

Relieved to have the conversation return to purchases, Ghelve visibly relaxed and smiled.  “How about I show you?  I have quite a selection back here.”  He nodded toward the curtain and invited her to follow him.

Abrina reached behind her shoulder to touch the shaft of the spear still slung over her back, reminding herself of its presence.  Prepared, she stepped behind Ghelve’s counter and parted the curtain to the room beyond.


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## Richard Rawen (Oct 13, 2006)

Huzzah!  Well, it's quickly back to the action again!  I'm glad you are taking your time with the prose of each update... I do wish you could get us caught back up to your pre-crash position however... perhaps even a bit further heh-heh.
All in good time, thanks for the update Jeremy!


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## hbarsquared (Nov 14, 2006)

*Chapter Two, Part Two*

Abrina had half-expected to find a bandit, complete with scarf covering his face and a deadly sharp knife already drawn, waiting for her on the other side of the curtain.  No such bandit existed, however.  Only a plain anteroom of the lockshop.

Black curtains partially obscured a window niche that faced the street.  Ornate locks and complex locking mechanisms were neatly displayed in the niche.

The room itself looked tidy, but lived in.  Carpets covered the stone floor and a broom leaned against the railing of a wooden staircase leading up to a second floor balcony.  Three wooden chests rested in the middle of the floor, their lids bound shut with sturdy iron padlocks.  Small tables, shelves, and benches held various knick-knacks, and a framed portrait of a silver-haired gnome hung next to a tall wooden box with a glass pane revealing its innards at the base of the stairs.  The wooden box contained an intricate array of ticking gears, counterweights, and cylindrical chimes, surmounted by a circular face that bore the numerals 1 through 12 on its circumference.

"Let me just show you how some of these function," Ghelve said, hurrying to one of his wooden chests and removing a large, heavy key from a hidden pocket.

Abrina paused and surveyed the room.  Nothing seemed out of place or out of the ordinary, and she wondered why the gnome had led her to this room.  He ignored her, now, instead fiddling with the padlock on the far chest.  She looked at the staircase, following the stairs up to the landing above and saw only darkness.

"What's up there?" she asked, motioning to the staircase and stepping toward it.

A sudden whoosh of air, the flapping of a tattered cloak, and a figure coalesced from the darkness, tumbling over her head and landing at her side.  Abrina tried to reach over her shoulder and draw her spear, but the figure had caught her unawares, was too fast.  The glint of steel flashed, and she felt a piercing pain in her shoulder.

She stumbled backward, but somehow managed to retrieve her weapon.  She held it out in a defensive position that had become second nature after her years of training and managed to divert the strike from her attacker that followed.

Ghelve dove behind one of the chests with a yelp, disappearing from view with a clatter as his stilts collapsed beneath him.  Obviously, the gnome would not be of any help.  Sparing a brief glare at the chest he hid behind, Abrina tightened her grip on her spear and eyed the strange creature.

It seemed human, but was completely hairless, with skin that was thick and leathery.  Its skin was a deep, dark brown, but as Abrina watched it slowly shifted in color, growing lighter even as she thrust with her spear time and again.  The two moved toward the center of the room, where gray rays of diffused light shone through the window from the corners of the black curtains.  The creature's skin seemed to change, as the light fell upon it, to match in color.

The creature did not flinch as she stabbed it with her spear, snarling only once as she finally embedded her weapon in its abdomen.  Its eyes rolled back, and the creature fell to the floor, sickly gray blood oozing from its wound.

Breathing heavy, she called out to Ghelve.  "It's over," she said, but still unsure of what, exactly, had begun.  "You can come out now."

Ghelve crawled out from behind the chest, eyes fastened on the dead form of the humanoid creature splayed across the floor.  As the two watched, its skin color slowly shifted to match the wood floor beneath it.  Within moments both could only make out the form of the creature by looking directly at the spot where it fell.

"What is that thing?" Abrina asked, hefting her spear in one hand and clasping Ghelve’s arm, lifting him up, with the other.

Ghelve brought his gaze to the spear, still bloodied.  "I... I don't know.  These tall ones, and some short ones, too, burst into the shop a little over three months ago and threatened me and my... pet."

"You mean there are more?"

Ghelve nodded and gulped.  "Yes.  Many, many more.”  He averted his eyes, free to speak but still afraid.  “And they have keys to nearly every lock in the city."

Abrina stared at the gnome, aghast.  Every lock in the city?  Her wound forgotten for the moment, Abrina leaned against the staircase.  The children were not just an isolated incident, then.  There could be more kidnappings, many more, and for what purpose Abrina could not fathom.

"Close your shop," she said, weakly.  "We have some things to discuss."

"But, the business day is not over, yet!"

Abrina raised her spear and leveled it at the gnome.  "Close your shop."

"Yes, yes, all right."  Ghelve hurried behind the red separating curtain and from the other room Abrina could hear the series of locks slide and click in the front door.  Ghelve returned and motioned her up the stairs.

"I need to show you something," he said.  "Another tall one will show up soon, and we don't have much time.”  He paused.  “I don't have much time."

Abrina closed her eyes, whispered a prayer to Ninurta and took a deep breath as her patron patched her wounded shoulder.  Abrina kept her spear in a firm grip and followed Ghelve up the stairs.


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## Richard Rawen (Nov 20, 2006)

Ahh, you've returned. Glad to see it, enjoyed your post, as usual.
I hope all is well with you, it seems a long time between your posts, but I'll keep checking from time to time as I do enjoy your writing.

Till next time...


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## Graywolf-ELM (Nov 27, 2006)

RR's not the only one reading.  I look forward to reading the updates.  I enjoy the single PC perspective that you are using.

GW


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## hbarsquared (Dec 29, 2006)

More profusive apologies.  I have the updates prepared, I just keep forgetting to _post_ them at good intervals.  Well, I've graduated now so hopefully it won't slip my mind again!​
*Chapter Two, Part Three*

Abrina followed the nervous gnome to the second floor.  He motioned for her to hurry, sporadically glancing into every corner of his home, as if expecting another strange creature to leap from the shadows, or even from the woodwork itself.  He ignored the door at the far end of the landing, instead retrieving a key from a pocket and unlocked the closest door.  She followed him inside.

The richly appointed bedroom held furniture sized for Ghelve's small stature.  Abrina spotted a coat rack by the door, a cozy bed with a hand-sewn comforter, a clean bedpan tucked away in the corner, a chest of drawers at the foot of the bed, a wooden screen with birds painted on its panels, a wardrobe, and a small bookcase with some books and trinkets on it.  An unlit lantern sat atop a small end table by the bed.

Ghelve scurried to the foot of the bed where he pulled yet another key from his may-pocketed vest and opened the chest of drawers there.  He glanced over his shoulder, making sure Abrina and no one else occupied the room, and removed a tattered piece of coarse leather from beneath a stack of papers in the middle drawer.  Shutting the drawer closed, and locking the chest with the same key, Ghelve rose and handed her the piece of leather.

"It's a map," the gnome said in a hoarse whisper, "to the enclave below, where the short ones and tall ones came from."

"A whole enclave?" Abrina said incredulously, pulling the map from Ghelve's shaking hands.  On the old, nearly crumbling, piece of leather a huge complex had been drawn, detailing a maze of chambers and stairs.  She had not thought about the origins of the camouflaging creature, but definitely had not expected it to have come from below, in the depths beneath the city itself.  And in a tremendous secret and hidden complex, no less.

"How could such a place go unnoticed?  Surely others know of this huge structure beneath the city?"

The gnome shrugged.  "Some do, but it was abandoned long ago, and many have simply forgotten it exists.  The last time I visited was when I was just a boy, and the only entrance left is here, through a secret passage downstairs.

"It's called _Jzaridune_, and it was an old gnome enclave of spellcasters.  They would research and develop all sorts of magical items, until one day a strange, magical plague began taking them, one by one.  They called it the Vanishing, and no one's been back since.  That was seventy five years ago."

"Until now," Abrina responded.

"Yes, until now," Ghelve said, hanging his head.  "They took me by surprise a little over three months ago, in the middle of the night, threatened my life, and took my familiar.  He's somewhere close in a dark place, I can tell, and he's hungry and frightened, poor thing.  They forced me to make three skeleton keys, told me to keep quiet, otherwise they would kill Starbrow, then me next..."

Abrina dismissed Ghelve's excuses.  He had put the lives of everyone in the city in danger to save his own hide and that of his... pet.

"I'm going down there," she declared.

"What?"

"I'm going to find those children, and anyone else that may have been kidnapped, thanks to you."

"But, I...  I didn't kidnap anybody..."

Abrina wheeled on the gnome, who flinched and cowered by his bed.  "You gave them the keys to the city!  You are just as responsible for their disappearances, and maybe their deaths, as the monsters who did this."

"D-d-deaths?"  Ghelve wrung his hands as his face suddenly lost all of its color.

"I hope not," Abrina replied, heading for the door.  "You said they have the keys?"

"Yes, one of the tall ones has the entire set on a silver ring."

"And the children?"

Ghelve shook his head emphatically.  "I don't know, I really don't.  I hide when they come through the door from below at night.  I don't see them come and I don't see them leave.  I certainly wouldn’t have made them a key to get through my bedroom door."

Abrina gave an exasperated sigh.  "What about Jzaridune?  This plague you mentioned, what is it?"

"It was some magical plague that swept through the enclave.  I don't know what caused it.  I don’t think anyone ever did.  The disease caused several of them to slowly fade away into nothingness.  I don't know whether the plague still poses a threat."

Abrina held her head in one hand and took a deep breath.  "Anything else I should know?" she asked, waving the map in one hand.

"Well, the doors are hard to miss in Jzaridune.  They are gear-shaped and designed to roll to one side or the other.  But, many of them bore traps that only the gnomes could safely bypass."

Abrina closed her eyes in resignation.  "Of course."

"There might be a way past them, though,” Ghelve offered.  “I remember my father telling me about secret pasages in Jzaridune.”  He paused, reflecting.  “But, I don't know where any of them are.  None are shown on the map, at least."

"Oh, well then.  Great.  Very helpful."  Abrina rolled her eyes and stepped out of the room onto the landing.  "Show me where your secret door is to this Jzaridune."

Ghelve nodded and quickly ran past her and down the stairs.

"It's here," he said as she arrived at his side, motioning next to the red curtain, "in the wall of the staircase."  With one more nervous glance around the room, he pushed against the wall.  A secret door separated from the surrounding wood paneling with a loud squeal, revealing a square landing at the top of a stone staircase that descended into darkness.

Almost triumphant, Ghelve gestured to the dark landing.

A loud chime rung through the home as the grandfather clock reached the half-hour.  Ghelve's eyes grew wide and he frantically grasped at Abrina's cloak.

"You must go, now.  Another tall one will be here soon, to replace the other.  If they find the one you killed, I'll be next."

Abrina grasped his wrists and removed Ghelve’s clawing hands from her clothing.  "I will go," she said harshly.  "I am not one who will knowingly place anyone in danger, including you.  Go to the Temple of Enlil and seek the cleric Ruphus.  Tell him what has happened, and where I am going.  I will expect you there when I return, or else I will report you to the Cauldron authorities.”

She turned and stepped through the door.  The stone staircase, its steps shrouded with cobwebs and dust, descended twenty feet to another square landing, then bent to the right and plunged further into the darkness.  Abrina glanced around and removed an unlit torch from an iron sconce mounted to the wall on the landing.  She lit the torch with one of her tindertwigs and swiftly followed the steps.  Above her, she heard the parting words of the gnome locksmith.

"If you find and bring back my Starbrow, I can give you a reward!  Discount on any locks you want!"

Abrina scowled, ignored the gnome, and continued down the flight of stairs.


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## Richard Rawen (Jan 5, 2007)

There you are!  Took me awhile to wander back, for that I apologize.  The post is quite well done as usual, and, as usual, I will look forward to more.


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## hbarsquared (Jan 5, 2007)

Yup, I'm still here.  In fact, I'm still on schedule.  Look for an update to be posted later tonight-ish.​


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## hbarsquared (Jan 6, 2007)

*Chapter Three, Part One*

Abrina reached the first landing, bare save for another iron torch sconce mounted on the south wall, grumbling to herself as she held the lit torch over her head.  The staircase turned sharply and descended another twenty feet before opening into a dark room.  From the landing, Abrina could hear strange sounds emanating from the chamber below, specifically chirping birds, rustling leaves, and cheery giggles.  Confused, Abrina hesitantly followed the stairs.

She emerged into an ordinary forty-foot square room with a ten-foot high ceiling.  Abrina glanced at her map, recognizing the ten-foot wide open passage in the far wall, directly across from the stairs.  A slight draft blew into the room from the passage, and there was no sign of birds, trees, or laughing children.

Two four-foot diameter circular doors were set into the middle of the left wall, each made of wood and framed with a ring of mortared stones.  The closest door was closed and inscribed with a strange glyph.  The farther door bore a different glyph but rested half-open.  The half-open door she recognized from Ghelve's description.  It revealed an iron rim of gearlike teeth, and dim light spilled from the chamber beyond.

She stepped into the large room, unnerved by the happy sounds of a summer afternoon contrasting with the dark and foreboding pressure of stone walls.  Mounted to the walls of the room were twelve tarnished copper masks, each depicting a smiling gnome's visage, almost two feet tall and clinging four feet above the floor.  The soft giggling, chirping, and rustling noises seemed to pour from the very walls.

_Gnomes,_ Abrina thought, shaking her head and forcing a smile to her lips.  They had an intrinsic ability to deceive, and even after several decades of neglect the illusions of accomplished gnome spellcasters remained.  Understanding the origins of the strange sounds, Abrina felt a large, unnamed weight lift from her shoulders.  Perhaps an exploration of the abandoned enclave would not be so bad, after all.

Abrina walked along the edge of the room, examining each mask.  Her fingers gently tugged at one, and she discovered they were fastened to the wall as if with some strong glue.  They remained stuck to the bare stone and she was not able to remove them except by some strong use of force.  Lowering her hand, her curiosity satisfied, she slowly circled the rest of the room.

_"Welcome to Jzaridune!"_ rung out a voice from the mask located to the left of the open passage.  Abrina gasped, nearly dropping her torch.  The mouth of the animated copper mask continued to speak as Abrina attempted to catch her breath.

_Behold the wonder!
But beware, ye who seek to plunder.
Traps abound and guardians peer
Beyond every portal, behind every gear._

"And if we don't seek to plunder?" she asked the mask, exasperated.  Abrina did not want to steal anything, so why should she need to worry about traps?  "What if I came just to find some kidnapped children?"

The mask refused to respond.

With a shrug, Abrina approached the half-open gear door holding her torch and peered through the roughly crescent-shaped gap into the room beyond.  Several small cots and chests lined the walls of the dusty room, cobwebs blanketing many of the cots and chests with tiny spiders scurrying about.

A one-foot long iron rod lay in the middle of the floor, its golden tip shedding enough light to cast lurid shadows on the walls and illuminating two rough-hewn tunnels, five feet in diameter, breaching two walls.

Abrina eyed the rod quizzically.  It looked like a sunrod, an expensive alchemical item that lit areas far better than a simple torch.  Sunrods had a limited lifespan of only a few hours.

And it was still lit.

Abrina backed slowly away from the doorway.  She pocketed the map and carefully set her flickering torch into an iron sconce in a nearby wall next to one of the masks.  She drew her spear and quietly prayed to Ninurta for his divine favor.

Prepared, Abrina stepped forward and squeezed into the narrow opening, careful not to jostle the chunk of stone that had been wedged between the teeth of the gear and the floor to keep the door open.  Not yet within the next room, she jabbed her spear into the empty space beyond the door.

Two rapiers flashed in the sunrod’s light, knocking her spear.

Dashing through the doorway, she discovered two of the same skulking creatures she had seen in Ghelve's workshop, their skin nearly the same color as the dark gray walls of the room.  Without thinking, she clenched her spear and thrust it into the gut of one of the creatures.  A tall one, she remembered Ghelve saying.  Its eyes glazed as it stumbled back, gray blood spilling from its wound.

The second tall one snarled, its rapier deflected by her shield, as the injured creature hobbled toward the tunnel through the far wall.  Abrina swiped the attacking tall one, grazing its arm, and dodged another thrust of its rapier.

Glancing over her shoulder at the retreating tall one, Abrina sidestepped the rapier and reached the creature as it struggled to clamber into the tunnel.  She caught it in the back, and the creature shuddered and collapsed with a groan.

Behind her, the second tall one attacked again, its weapon scraping against the stone wall as she shifted out of the way.  With teeth clenched, she thrust her spear into the creature's shoulder and wrenched it.  The tall one jerked once before its rapier fell from its hand and clattered to the stone floor.

[sblock="OOC - "]
 Abrina's initiative +1: rolled 9. Skulk's initiative +2: rolled 8.
 Abrina attacks skulk #1 +5 against AC 12: rolled 15, hit, 12 damage. Skulk #1 at 0 hp.
 Skulk #2 attacks +3 against AC 18: rolled 14, miss. Skulk #1 retreats.
 Abrina attacks skulk #2: rolled 17, hit, 6 damage. Skulk #2 at 6 hp.
 Skulk #2 attacks: rolled 6, miss. Skulk #1 retreats.
 Abrina follows skulk #1, provokes an attack of opportunity. Skulk #2 attacks: rolled 11, miss. Abrina attacks skulk #1: rolled 18, hit, 7 damage. Skulk #1 at -7 hp. Skulk #2 follows Abrina. Skulk #2 attacks: rolled 6, miss. Skulk #1 at -8 hp.
 Abrina's attacks skulk #2: rolled 13, hit, 7 damage. Skulk #2 at -1 hp. Skulk #1 at -9 hp. Skulk #2 at -2 hp.
[/sblock]

Abrina turned in a full circle, amazed at her success.  "Thank you, Ninurta," she said, watching the gray blood of both tall ones pool around their bodies and slowly change color to match the stone.  Her enemies defeated, she began to examine the room.

The cots had not been slept in for years, and the chests had been opened and picked clean.  The room contained no information besides the fact that the creatures used this room before heading to the surface.

Abrina brought her torch from the other room and doused it, picking up the sunrod to use instead.  She peered around the body of the tall one in the tunnel to find that it split in a T intersection only a few feet away.  The other tunnel extended twenty feet to an otherwise empty room on the other side.  Not wanting to risk the cramped quarters of the tunnel and being caught unawares, Abrina retreated back into the large chamber with giggling voices and rustling leaves.

For a moment, she contemplated removing the chunk of stone, allowing the door to shut and possibly seal any remaining creatures behind.  But the complex was too big, with too many routes, to predict how the creatures would travel.  If she closed the door she may seal off a possible escape route and leave herself vulnerable to whatever gnomish traps guarded the rest of the enclave.  Leaving the stone behind, she instead ignored the closed gear door and followed the breeze from the open passage in the far wall.

Abrina discovered herself at the center of a long hallway, its ends barely discernable in the shadows of her elvish vision, with more gear doors embedded on either side along its length.  She glanced up and down the hallway, trying to determine from where the slight breeze originated.  It seemed somewhat stronger from the left, though she was unsure if it was her imagination, and turned in that direction.

Slowly, she made her way down the hall by the light of the sunrod.  Dust and debris covered the floor with no sight or sound of more strange creatures, tall ones or short ones.  Abrina saw only sealed circular doors, each with a different, unrecognizable glyph in the center.

Seeing no open passages, mundane doors, or partially opened gear portals, she readied herself to turn back as she approached the far end of the hallway.  She would find nothing down this hall, that was obvious—

Without warning, the floor dropped out from beneath her.

[sblock="OOC - "]
 Reflex save +1 against DC 15: rolled 12, failure.
[/sblock]


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## Richard Rawen (Jan 9, 2007)

Well that was good stuff... and a nice cliffhangery stopping point =-)


*cricket noises*


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## hbarsquared (Apr 5, 2008)

You know, this is probably one of the longest running story hours with an author that goes on so many extended hiatuses.

I am going to admit, straight out, that I have no idea when I will update again.      All I know is that, _yes_, I do enjoy writing this story hour and will continue to do so as long as I am physically able.  _How often_ I implement such updates is debatable.  But know that I will strive to do so as often as I can.  Be it weekly or... annually.

I hope my loyal readers have not forgotten me.

Enjoy.​
*Chapter Three, Part Two*

The sunrod fell from Abrina's grasp as she clawed at the air, attempting to find purchase where there was none.  Her legs crumpled beneath her as she hit the stone ground, jarring pain shooting up her hips.  The sunrod glanced off a sharpened stake and clattered to the bottom of the pit a few feet away.  Several other stakes, lodged between loose stones in the floor of the pit, were scattered throughout.

[sblock=OOC]
[*]20-foot fall: 7 damage.  1 spike attacks +3 against AC 15 (flat-footed, no shield): rolls 9, miss.  Abrina at 1 hp.
[/sblock]

Regaining her breath, Abrina looked around the bottom of the pit, discovering that she had only barely missed one of the spikes.  Grasping one, she lifted herself up and gingerly tested her feet.  She had definitely twisted an ankle, and she could already feel several new bruises, but she remained in one piece.  Whispering to her patron, she called upon his power to ease her pain.

[sblock=OOC]
[*]Spontaneously casts _cure light wounds_ in place of _magic weapon_, rolls 9.  Abrina at 8 hp.
[/sblock]

Abrina retrieved the sunrod, raising it above her head, and examined her surroundings.  A few items lay scattered across the pit’s floor, including a rapier, light crossbow, and six crossbow bolts, all in good repair and assuredly not remnants of the gnome exodus.  Ignoring the rapier, she retrieved the crossbow and the bolts. Picking up the last bolt, her hand brushed against what felt like skin.  Squinting her eyes and bringing the sunrod to bear, Abrina made out the nearly camouflaged naked body of one of the tall ones hanging impaled upon four of the pit's wooden spikes.  Bringing her sleeve to cover her mouth, she stepped back.

_How do I get out of here?_ she wondered, placing a hand against the stone side of the pit.  The ledge was far above, and even requesting Ninurta's aid to increase her size would still not give her the reach or the strength to grasp the edge.  The wall was coarse and sloped very slightly, and Abrina concluded that finding handholds in the rough stone and climbing the wall might be her only option.

Methodically she removed her chainmail, knowing that its weight would only serve to pull her back into the pit.  If she fell again when nearing the top ledge, she may not survive a second fall.  Abrina tucked the sunrod into her belt and removed a length of rope from her pack, tying it through a sleeve of her armor, the grip of her shield, the tip of her spear, and fastened the other end around her waist.  Its length was longer than the pit was deep, and once she reached the top Abrina could pull her armor up the side.

Abrina maneuvered through the spikes to a corner of the pit.  She sought a small handhold and lifted herself up with a grunt, bracing herself against the two walls.  She managed to make it nearly half way when her grip slipped and she slid back into the pit, scraping her fingers raw as she dug them into the rock searching for another handhold.

[sblock=OOC]
[*]Climb check +3 (0 ranks, +3 Str) against DC 15 (DC 20, -5 for climbing corner): rolls 23, progress 5 feet.
[*]Climb check +3 against DC 15: rolls 4, 10-foot fall, 4 damage.  Abrina at 4 hp.
[/sblock]

In frustration, Abrina pounded the pit wall with a bare palm, but after inhaling deeply, braced herself in the corner and attempted a second time.

And a third time.  And a fourth time.

Each time, the handholds slipped from her grasp, dust and bare rock tearing at her fingers.  Scraped, sweating, and bleeding, she persevered, and after a blur of several tries, she finally discovered herself nearing the top of the pit.

[sblock=OOC]
[*]Climb check +3 against DC 15: rolls 10, failure.
[*]Climb check +3 against DC 15: rolls 11, failure.
[*]Climb check +3 against DC 15: rolls 13, failure.
[*]Climb check +3 against DC 15: rolls 12, failure.
[*]Climb check +3 against DC 15: rolls 7, failure.
[*]Climb check +3 against DC 15: rolls 16, progress 5 feet.
[*]Climb check +3 against DC 15: rolls 5, 10-foot fall, 3 damage. Abrina at 1 hp.
[*]Climb check +3 against DC 15: rolls 5, failure.
[*]Climb check +3 against DC 15: rolls 11, failure.
[*]Climb check +3 against DC 15: rolls 10, failure.
[*]Climb check +3 against DC 15: rolls 16, progress 5 feet.
[*]Climb check +3 against DC 15: rolls 20, progress 5 feet.
[/sblock]

Abrina breathed deeply without looking down to the spike-lined floor of the pit.  Falling from this height would definitely put her in more danger than she preferred.

"Dear Ninurta," she prayed, pressing her body close to the stone, "please guide my hand and bless me with the strength to escape this pit."  A warmth suffused her palms and with renewed confidence she reached for another handhold.

Her foot slipped, with dust and small stones clattering down the pit face to the floor below.  Abrina's heart thudded in her ears as her hands struggled to hold her body against the stone.  With her god's help, she somehow managed to lift one arm, and slowly crawled over the lip of the edge.

[sblock=OOC]
[*]Casts _guidance_.  Climb check +4 (0 ranks, +3 Str, +1 _guidance_) against DC 15: rolls 15, reaches top.
[/sblock]

Abrina collapsed on her back at the edge of the pit trap, exhausted and worn, staring at the ceiling of the hall.  With Ninurta's guidance, she had succeeded.

"Thank you," she whispered under her breath to her god and struggled to lift herself to a sitting position.

Abrina pulled on the rope, lifting her equipment to the ledge, and took a few moments to don her armor.  Readied, she stood and weighed her options, staring at the unremarkable stone wall at the end of the hallway across from the open pit.  She pulled out Ghelve's map and stared at it in hopes of finding another path to take that did not require bypassing the trapped gear doors.

Her eyes narrowed as she examined the passageway where she currently found herself.  The gear doors were clearly labeled, but the map showed the hall continuing unimpeded into another room, whereas now she saw nothing but an unremarkable stone wall.  Perplexed, she approached the wall, carefully inching around the yawning pit, and slowly brought her hand up to the wall.  Instead of falling upon cold stone, her hand simply disappeared through it.  She gasped, yanked her hand away, and paused to collect herself.

_Clever,_ she thought, _An illusory wall.  What's hiding back there?_  She smiled and closed her eyes, blocking out the disturbing presence of the wall, and stepped through.

Abrina passed through the wall without difficulty, her sunrod revealing two familiar circular doors in the center of the walls on either side of the room.  Carved into the opposite wall was a large map with lines that glowed faintly, showing various interconnected rooms and corridors.  The passageways outlined on the wall map were the same as those on her own, revealing no secret passageways that Ghelve had hinted at, nor the methods to bypass whatever traps sealed the gear doors.

With a sigh, Abrina returned to the hallway through the illusionary wall and bypassed the pit trap.  Gingerly, she slowly made her way to the opposite end of the hall, aware and ready for any other pits that might appear beneath her.  When she reached the section of floor just before the two doors at the end, she inched along the wall to be safe.  Coming to the stone wall, she lifted a hand and half-expected it to slip through the surface as she touched it.

Her hand fell upon solid stone.

She traced the outline of the mortared stones with one finger, pleading to Ninurta that there was a secret way.  The children were down here in this forgotten enclave, somewhere.  She did not want to risk the doors and become a permanent resident here herself.  Nor did she want to hazard the crudely made tunnels where skulking creatures lurked.  Abrina would, of course, if it came to it, but she prayed that she would not have to.

Her palm rested against one stone, and slowly she felt it give.  The stone retreated slightly into the wall with a deep _klunk_ that reverberated down the hall, and a four-foot section of stone in the center of the wall began to pivot on a central vertical axis, revealing a room beyond.

[sblock=OOC]
[*]Casts _guidance_.  Search check +0 (0 ranks, -1 int, +1 _guidance_) against DC 20: takes 20 for a total of 20, success.
[/sblock]

Abrina breathed a sigh of relief a moment before the acrid stench filling the chamber billowed out to fill her nostrils.  She coughed and covered her mouth and nose with a sleeve as she peered into the chamber.  One tabletop was cluttered with alchemical apparatus while the other, flipped on its side, had spilled its contents into the middle of the room.  Both were draped in cobwebs, left untouched for decades.

Abrina took a tentative step into the room.  Amid the fragments of shattered glass lay some broken candles, some spent tindtertwigs, various sundry utensils, and a pile of rags.  Against the opposite wall stood a cabinet, its doors set with jagged shards of frosted glass, as if someone had smashed through the glass to reach the contents within.  A familiar tunnel bore through the left wall, and mounted to the ceiling was a web-shrouded wooden fan connected to some gears and a rope belt that crossed the ceiling and disappeared into the far wall.

When Abrina took a second step, the pile of rags stirred, lifting themselves up of their own accord.  Slowly, at first, the pile collected itself.  Then, suddenly, as Abrina stared, the rags wrenched upward and careened through the air directly toward her, latching onto her wrist.  She involuntarily screamed and shook her arm but the rags held fast.  Pieces of cloth, whiplike, lashed out at her arms and her face as Abrina stumbled backward pulling at the tight grip of the rags.

Then the sound of grinding stone alerted her that the secret door was beginning to close.

In desperation she yanked one last time at the flailing cloth and managed to throw it to the floor.  Abrina turned and dashed through the closing stone door mere moments before it shut tightly, leaving one tattered rag pinned between it and the stone wall.  It stretched and snapped, as if still reaching for her, like a flag caught in a serious of strong gusts.  Abrina eyed the cloth, her heart still pounding and her nerves still on edge, and grasped it with one hand.  Pulling a tindertwig from a pocket, she struck it against the stone and held it to the rag.  It tried to wrench itself from her grasp, but Abrina held tight as the cloth caught and soon became consumed in fire.  After a few moments, the charred remnants fell slowly to the floor.

When she returned, Abrina resolved to enter the chamber more prepared.  Until then, she decided to explore the passages more recently carved out by the creatures that had stolen the children.  She turned back down the hall, again avoiding the area near the two gear doors, and retraced her steps back to the room with the gnome masks.

The door remained ajar, just as Abrina had left it.  She peered into the dark room and saw it just as it was before: the denizens had not yet discovered the deaths of the creatures.  She still had time to find the tall one with the set of keys, and the creature was down one of the tunnels.  Abrina stepped into the room and breathed deeply.  If none had yet detected her presence, she might have a chance to find the keys unheard and unseen.

Standing before the dark tunnel, Abrina slowly removed her armor, shield, and bow.  She lay them carefully against the wall and discarded her spear, as well, considering it too awkward to wield within the confines of the tunnel.  She removed the dagger from her belt and grasped it firmly as she ducked her head and entered the tunnel, crawling over the corpse of the tall one she had speared from behind.  The tunnel soon split into three passages.  She investigated one, to find it opened upward into another room.  She turned back, hesitating to leave herself in such a vulnerable position to whatever creature resided above.  A second path led straight into a large chamber with flickering lights and the sound of trickling water.  After a moment, she heard no other sounds of the creatures and resolved to explore the chamber later.  The third path led to a small room, barely lit, and Abrina peered from her crawlspace.

Dead rats, burnt tindertwigs, and bits of broken stone littered the floor of the room whose only furnishings included a cot against a wall and a wooden chest bearing a dented lantern.  The lantern was lit, but barely enough light escaped through its shutters to illuminate the room.  Across from the tunnel was a familiar round door. On the cot was a cloak encasing the form of a sleeping tall one.

Abrina quietly lowered herself to the rubble-strewn floor and slowly approached the creature.  As it slept, she removed a length of rope from her pack and placed it on the cot next to the sleeping creature.  Abrina took a deep breath and lowered the dagger to the creature's neck, a hairsbreadth away, and clamped her other hand on the creature's mouth.

"Wake up," she hissed as the pale eyes of the creature shot open.  "Wake up, you miserable creature, and don't struggle or your life is mine."  She pressed the dagger against the rapidly whitening skin so the creature could feel the touch of cold steel.  It froze.

Abrina could not be sure if it understood her words, but it understood the sharp metal only a brief struggle away from spilling its blood.  She flicked her eyes to the rope at the creature's side.

"Now, take that rope and gag yourself.  Tightly."

She saw no recognition in the creature's pale face, so she nodded to the rope a second time.  Slowly, it reached a hand over and grabbed the rope.  Keeping her hand across its mouth, she motioned for it to place the rope in her hand's place.

Slowly, the creature followed her pantomimed directions, placing the rope into its own mouth and tying it in a knot behind its head.  Abrina stepped back, keeping her eyes upon the creature and holding the dagger threateningly.  She picked up the remaining rope and bound its hands.  Satisfied it was not capable of attacking her or calling for help, she rummaged through its possessions stowed under the cot, discovering two small stones with jagged carvings, its crossbow with a supply of bolts, and a silver ring with three keys of different size.  She clenched the keys in triumph.

"You won't be kidnapping any more children now, you skulk," she said.

The bound creature could do nothing but stare blankly at her.


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## hbarsquared (May 1, 2008)

*Chapter Three, Part Three*

Abrina returned to Ghelve's shop above with the gray creature in tow and immediately had the gnome summon the town guard. He tried to object, but when she threatened to unbind the "tall one,” he paled and scurried out the front door in search of a patrol.

She handed the keys over to the guard sergeant that arrived an hour later, explaining their function and pointing out the creature as one of the kidnappers residing in the labyrinthine structure below. Ghelve confessed his involvement, shaking in fear and unable to avert his eyes from their breastplates emblazoned with the town emblem, a watchful eye wreathed in flames.

"Don't take me to jail," Ghelve pleaded, clasping his hands.  "They forced me to do it, they threatened me! And they took Starbrow! What was I supposed to do?"

The sergeant, a grizzled veteran with a red face and bulging nose, rolled his eyes as he motioned for the other guards to remove the creature.  Two roughly wrenched the hairless skulk from the ground and roughly dragged the pathetic creature outside.

"You won't go to jail, Ghelve," the sergeant said, "but you will have to come with us. You'll likely pay a fine for your involvement, and you _will_ help us find the rest of the kidnapped victims.  In the meantime, your shop is closed."

Ghelve gulped and nodded.

"Get your things. You won't be back for a while."

Ghelve nodded again and retreated upstairs. The sergeant turned to face Abrina.

"As for you, thank you for your help. We will need you to answer some questions, though, as soon as you're able."

"Thank you," Abrina said, leaning heavily against a wall. The adrenaline of victory had worn off, and her aches had already begun to take their toll.

"I still want to help," she continued. "When will I be able to go back and search for the missing children?"

The sergeant scoffed. "That is not your concern.  You’re lucky I don’t bring you in for stirring up these creatures.  If they come boiling out of this underground dungeon you speak of, it will be on your head.   I thank you for your help, but now that we know the location of the kidnappers, we will find the missing victims.  Not you.”

"But, the Church..." Abrina protested as Ghelve slowly made his way back down the stairs.

The sergeant held up a hand. "No.  I have said before: it is not your concern, and we do not need the Church's help.”  He eyed Ghelve paused on the stairs.  “Ghelve, are you ready?"

The gnome nodded. "Can I say good-bye, and thank Abrina for her help?"

"Yes," he said, “you can have a minute.”  He turned and stepped outside to guard the creature with the rest of the patrol.

"Please find my Starbrow," Ghelve whispered to Abrina, clasping his small hands in her own, and she felt the touch of cold metal in her palm as he stepped back.  She looked down at the small key in her hand.  She eyed him quizzically, but he did nothing but give her a faint grin.

They left the shop, escorted by the guard, and Ghelve locked the door behind them, with a wink to Abrina as he did so.  Abrina blinked in the sunlight, finding it hard to believe she had been gone only a few hours.

"Do you need someone to help you to the temple?" asked the sergeant.

"No, no, I'm fine," she said, concealing the key Ghelve had given her moments before and placing it into one of the pockets of her vestments. "Thank you."

She hurried to the Church of Enlil, eager to report to Jenya of her discoveries, and of the partial answer to the riddle she had discovered.

* * *​
Jenya had seemed reluctant to allow Abrina to return to Jzaridune.  If the guard forbade her from returning, then Abrina should not interfere.  Yet, the guard had also promised to resolve the kidnappings and shown themselves incapable of doing so.  And Jenya had made a vow of her own to find the children and bring the kidnappers to justice.  In the end, she agreed with Abrina, but encouraged her to rest for the night first before returning to the halls of Jzaridune in the morning.

Jenya called upon the blessing of Enlil to heal Abrina so that she may rest peacefully, and when Abrina awoke she felt invigorated and ready to face the skulks of Jzaridune once again.  Before leaving, Jenya approached her and provided her with a small vial of clear liquid, a potion that would cure any moderate wounds she might sustain in the underground enclave.  Jenya also pressed the small stones with jagged markings Abrina had found into her hand, describing them as _thunderstones_ that exploded with painful noise when thrown.  Abrina thanked her, hefted her spear, and headed for Ghelve's Locks in the bright morning sun.


----------

