Sessions 81 and 82, part 1
Snore.
Another morning breaks in to the city of Remnas. The capital had already had it’s fair share of break-ins lately, but mornings were much preferred to goblin armies.
Snore.
By the gods, it’s a wonder humans can sleep while making that racket.
Glod the illusionist, gnome of the Stumbleduck clan and recent hero of Kendra, does not sleep. By virtue of luck, he came in to possession of a ring which enables him to forego sleeping and eating.
Kerwyn the thief, of unknown origin and recent hero by technicality, sleeps quite a lot. And snores.
Glod prefers to spend his extra eight hours studying his spells and researching new magic, but has found much of his time has been spent seeking more effective ear plugs.
SNORE.
It was then that the wizard Glod decided he needed to stretch his legs and enjoy the morning. His raven accompanied him to the market square where he traded one noise for a dozen. Kerwyn was left to doze in his bed, so no one saw the unscrupulous character who dropped off a nondescript package in front of their room.
***
Two days’ journey to the east, a trio of elves seek out an old temple in the forest. Take note that while “trio of elves” may conjure images of a happy band of bards or toy-makers, these were well-trained warriors. Two of them, sworn to uphold good, are considering killing the third.
“They said it was just a few miles through the woods, right?”
“Yes, Mathus.”
“The way I see it, out of a village of a few thousand, one of ‘em should be smart enough to know how far a few miles is.”
“Yes, Mathus…”
“And I’d say this smart… well, smart-er one should probably rise through the ranks of corn-growin’, pig-chasin’ hicks to the position of mayor, or similar office where he can use his talents to better his village.”
“Yes, Mathus…”
“So tell me, why do these backwards little towns always decide the oldest fart among ‘em is the most qualified to run their village? I mean, what th-”
A sudden silence. Gante eyes the cleric. Epona, having finished casting her spell, smiles to the paladin. Gante nods in appreciation, and Mathus begins mouthing obscenities.
***
Glod walks back into his room. “It’s about time you woke up,” he says to Kerwyn.
“Hey, I needed my beauty sleep…”
“I’ll say.” The gnome holds up a small package marked with Kerwyn’s name. “Looks like you got a gift.” He tosses the box to Kerwyn.
“Hm. Didn’t order anything…” He shakes it experimentally. He gives a quick shrug and opens the box. “Ooh…”
“What is it?”
“Shoes. Some pretty nice ones, too.” Kerwyn removes the leather shoes from the box and places them on the floor. “And there’s a note.”
Kerwyn,
Thanks again for your help against the goblins. We’ve finished setting up our new headquarters. You’re always welcome, so feel free to come by any time, especially if you’re searching for some way to put your talents to good use.
-Erelos
“Well, I may have a chance to earn a bit of extra cash while the elves are away…”
Kerwyn puts on his new shoes. A sudden sense of purpose indicates some kind of magical properties.
“How do they feel?”
“Like they need to be broken in. Come on.”
***
A finely crafted stone gateway sits snugly at the base of the northern hills. Dwarven motifs indicate the original architects of the temple. The large, misshapen footprints indicate the current inhabitants.
“I guess this is the place,” Epona says.
“Wha? I thought you did the magicy quiet thing?”
“That wore off half an hour ago. I didn’t think it worth the effort to tell you.”
“Ugh. Fine. Let’s get this over with.” Mathus pulls out his sword and heads into the temple. Epona creates some magical lighting for the dark hallway. Gante draws his sword and takes up the rear, his heavy armor echoing down the hall.
Just fifty feet into the corridor, Mathus stops the others. “Pit trap,” he says, prodding the ground with his sword. The floor swings down, creating a chasm, ten feet across.
Gante walks up to the pit. “Yeah, I don’t see me jumping this. You know, there were some pretty thick trees outside; think we could cut one down and use it as a bridge?”
The three work for a while to get a decently sized tree cut and into the hallway. Gante crosses the makeshift bridge, a bit uneasy. Mathus hops across without trouble. Epona steadies herself and begins her crossing.
“Hurry it up back there, short-stuff,” Mathus calls out.
“You know,” Epona says, trying to stay balanced, “I’m not… much shorter… than youuuuuu!”
Epona, loosing her footing, falls off the tree and tumbles into the dark abyss of the pit. Her scream fades out into silence.
