"Aye, aye, but don't ye let that go to yer head, boy," replied Avar, easily juggling his hammer. "Ye call yerself whatever ye want, fer me ye're still a burly source 'o ale and gold, bahahaha!" He walked over to Keystone, prodding the monk's fists with the hammer and eliciting a dull clang every time. The knuckles seemed to absorb sound with similar effectiveness to light, dampening sounds around them. "This be some of my better work indeed! The material is a special tempered alloy, the exact ingredients o' which are a trade secret me and me kin have. Won't be breakin' any time soon, don't ye worry." Avar stepped back, laid the hammer out onto a stone slab and assumed a brawling position often used by drunken dwarves. "Don't known much fightin' meself, but I'd gather that ye could put a right dent in someone's head with those, boy. Don't ye be putting the blame on me if ye accidentally kill someone, ye hear me!"
"Everyone does, Avar," came the familiar husky voice of Saran, stepping out into the workshop with a wooden tray and two mugs, one filled with an all too familiar brew Avar drank, the other filled with water. "Those look good on you. Planning on destroying more undead constructs?" she laughed, handing Keystone the mug of water. She put the wooden tray down and worked a small enchantment, conjuring up an illusion in front of Keystone. The shimmering form of a dummy took shape where once was empty air, waving its arms menacingly, inviting Keystone to punch it.
The rain stopped by midday, giving space to a watery sun and grey clouds. Patrols around the city intensified again to their usual numbers and the market square flooded with customers. Rocksteady's workshop saw a steady stream of customers, picking up older orders, commissioning new ones, bartering for lower prices or simply arguing. None seemed to ever match the dwarf's negotiation techniques, or Saran's imposing presence when it came to making deals. Tim was working up a sweat running back and forth to handle orders.
Keystone nodded his thanks and took a gulp of water. For all of his efforts this morning, he was more thirsty than he'd realized. He continued until the mug was half-drained before breathing a muted note of gratitude. The mug was handled rather awkwardly in the process as Keystone hadn't bothered to remove his new knuckle dusters. Much like a kid with a new toy, he had no desire to remove them just that instant, inconvenience be damned.
The mug found its way to a flat surface just as the illusory dummy appeared. While not startled, Keystone's defensive instincts leapt to the forefront; his hands raised and his stance dropped slightly, one foot drifting behind the other before he was fully aware as to the details of his situation. All of this freely used magic tended to irk him. He was beginning to trust this spellcaster, with some apprehension, though it was hard to suppress his more ingrained initial reactions.
A glance toward Saran and Avar assessed their own reactions to the new thaumaturgical arrival. Mild amusement (probably at him) hinted at safety, before Keystone realized fully what was expected of him at the moment. A slow grin developed on the elated brawler, birthed partly of foolishness and partly childish glee at getting an opportunity to test out his new acquisition. He snapped into a stance proper and executed a textbook example of two-step infighting.
From a middle stance, Keystone drew his back leg in close and back out wide in front of him, effectively dropping his stance mid-step. Using the momentum of the lateral movement to reinforce his attack, he executed a classic counteroffensive combination - a flowing parry block batted away an arm of the magical construct, opening its defense to accept a near simultaneous backfist, connecting with its temple a tenth of a second later.
The striking hand immediately turned into a three-fingered claw, looping into its clavicle (or reasonable facsimile thereof) which was quickly followed up by a side facing forefist to the sternum. A chest splitting blow against a human opponent, Keystone took a half step into the hit and rotated his torso as the punch developed.
Ordinarily, this combination called for a palm heel strike; his passive Ironfist Technique would still be effective thusly, but the curious pugilist wanted to experience the full effect of his new armament connecting with a target at optimal impact.
***
Keystone smiled broadly at Avar and Saran in turn. "I bloody well hope I don't have to fight another Glith. Rotten bastard near did me in. Then again... I didn't have these last time."
An idea suddenly hit Keystone, birthed of the bits and pieces from their conversation. Source of gold ale and gold, magical constructs, even his own reluctance around the arcane arts. While not a full fledged plan, it was the embryo stage of a course of action.
"Gen'rous hosts, by your leave, I'll be ruining your kitchen for a while. Bread pudding for starts, bean soup and fresh brown bread, maybe a roast duck or three with oat muffins and sugar yams come suppertime? Oh! And I have the most lovely turnovers in mind for tea. Remind me, do your people take tea? Tea proper, I mean. Lovely meal, that. Either way, tons of stuff mostly prepared, it'll be done in short order."
"And..." he began in lower tones, "Once we're all done for the day, I might know how we can get some extra gold together and me some answers, though I'll need help. Let's talk come suppertime, eh?"
He gave a look to both Saran and Avar, acknowledging the both of them, again enacting his ritualistic gesture of bowing his head slightly and tapping his knuckles together. Habits, hard to break. Especially after a morning of exercise, forms, and abusing a magical sparring dummy. The clink of his knuckles this time was more muted, prompting an amazed shake of his head and smile.
"Trade secrets, eh? Can respect that, Master Smith. This alloy, what do you call it among lay folk like me, so's one might request the material when more gold comes 'round?"
Keystone smiled, nodded, and made his way indoors to dress and begin the day anew with his culinary prowess.
The forms that Shein-Fang taught Keystone started to manifest in the monk's form, improving and adding onto the monk's preexisting technique, blending two schools of teaching into one. His hits came slightly harder than before, movements a fraction faster. The dummy reacted accordingly, shaking helplessly under the barrage of jabs and punches and disappearing after the last solid hits. Saran gave the monk an approving smile, as much at his work as at his plans for the coming hours, while Avar responded with a snort at the mention of tea:
"Bah, ye best invent some new way 'o brewing ale instead of that 'tea' nonsense. And while ye're busy figurin' that out, read up on dwarvencraft some more if ye think ye'll ever need more o' that metal. When ye do, come back to me with more gold, and I'll make a few more for ya! The metal, like the recipe, is a trade secret."
As soon as Keystone left Saran's presence, Kaylee rushed back into his mind, radiating confusion and fear as she spoke in his mind:
"Wha-what happened? One moment I was out of that awful prison, the next I'm locked in it, unable to leave! What magic are you working Keystone? Do you want to be rid of me?" she pleaded with the voice of a hurt and scared little child. " Please, Keystone, help me get out of here. I don't have much time..."
Trade secrets, tight-lipped. It is the prerogative of the Master of the Forge as well of the Master of the House within which Keystone was a guest. Making a mental note, until further information was made privy to the inquisitive pugilist, he would merely refer to it as Avar's Metal, and the finished product The Black Knuckles. Nice and simple.
"I forget m'self, Master Rocksteady," began Keystone, "Whilst I'm under your roof, the meal'l be called Ale, sir. I'll be having tea with my Ale, if you'll not mind, and turnover cakes all around."
Quite looking forward to his day's labors in the kitchen, Keystone was kicked in the guts by the sudden appearance of Kaylee back in his mind, with obvious distress. Suspicions had arisen concerning the nature of his visitor, the fact that she alternated using a child's voice was both heart-tugging and frightening; his nature was to be protective (if not always kind), but being the object of manipulation by an unknown entity did make him anxious.
Keystone spoke inside of his mind, as he was accustomed when dealing with tagalong spirits, "Little Kaylee, you know I ain't magefolk. I've got tricks, mind you, but nothing that could bother the likes of you. Got half a plan of something to do, but if you could tell me what you need it'd be a help. Soon as I'm able, I'll see what I can 'bout what happened."
Keystone strode inside, dressed, and proceeded to the kitchen. Seems he had been spending a good number of hours in that room lately, plying a craft that he rarely found time to indulge anymore. He wasn't purely a wall of muscle, built to continually slam his fists into things that required his percussive attention; Keystone had a soul of an artist, deep down. Or at least a craftsman.
True to his word, he started with the bread pudding. He whisked together a cold anglaise and began crushing stale bread crusts and pastries into it until it was sufficiently thick and chunky, and set the whole mess into the oven. He then began preparations for crusty brown bread and a pot of beans with aromatics and pork. When a stopping point, or at least a slowing point was reached, Keystone looked to Saran. For the first time that day, they were alone. He got straight to the point.
"A lady's got reasons for keeping her own company in the evenings, little of my business. If'n you feel like sharing, that's fine as well. Not what needs talking about. I've got to know: The spirit what squats in the dusty tenement of my brain - you make it leave my head and retreat back into the sword. How d'you do it? Is there something you know that I need to?"
He heaved a sigh, and punched his bread dough back down, covered, and continued, "Look, that business aside, it's been just lovely knowing you. No matter what arises hereafter, I 'preciate the hell outta the past two days."
Not wanting to get in the way of business, especially on a work day abbreviated by rain, Keystone did as he said he would, preparing meals and keeping the kitchen tidy between. Avar was personally served Afternoon Ale. It wasn't until the day's labors were done and everyone was sat around the table to a meal of Crispy Roasted Ducks with Oat Muffins and a bountiful harvest of Baked Sugar Yams that Keystone began speaking seriously.
"Right, this mystery began (for me, anyhow) in Two Stars, back up the Way a piece. Now, it got destroyed. Wiped out. The big fella what almost did me in did the destroyin'. Turned the townsfolk into walking corpses what marched up the road and turned others into walking corpses. The town's bloody dead, or was a week ago."
"Now then, there were two wizards lived in Two Stars had a good idea what was going on with my drama, y'see. One of 'em got turned to stone. I pulled this ring..." Keystone set Reverin's Ring on the table, emphasizing his presentation, "...offa the evil bastich. The other'n, well, he was one of those walking dead guys I had to punch back to death in front of the Enclave couple days back. I can't very well ask either of them. These magey types, though, they like writing their studies down."
Keystone cleared his throat and passed the plate of muffins down to Tim before continuing, "My plan, at moment anyhow, is to go back there and collect what I can, if I can. But I don't know nothin' bout magic, or near enough to it. I'll need help. I aim on keeping what I can use, selling off the rest here, and splitting the profits from it 50/50 with you lot. I've got things I need before doing this, but, what's your thoughts?"
A momentary flash of recognition passed Keystone's thoughts as Kaylee was first happy, then sad. "I saw...fragments of your...plan? Stone bodies? You plan to bind me to a stone body, a lifeless construct?" A wave of uncertainty followed, mixed emotions, some good and some not so, rushing in and out of Keystone's mind faster than he could make sense of them. Eventually the rush of thoughts stopped and only the faint feeling of sadness remained. "You...you cannot. I can't life in a body of stone. I can't control it. If I want to live, I...I would have to inhabit a living body," she spoke with the voice of a child, "or I would perish." She went silent for a long time, as if pondering something. "I'm dying, Keystone. My prison leeches off me, drains my very soul. I cannot exist in here much longer. I want to live...Keystone...to live like everyone else does," the spirit pleaded, a note of genuine sadness as it faded out of his mind.
Saran offered her help as she came in and spent the next few hours working together with Keystone. For all her feminine wiles, hard manual labour seemed to flow in her delicate hands with almost the same ease as it did in the monk's powerful arms. The only change in her behaviour seemed to be the absence of a warm smile. It reappeared any time they talked. When Keystone mentioned the previous night, he could swear he heard a snicker. The woman pretended to be focused on cutting vegetables for a few seconds, then looked at the monk with a mischievous smile: "And what if I told you that the night before was so impressive that I feared what may come when you're back to full strength? Perhaps I like casual flings, but am not fond of dragging male suitors to bed if I see them as something more than a one time partner?" she snickered again, openly showing her amusement. "As far as your 'tenant' goes, I didn't cast a spell on you or it, so I don't know what you are talking about. I do like to keep my head clear of all kinds of mental intrusions, don't you?" she said with a familiar, mischievous smile, glanced at him with appreciation and went back to work.
Come dinner time, Avar emptied the mug of new ale provided by their cook and belched, "What is this water ye're servin' me boy?" as he poured another mug from the big cask and listened to the monk's story. He and Saran exchanged a few curious looks about the fate of Two Stars and the subsequent mage war. Saran was the first to talk after Keystone finished his story: "Keystone, you said that Two Stars was destroyed after this undead menace went through it. But riders arrived from that direction this morning, bringing news that the town wasn't destroyed after all. It seems that the inhabitants of all towns between us and Two Stars had some kind of disease spread among them that created false images in their heads. None of those towns were destroyed or seriously harmed by the sounds of the couriers." Avar and Tim nodded along with her speech.
"And how do ye know this magefolk o' yers was evil? I mean, me and me kin know that all mages be iffy, crazy even," the dwarf winked at Saran, "but I'll be damned if all of em are evil. Ye make it sounds like the boy was arrogant, aye, but that could be said fer all the spellfolk I know, including this one here!" he laughed. "And of course, I ain't against ye donating yer savings to me. Would be crazy if I did!" The dwarf lit up at the prospect of gold in his pockets.
Tim piped up for the first time since he met Keystone: "Does that mean you'll go back to that town?" Saran, busy inspecting the ring, jerked her head up and gave the boy a dirty look, then turned to Keystone: "This ring looks like it was attuned to someone, someone capable with magic. It doesn't look like it's something you can wear."
"Boy, boy!" the dwarf yelled, easily suppressing the rest of the room. "I ain't gonna say that ye're not welcome 'ere, course ye are. but the sooner ye find a place to live, the sooner ye can stop corrupting me girl an luring workin' girls to me smithy in broad daylight with yer...practicing."
Hearing Kaylee’s impassioned disapproval of his plan and departing from his forethoughts, Keystone slammed the palm of his hand into his face and slowly dragged downward. The initial slapping sound was massive. The large man voiced his frustration at having another idea stymied by issuing a low grunt that, upon further reflection of his situation, turned into a full-throated growl. Were there a suitably dense barrier nearby that needed a large aperture, he would have gladly slammed his head through it.
After giving himself time to think on the matter, Keystone realized that this new revelation still didn’t change Step One in his ever evolving master plan to free Kaylee and potentially turn a profit. He had to look for answers anyway – going to the experts at the Thayan Enclave was right out. A defined lack of trust and personal funds would make that a difficult and risky proposition at best. The plan must continue, for his sake as well as Kaylee’s.
Then again, that was another issue. If she required an actual, living body to inhabit, that would deny someone else their life. While it wasn’t putting someone to the knife, it would be equivalent to the deliberate murder of an innocent. There was the line he wasn’t willing to cross. Step Two of his master plan would have to be an idea on how to circumvent this. But how does one create an empty vessel for a spirit to inhabit? It made his head hurt. Keystone was trained to hit people. It’s what he did, better than anything else. Fabrication of a living body was a little outside of his Zone of Competence.
Okay, Step One, first: Find out what the dead mages recorded about Kaylee, if anything, and salvage any useful goods or materials from their hideouts. Reverin’s tiny tower still held equipment and scrolls; Raa and Keystone did not have time to give a thorough inventory of the place before all hell broke loose. There was profit to be made there, if not so much expected in the way of relevant information. Erepar’s dwelling would most likely yield information, as he had time to study the sword that held Kaylee when Keystone first arrived.
A thought struck Keystone – The sword, what purpose did it serve? Was it another piece of this puzzle? Would it be another unwieldly hunk of metal he’d have to carry around but never use? Gods knew he didn’t want to end up like Erepar’s Naked Manservant (and what happened to that thing, anyway?).
These were all questions for a later time. Right now, he had to prepare the Telflamm Rocksteady Clan’s meals for the day.
Preparation of food was made less of a chore (not that he minded in the least) with Saran’s help. Her answers, while evasive, served to brighten his mood a bit since the intracranial discussion he had earlier with Kaylee. Again, she managed to avoid answering his questions while still giving him conversation. Upon hearing her list of possibilities and hypotheticals, Keystone tilted his head to the side, not unlike a confused mastiff, and gave her a piercing gaze. Slowly, a smile formed, accompanied by an affirming bob of his head.
“Yeah, mental intrusions do suck it, Miss Saran. You… …are going to confuse me for quite some time. Looking forward to puzzling you out though, I am. C’mon then, let’s roast some ducks.”
Suppertime conversation seemed to put Keystone on the defensive. At least a bit. He addressed Saran first:
“Really? That’s a right befuddling piece of news, then. Unless the couriers’re ensorcelled somehow, anyway, but I know nothin’ of magic nor the people what practice it. Alright, if the town’s still in good order, then the structures I’m talking ‘bout still stand solid, and with no rightful owners alive. Also, should be a proper Inn to rest up in. If it’s true, I’m glad the survivors aren’t sleeping under the weather, as it were.”
On Avar’s concerns, Keystone responded flatly, “Can’t speak for all magefolk, Master Rocksteady. Me an’ the Paladin I was traveling with exchanged notes after the fact. The man hired us to rob someone. He made regular use of undead creatures, what killed one of the people in their, ah, ‘job interview’, and tried to drag the corpse away for reasons unknown. That, and Good Sir Knight mentioned he detected lots of nastiness from the Earth Elemental the bugger used as an attack dog. I’m fairly positive that Elementals aren’t generally aligned, and that raises some questions for me.”
“Now, I only knew the man for an evening, but he left an unfavorable impression. That other pointy-hat, Erepar? He seemed ok. Even concerned for our safety when the Big Nasty rolled into town. But I knew him for even less time. Bloody ‘ell, Avar, for all I know, Rev’s secretly the hero here and I’m all villainous, but don’t know the half of it.”
Keystone shook his head, completing his thought with a simple, profound sentence: “It’s hard to do the right thing when you don’t know what it is, Master Rocksteady.”
Keystone wasn’t absolutely certain what tone Tim used as the boy asked him if he would be returning to Two Stars. Maybe he’d been shaken by the abruptness of their first meal together, and the hard feelings stayed, if only in part. Maybe he just didn’t like the scarred brawler. It was as good a possibility as any; Keystone didn’t exactly inspire warm feelings of love and togetherness, generally. When he did, experience taught him to be guarded. It was possible that this boy, this guileless smithy’s apprentice, was more honest with him than most. Keystone regarded him thusly, and returned to the conversation with this in mind.
“Yeah, Tim. Giving thought to going back there for a short while, get some answers. Try to, at least. I intend on returning, y’see. Give you lot your share of the profits, if any. I’ll need some things before I set out, expedited by the reputations of Miss Saran and your Master Rocksteady. That’s why I’m insisting on splitting the profits.”
His attention turned to the others at the table, “I’ll make out a list, if you’re willing to go in with me on this little enterprise.”
“Avar, I am honored you’d let me into your home, and have allowed me to stay for this time. And I get it; I’m surely throwing off your house’s routine. Corrupting and whatnot. Hey, attracting the working girls, eh? Didn’t notice, rather caught in my routine. They buy anything? I can see crafting a line of stilettos and sash-knives, earring darts and the like, for the Professional Market Lady’s self-defense. If’n they like it, I might could teach them how to make with the fisticuffs an’ stabby-stabby, build customer loyalty. Maybe make the Market Square safer at night. …just thinking out loud, sir. (AHEM) Anyway, if I’m going to be back in town for a while, it’d be prudent t’get my own place, yeah.” Keystone glanced at Saran briefly before continuing, “But I’d be wantin’ to make it quite nearby.”
“So, that ring, Miss Saran. Any suggestions on what to do with it? I’d not dare try it on m’self.”
After supper, Keystone set to drafting his list before turning in. He left it sitting on the table, again with an appropriate stack of coins.
Starters, I intend on covering initial expenses for this. As I mentioned earlier, I just need this expedited. If this sorry idea gets us nothing, I’ll see to it you get yours anyways. You lot have treated me kindly, I hope to repay.
Armor – I have a feeling that this is about to get more dangerous, not less. It’s time to invest in something for travel. If you know of a talented leatherworker, I’m needing a long coat of layered hide. Something custom and masterful, that I can still move freely in. Open to other suggestions.
Cart – Something sturdy but not too expensive.
Beast of Burden – Ox, Bull, Draft Horse, don’t care. Long as it can pull a cart and graze.
Barrels, Sacks, etc. – I need to be able to pass for a merchant.
Goods to sell – Inexpensive staple product made locally that reliably sells east of here. Otherwise, I’ll just run a noodle shop or soup kitchen off of the back of the cart. Kitchen supplies on the quick, maybe, if that’s the case.
Passage in an east traveling caravan – either to help guard or as a merchant.
Saran’s company – if possible. I need someone who understands magic and keep me from stumbling into a trap.
Whatever you can arrange, I appreciate. Whatever you can’t, I understand. I hope this profits us both, in coin as well as information. Many thanks.
"Aye, tell me about it, boy. Try to help magefolk and ye always get burned. And I mean always," he and Saran exchanged sour and apologetic glances, respectively. "Never trusted them folk anyway. Who'd ye thunk built the foundations of Two Stars? If that were gone we'd all be shakin' in our boots!" Gulping down the last of the mead, the dwarf wiped his beard and slammed his mug on the table. "Methinks ye solved all ye problems when ye left that cursed place, so why would ye want to go back? Ye humans are odd folk. Just crawled out o' danger, got to get right back into it or ye die o' boredom."
"Is that why dwarves always fight over gold, Avar?" quipped Saran, prompting a condemning look from the dwarf. The woman ignored it and turned to Keystone, clasping her hands in front of her mouth, in deep thought.
"I have never read about elementals having no alignment. They are often neutral, but a spell summoning then to this plane will always evoke anger about being torn away from their home plane. What your friend may have seen is the sheer anger at being unable to break the bond between elemental and caster, not an evil aligned creature," she said after a short time. "For once I do agree with Avar, why would you want to go back there? Hoping to find something?"
Tim nodded at the monk's explanation, pretending to drink under the heavy gaze of the woman sitting next to him. She walked behind Keystone and followed his writing over his shoulder, draping long black hair on his right shoulder.
"The armour I know where to get, there's a good leatherworker across the market. Expensive, but good. For carts you'll have to barter with a merchant or buy a new one and horses you'll find aplenty here. None of us are versed in either, so it will be up to you to find out what works best for you. Caravans are always hiring guards, but you'll have to pay if you want to join as a merchant, as you're not loc..." suddenly, she stopped reading and turned to the monk, intensively studying him.
"Why all these charades, Keystone? Two strong horses would get us to Telflamm cheaper than a cart and all of these purchases. Guards on a caravan get paid well, doubly so with a mage like me," she winked, "so why would we need all these things beside the armour?" Saran spent the next few minutes detailing a simple plan: with a large chunk of the money they could buy two strong horses that would get them to Two Stars in less than two weeks. Tim listened to the explanation, nodding along in agreement.
"Think about it," she said and went about her business cleaning up the table.
Avar, still at the table and drinking ale, looked upon Keystone like the man was made of rare gems and bent over towards him, glancing to wards Saran to make sure she wasn't looking.
"Oi, boy, were ye serious about training them workin' girls? Methinks I could use me a good sellin' point, and a couple o' pretty lasses with weapons damn well do the job in these human cities!" he said with a clear tone of hope in his voice. "If ye do that fer me, I'll see about that quiet little place nearby, aye?"
The dwarf looked over at Tim and placed a finger in front of his mouth, then quickly leaned back as Saran returned.
"Gah, I'm overthinking this." started Keystone, shaking his head. "Paranoid, I suppose. Yeah, Saran, I'm hopin' to find something. Much as I'm not the shiny-armored horse riding type, I'm still on a quest."
Keystone chuckled quietly, repeating himself, "I'm still on a quest. Isn't that something? The boys back home'd have a right brilliant laugh at that one. But back to it: I need answers. That's what I'm looking for. The only place I know of that might have something written down about all this is where my part of the story began. Long as I'm there, I intend to salvage what I can from the hideouts of the two dead mages."
A moment of thought on his last statement brought about a correction, "One dead, one turned to stone."
With thought to abbreviating his list, Keystone continued, "I was hoping on traveling in safety - numbers of a caravan, y'see. Having a cart to load up with salvage was another part of the plan. I'm supposing we can get one when we're at Two Stars, though. Now, the thought on acting the part of a merchant: In case this is all a waste of time, we've turned a lil gold the ordinary way. It's overly thought. I'd be willing to go with Saran's idea."
"Armor, horses, guard jobs and/or hard ride east. Still profit to be made, if there were answers they'll still be there. Cart if needed on the way back."
The quick and quiet exchange from Rocksteady earned him a quizzical look from the errant pugilist, followed by a slow (if puzzled) nod of affirmation. "We'll set on new business after, eh? But yeah, I've got ideas what starts with that."
Keystone rose from the table, intent on giving an assist with the cleanup. He strode into the kitchen and began working on what remained of the larger wares from his marathon scullery run earlier that day. It was a thing to marvel over, the mundane task of preparing meals and cleaning house. A pause. A breath of cool air before thrusting himself back into the thick of a situation that he didn't start, but felt honorbound to continue. Scrub, clean, share awkward glances across a countertop in need of sanding and oiling. He'd certainly done less meaningful things with his time.
A few quiet moments later, Keystone ventured to speak. "If you'd be able, tomorrow, after your leather-man sees to my inseams and whatnot, I need to pay respects to my friend tomorrow. Would be obliged if you could show the way."
Keystone's face took on a darker expression. Quickly, he changed the subject, hoping to draw the darker thoughts away from his mind and focus himself to the task ahead. "Your skin-monger, he does custom work? I've a thought or two on features..."
When Keystone looked up, his eyes met Saran's, leaning forward across the table.
"You're an interesting man, Keystone. I am not sure why, but I'm interested in figuring you out," she said, pursing her lips. "I'll have to make a few arrangements, but I think I can spare some time to indulge your interests and help you find what you are looking for, if can spare some to allow me to find a replacement for me here. We can visit your friend tomorrow; I think I know who you mean."
She explained how to find the leatherworker across the market while seamlessly shifting into a bright red robe and walked out onto the market, leaving Keystone to his thoughts. Shortly after she left, a sweaty Avar waddles inside, grabbing his customary mug of ale as he sat down across Keystone:
"So not only have ye corrupted me girl an house wizard, but now ye'll be takin' her away from me. Can't stop the silly girl, can't beat some sense into ye or her, but I can promise ye this, boy. If a hair on her head is hurt after this trip o' yers, I'll find ye in any corner o' these Realms and make premium human paste of ye, ye hear me?"
Avar downed his ale and walked back out into the workshop, resuming his hammering with twice the strength he had before.
The description of the leatherworker was that of a tall human with bright red hair and dark black eyes named Kai, found in between some cobbler shops. According to Saran, this leatherworker frequently did commissions for nobles and thus would be able to do custom work.
Keystone spoke to Saran thoughtfully, "I 'preciate. Do what you need to, I'm not sure how long your leatherworker'll need for the order, anyhow."
He sat and listened to the frank and open words of Avar, having heard similar in the past. Though not new, the words were taken to heart, possibly for the first time. These were not words born of jealousy or spite, this was love. That human mage was as much family to the old dwarf as any of his hill-dwelling bearded kin. Keystone was the traveler come calling, breaking them away from one another.
The once prideful brawler listened in silence, nodding respectfully as the Dwarf spoke, understanding the depth to his words. While he probably didn't mean, literally, "hair on her head", the message was simple: Nothing happens to her, by Keystone's action nor inaction. It is his personal responsibility to ensure her safe and speedy return, without exception or excuse.
Solemnly, he rose from the table and gathered the lion's share of his available funds. He paused for just a moment, taking stock of his situation, and exited the dwelling. Just before walking out into the market proper, he looked to Avar.
"You're a good, respectable Dwarf, Master Rocksteady, what little that means comin' from the likes of me."
Stuffing his hands in his pockets (one of them tight to his earnings), he walked in search of this Kai, and the talented things he could do with animal hides. As long as he was out, maybe give a look at the cobblers near the destination. Gods knew he'd need a new set of boots before everything was said and done.
The market square was once again bursting with activity and Keystone found that he could now spot a few thieves doing their work, though none made an attempt to come at him. After a few minutes of looking around, he found a few competing cobbler stands, going by such colourful names as 'Gavin's Glorious Boots', 'Zhek's Fancy Footwear' and 'Royal Sandals'. Prices varied per shop, as did appearances, with 'Royal Sandals' having the most expensive looks while Gavin's Glorious Boots was a slightly mote eccentric place and Zhek's Fancy Footwear being the run of the mill footwear shop. Keystone got quotes from 1 gold to 250 depending on the quality and longetivity of the footwear he would get.
It didn't take long to find the human Saran described. He stood two heads taller that Keystone and wore his bright read hair in a long braid that reached past his shoulders. With the speed and grace normally reserved for elves, the man kneaded and shaped leather with his bare hands, the skin mending in his hands like it was some kind of viscous jelly. In his small work shop, neatly tucked away between a multitude of bigger shops, Keystone could see one other person. Wearing the same robes the monk has been accustomed to, the mage seemed to be in a deep trance, moving his hands in some unknown spell.
As Keystone approached, the human continued to work with his hands, but his head shot up and looked at the monk with a pair of striking dark red eyes. Upon close inspection he could see that the human had a nasty looking scar running up from his collarbone all the way to his left brow, mangling most of his face with a thin scar.
"Yes?" he said with a voice that was several pitches higher than one would expect from a human this size.
The massive pugilist gave the area a once-over before engaging the leather merchant. Window shopping, mostly. Getting an eye for prices for when he returned. Speaking with a craftsman about a bit of custom work was one thing, but Keystone didn't want to needlessly advertise that he was carrying a good amount of coin.
After noting an acceptable pair of reliable metal-shod boots at Zhek's at might fit him, Keystone noted the asking price, thanked the man for his time, and moved to his intended destination. The once about gave him the opportunity to scope Kai's place before approaching, seeing if anyone shady was hanging about, etc.
"Ey, ain't meaning to interrupt your work there... a Lady Saran sent me to find you, if your name's Kai. Says you're the best at what you do, won't bleed me dry, neither."
Keystone removed his hand from his pocket, only partially exposing his rather full moneypurse. After tapping it with his thumb, sounding a quiet but beautiful clink of worked platinum and gold tapping against one another. The sweet but brief music of purchase and sale concluded with Keystone slipping the bag back into his pocket, hand still resting atop.
I've got need of a master's hand at leatherwork, y'see. Looking for reinforced hide with maximum protection and unfettered freedom of movement. I've got specifics if'n you've got the time, sir."
The proprietor of Zhek's Fancy Footwear, a short gnome in a dress normally reserved for nobles and hands usually found on metalworkers was very excited about a possible customer, giving Keystone a short tour of the place before discussing the fine ethics of footwear and choosing an appropriate pair for the monk: a pair of dark brown hard leather boots with a comfortable woolen filling that looked like a giant's attempt at making socks. The gnome, who introduced himself as Gael, quoted a 'modest' price of 25 gold for the pair, offering to part with them right then and there. He wasn't too happy at the prospect of window shopping, but remained friendly and assured the monk that he would not find better prices elsewhere.
The large red haired man didn't seem to notice Keystone until the monk was right in front of him, giving him a look that would have been menacing if his eyes didn't betray his amusement.
"I do not know a 'Lady Saran'. What this stranger told you is partially true; I am the best at my job, but my work comes at a price not many will be able to afford. You do not look like a wealthy man, but your purse clinks with the sound of an established merchant," he said with an approving nod.
Kai gestured to indicate 'talk' and patiently listened to every detail of the order as he continued his earlier work. He nodded as the monk finished, stopped his other work for a second and crossed his arms. "I will consider your order, if you consider that the price to pay will be 250 gold for the flexible armour. To get the protection you want you would need an enchanter, as hide alone won't do protection and flexibility. The armour itself can be done in six hours and you pay up front."
Some few seconds into the sales pitch, Keystone remembered that he had procured new set of footwear from the Xiang temple two days earlier. He felt rather foolish, forgetting something as obvious as this, but let Gael finish vocalizing his thought without interruption. Quietly, he thanked the bootmongering Gnome for his time, mumbling something about checking for a clunky Orc-crafted ironwood oxford he thought he saw near the raisin cake merchant two or so blocks down. "Good for stomping!" he mused, formed a quick apology, and started about his merry way.
At Kai's leatherworkery, Keystone shot a puzzled look at the Master of Expired Animal Skin Crafting. Whereas it was possible that he did not fully articulate the nature of his order, it was likewise possible that the craftsman had something specific in mind. Much as Rocksteady's work with metal was an exercise in trust for the generally untrusting Keystone, perhaps this man would bear similar results in his chosen medium.
After a few seconds of hard stare, Keystone produced 25 platinum coins and set them in front of the Kai. "Right and proper, Tradesman. I ain't the wealthy type. Bit of good luck I'm exchanging for something practical in the long-term. Now, if we have an accord, do you have anything else what could benefit a man in my position? Bit of a browse, maybe? I do appreciate good leather."
The pugilist replaced his coinpurse as it was earlier, and shot a final question. "You seem like the kinda man that could recommend an honest 'enchanter', what can do the job you mentioned. Anyone come to mind?"
Kai grabbed the platinum coins with the nonchalant air of indifference, tossing them in a publicly visible pouch next to the mage.
"My work is custom made, so you will not see a storefront here. For premade baubles you can visit any other tannery in the city. My craft is only on demand." he stepped forward with a measure and sized Keystone up from head to toe, occasionally nodding and smirking. The rough leather measure vanished as quickly as it appeared and the large red haired man returned to his original place, kneading a new piece of leather as easily as he did the last.
Keystone's request to recommend an enchanter drew a smirk from both craftsman and mage. Kai looked back at the mage and then back to Keystone: "I trust my partner here to do the enchanting for me, but I am afraid his services might cost you more of your luck than you are willing to exchange. The enchantments you want will take a week or more to create and my companion's time is far too valuable to do so. Since I do not know of any enchanters with similar skill that would be willing to do the work you want for a reasonable price, you will have to look for one on your own. You can trust that the armour I create for you will protect you from more harm than anything comparable you will find in the city. That is what you asked for and that is what you will get."
The city was drawing to an early evening as the sun moved past zenith and turned the ever so slight shade of orange. The marketplace traffic intensified to the point that moving through the crowds became a difficult ordeal. Learning of the averted danger, many new merchants entered the city, hoping to peddle new goods to the inhabitants of Telflamm.
Keystone turned heel and left, weaving back through the amassing crowds, hands in pockets to discourage unrequested attempts to lighten his cumbersome burden of coin. Though he was likely a little shorter with the leatherworker than intended, the errant brawler had tasks to perform before the day was out.
He spent a copper coin or two on the way back to the Rocksteady Forge, base items like salt and fresh cream. Another gold coin on something brown and flammable (of more or less decent quality) for his benevolent host, then straight back. He still had to finalize the evening meal, and there should still be three ducks slow roasting that required his attentions.
Nearing the forge, Keystone reviewed his "to do" list. Get through the evening meal, see where Saran was with finding her replacement, sleep. In the morning, pick up his armor, get horses and tack, buy supplies. Perhaps head east, perhaps wait until first light.
From the looks of his near future, a drink or three might be in order.
Saran returned late in the evening, barely making it to the end of dinner. She gave Keystone a curt nod and a smile as she sat and chowed down on the food of the evening, light roasted duck with vegetables and noodles. The she-mage's clothing had gone from the traditional red robes to a light set of leather armour that appeared to be custom fitted to accentuate her assets, complemented with a dark forest cloak and hood resting on her back.
In between breaks she told Avar about the replacement mage that would help him in her absence, a fella by the name of Grom. The old dwarf listened and nodded along, occasionally shooting Keystone looks that varied between 'damn you' and unrestrained suspicion. The ale that Keystone bought did a lot to temper the dwarf's dislike of losing his trusty she-mage, but he wasn't happy.
After dinner and cleanup, Saran and Keystone were once again alone in the kitchen. "So Keystone, ready for your big adventure?" she asked, cleaning away some plates. "Imagine the danger we will go through, the bandits on the road, the adventure on the road!". Saran's tone didn't hide her city upbringing and the obvious lack of experience in the wild. "How is it out there?"
The next morning Telflamm was hit with an unusually cold day for the period, covering many parts of the city in a cold, thick mist. A bleak sun illuminated the rooftops and walls, casting long shadows across the city. The early morning cold didn't seem to bother the dwarf, who as usual was up the earliest and hammering away at the anvil.
On the display table of the shop laid a pristine suit of dark leather, suited for a tall human. The suit was clearly of high quality and featured several interlocking leather pads, effectively covering the torso, shoulders and the upper legs while allowing near complete freedom of movement. The letters 'K. A.' on the inside of the collar were the only indication of where the suit came from.
The entire Rocksteady residence was up before Keystone. Saran was sitting on the fireplace talking to lanky man in his thirties, sporting black hair, a short goatee, pale blue eyes and an air of determination, wearing the traditional robe of the Red Wizards. Tim was milling about in the workshop as usual, casting somewhat nervous glances at the new arrival. Saran finished up with the wizard, hopped off the fireplace with the eagerness of a child going on an adventure and half walked half hopped towards Keystone: "I've found out where we can get a pair of good, but expensive horses. Everything here is done, so we can leave when you are ready. Yesterday's leftovers are packed and ready to go," she said as she tapped a pair of saddlebags lying on the stone bench in the main room.
As she finished and turned away, a jolt of pain shot through the monk's head as Kaylee rushed into his mind with a presence stronger than anything he had felt before. Far from just being present,, the monk couldn't help but be acutely aware of the entity in his head every second that she spent there. The flush of happiness and joy that accompanied the spirits entrance into his mind seemed to multiply and resonate in his head, and only the monk's mental discipline prevented Kaylee's emotions from influencing his own mind.
Keystone smiled as best he could, given his directed course of action (and the dwarf-to-man conversation he'd had with Rocksteady) as Saran fired off question after question about their upcoming travel.
"It's boring out there, most of the time. I'm mostly findin' myself walking for days an' weeks on end, shouldering a full pack. When I'm alone, anyways. Bandits're a real concern, but they don't like attacking people in numbers, on the usual. Why I wanted to get with a caravan, y'see. Either poor and alone, or with a large, armed group. Best ways to go. Just be advised, Miss Saran, there are those what would try to take advantage of a woman on the road, unless you put some fear into 'em. Real fear, or something sharp, into 'em."
His thoughts shifted to what he had seen personally, being fairly new to this area of Faerun, "We're not nearing war, as I'm aware. And we're on a major trade route. Road's safer, least during the day. Nighttime, may have to get creative."
The next morning found Keystone honestly surprised that he was the last to wake. He had meant to get an early start. With urgency in mind, readied himself for the day to come.
In the main room, Keystone neatly folded his black, wool coat and set it on top of his pack, taking the opportunity to retrieve his stash of coins. Good but Expensive didn't bother him much, he would just sell them back when he returned. May still be a loss, but service rendered, he would pretend that he was merely renting the animal.
He coolly regarded Saran and the newcomer Red Wizard, a trace of suspicion hinted in his glance. Instead of addressing Grom, Keystone gave him a nod and replied to Saran, "Yeah, horses. Let's see to them after I'm back from Kai's, then that other stop we were discussing yesterday. Looking nice, by the way. I'd cover that richer clothing if I was you, once we get out there. Borrow my coat if you like."
As the tall Magess's attention turned elsewhere and Kaylee made her wrecking ball appearance, Keystone closed his eyes involuntarily and winced, forcing his mind back to proper order. As if to cover for his sudden, growing alarm, he made a pained request in his mindspeak, "Ow! Just a touch quieter, little Kaylee. Haven't had morning tea just yet, today..."
"Miss Saran, I'd 'preciate a talk on our plan in the workshop, if we could."
Outside, in view of Avar, Keystone shared his concerns with his potential traveling partner, "Look, here's what's what, and there's not room to move on it: If I start acting ...not me... on this trip, or gods forbid do something aggressive at you," he looked Saran straight in the eyes, to make sure she was focused on his words, "I need you to kill me. Understand?"
Keystone looked to Rocksteady, calm but intently serious look on his face. "If you have something that'll help her do that, I'd be obliged if you'd lend it to her. Don't tell me what it'll be. I can't know. Call it insurance."
"Something else, Saran, and I mean this kindly - Maybe your man Grom should come with instead. I don't want to separate you from your family, and if I'm putting anyone's life in danger I'd prefer it be some pointy-hat I don't care a copper shaving about. Our deal still stands, I'm splitting my profits with you all when I'm back, though we may have to three way it if that Grom fella's up for it."
"Look, talk it over while I'm off to Kai's. Then it'll be horses, graveyard, and you lot can yell at me, much as you please. Deal?"
Keystone left his finances with his pack, and set out to acquire his new armor. The short walk in the unseasonable, foggy air was enough to make him wish he'd brought his wool coat with him instead of lending it to Saran, but he shook the thought away. It was quickly replaced by another, creepier thought; a wave of unnatural fog heralded the coming of something horrible, last time he experienced it.
His pace quickened, and did not stop until he had arrived in front of his armor.
It was a lovely item, well measured and fitted, despite its creator only having met him the one time. He slipped the coat over his arms and shoulders, experiencing the weight and feel of it. Methodically, he buckled it together. The errant pugilist gave a flex here, stretch there, satisfied with the product.
"Many thanks, Master Kai. Beautiful work, this. I'll likely be talking to you again come soon, luck permitting."
Keystone exited the premises and cast a wary glance around himself. Slowly, he pulled his hood up and made his way back to the Rocksteady Forge, preparing to accept whatever hornet's nest he stirred up with his parting words.
The atmosphere in the Keystone residence drastically changed when Keystone returned. Avar was swinging his hammer from hand to hand, alternating between disapproving looks towards Saran and suspicious ones towards Grom. The mage met the dwarf's gaze with a confident smirk and Saran appeared unphased by the mood shift, waving at Keystone as if nothing was wrong. Her clothing now resembled the simple leather armour worn by common guards, ill-shaped for her size.
The moment the dwarf spotted Keystone, he sped out of the workshop and thudded the hammer right into the monk's chest with force equivalent to a hill giant punch.
"What in the hell was that, boy? Ye tellin me that ye have a chance o' goin' crazy and ye failed to say that BEFORE ye asked me girl to come with ye? What kind o' house guest are ye?" the dwarf yelled with a booming voice. Several crowds of people stopped to watch the altercation between dwarf and human. The smith fumed, tossing the heavy hammer with the ease one would toss a throwing knife, muscles bulging with magic and eyes displaying pure anger.
Saran started forward to help Keystone, but ran into an outstretched hand as Grom stopped her. They met eyes and the male's look left nothing to discuss. Saran slumped back, worry clear on her face, before she yelled at Avar.
"Stop this! There's nothing to worry about!" The dwarf chuckled and waved her away:
"So, boy, what is it gonna be? When do ye turn into a monster that would attack my girl, eh? Show it to me so I can beat it out o' ye! And when I'm done with that, I'll beat yer fancy blade into tiny little shards and throw it in the sea, ha ha ha!" the dwarf continued, stepping forward, hammer spinning in his left hand.
The crowds watching the event were larger than they were a second ago. Some monks and even a guard patrol stopped to look, laughing and cheering between each other:
He had expected a hornet's nest, certainly. Not quite this, though.
The hammer thudded hard and solid into Keystone's chest, pushing with sheer force. While he retained his stance, the pugilist made elongated footprints as he slid backwards. The Dwarf meant business; his business mixed with the fury of a patriarch defending his own.
Keystone adopted a low, defensive stance, keeping his hands empty and open. "I ain't fightin' you, Avar. I told you what was what, first night in. Your girl's the only one has any control on this, what I can trust just now. And she already knew, Avar, before I asked."
It was a calculated guess, Saran had hinted so strongly that she was aware of what was happening. For all of her coyness, she knew a lot more than she let on. And Rocksteady, well... he didn't want to see it. But his protective instincts were undeniable, as was his strength. He'd do whatever he could to take care of his charge, well over contractual obligation or the value most men put on their word. Certainly Keystone's. The large man didn't want to fight his new friend, but his vicious attack may result in something outside of his control. Neither of them needed that.
"You should come with us. D'you hear me, Avar Rocksteady of the Delzoun Clan? You should do this with us."
