---

---

Pisca quickly bid her goodbyes to Mayor Deverin, Alergast Barett, Father Zantus, Kerr Mollin, and the other Saviors before taking the stairs down from the stage two at a time and heading towards where she had seen Lunk and Chask Haladan during the meeting.  Lunk was still there, towering over the few people remaining in the square, and so was Chask, who looked over from his quiet talk with Lunk to give Pisca a welcoming smile.

“Hello, Pisca,”  the bookseller said affably.  “That was quite the heroic picture you painted up on the stage.  And I’m not quite sure that it even lived up to the reality.”  He smiled.  “It seems as if you once again desire my company.  Not that I’m at all opposed to the idea, but I have to wonder why a busy gnome like yourself is taking the time to visit with a humble bookseller during such a hectic day?”

Chask stopped and waited for a response as Lunk looked back and forth happily, just glad to be with two of his favorite people in the world.

---

---

"Hullo, Chask."  Pisca slipped through a clump of departing hummies and threw her arms wide to embrace Lunk and his storytelling friend with the sheer force of her presence.  "It's such a relief to see you back to normal again.  Or, maybe, never having been un-normal is what I mean.  That's probably it.  That's probably better."

"Hi, Lunk."  She wrapped her arms around the leg of her gentle giant, giving it a squeeze.  "I've got a story!  Pisca Neep Freemish and the Sandpoint Saviors in the Catacombs Beneath the Glassworks.  It's not complete yet."  The gnome leaned back and beamed up at her Giant.  "There are parts that are still missing.  The section between the time that I'm killed and then resurrected again.  That's missing.  So I can't tell it yet.  But I've still got a story that you'll have to hear.  Both of you."  Then, so that her Librarian wouldn't feel left out Pisca gave Chask Haladan's leg a hug too.

"Well, there are other reasons that I can't tell the story now too.  There's a lot to do before we leave for our mission tomorrow.  Lysa, Stomper, Cato and me.  Lots to do.  Lots."  The gnomes voice trailed off into the misty gloom of a vague sort of malaise that might have been fatigue.  Then it picked right back up again.  "And that's part of why I braved the milling hordes to come over here.  I mean, aside from seeing my two friends, that is.  You see, I was talking to Sabyl Sorn.  The mayor thinks that there might be something in her library that might help us with ...  Well, I don't know whether I should be saying this, but tomorrow we're going down into tunnels beneath Sandpoint, possibly into old Thassilon ruins, and the mayor thinks there might be something in the library that Sabyl Sorn has in her House of Blue Stones that might help us down there.  But, and here's the thing, she doesn't seem to ... well, to trust me.  Or, maybe she just doesn't like me very much.  I don't know why.  But the mayor also said something that made me think that you and she get along pretty well.  Is that true?  I mean, would you mind talking to her?  I wouldn't need to get into her library.  I don't think there's time for that.  But if she knows of anything in her library that might help us, lets say, navigate an old Thassilon ruin that might have been here at the founding of Sandpoint, that would probably be a great help.  It may even save our lives."

"Oh.  Oh, oh.  And speaking of libraries, I've been thinking, about our own library.  You know, having a lending library will probably help you sell more books, Chask.  The more people there are in town who can read, the more people will want to own their favorite books!  And we won't be able to keep many copies of popular books, so people will want to buy them from you.  I just thought of that the other day.  Isn't that great?"

Archaeologist's Luck 1/7

---

---

Lunk looked down at Pisca, patting her head gently as she hugged his leg.  She was smiling up at him, which made him happy.  And she had a story!!  Lunk liked stories, and it sounded like Pisca had a good one.  But it wasn’t finished yet.  That made Lunk sad.  He wondered how long it would take Pisca to finish her story.  Then he wondered if it would be as good as Ursion’s.  Lunk thought probably not.  Ursion was his very favorite story in the whole entire world.

Mister Chask was talking now.  “Well, Pisca,” Mister Chask said, looking at her with concern.  “It looks like you’ve had a tough day.  And I apologize for Sabyl; her library is her pride and joy, and she’s had problems with others claiming dire need who ended up using it for,” the bookseller coughed, “unsavory purposes.”

Lunk frowned.  He was a little scared of Miss Sorn.  He thought that a lot of people probably were.  She was just kind of scary.  Lunk was pretty sure it was her disapproving look.  When she gave you that look, it seemed like she just KNEW everything you’d ever done wrong.  Lunk shivered; in his case, there was a lot to know.

“But you’re right,” Lunk returned his attention to the conversation; Mister Chask was still talking, “Sabyl and I do have a friendship, and she has allowed me access to her library.”  Lunk nodded.  He wasn’t surprised.  Everyone liked Mister Chask.  “Given your current condition, it looks like you need to rest and recuperate as much as possible for your,” Mister Chask raised an eyebrow, “big mission.  So I propose the following.  I’ll go talk to Sabyl right now and take a look in her library for the kind of information you’re searching for.  If I find anything relevant, I’ll meet you at the Rusty Dragon tomorrow for breakfast to share it with you before you and your friends depart.”

Mister Chask smiled indulgently as Pisca began talking once again about her dream of a Sandpoint Municipal Library.  “Increasing literacy in the area certainly couldn’t hurt sales, that is true,” he nodded.  “Of course, if people can just borrow books, rather than buy them, there’s certainly a chance that they might decide to do that instead.  People can be parsimonious with their gold, I’ve found.  But fortunately I’m not in the bookselling business because I need the money.  I’m in it because I love books, and anything that causes people to read more is more than okay with me.”

Mister Chask looked at Lunk.  “Lunk, it looks like I have a project.  Would you like to accompany me to the House of Blue Stones?  Sounds like I need to go find some possibly life-saving information for our friend Pisca.”  Mister Chask stopped short, turning back to the gnome.  “Or is there anything else you need?”

---

---

"I know that word."  Pisca smiled up at Lunk.  "Parsimonious.  The law of parsimony dictates that a theory should provide the simplest possible explanation for a phenomenon," the gnome parroted.  They were important sounding words.  Words of power always sounded that way.  Pisca's grin broadened as she gazed up at her gentle giant.  "Pretty good, huh?" she added, all the while showing no clear sign that she understood the meaning, or at least the meaning as used by Chask Haladan.

"Alright, Lunk, this is your mission.  You've got to keep Chask safe while he talks to Sabyl Sorn.  Goblins have been spotted in town.  We even found one in Aeren Barett's closet.  Stay close to Chask.  And if you spot any gobbies, stomp 'em down.  Or maybe throw them off the cliff.  Or punch them flat.  Anything, so long as they don't get back up again.  You're a giant, Lunk.  You can do it."

"And thanks, Mister Haladan," Pisca said, turning her attention to the storyteller.  "I really appreciate what you're doing.  I'm sure the whole town will.  Probably.  Eventually."  The gnome gave the human an appraising look before continuing.  A friendship?  And the mayor had suggested that she might be at Chask's.  Hmmm.

"Oh, and please tell Sabyl Sorn that I'm not a bad gnome.  I'm just drawn that way."  By this time, the gnome was halfway down the street, turning back at erratic intervals to fire off words and partial phrases.  "You should come tomorrow too, Lunk!  To the Rusty Dragon.  For the break fast.  They'll have juice.  And lomticks.  I'll see you then!"

Pell mell.  The gnome made her way through the evening shadows of Sandpoint on her way to the harbor.  As she entered the market Pisca slowed her pace.  This time, Pisca entered the Fatman's Feedbag through the rear kitchen and delivery entrance.  Everyone in a tavern watched the front door.  You couldn't come through the front door of a tavern without being noticed.  Not even a gnome.  Through the kitchens, you might've stood a chance.

Pisca slipped into the Common Room and made her way quietly to Jubrayl's table, appearing in a chair quite suddenly in an unoccupied chair.  "I've come to share drinks with a friend," she said in Common.  There was no point in speaking covertly in Varisian.  Nearly everyone here spoke Varisian anyway.  "Friends should share things.  Don't you think Jubrayl?  Terrible goings on at the Glassworks today.  Take it from a gnome who was there.  Terrible goings on.  But ... very interesting as well."

Archaeologist's Luck 1/7
This message was last edited by the player at 19:58, Wed 19 Feb 2014.

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---

Jubrayl Vhiski bit back a sigh as he turned to find a previously-empty chair suddenly occupied by Pisca Neep Freemish, a gnome with no small ability to cause him problems.  He had hired her on as a favor to one of his Sczarni associates, but quickly found that her erratic behavior and eccentric approach to life did not sit well with his more-serious employees, a group that far outnumbered the men who found her amusing.

Criminals occasionally lacked in the sense-of-humor department.

Not Jubrayl, though.  He found most of life amusing.  Not least his little cat-and-mouse game with Sheriff Belor Hemlock, who kept on trying to pin crimes of varying sorts on him with an unvarying lack of success.  Vhiski admired the Sheriff’s persistence and incorruptibility, as much as it inconvenienced him personally.  He had even sent Hemlock an extravagant Swallowtail Festival gift.  Paid for with stolen silvers, of course.  The edge of Vhiski’s mouth ticked upwards.  You had to take joy in the little things.

Back to the present.  Here was the gnome, sitting at his table without invitation, something few in Sandpoint had the stones to do.  That was Pisca, though.  Completely heedless of the negative consequences of her actions.  Jubrayl was never really sure if the gnome was fearless or just had no capacity for recognizing danger.  He waved away one of his enforcers who had begun moving to evict the gnome from the sacred seat.

“Please, Nicol, I will handle this, yes?”

He turned back to the gnome.  “A drink, eh?”  Jubrayl eyed Pisca over the edge of his shot glass, which contained a generous amount of amber-colored liquid.  “I have of course heard about the goings-on at the Glassworks.  What I have not heard is why they concern me more than other upstanding citizens of Sandpoint, or more topically why they should cause you to be sitting here, at my table.  Perhaps that is the interesting information you have come to share with your friend, yes?”

---

---

This message was last edited by the player at 00:27, Thu 20 Feb 2014.

Well.  This is new.  Maybe Jubrayl didn't know about the tunnels.  In that case, if he didn't know about the tunnels, then he wouldn't know about the Mysterious Guest's connection with the tunnels either, and what good would that be?

Pisca frowned, giving the new and unpleasant thought the sour face that it deserved.  But, then again, maybe Jubrayl was pretending that he didn't know about the tunnels in case Pisca didn't know about them either.  Maybe the mention of the Glassworks wasn't enough to convince him that she knew.

"Everyone's heard of the Glassworks by now.  What you might not have heard of is just *how* the goblins got into the Glassworks, Jubrayl."  The gnome flashed a smile at the minder nearby before putting her elbows up onto the table and leaning in.  "Maybe word hasn't gotten around that the goblins used some smuggler's tunnels that open on one end in the basement of the Glassworks, and on the other end through a secret door into a cave in the cliff side near Northgate.  I know.  I've been down there."

"Well, everybody's too busy to do anything about it now.  Pending goblin attack, and all, you know.  But, they will.  This gnome doesn't think they'll be able to resist it.  Not with the involvement of Lonjiku Kaijitsu so obvious in all this.  Who knows what they'll find.  I don't think they've even thought of searching Lonjiku's home yet.  Who knows what he might have written somewhere about smuggler tunnels opening into his factory.  A clever man, with this knowledge, might be able to position himself ... wherever he would like to be."

"I owe you a debt, Jubrayl," the gnome said, her face a grim and serious mask.  "You took me in when I first arrived here.  Gnomes pay their debts."

Archaeologist's Luck 1/7

---

---

The color drained from Jubrayl Vhiski’s normally-bronzed face.  “The . . . tunnels?”  He murmured the question, almost as if to himself.  “They’re OPEN?”

He drained the remaining liquid from his glass, then reached across the table, lightning-fast, to grab Pisca’s hand in a firm grip.  The man’s eyes were wide and staring, flickering over the gnome’s face.  If Pisca didn’t know Vhiski better, she might think he was . . . frightened.  But Vhiski wasn't frightened of anything.

Was he?

The Sczarni’s hand tightened on the gnome’s, precluding easy escape.  “Pisca, you must tell me right now, and leave nothing out . . . was there ANOTHER tunnel open when you were down there?  One that branched off from the main tunnel and was also bricked over?!?”

Vhiski sounded almost panicked.  He leaned over towards her, speaking in a fierce whisper.  “Pisca . . . what, what WAS it that attacked the Glassworks?”

---

---

The gnome nearly drew back.  She was close to tearing her hand from out of Jubrayl's.  But she held her nerve under the fearsome assault of Un-Jubrayl-ness and only flinched a little.

"Goblins.  Goblins attacked the Glassworks.  Just as Mayor Deverin said.  Goblins lead by Tsuto Kaijitsu.  They opened the tunnels.  And ... yeah ... there was a side tunnel.  It looked as though it had been bricked up at one time.  But it's open now.  Someone broke down the wall that had sealed it up."

Pisca looked more closely into the Sczarni's face, this time with concern in her eyes.  "I think it was Tsuto and his crew who probably broke down the wall.  At the command of his girlfriend.  Nualia or Nulitia or New Guinea or something.  We found Tsuto's journal and it said something about sending Freaks up from that tunnel.  Lead by a Quasit.  We're going down there tomorrow.  Me and Lysa and Cato and Stomper.  And Kerr Mollin too.  I think it might lead to some old Thassilon ruins, but we'll find out.  We have to find out whether that tunnel has any other exits into Sandpoint.  And we're hoping that we might kill the Quasit while we're at it."

"Oh, and sealing the tunnel.  Cato and I are getting some Burst Jars to seal the tunnel and set a trap for any other gobbies that might try to come in the secret doors.  So, after tomorrow, do not use the cave entrance, alright?"

"Are you ... You don't look well, Jubrayl."

And then it hit the gnome.  "You're the ones who sealed the tunnel, aren't you?  You met the Freaks, and that's why you sealed the tunnel.  What did you find down there?  And did this have anything to do with that mysterious guest of the White Deer who was found at the base of the cliffs a year or two ago?"

Archaeologist's Luck 1/7

---

---

Jubrayl leaned back, releasing Pisca's hand, exhaling slowly, and closing his eyes as he centered himself.  When he opened them again, he was the self-possessed man he had always been.

“That the tunnels are open is not good news, yes?  They were bricked over for a reason.  Terrible things reside within them.  Terrible things . . . “  The Sczarni’s voice trailed off as he stared off into space, as if seeing something to which only he was privy.

After a moment, he snapped back to the conversation, giving Pisca a piercing stare.  “I will not say much, but as you are planning to explore the tunnels, a decision I believe to be the height of foolishness, I will tell you what you can expect.”

“There are . . . things . . . down there.”  Jubrayl’s voice lowered as his eyes again grew big.  “‘Freaks’ is as good a word as any.  Hairless freaks lurching on back-bent, dog-like legs, their hideous, predator’s mouths flanked by arms as long as their bodies, arms with three monstrous, claw-like fingers on their misshapen hands."

Jubrayl’s body visibly tensed as he described the monsters lying in wait below the Glassworks.  "They live in the dark; they need no light to see, nor eyes to track down their prey.  And if you are bitten?  Well . . . you are overcome with rage, attacking even your friends with a fury as mindless as it is inexplicable.”

“I do not know how many of those ‘freaks’ exist down there.  One is too many.  And you place yourself in mortal danger should you venture into their underground realm.  I will tell you this, Pisca.  You are going to collapse the tunnels, yes?  Collapse them all.  Reseal the tunnel.  Do not give them an opportunity to overwhelm you and make their way out into Sandpoint.”

The Sczarni leader shook his head.  “I do not like to think about what might happen if those ‘freaks’ were to run free in the town.  And I am not a man who shies away from unpleasantness when such things are thrust upon him, do you understand me?"  He placed both hands on the table.  "If you are truly intent upon venturing into their lair, inform Mayor Deverin or Lieutenant Barett of the risk, and make sure they are prepared.”  He glanced at the door.  “I would do this myself, but I am not exactly an well-regarded member of Sandpoint's citizenry, yes?  They would be more likely to act on information coming from one of their newly-minted ‘Heroes.’”

Vhiski leaned back again, folding his arms.  “Remember what I have told you, Pisca.  And think long and hard about your next move.”  He waved to his enforcer.  “Nicol, we are done here.  Please show Miss Neep Freemish to the door, if you would.  Politely.”  As the thug moved towards Pisca and gestured towards the door, Jubrayl looked away.  “Think upon what I have said, Pisca.”

“Think upon it well.”

At that, Nicol, a large man somewhere between the size of Kellan and Alergast, politely escorted Pisca to the door of the Feedbag, politely depositing her upon the steps, whereupon he politely stood in front of the door, politely glowering at her and politely indicating in the most polite manner possible that she was no longer welcome in the establishment on this particular evening.

---

---

Well.  That was productive.  Glowing with success, Pisca grinned up at the big hummie minder as she waved and backed away in the direction of the Rusty Dragon.  She hadn't exactly discovered anything new about the White Deer mystery.  But she had confirmed Jubrayl's involvement in the smuggler tunnels.  Seems he was quite deeply involved in these tunnels.  Enough so that he had been very likely down there when they'd encountered the Freaks.  It looked very much, from his reaction, as though he had actually seen them with his own eyes at some time.

This also meant that Jubrayl had been very much connected to Lord Kaijitsu.  At one time, at least.  And, given what he'd said the other day about the Mill, probably very much connected to the Scarnetti's as well.  Though, you'd almost have to expect that.  As the gnome made her way the short distance from the Fatman to the Rusty Dragon, she wondered just how many of the Five Families dealt with the Sandpoint underworld through Jubrayl.

And then there was the information on the Freaks.  Or, should she start calling them Dog-Legged Freaks now?  Pisca pondered at what they might be.  She'd have to tell Cato too.  Mull it over together.  Maybe even tell Brodie about them.  He'd probably be tickled to learn about it.  Especially the one particularly telling bit that gave it all away.  Those were definitely Thassilon ruins down there.  Pisca was now certain.

And she'd gotten to see Jubrayl when he was scared.  That was certainly something.  Of course, that also meant that the mission tomorrow might be particularly bad.  Bad enough to scare Jubrayl.  But, then again, what choice did they have?

Knowledge to identify the Dog-Legged Freaks from their description.  Add Archeologist's Luck to the rolls, Please.  (The scattershot approach.)
Knowledge Arcana
Knowledge Dungeoneering
Knowledge History
Knowledge Local
Knowledge Nature
Knowledge Planes
Knowledge Religion

Archaeologist's Luck 1/7

CONTINUED AT MESSAGE #11 OF CHAPTER 6l:  ENTER THE DRAGON.