As the discussion around the table continued, Liseth's blackberry-infused pancakes slowly but surely disappeared from her plate.  She paused for a few moments to consider the image of scarf-knitting demons.  "I think that I would rather encounter scarves than monster rune dogs.  But if Lamashtu is involved, they  might be multicolored scarf monsters.  Horrible creatures with arms and legs knitted from yarn; to live through endless frustration as the people that they try to get only wind up snuggly warm and comfortable."  She smiled at the awkward image in her mind, then sighed, "Probably not though."

"Um..."  Liseth suddenly changed from enthusiastic about her impending walk with Kerr to slightly reluctant when the idea of picking up explosive burst jars on their way came up.  With her own awkward gait the girl did not relish the idea of carrying around volatile explosives.  What if she stumbled?  That would be bad.  And how heavy were they?

"Oh, good morning Kellan."  Distracted by Kellan's arrival at the breakfast table, Liseth was saved from thinking about blowing herself up for a few moments.  "You were already at the Glassworks?"  That reminded her that there was guards stationed up there after what they reported yesterday.  Which gave the girl an idea for what to do with the explosives while waiting for everyone else.

Her pancakes gone, the acolyte speared a sausage with her fork and took a bite; chewing thoughtfully for a moment before swallowing, "I think I'm full."  She set the fork, with sausage, down on her plate, "So, I think that Kerr and I could pick up the burst jars and then leave them with the guards at the Glassworks until we're all ready to go.  I'm sure they'll be able to keep them safe for us.  Right Kellan?"  The girl ended by glancing at Kellan for affirmation.

"Kerr, were you ready to go?"  Turning in her chair, Liseth laid her hands on Kerr's arm and stared expectantly up into his eyes.

---

---

Kerr, Pisca, Liseth, and Cato said their goodbyes to Ameiko, each thanking her for the excellent breakfast before leaving the Rusty Dragon as a group.  They headed up Market Street to Southmarket Square, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted and upbeat given the dire task lying before them.

They arrived at the square to find militia training well underway.  Lieutenant Barett and his sergeants seemed intent on fitting a few months’ worth of weapon training into a few hours; the guard officer had little time to talk or even acknowledge the four’s presence other than by a quick nod and wave as he corrected Larz Rovansky’s grip on his weapon.  The tanner did not look pleased at the attention.

At that point, Cato and Pisca bid farewell to Liseth and Kerr, who turned right to head up Festival Street towards Nisk Tanner’s shop.  The scholar and the gnome skirted the training militiamen to get to Water Street, subsequently taking a right up Main Street.  Sandpoint’s avenues seemed less crowded that normal, probably due to the mustering of most of the town’s able-bodied men in Southmarket Square.

When the pair took a left on Tower Street they once again confronted the magnificent edifice of The Old Light.  The ancient ruin impressed as always, seeming to glow in the morning sun.  But now, given the information about Sandpoint’s history they’d learned from Chask Haladan, the Thassilonian structure took on a cast of mystery and even menace.  Who knew what dark secrets lay underneath once-great structure’s rotting carcass?

They finally reached the last house on the left, looking as ramshackle as ever, seemingly ready to fall in upon itself at a moment’s notice.  Cato rapped sharply upon the door.

He received no response.

The wizard glanced at Pisca, then knocked again.  Suddenly the door flew open, revealing Brodert Quink in a shockingly-unkempt state, wearing a nightgown and thick spectacles.  His normally well-maintained hair was wild, sticking out every which way as if one lucky strand might find the correct path to escape the scholar’s head.

“Cato, my boy!”  The sage looked down.  “And Pisca!  Welcome back, welcome back!  Do come in.”  Quink left the door open as he moved back inside the house.  As Cato and Pisca followed him inside, they could see that he had been studying, with books open and papers strewn about his desk.  The older man sat back down in a large chair and resumed an intense study of a red-bound tome.

A moment passed.  Cato coughed.

The sage looked back up.  “Oh!”  He said, seeming somewhat startled to see them still there.  He inserted a bookmark in the volume he’d been reading and gently closed it.  “Yes, of course!”  He didn’t elaborate on whatever conclusion he’d reached.  “How can I help you two?”

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This message was last edited by the GM at 06:46, Wed 05 Mar 2014.

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Kerr laughed at Liseth’s description of frustrated Lamashtu Scarf Monsters; it seemed far funnier that it really should have been.  “Could you imagine how strange it would be if that was really how things were?”  He was still chuckling.  “That your clothes longed to do nothing more than smite you but just had to go around keeping you protected from the elements?  They would be so frustrated!  It would be perfect justice for some folks.”  He wiped a tear from his eye.  “Would make getting dressed in the morning a whole new experience, that’s for sure.”

He noticed Liseth’s hesitance when she brought up the subject of blast jars.  He leaned over and touched her shoulder.  “I think I can probably carry them all,” he murmured gallantly, “so don’t worry about it.”

At that point Kellan strode in like a conquering hero.  Or at least someone intent on conquering whatever was left of breakfast.  Kerr greeted the young guardsman warmly and got a smile in return, but Kellan seemed far too famished to engage in more than perfunctory conversation prior to digging into most of what was left of the pancakes.

Kerr looked around the room as Kellan poured his syrup.  “I think we were just heading out, but if you’re sure we can meet you at the Glassworks.  Liseth and I are heading over to Nisk’s and Cato and Pisca are heading over to Sage Quink’s.  Not sure how long everything will take, but we’ll be over there and ready to go later this morning for sure.”  Kellan gave that idea a thumbs-up as he continued to eat.  Kerr was slightly awed; Kellan could put food away at a pretty prodigious pace.

Kerr helped Liseth out of her chair and escorted her to the door, followed by Cato and Pisca.  The foursome bid farewell to Kellan and Ameiko, then made their way out of the inn and towards Southmarket Square.  Kerr and Liseth split off from the other two there, heading up Festival Street.  They saw a worker out front of the theater, putting up a sign noting a delay in the debut of Allishandra and “The Harpy’s Curse” on Sandpoint’s biggest stage pending resolution of the current crisis.

The couple turned left on Raven Street, making their way to Bottled Solutions’ run-down storefront.  Kerr held the door open for Liseth as they entered the shop, where an exhausted-looking Nisk Tanner was ready to greet them.

“Kerr!”  Nisk said gladly.  The acolyte had helped his mother out with a painful bunion just a few months before.  “It’s good to see you!  Are you and your,” he glanced at Liseth, “ladyfriend here to pick up the burst jars?  Because as you can see I have them right here.”  The alchemist pointed to two lovingly-bundled backpacks lying in front of his shop counter.  “Five burst jars each!  It almost killed me, I have to say; I didn’t get much sleep.  But I’m proud of my work!”  He said, standing up straight and nodding.  “Yes, I am.  Fine burst jars, every one of them.”  He stood still for a moment, admiring the packs.

“Oh!”  He slapped his forehead.  “Where are my manners?”  He walked toward Liseth.  “Nisk Tanner, ma’am.  Alchemist.  Very pleased to meet you.  You must be Liseth, am I right?”

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This message was last edited by the player at 06:31, Wed 05 Mar 2014.

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Kellan sat in a much-quieter taproom now that the rest of the group had left.  He had the rest of the banquet to himself, although he had already pretty much finished off the rest of the pancakes.  As he surveyed the rest of the table, noting in particular a couple of omelets that remained untouched, he heard a movement behind him.  Before he could turn around, Ameiko Kaijitsu plopped into a chair next to him, giving him an appraising look as she rocked back on two legs.

“Do you need anything else to eat?”  The innkeeper waved her arm over the table, almost as if she might conjure more tasty dishes through the power of raw magic.  “The kitchen’s still going, so we can get you something else if you need it.  I was afraid these might be cold but now that I’m here,” she looked pointedly at the damage Kellan had already done to his stack of pancakes, “I’m thinking maybe that is not such a big deal.”

“Anyway,” Ameiko gave him a wink, “how are things with you?  I see you’ve been given leave from the big militia training.  The Sandpoint Saviors are on the case, unless I miss my guess.  Out to save Sandpoint a second time.”  The Tianese woman started counting off on her fingers.  “Or is it the third?  So hard to keep track of these things.”  She laughed.

“But let’s talk about something of REAL importance.”  She said with a slightly-salacious smile.  “Is it true about you and Shayliss Vinder?  How is that going?  And what does VEN think about that?  I didn’t think he would ever willingly let ANYONE date EITHER of his daughters.”  She gave the young guardsman a frank stare.  “And yet here you are.  Unbruised, from the look of things.  And trust me, if you and Ven had gotten into it, a little bruising would be the LEAST of your worries.”  She shuddered slightly, then brought her chair down to the floor and leaned forward, both elbows on the table, hands cradling her chin.  “So, out with it.  Come on, farmboy.  Dish.”

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This message was lightly edited by the player at 06:28, Wed 05 Mar 2014.

Kellan was in the middle of righteous battle against his flapjacks when Ameiko set herself down, with a mouthful of slightly crispy deliciousness and a knife full of fresh churned butter he looked as if the whole repast might vanish if he was not quick enough. Finding time to swallow he shook his head and carved off a hunk of omelet with a fork. "Oh no, this is more than fine thanks...I"

He paused when Ameiko started to grin like a cat in march, only to have his suspicions confirmed by her prodding for details about his personal life. Wiping his mouth with a napkin he let it fall near his plate and gave a knowing little smirk back.

"Well that travelled fast...but then again it is Sandpoint, heh" he leaned back in his chair a little "Shayliss and I have been testing the waters I suppose...we took a ride out to my parents farm the other day for dinner, and I went to visit her this morning...Mister Vinder has been pretty...strict about the whole thing, I'm not sure if Father Zantus can regrow teeth but I'd rather not have to find out."

Finishing off the pancakes with a gargantuan mouthful he stood and took up his poleaxe and his pack while he was still chewing, speaking with his mouthful as he made for the door in a dramatic fashion as if escaping her inquisition "I should probably get going and all thanks for breakfast it was wonderful but I don't want to keep the others waiting" he dispensed with the punctuation as if not to give her a chance to pry any further, but had to take a brief moment breath "Bye Ameiko, see you tonight!" He waved over his shoulder  and smiled in a playful way as he marched out into the sun and made for the Glassworks.

Pisca was unusually quiet on the trip from the Rusty Dragon to the home of Brodert Quint.  Finally, just after parting from Liseth and Kerr Mollin, she turned her head up to Cato, and with concern in her voice said, "I don't think Lysa's taking this entirely seriously.  I mean, there's a reason that scarves like to be worn around the neck.  Don't you think, Cato?"  The gnome shook her head.  Wardrobe betrayal could be the cruelest of treacheries.  Socks mismatch themselves.  Buttons misaligned.  Belts let go, dropping trousers to the floor!  And always at the least convenient times.  Clothing seems to have an uncanny knack for timing.  "Only wear clothes that you trust, Cato.  And good clothing is hard to find."

The arrival at Brodert Quint's quieted more of the gnome's wardrobe advice.  She strolled into the sage's abode without taking much note of what, to Cato, might be something amiss.  Following the elder scholar into his house and, from there, to his desk.  Rising up on her toes, the gnome peered across the littered expanse of the desktop.  She reached up to poke an experimental finger at the red book.  Nothing.  Nothing was always a mixed blessing.  The lack of response from a poke was liable to be anything from a relief to a disappointment.  However, before the question of which it was was answered -relief or disappointment- Pisca launched into a description of what she'd discovered so far about the Rune Dogs, about her conclusion from the description of the Rune Dogs that these creatures were ruled by the rune of Wrath, and about everything they had learned this morning from Chask Haladan's research at the House of Blue Stones.

"We thought you'd like to know," the gnome added at the end.  "Even if you didn't have anything to add to it.  You do.  Have something to add to it, don't you?" she prompted.

"By the by, what are you reading?  Looks ... well red."

As they left the others and Pisca's monologue turned to the subject of clothing mishaps, Cato tried to maintain a serious face, nodding at the opportune times, and expressing agreement with the gnome's opinions.  Pisca's rambling did have the effect of distracting Cato from the rapidly approaching encounter with the quasit and whatever freaks lurked beneath the Glassworks, which was a good thing.

Cato was shocked to see Brodert looking as ill-kept as his house.  "Brodert, have you been up all night reading?"  Cato looked around the interior, at the books and notes strewn about the study.  Brodert usually didn't keep the neatest house, lest he disturb his studies, but this was a new development.  "We once again find ourselves in need of your sage advice.  Pisca has some new information we'd like your opinion on."

Cato waited while the gnome relayed what she had learned about the Rune Dogs.  Cato looked around, his eyes finding Brodert's stack of specialty paper and inks.  "Also, Brodert, would you mind terribly if I used some of your supply for scrolls?  Recent developments have led me to the realization that being over prepared is better than under."

"Goodbye Kellan, we'll see you at the Glassworks!"  Liseth bid farewell to the late-arriving guardsman after Kerr helped her from her chair.  "Enjoy your breakfast!"  Then she happily linked her arm with Kerr's as he led her to the door.  Onlookers would never assume that they would soon be risking their lives against horrible monsters and demons underneath their town.

Anyone that already knew might think that the girl was flatly refusing to acknowledge it until she absolutely had to.

The silence of their walk was filled when Liseth began to hum a cheery tune, to be interrupted when Cato and Pisca split off and the young acolyte bid them farewell.  She started humming again when it was just the two acolytes now walking together, attempting to enjoy their walk as much as possible before they reached their destination.

Which they did all too quickly.

After having visited Mr Voon's shop yesterday, Liseth was ready for anything that they might find in another one of Sandpoint's shops.  Still, as the young acolyte entered through the door that Kerr held for her, she felt that it was good that Mr Tanner was not only expecting them but had everything that they needed to pick up ready to go.  Not that she had anything against visiting the alchemist; Liseth just wanted to finish their errand as quickly as possible.

"I'm pleased to meet you too, Mr Tanner."  She curtsied in greeting, which might have seemed a little awkward doing it for the first time in her new, heavy dress.  Then the blonde girl nodded, "I am Liseth Thoradin."

"I'm sorry that you had to work so hard to make those burst jars for us.  Cato and Pisca must have told you that they were important, right?"  Liseth's eyes focused on the bundles, as though trying to size them up.  They looked innocent enough lying there, certainly not like something that would collapse a section of tunnels.  "Are there any special instructions that we need to know before trying to use them?"

Her apprehension must have started bleeding through when Liseth, still focusing on the bundled bombs, asked her next questions, "They are safe, right?  To carry?  They aren't too heavy are they?"

---

---

Brodert Quink looked a little taken aback by Pisca’s deluge of information.  He nodded along hesitantly as she shared what she’d learned from Jubrayl Vhiski, then more enthusiastically as she imparted what Chask Haladan had found in House of Blue Stones’ library.

“Well!”  He said as Pisca finished up talking.  “That is certainly interesting, isn’t it?  To think that there might be a repository of ancient Thassilonian rune magic below Sandpoint . . .,” he looked over to Cato as his voice trailed off.  “Cato, my boy, you are going to have to keep your eyes open as you adventure down there this morning.  I think I’ve said this before, but this could easily be the most important historical find in Varisia since they discovered The Old Light.”

“But yes,” the scholar shrugged with some embarrassment at his protégé before returning his attention to Pisca, tapping the cover of his red book as he did so, “I may have gotten a little carried away last night studying Thassilonian history.  Such a complex society, with so much power!”  He shook his head.  “Of course, power often ends up being as much of a curse as it is a blessing, though it might not seem so at the time.  Anyway,” he recovered from his digression, “your ‘Rune Dogs.’  That’s an interesting name for them.  And I think, just think mind you, that they bear some similarities to the footsoldiers used by the Runelords during their endless conflicts.”

“Here, listen to this.”  Brodert opened the red-bound book to a previously-marked passage, ran his finger down the page, and began to read in the sonorous tones of a lecturer.

But the deception of Karzoug was not to last.  And lo, did the servants of Xanderghul labor long, working night and day to slaughter those they had culled.  Then did the wells produce an army unknown to Karzoug; dog-legged soldiers that began their long march under the leadership of Xanderghul’s lieutenants, intent on Karzoug’s destruction.

The scholar snapped his book shut.  “Not a complete match, I’ll grant you, but the soldiers mentioned here seem similar to what Vhiski described, don’t you think?  I am not sure how or if that knowledge will help you, but more information is better than less, in my opinion.  Oh, and of course you can use the materials, Cato.  Please help yourself.”

---

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“I am pleased to meet YOU, Miss Thoradin,” Nisk Tanner repeated with a gentlemanly bow in return for her curtsy.  “And really it was no problem at all, no problem at all.”  The alchemist waved away Liseth’s apology as if it were a particularly-agile gnat.  “I DO know how important they are.”  The man looked as if he was about to burst with pride at his involvement with such a critical endeavor.  “And I’m happy to help Sandpoint.”  He brought the back of his palm down into his other hand with a loud smack.  “Because that’s what we’re all doing, isn’t it?  Pulling together to help defend our home?”

“Um, special instructions, special instructions.”  Nisk ran his hand through his receding hair.  “Um, not really.  Well, don’t DROP them.  Not hard, at least.  The jars are relatively sturdy but obviously they’re not unbreakable.”  He chuckled, almost to himself.  “That would kind of defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?  Could you imagine?  I suppose that would be quite the trick to play on someone intending to use them for bad . . . .”  He stopped as he saw Liseth and Kerr standing there staring at him.  “Yes, right, well, not unbreakable.  So don’t break them!  Not until you want them to explode, at least.  Then you should definitely break them.  Hmmm.  Wish I could be there to see that!”  He shot a longing look at the two backpacks.

Kerr walked forward and put his arm about the alchemist’s shoulders, turning the man around, winking at Liseth as he did so.  “That is fantastic work, Nisk!  We couldn’t be happier that you were able to do this for us.  But you have to be exhausted after working all night.  So I’ll just take these and you can go get some rest.”  He nodded confidently.  “I’ll be sure to let you know exactly how they worked in practice!”

Nisk allowed himself to be led back to his store counter.  “Yes, um, well, right.  That sounds good.  And I’ll look forward to hearing all about that!”  Kerr carefully picked up the backpacks, putting one over each shoulder.  He now looked like something of a porter, what with a backpack over each shoulder and a quiver and a longbow slung over his back.  “Give Scholar Cato and Miss Freemish my regards!”  Nisk went on as Kerr made his way back to Liseth near the door of the shop.

“We will, Nisk,” responded the burdened acolyte.  “And thanks again!”  With that, the two teenagers were again out on Raven Street.  Liseth found it difficult to lean on Kerr’s arm, what with the two backpacks, so he made sure to take things extra slow as they made their way past the Town Hall and south on Main Street towards the Glassworks.  Kerr thought it was probably a good idea anyway, what with him carrying almost a dozen explosive jars.

The couple cut over on Rat Alley and arrived at the Glassworks without even one explosion.  The building was once again supervised by Sergeant Torv Tiller and his men.  Kerr explained the situation to Sergeant Tiller, who had them put the two backpacks in a side room for safekeeping while they waited for Kellan to finish breakfast and Cato and Pisca to return from Sage Quink’s.

“So,” Kerr said to Liseth with a grin, looking relieved to have finally delivered the blast jars.  “Where would you like to go, milady?”

---

---

"That is interesting ... "  The eyes of Pisca Neep Freemish wandered in the direction of her favorite chair.  The most comfortable chair that she had claimed as her own the last time she had been here.  It beckoned.  This time, however, Pisca resisted.  Today was a day of action and danger.  There would be no time for comfortable chairs.  "That is very interesting, Brodie."  Instead of taking up a seat on the Most Comfortable chair, the gnome began pacing in the area of the desk.  As she spoke she picked up random objects and waved them about, making them important for a moment before putting them down again and returning them to obscurity.

"From what we learned from the House of Blue Stones, the wizard Xaliasa was a minion of Karzoug.  But Chask said that the records indicated that he was also a double-minion for another incredibly unclear Rune Lord.  I think that we can safely assume that this unclear Rune Lord was Xanderghul.  But the interesting part here, the *REALLY* interesting part, is ... "  And, at this point, the gnome climbed up into the lap of the elder sage, squeezing under his arm to get at the book.  With the small green stone that she'd been waving about at the time, she tapped a spot on the page in the red book and began reading in the same full-voiced tones of Brodert Quint.

"'Then did the wells produce an army unknown to Karzoug; dog-legged soldiers!!!'"  Pisca looked up at the sage from her position on his lap.  "The wells," she said, before squirming off the edge of his lap and back down to the floor.  She placed the green stone in a cup on a nearby table, and, in the stead of the stone, picked up a flat bronze triangle with evenly marked increments along two sides.  "The wells!  The Rune Dogs come from wells!  We've been wondering where they were coming from, and now we know."

"Now ...  Now we just have to figure out what the Wells are.  That, and how a well produces Rune Dogs.  Oh, and, maybe, how to stop a well from producing Rune Dogs.  I wonder if the Quasit is using the Well or whether the Well is using the Quasit?"

"Also, Brodie, you said that each of the seven Runelords mastered one of the seven schools of arcane rune magic harnessed from the sins of mankind, right?  So, if Xanderghul is responsible for the Rune Dogs, then I'd think that he was the master of Wrath.  Then the question here becomes, what was Karzoug the master of?  Xaliasa was ostensibly the minion of Karzoug, and the tunnels down below were Xaliasa's prison and laboratory.  So, you would think that Xaliasa would be working on something along lines similar to Karzoug's runic magic, right?  Something compatible with Lamashtu.  Something that required prisoners."  The gnome shook her head, discarded the triangle, and then picked up a slim wooden stylus instead.

Pisca thought some more.  She tapped the stylus against her palm.  She shook her head again.  "Could be any one of them.  Pride, envy, lust, gluttony, sloth, greed.  Probably not sloth.  I don't know.  I DON'T KNOW!"

"Too much thinking."  Pisca sighed.  With the feeling of being a bit worn out for so early in the morning, the gnome looked up at the two sages, the younger and the elder.  "Too much thinking," she repeated.  "I think."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:51, Thu 06 Mar 2014.

Cato watched as Pisca paced and speculated, finally smiling as the gnome appeared to run through her deductions and and monologue.

"As much as it pains me to say it, I think we've reached an end to what we can learn from books.  These events happened thousands of years ago, and what little we know of tha time has been fragmented and distorted by the weight of ages.  I'm hoping that down there we'll find more clues, and maybe pieces to fill in all these missing holes.  But at least we know to look out for a well that can produce these Rune Dogs.  Certainly something to keep in mind.  And although I hate to speculate more, there must be some limiting factor to this well, otherwise the Quasit could have just spawned an army and invaded Sandpoint without needing to be coaxed by Nulia and the goblins.  Unless we can chalk it up to insanity, of course."

Cato gathered up a few supplies and stored them safely in his rapidly-filling pack.  "Brodert, thank you again for you help."  The young sage smiled.  "I hope to report back soon with more tantalizing bits of history to examine!"

Liseth peeled her eyes from the bundled explosives to watch Mr Tanner as the alchemist explained the explosives.  And their highly volatile nature; it was just as bad as she had imagined!  Don't drop them, don't break them.  Until they were supposed to explode.  Mr Tanner was polite, but Liseth didn't think that he noticed just how uncomfortable and apprehensive she was about his burst jars.

Thankfully, Kerr took the lead on dealing with the alchemist.  Liseth watched with some measure of concern when he picked up both of the explosive bundles himself, strapping them over his shoulders.  They certainly didn't look light, and Kerr was already burdened with his armor and weapons.  She couldn't stop imagining one of the bundled packs slipping loose, or a burst jar tearing through the fabric.

How could she face Sarenrae after that?  Blowing herself up just one day after the goddess came down to encourage her?

"Goodbye Mr Tanner, thank you for the burst jars!"  Liseth's mixed feelings about handling bombs must have shown in her voice, but she doubted that Mr Tanner noticed.  He was too tired, and too proud of the burst jars that he had made.  But Kerr, certainly, would have noticed.  For the first time, Liseth decided that she should help Kerr walk; since he was so overburdened by all of those bombs.

"Um...they aren't too heavy, are they Kerr?"  Moving more slowly than ever, the two made their way to the Glassworks.  Liseth was just glad that she didn't have to carry any of the bundled bombs herself, even as she was concerned that Kerr was carrying too much.  But at least they made it there safely, and Liseth thanked Sergeant Tiller for looking after the burst jars for them.

"Well..."  Liseth shared Kerr's relief when they completed their errand.  She didn't know how much time they had left before everyone else arrived at the Glassworks and was ready to go, but she intended to make the most of it.  After all, the two teenagers had had very little time to be together, with just the two of them.  And Liseth figured that trying to make a little time before going to fight demons would be a good idea.

"We probably shouldn't go very far.  So that the others can find us when they're ready."  The girl's azure eyes wandered off of Kerr and found themselves drawn to the nearby ocean.  And the sandy beach.  "We could go walk on the beach..."

Liseth let Kerr lead her to Water Street, where they turned off of the street and onto the sand.  Of course Kerr agreed to Liseth's request to walk on the beach; but as her eyes kept drawing themselves to the vast expanse of water, Liseth realized that maybe walking wasn't what she actually had in mind.

Spying a sun-bleached driftwood log partially buried in the sand, the girl led her boyfriend towards it.  The old log looked perfect, like it had been placed there specifically for viewing the ocean.  It didn't take long for Kerr to determine her intent after Liseth tried climbing up onto the log, and she smiled as he gallantly assisted her.  Soon the two were sitting together atop the log, and Liseth's eyes stared out over the massive Varisian Gulf.

Taking in the sunshine, the salty air, the calling sea birds, the waves washing against the shore, and the horizon stretching as far as she could see, Liseth could forget about the dire events transpiring.  With a contented sigh, she merely leaned against Kerr; if only it was possible for things to be like this forever.  Sitting in silence for a few minutes, though, Liseth eventually started to talk.  She had so much that she wanted to say, and this seemed like the perfect time and place for some of it.

"Did you ever wonder what it is you're meant to do Kerr?"  This was one of the things foremost in her mind, after what had happened yesterday.  "That's all that I thought about for so long.  Almost a year now; ever since...you know."  The girl paused and looked up at Kerr before her eyes wandered back out over the ocean's waters again.  "When that happened, a part of me wanted to lock myself up in my room at home and never come out again."

"I always thought that I had done something wrong.  That I wasn't worthy enough."  She paused a moment before continuing, "I thought that maybe Sarenrae didn't like me because I can't fight.  Did you know that Sarenrae expects her priests and other followers to be skilled at swordplay?  With the scimitar especially.  Daddy tried to teach me, but I could never do it right."  Liseth frowned, "I'm so clumsy with a sword; Daddy had to stop trying to teach me when I kept dropping it and cutting myself."

"He must have been so disappointed, even though Daddy never said so."  The girl released a sigh, "I think that he wanted me to be more like my mother; Daddy told me a number of times that she was the best with a scimitar.  Better than him, and I've never seen anyone more skilled with any weapon than Daddy is.  But I never even met my mother."  Liseth did her best to keep her voice carefully neutral; as she continued talking she kept going deeper and deeper.  Was she saying more than she really intended?  But she couldn't stop, it all wanted to come out so much.

"Kerr..."  The blonde girl shifted to finally look away from the waters to focus on Kerr directly, "What's it like?  To have a mother?"

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Brodert Quink was slightly concerned by Pisca Neep Freemish’s handling of various important objects lying about his study.  “But . . .”  He protested as she picked up one of the curious cyan stones he’d been testing, waving it around as if were some sort of magical talisman of knowledge.

His protestations were interrupted by a slightly-shocking event; the erudite gnome climbed right up onto his lap to re-read the passage he’d just read!  He looked down at her where she sat, unsure of the proper course of action.  “Yes, from wells.”  He grabbed onto historical discussion like a lifeline.  “I, hrm,” now the gnome was clambering off his lap, “I think that’s pretty well-established.  The Runelords obtained their shock troops from some sort of well.”  He shot Cato a what-do-I-do-here? sort of look.

“I’m . . . I’m not sure how they are produced.”  The sage was reaching ineffectually for his triangle measurement tool.  “But I think Xanderghul was traditionally associated with pride, at least if my studies are correct.  Alaznist was the Runelord of wrath.  Karzoug was the Runelord of greed.  You must understand,” the scholar breathed a sigh of relief as Pisca put down the triangle, only to tense up again as she grabbed his stylus, “it was not unusual for the various Runelords to war on each other.  Alliances were fluid and ever-changing as each strove to establish himself as pre-eminent.”    He looked at the stylus with some trepidation before finally deciding that the gnome posed no threat to his instruments.

“Oh, it is my pleaure, my boy, truly my pleasure.”  The older man forgot his instruments and rubbed his hands together, almost gleefully.  “I can’t wait to discuss your findings!  Mark my words, this could shake things up in Magnimar, and even beyond!  Could you imagine if we found confirmation of our theories regarding the age of the Thassilonian Empire and the purpose of The Old Light?”  From his rapturous expression, it was clear that Brodert Quink could imagine it.  “Would put the entire discipline on its ear.  On its ear, I say!”  The scholar nearly danced a jig.  “So off you go!  But,” the sage quickly turned somber, “be safe, Cato.  Remember that no knowledge is worth your life.”

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This message was last edited by the player at 02:08, Fri 07 Mar 2014.

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Kellan fled The Rusty Dragon and Ameiko Kaijitsu’s insistent questioning with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances.  As the doors closed behind him and he strode quickly up the street towards Southmarket Square, he briefly glanced back to ensure that the inquisitive innkeeper hadn’t followed him to continue the interrogation.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no sign of pursuit; it seemed he’d escaped her probing questions.

Kellan once again skirted the edge of Southmarket Square, where the newly-mustered militia were deep in weapons training.  He got a few curious looks from militiamen who clearly wondered why he wasn’t involved in their training as the rest of the guard seemed to be, and not a few cast covetous eyes on his wicked-looking cold-iron polearm.  For his part, Kellan noticed that Alergast and Guard Sergeants Peltnor and Fletcher were all now armed with similar weapons; it seemed as if there had been a run on Lonjiku Kaijitsu’s providential cabinet.

Kellan walked through the sparsely-populated streets towards the Glassworks.  It was a beautiful day; once again the sunshine, sea breeze, and cry of hunting gulls made the prospect of goblin attacks, demonic foes, and subterranean freaks seem distant.  But Kellan knew better; he would be confronting such enemies before the day was out.

The young guardsman arrived at the Glassworks to find Guardsmen Jamis Needlehome and Ryk Torson standing guard by the main entrance.  “Ho, Kellan!”  Ryk nodded.  “How are things?”

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This message was last edited by the GM at 02:06, Fri 07 Mar 2014.

Kellan could practically feel the eyes of the militia men as they tracked his movements and the glint of his special issue weapon. It was a pretty thing to be sure, the oily hammer dimpled surface had a habit of catching the light and the weapon smith who had shaped her had even gone so far as to include a kind of decorative pattern punched from the body of the blade. Kellan would guess that it helped balance the weapon and keep the striking end light enough for fine work.

He wished dearly to have more time to practice with it, but it seemed that time was one of the few things they were sorely lacking. As he approached the Glassworks he gave a nod in return, idling up and falling into line with them. "Morning Ryk, Jamis...supposed to meet the other deputies here shortly" he looked side to side and within "Hopefully they won't be too long...how've things been on your end? He asked the pair.

With a little time to kill as they talked Kellan unslung his pack and set it against the wall before leaning his pole axe up against the door frame. Rolling his neck he began a familiar stretching regime, working from his head down. Most might find it silly, even some of the guardsman but many of Alergast's books harped endlessly on the importance of physical conditioning and Kellan had taken it to heart. Besides it would be a sad fate indeed to cramp up in the middle of a life or death struggle with an ancient demon.

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Kerr sat comfortably on the log, lightly drumming the heels of his boots into its side as Liseth leaned up against him and talked of her struggle with Purpose.  Kerr hugged his girlfriend more tightly as she shared her insecurity, her feelings of failure, and the things she hadn’t been able to do that she always felt she should have done.

The young man listened intently; he knew this was an important moment.  Here they were, right before they were to venture deep under the Glassworks to fight a demon and its freaks, and Liseth was pouring out her heart to him.  He put both arms around her as she continued to talk, the both of them looking out at the wide, vast expanse of the sea.  The sea was kind of like a person, Kerr thought.  On the surface it was calm and placid, or stormy, or choppy, but what you could see was only a small part of the whole.  And not very many people ever got to experience what was going on underneath.

Here there be monsters.

So Kerr cherished this opportunity to get a glimpse of what was going on underneath Liseth’s surface.  He felt a little abashed as she talked; he hadn’t ever experienced the kind of trauma she had.  He’d always just been Kerr Mollin, beloved son of Karl and Bertiz Mollin, the unassuming kid with the ready smile who nearly everyone liked.  He hadn’t ever really gone through a harrowing event in his life, up until now.  The worst failure he’d ever suffered, that he could recall at least, was his inability to get the hang of tracking, but his father had always been very encouraging and Kerr’s skill with the longbow and acceptance as an acolyte had more than made up for it anyway.

He figured his relatively-untroubled existence might change now that he was joining Liseth and Cato and Kellan and Pisca in taking on a demon and who knew how many freaks.  Having never been tested this way, Kerr wondered if he would have the mental and emotional toughness the quest would require.  He prayed that he would.  And he prayed that he could comfort Liseth, who was clearly anxious about their upcoming expedition.

“I think Sarenrae’s always loved you, Lise.  And swinging a sword isn’t the end-all and be-all; I’m not very handy with one myself.”  He grinned self-deprecatingly and gestured to the longsword strapped to his back.  “I think the gods have gifted us all with certain talents.  And what they want us to do is use the talents they’ve given us to the fullest.  Not wish we had other people’s talents.”

He hugged her again.   “So you can’t swing a sword.  So what?  You’re one of the best healers I’ve ever seen!  Just in the two weeks we’ve been together I’ve watched you do some incredible things.  And according to Kellan that first expedition into the Glassworks would have been a disaster if you hadn’t been there, using the talents Sarenrae gave you, healing your friends.”

Kerr leaned over and kissed the top of Liseth’s head.  “You have a gift, Lise.  An AMAZING gift.  You can do things that your father, your brother, or even your mother could never DREAM of doing.  Sarenrae is using you in important ways.  Critical ways.  And you’re going to come through.  I know you will.   Because I believe in Liseth Thoradin.”  The young man tipped the blonde’s head up so he could look her in the eyes.  He grinned.  “You might even say I’m her biggest fan.”

“What is it like to have a mother?”  The question surprised Kerr; he wasn’t really sure how to answer.  “Huh.  Well . . . huh.”  He spent a moment searching for an answer as the cool sea breeze swept in off the water.  “I don’t know that I can answer this for anyone but me.”  He scratched his head.  “I mean, I know my mom, but how is she the same or different from anyone else’s mom?  I really have no idea.”

The young bowman took a deep breath.  “I guess . . . I guess it’s like having someone who’s always supporting you.  Like, both your father and your mother love you.  But your father, or at least my father, is always pushing me to achieve things.  Like, to go out and do great things.  While my mother is always affirming me for who I am and telling me she’ll love me no matter what happens.”  A thought struck Kerr.  “Maybe that’s one of the reasons you’ve always felt so,” he searched for the right word, “so inadequate.  Your father was always pushing you, always wanting more from you, and you never had a parent who you felt just accepted you and loved you for who you were.”

Kerr felt a little out of his depth trying to analyze such complex psychological issues.  “You know your father loves you, but you feel like he’s disappointed in you for not achieving more.  And you’ve never had a mother around to tell you how amazing and wonderful you are just being you.”  He squeezed her slightly.  “I can’t imagine what I would be like if I’d never had that.”  He paused.  “But at least you have it now.”  He smiled.  “Because even if you never achieve another thing in your life, I think you are amazing and wonderful and beautiful and lovable exactly as you are.”

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This message was last edited by the player at 07:28, Fri 07 Mar 2014.

Off we go.  Off we go.  The weary gnome dragged her feet out the door.  Off we go.  The weary gnome turned back around and went back into the sage's house to replace the stylus in the spot from which she had taken it.

"I think you're right, Cato," Pisca said from still inside the house.  "Now is the time for all good gnomes to delve deep into the catacombs below Sandpoint!  We will dare the Tunnel of the Freaks.  And shun the frumious Bandersnatch!"  Her finger pointed the way out the door, and the gnome charged, barreling out into the sunlight."

The newly invigorated, Pisca Neep Freemish slid to a stop in the street outside the home of the sage.  "Thanks, Brodie," she waved in farewell.  "And don't forget to live.  If we don't come back, you have to live.  You know things that nobody else does, and you have to live to pass it on."  All these things the gnome said with a grin on her face that matched the brightness of the morning sun.

"I've been pondering a design for the trap to set at the secret door, Cato," the gnome said as they made their way from the home of Brodert Quint to the northern door of the Glassworks.  "I was considering a design in which the Burst Jars fall from the ceiling once the secret door is closed.  The design would include a rope, a piton to secure the Burst Jars higher up on the tunnel wall, and a hinge.  The Burst Jars would be tied in a bundle to one end of the rope.  The rope would be looped over the piton hammered in high up above the door.  The other end of the rope would be secured to one flange of the hinge.  The hinge would be hammered into the tunnel wall just above the secret door.  The other flange of the hinge would hang down just over the upper lip of the secret doorway.  When the secret door is opened into the tunnel from the outside, it would simply lift the hinge away and let it drop back down into the open doorway.  The gobbies would then file into the tunnel and close the door.  At this point, the door would strike the flange of the hinge and pry the upper flange from its mooring.  This would release the rope, and the Burst Jars would fall down from above."

Pisca walked on in silence upon completing her description.  The silence, however, was filled with the racing of her mind as she reviewed every aspect of her plan.  Finally, she sighed a little frowny sigh as though still not entirely satisfied with things.  She looked up at the young human wizard and she said, "What do you think, Cato?  Truthfully now."

As they left Brodert's place, Cato looked at the sage, mouthing a quick apology for the gnome.  More seriously, he added, "I'll keep safe, Brodert.  I wouldn't want you discussing the find of the century without me!"

Cato listened to Pisca's plan for the burst jars.  "I think that sounds reasonable, at least at first sight.  Simpler is probably better, as far as these things go.  Our primary goal is simply collapsing the passageway, but being able to take out some goblins at the same time is all the better.  We have to make sure we hit the weak points of the tunnel as well, though having one burst jar as a trigger is probably enough in the confines of the tunnel, if the other jars are at the weak points in the tunnel."

Cato went quiet as he mulled over Pisca's plan, seeking out ways to improve or simplify the gnome's proposed design.

OOC:
11:11, Today: Cato Crispin rolled 28 using 1d20+8. Knowledge Engineering.
Bam!  Take that, Burst Jar trap.

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Ryk Torson glanced at Jamis, then back at Kellan.  “Well . . .,” he stretched the word out, “let’s just say that we’ll be happy when your group gets down there and takes care of business.  Jamis and I were stationed down in the Tunnel Room earlier, and, well . . .,” again with the stretched-out pause, “we heard things.”

“WEIRD things,” agreed Jamis, nodding his head, his eyes slightly larger than normal.

“Yeah,” agreed Ryk.  “Nothing eerier than hearing strange moans from down the tunnel you’re guarding at four ‘o clock in the morning.”  He shivered, despite the warmth of the morning sun.  “I gotta say I wouldn’t trade places with you, Kellan, not even for a shiny badge and a badass new weapon.  You couldn’t pay me enough to go down and deal with whatever was making those moans.”  He shook his head emphatically.  “You guys are crazy.  Out-of-your-gourds crazy.  But I’m glad someone’s doing it.”

He glanced up at the sky, yawning. ”Our relief should be here soon.  Been pulling extra shifts, what with the militia training and Barett’s doubling of the guard watching the North Gate and the bridges.  I think I can hear my pillow calling my . . .”

“You’re not going to be able to HEAR your talking pillow because you’re going to be DEAF, Torson!”  Sergeant Torv Tiller strode around the corner, his face adorned with its customary scowl.  “Deaf from me yelling in your ear about how Sandpoint doesn’t pay you to whine about what a fragile little flower you are!”  Jamis hid a smirk.  Kellan and the other guardsmen had never been able to agree on whether Sergeant Tiller was really the hard-case that he seemed or whether it was all some sort of theatrical performance. If it IS a performance, Kellan thought to himself, he sure doesn’t break character very often.

“Oh, hello, Storval.” The sergeant addressed Kellan as if he hadn’t known very well he was standing right there.  “Glad you could join us.  Stopped by to see what life is like in the Sandpoint Guard, have you?  I understand if you can’t remember it very well, it being so long ago and all.”  He reached out and tapped Kellan’s deputy badge, still scowling.  He looked Kellan right in the eyes.  “Where’s the rest of your little group?  Don’t you all have a . . . field trip scheduled?”

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This message was last edited by the player at 22:23, Fri 07 Mar 2014.

"Thank you Kerr..."  Liseth sniffed once, suddenly, to fight back the tears.  Sitting there, enveloped by her hero's embrace while all he wanted was to comfort her, she was so happy that she wanted to cry, "Thank you so much for being Kerr.  I don't know what I would have done if you weren't here in Sandpoint waiting for me."  She laid her head on his arm, "But I know now that Sarenrae loves me.  And Desna and Iomedae and Erastil too.  Because they gave me you."  The girl's head picked up for a moment so that she could kiss Kerr, "It doesn't matter that I can't use a sword.  That I can't fight.  Because you're here to protect me."

Liseth went silent again for a few moments while she considered what Kerr said to her.  In the meantime, her eyes drifted back over the sea water; until they were drawn to a single, white seagull waddling through the sand.  She couldn't take her eyes off of the bird for some reason, watching as it waddled back and forth through the sand and occasionally pecked at an empty clam shell.  Suddenly the seagull reminded her of herself; wandering without direction, knowing what it wants but unable to find it.

Then the bird stopped waddling around and began to dig in the wet sand with its webbed feet.  It reached down with its beak and picked a small clam up from where it had been hiding just under the sand.  The seagull, with the clam held in its beak, then took to the air and flew towards the Old Light; doubtlessly to find a spot to break the clam open on the rocks and rubble.

Continuing with her analogy, if that seagull was like her then Liseth couldn't help but imagine there must be some kind of lesson to be learned there.  She would never get what she wanted unless she was willing to work for it.  To dig through the proverbial sand until she found the answers that she was seeking.

Sitting here at the ocean, pondering the actions of sea birds, Liseth had to wonder if even Gozreh was trying to reach out to her.  To guide her, like Sarenrae and the other gods were.  Or was she just reading too much into a hungry bird?

"I always wondered what it would have been like if I knew my mother."  Liseth decided to let her seagull analogy rest in the back of her mind, "Growing up it was always just Daddy and Nivlak and me.  Well, and Father Garrick too.  Would I be a different Liseth?  More confident, maybe?  Or would my mother have been disappointed in me too?"  She sighed, "I just hope that she is at least keeping an eye on me alongside Sarenrae."

"Nivlak and Daddy are both so much bigger and stronger than me.  Daddy has always been so proud of Nivlak; I wanted him to be proud of me too.  But I was never good with weapons.  I thought that it wouldn't matter, that he would be so happy when I became a priestess in Sarenrae's church..."  Liseth sniffed again; talking about and remembering what had happened was still difficult.  Not nearly as bad as it had been a few days ago though, "After I wasn't able to become a priestess, I thought that my life might as well be over.  I thought that I would never be able to do anything that would make Daddy proud of me."

"I know he loves me, he says so all the time.  And I love him too.  But Daddy loving me and being proud of me are two different things."  Then Liseth smiled, "I can't wait to tell him that Sarenrae spoke to me.  All of those things that She said to me.  How She chose me for such a special task, that She picked me over all of her other followers.  Daddy will have to be proud of me."  Assuming, of course, that she was really up to the task that Sarenrae had set before her.

"Kerr..."  Liseth snuggled into his arms, "I'd like to meet your mother.  Maybe if I meet her, I would know more about what my own mother was like.  Whether I've made her happy or not."

Cato walked with Pisca to the Glassworks, trying to perfect their trap along the way. "I agree with the basic design. I think I'm worried about triggering the chain reaction. I'd almost want something simpler, like the old 'water pail on the door' trick.  I suppose it would be easier to make the jars explode when the door is being opened rather than after it had opened and closed, though that would defeat part of point of the trap of removing some goblins from the attack. I'm sure we can figure out a way to make your idea work."

The pair rounded the last corner to the Glassworks, almost running into Kellan and several other guardsman in a heated discussion. "Morning, Kellan. Ready for the tunnels?  Any word from the night watch?"  Cato nodded to the other guardsman, feeling as though there was an undercurrent of resentment here he didn't quite understand.

"Anyone see Liseth and Kerr?  They stopped by Nisk's to get the last of the supplies. I would have thought they wold have been here by now."

Cato squinted into the rising sun, scanning the town to the east, then swung his gaze around to the beach.  "Is that them down there?  I'd hate to interrupt a moment between them, but we should probably be on our way soon."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:12, Mon 10 Mar 2014.

Kellan listened with interest as he stretched, cocking his head a little when the mentioned the strange sounds and nodding in agreement when he called their group crazy for heading down there. "Yeah, I have a feeling today is not gonna be a lot'a fun...but" he shrugged "it needs doin, the sooner the better. I..." He paused as Sgt. Tiller rounded the corner with his trademark scowl and pitch perfect rebuke.

"Sergeant" Kellan straitened and gave him Sandpoints approximation of a salute, a sincere nod of acknowledgment "Looking forward to getting back on shift sir" he assured the man "But today's detail comes from the mayor" he offered in explanation "The other deputies are..." He paused with a slight smile as Cato and Pisca rounded the corner, gesturing to them with an open palm "nearly ready to head down...looks like we are just missing Liseth and Kerr?" He asked his friends for confirmation as if wondering if they had seen her. His demeanor was a little stiffer than normal, but that could easily be explained by Tiller's appraising glare.

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Kerr hugged Liseth close.  “That’s right, Lise.”  He kissed the top of her head again.  “I’m here to protect you.”  He nodded along as Liseth wondered what she would have been like had her mother still been with her.  “I don’t know.”  He shook his head.  “Maybe my protection starts here.  Because I think that can be a dangerous road to travel.  Wondering what you would be life if things were different.  Wishing that they were different.”

He pulled back and looked the blonde acolyte in the eyes.  “I’ve seen people so caught up in what they wished would have happened to them, or so bitter about not getting what they thought they deserved, that they are completely unable to appreciate what they do have.”  He hugged her close again.  “I’m not saying that you would ever do that.  But I think that’s one way the evil gods try and trip us up.  By having us concentrate on what we don’t have, rather than on what we do.”

“I think your father is going to be proud of you, sweetheart.  And if he isn’t, I’ll explain to him exactly why he should be.  But really, he should be proud of you already.  Not just for what you’ve done, but for who you are.  I have trouble imagining parents who wouldn’t be overjoyed to have a daughter like you.”

Kerr laughed.  “I think my mother would like to meet you even more than you would like to meet her.  She's always been so concerned that I've never had a girlfriend.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Was always telling me what an eligible young man I was, and how various girls were throwing themselves at my feet.”  The young man chuckled.  “I didn’t really see it.  But she’s going to be so happy to meet you.”  He signed dramatically.  “I’m sure you’ll get to hear all sorts of embarrassing stories from my childhood.  That’s one thing mothers are good for, you know.  Embarrassing you in front of people you like.”

The bowman glanced up the hill, then looked more intently.  “Hey, isn’t that Cato?”  He pointed in the direction of the Glassworks.  “I think the others are gathering.”  He leaped down off the log and offered a hand to his beautiful blonde companion.  “Shall we join them, milady?”

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The eyes of the gnome surveyed the scene at the north entrance of the Glassworks as she rounded the corner with Cato.  She eyed the stiff backed human guard, one among three.  Torv Tiller.  And the other two.  Ryk Torson and Jamis Needlehome.

"You," the gnome with hand on hip, points an accusing finger at the guard sergeant.  "I heard you.  You're being mean to my friend."

A glance up at Kellan Storval, however, tells the gnome something that she hadn't been expecting.  "But ... my friend seems to want you to be mean to him.  Which ... can be fun for some people.  So, carry on."  At this, Pisca turned from Torv Tiller as though never having spoken to him at all.

"Are those our Burst Jars?" asked the gnome, pointing to the two sacks sitting inside the doorway.  "You know, I've been thinking, Cato, and you're probably right.  Rigging them inside the tunnel both risks setting off the trap when we blow the tunnel and might be more complicated than we need.  How about this?"  As she spoke, Pisca squatted down next to one of the knapsacks and opened the flap to examine the contents.

"We rig the trip outside the door instead of inside.  We can muddy up one of these sacks to make it look like the cave wall and hang it by a piton high up above the door.  We leave one Burst Jar inside the sack.  The others, we hide in and around the debris on the cave floor.  We attach a rope to the knapsack and let it hang down to the top of the doorway.  When we close the door, we make sure that the rope is pressed between the top of the door and the top of the doorway.  Then we secure the rope to the the inside of the door such that when the gobbies open the door from the outside, they pull the rope.  This will pull the knapsack down from above.  When the knapsack hits the ground the Burst Jar inside will explode, catching all of the other Burst Jars that we'd scattered about the cave.  Spoooooossssshhhh."

The last word (or, maybe non-word) is quiet, absorbed as it is in the gnome's examination of the contents of the knapsack.  It does, somehow, however, manage to capture all of the flavor of explosive conflagration and screaming goblin death that a more effusive use of the non-word might bring.

"Yes.  I think that's probably better."  The gnome nods.  "It's simple, and simple is ... simpler."