DMZ

Forgotten Realms: Tales of the Dead

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."

Forgotten Realms: Tales of the Dead

Sadly, Faerun does distinguish between Brewing and Cooking, so the best I can do is give you an advantage if you ever want to learn brewing.
Nice avatar.

Forgotten Realms: Tales of the Dead

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..."

Forgotten Realms: Tales of the Dead

Going to need one more day to properly work out what I'm going to do here.

Forgotten Realms: Tales of the Dead

"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.

Forgotten Realms: Tales of the Dead

The morning started out with a heavy torrential rain uncommon to most of Thay. Long streaks of water swept through the streets, lashing out at anyone still outside. The few patrols still out and ferrying bodies from the earlier attack looked miserable trudging through the streets.
That didn't stop a certain dwarf from being out and about, doing some early shopping for his projects. The shiny beard and bare shoulders quickly turned their usual matte colour as the forges fired up again. Avar was somewhat akin to a ghost, steam rising from his body where the water evaporated, as he hammered away on a new blade.

A few feet away, on the slab of stone used as a counter, laid a pair of thick and heavy knuckles, fashioned from a dark, gleaming metal that seemed to drain the light around it. Each ring was adorned with a small blunt spike facing out and the entire set was supported by a T-shaped brace designed to rest against the wrist, directly transferring the force of a blow from the arm to the bracers, reducing the strain on the fingers and knuckles and allowing much harder blows than other models. The only marks on the smooth metal were the crude initials 'AR' located on the flat back of the T-shaped wrist brace.

Saran wandered out onto the porch sporting the same robe that she always wore at home: A homely apron with matching robes. The woman stretched out and answered the dwarf's snort with a wave of her hands. Avar grunted as his muscles bulged and surged with magical energy and intensified his hammering.
"Was the boy any better than last night?" he said, panting after draining a mug of ale. Saran graced the dwarf with a sly smile and turned away into the kitchen. "If you must know, I can't say. We didn't do anything this night. A man needs his sleep, doesn't he, Master Rocksteady?"

Forgotten Realms: Tales of the Dead

New players wanted!

Forgotten Realms: Tales of the Dead

Players wanted!

Forgotten Realms: Tales of the Dead

Forcemeat sounds like something Storm troopers would eat.

Forgotten Realms: Tales of the Dead

The pirogi you and I know are two different things, it seems.