Chapter 3: Murder Hoboing 101

"Harley!" Screamed the big man in the shiny plate armor. Rutger was feverishly attempting to beat out the flames on his cape that was becoming less and less white by the passing second. "Damn it, we agreed you were to not cast spells unless we were prepared and had deemed it necessary. Your magic is too wild and unpredictable."

"No, you agreed, I never agreed to nothing." Replied the tiny girl standing on the bar table. The compatriots of him and her had already seen the signs she was about to cast and ducked under the table. The halfling girl stood defiant in the man's face in her multi-colored leathers and bright pink twin ponytails atop her head. Tiffany could hardly miss them as she entered the bar. The other patrons had cleared back as her spell erupted into an unintentional fireball. As the tavern staff rushed about putting out scattered flames, the other party members were beginning to crawl out from under the table.

Among a man swathed in black and a woman in white robes, a man in brown leathers that were covered in pouches and strange metal objects, spoke to the big armored man, "you know Harley has impulse control issues Rutger." He said dusting off his long coat and pushing his weird looking goggles up to his forehead, revealing glasses underneath. "We are all used to it by now. Why aren't you?" The man righted a chair by the table and sat down.

"Easy for you to say Max," said the dark garbed man, he was covered head to toe and his face was concealed in the dark of his hood, "you see everything coming. A little more warning would be nice next time, unless you want me to gut the little fae to stop her from doing it again."

Max scowled as Rutger replied, "see even Blithe is fed up with her crap."

"Easy everyone," came the soft bell-like voice of the woman in white. She too was hooded but her face was covered by a cloth of white silk below her pale blue eyes rather than darkness. Her robes were embroidered with holy symbols in silver thread and her golden staff topped by an ankh. "She is a party member and has valuable skills that have saved us many times. No one complains about your quirks."

"Her skills didn't save Trog." Muttered Rutger in a tone still perfectly audible to the rest of the table.

"Trog was not her fault," countered Max calmly, "you wanted that chest so bad you ignored my warnings about that trap. He was so far gone even Bethany couldn't save him, and now we are down our barbarian." Max returned the big man's stare, "all you saw was the chance that the map was inside."

Tiffany made her way to an isolated table and sat, still listening in on the conversation of the mercenaries. "Keep quiet, lest everyone know what we seek!" The big man was yelling. She attempted to get the attention of one of the frantic waitstaff when she noticed her mallet starting to wander away.

"Hey!" She cried, grabbing the small, colorful girl. "That's mine."

"I was just admiring it." She replied in her equally tiny voice. "Is it a polo mallet?"

"No…it's, um" Tiffany stammered, "it's a klurg-hammer." She replied with the confidence born of klurg being what she had named her game of hitting the polo balls at the archery targets.

"Cool!" The girl squealed, "so, is it more like a lucerne hammer or is it like a light maul?"

"It's good for delivering blunt damage at a distance, or sending small objects on the ground at enemies." She explained, taking her weapon back.

"Oh! So it's like my hoopack." At this the pink haired girl produced from behind her back, somehow, a staff as tall as she was. It was made of silvery metal with a point at the end like a sewing needle and the other end was a fork with a woven basket of leather between them. "It was my dad's. Good for up close and hurling stones at a distance. I love your hair." She indicated Tiffany's pigtails while tugging on her own bright pink tails. "And we even have the same taste in armor." Like her own work leathers, the girl had a leather jumper with short strips of leather in a skirt to her mid thighs. Tiffany's were black but the little one wore a lot of green, pink and purple. "We're, like, twinsies! Ooo, I always wanted a sister!"

The girl talked at a dizzying pace, rapidly switching topics often before Tiffany could even respond. "Are you an orc?" The miniature tornado of conversation continued, unabashed, "you have the ears and tusks of one but you are awfully pale for an orc. Also you're clean, and you smell nice. And your clothes are fancy."

"Thank you," Tiffany interjected, "I'm actually half orc. My father was human."

"Mine was kender," the girl smiled, "mom however, was a gnome. I got her hair and her magic. I'm Harley! Harley Rabbitsfoot."

"I heard, as I came in." Tiffany replied as she held out her hand to the little person, "Tiffany Harkness of Winter Hollow."

"...The point is she needs to behave or she will get us all killed," bellowed the paladin, pointing at the now empty spot on the table where the halfling previously stood. "Skite." He muttered.

"Fan out and find her, "said Max with a sigh.

A red haired half elf in a broad rimmed hat struck up a chord on a fiddle. The music was jaunty, flowing and fun. Patrons of the bar began to sway with the music, cheer and even get up and dance. The bard spun and danced herself through the crowd. Bows and winks to the customers brought smiles and more dancing.

Tiffany became aware that her feet were beginning to move of their own volition, and her hips were threatening to follow suit. Harley looked at Tiffany's odd movements with confusion for a second before turning to the minstrel, "sneaky bard." She muttered.

The redhead had opened a pouch on her belt without breaking a single beat in her performance, and people were dropping coins inside as she passed. Everyone near her for some reason danced a little harder, drank a little deeper and dropped a little more coin in her pouch than they would have normally.

Tiffany watched as the halfling wandered away from her toward the music. She weaved through the crowd only to run into Max. "Sprite, you need to get back to the table. We don't need trouble tonight, we have much to do before returning to the Temple of Morag."

"But I found our new barbarian," the girl said as she looked up at Max innocently. "Oh, and the bard is bilking the crowd."

"What do you mean?" He asked as he looked toward the fiddler.

"Listen, don't you hear it?" She said, "every quarter note."

Max stopped and listened to the music with an arcane ear. "Eldritch notes." He said quietly, as the kender girl nodded.

The musician continued her rounds, playing her music, filling her pockets when her music abruptly stopped. She glanced over at the tiny finger pressed across the frets of her fiddle, stopping their reverb.

"Hi!" Said the little girl cheerfully, standing atop the nearby table.

Suddenly, before she could even get angry, another hand had grasped her bow hand, "see, I don't get it." The man spoke calmly and measured, "you play beautifully, you could just collect what you are owed for playing and real tips, why enchant your audience to pay against their will?"

The bard fixed the man with an annoyed glare and broke into a run.

"Got a runner!" The girl cried. She clicked her heels together and with the blur of two pink tails, Harley was in front of the minstrel, her staff striking the bard across her shins.

The redhead struck the ground, spilling the contents of the pouch across the tavern floor. The crowd quickly noticed that more than coins littered the planks. Rings, bracelets and jewelry of all kinds accompanied the tender. People may or may not notice when compelled to tip more coinage, but no one drops heirlooms and promissory nicknacks in the tip bin and doesn't realize what happened.

The bard was up quickly, more worried about collecting her fiddle and bow than her ill gotten gain, and ran out before the angry rumblings became a mob.

Harley was on the floor giggling. In a blink she had scooped up the jewelry, leaving the coins piled on the floor, and spread them on a table going over markings and inscriptions. "Who is supposed to marry a Chadwick?" She cried out, holding a ring above her head.

The crowd was almost orderly in retrieving their acoutremon, but the pile of coins was sparking a brawl on the floor.

As Tiffany watched from her table, Max and Harley soon had all property returned. Harley was an energetic social storm, but Max was kind and well spoken, and kind of reminded her of her father. She remembered how he could calm fights, manage disputes and basically keep the peace with no more than a warm smile and logical words.

Tiffany was so lost in her thoughts she failed to notice Harley returning to her table, pulling Max behind her. "Max, this is Tiffany." She said with strange pride. "Tiffany, this is Max. He's our brain. Most party's have a wizard in that role, though I knew one that had a bard."

"Th…that is an…an oversimplification," Max stammered taking her hand, "I'm a technologist actually, but I do handle strategy for the group."

"Wow," replied Tiffany, "what is a technologist exactly?"

"Well, crafting, mathematics, basically any endeavor solving problems without magic. I hold standing in three seperate guilds. Engineering, Blacksmithy, and Alchemy specifically, but I read anything I can. I just love learning."

Tiffany smiled awkwardly and nodded down to draw Max's attention to the fact that he was still holding her hand in both of his. "Oh…oh, I'm…I'm sorry," he sputtered, blushing as he stepped back. "Sorry again. It's just… it's… you are half orc are you not? It's just I noticed your ears at first and thought you might be of elvish descent, but you are much taller and I noticed your teeth when you smiled." Tiffany stood eye to eye with the tall, lanky lad in silence, before he attempted to continue embarrassingly, "I didn't mean to offend, it's just I've never seen such a fair complexion on any half orc I've met. Usually the orc blood is dominant and those features are more prominent."

"Um…thank you…I guess," Tiffany said while playing with the end of one of her pigtails confusedly. "I… I guess my father has strong blood?"

"Oh, it was your father that was human? I am guessing he was well off if you play polo."

"Yes I play, among other things, and I even have my own horse. Daddy was a lord of Winter Hollow, but my mother was a queen." She responded, growing more resolved as she spoke. The oddity of his comment suddenly dawned on her. "Wait, why did you mention polo?"

Max pointed at the polo mallet in her hand.

"Oh, that's a klurg-hammer." Harley piped up."

"A klurg-hammer," said Max, "can't say I have ever heard of one. But if your mother was an orc and she was a queen," Max began.

"Her name was Selune." Tiffany finished for him.

"Queen of the seven tribes." He said in an impressed tone before bowing before Tiffany, "your highness, it is an honor to meet you." Max stood back to her height and asked, "then perhaps do you know why she has the seven tribes destroying settlements across the great plains?"

Tiffany's face fell. She had not heard anyone speak of her mother like she was still with them since her father. "She… she isn't. My mother died giving birth to me."

Max saw her eyes moisten, threatening tears at any moment. "I'm sorry, please don't cry, I didn't know." He said softly. "But how is it no one knows this? Tiffany everyone believes she still commands the seven tribes."

"I smell a quest!" Squealed Harley.

"We are already on a quest, Sprite." He said looking down at the wee folk girl. "We have to complete that first," he looked back at Tiffany, "but yes someone must be told because your mother is bearing all the blame for hundreds of deaths these last ten years."

As Max and Harley, the latter of whom had a surprisingly firm grip on Tiffany's hand for such a small person, brought her up to the table of their company she tried her best to be unnoticeable. This was her plan. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? Her father needed money to pay to get him out of prison, or failing that she needed a group of mercenaries willing to spring him themselves. This surely seemed like the group, so why was she so scared? They were the reason, it dawned on her. She had seen adventurers before, passing through her hometown. But up close, talking to them, they seemed larger than life. They were outsiders in the most potent sense, owing no loyalty to any particular king or country. Mercenaries devoted to their own ideals and machinations. They seemed beyond law and rule, and somehow Tiffany needed to convince them she belonged.

"Rutger! We found a new Tank!" Cheered Harley as they arrived.

The paladin looked up from the map on the table, right at her Tiffany could have sworn, smirked and looked right back down at the table. "Where?" He grumbled.

"You know where, Rutger." Said Max, calm as always.

"No I don't Max." He replied without looking up from the map, "is he behind the teenage girl?"

"This is Tiffany of Winter Hollow, fearsome half orc warrior." Continued Harley, determined to make a grand introduction for her. But Rutger didn't care, Tiffany was a bug beneath his notice. He refused to take her seriously, and he was going to continue to brush her off unless she did something to make him pay attention.

So when he asked "and what are her qualifications?" again without removing his eyes from the paper on the table Tiffany took a step forward and drove her mallet down hard onto the very spot the paladin was focused on.

"My mother was Selune, queen of the seven tribes." She said as the whole tavern went silent and everyone at the table jumped back at the sudden crack of wood on wood. Everyone that is, except Rutger.

Without even flinching he slowly dragged his gaze up to Tiffany, but then shifted over to Max, "was?"

"Selune is dead, Rutger. She has been for the past…" Max paused to look over at Tiffany, who mouthed the word sixteen to him, "...sixteen years. That's why the sudden shift a decade ago from trying to talk peace to all out war on the settlements."

Rutger stood up straight and seemed to mull this over for a few minutes. Seeing him up close now, Tiffany noticed the gray streaks in his blonde hair and beard. His shiney plate armor was highly polished but it was covered in lots of dings and scratches. And a scar covered his left eye, which itself was dull and cloudy in appearance. "Your mother has quite a reputation for you to live up to. She united the majority of the warring tribes into seven nations, all under her rule. you had better be capable of at least half that tenacity if you want to be part of this band. You will have to hold your own up front in combat next to me"

Tiffany stared hard back at the man. She was really terrified right now. For starters the man was at least three inches taller than her and twice as broad. He looked like he could kill her without effort, but she stared back with the determination she gave to Nelson that day at the party, when he called her a half breed, and gave the paladin a single nod.

"Good, Harley will bring you up to speed. We have plans to make." He said before looking again at parchment on the table bearing a hand drawn map.

The rest of the party retook their seats as Max grabbed a chair from a less full table and placed it behind Tiffany, before stepping beside Rutgar and pulling out a pencil.

"As I said, Max is our brain. Which means he draws maps, plans tactics, and figures out puzzles." Whispered Harley, who sat on the table next to Tiffany, her feet on the seat of the chair. Rutger is our face, meaning he talks to people, and our striker. He deals a lot of damage and can heal people when he needs to." She nodded at the lady in white, "Bethany is our healer though. She is a cleric of Amon and Rutger's little sister. He can wield holy might but she can call down the powers of the gods." The halfling pointed out the man in black, "Emo puss there is Blithe, our edgelord assassin. Don't call him a rogue though, he specializes in killing people and being sneaky but he's too good to bother picking a lock, a pocket or spotting a trap.

Luckily I can do all that thanks to my dad. And thanks to mom, I have access to wild fae magic as well." The girl smiled happily at her, spinning a hand in the air that swirled with sparkly glitter, before continuing. "And you will replace Trog. He was our tank. That means he stood up front and kept danger away from the softer members of the party. And boy do we need you. To get to what we need, we require the map from within the Temple of Morag that will lead us to…"

"Harley," said Rutger, who was now staring daggers at the girl, "only details of THIS part of the quest. If she works out she can be updated."

Harley rolled her eyes, "yes boss." She whispered in Tiffany's ear, "You'll work out. I can tell."

"What happened to Trog?" Asked Tiffany nervously.

"Oh, Rutger told him to open a chest on our last trip into the tomb, one he was sure had the map we are looking for in it, and instead found a trap that turned him to stone. It was so cool!" Said the small girl with a big smile. But it quickly fell, "I mean, it was horrible what happened to Trog, but the magic was so cool."

Tiffany was less and less sure about this each passing minute. The hostility of Rutger the paladin, Harley's nonchalant discussion of the death of former friends, these people seemed so different from people she had known. Though considering those people also ran her out of town and threw her father in jail she was in no position to judge.

"What exactly is a tank?" She whispered to Max at his first free moment.

"A large container that holds liquid." Replied Max in another whisper. He saw her confusion and realized it was how Harley had labeled her. "Why that is how Harley refers to the front line attacker I've never been sure. Maybe something to do with large objects absorbing lots of damage. Trog WAS the size of two kegs…"

"So I'm just supposed to soak up damage?" Asked Tiffany.

"The 'tank' protects the party. You keep the less hardy members from getting hurt." He indicated himself and Bethany in particular, "However you accomplish that is up to you." Max smiled at her and it made her feel more at ease than she had since her father was arrested. "I believe in you," He paused in thought, "for some reason I really do."

They stayed that night at the inn. It was a gold sovereign for the night, Tiffany had brought fifteen with her when she fled her home and was now down by one. Luckily she didn't pay for dinner or drink last night, Max kept paying as they talked. So she cried herself to sleep, her mind having finally slowed enough for all that had transpired to catch up to her. Harley woke her in the morning by jumping into her bed, even this early she was an unceasing bundle of energy.

"Morning!" She sang, "get ready, we ride in ten minutes. Rutger is a stickler for punctuality."

She hopped down off the bed as Tiffany sat up. The halfling sat on the floor next to Tiffany's bag, it seemed she was already rummaging through it, "you only have one change of clothes?"

Tiffany stood up and began to shove her things back in her pack, "I kind of left home in a hurry. I didn't have time to pack much."

Tiffany got dressed with help from Harley, whether she wanted help or not. And was downstairs in five minutes. Max was at the bar, squaring things with the owner.

"Is there anything you don't handle?" She asked as he approached.

"I keep track of the group coffers." He replied. "No one else has a head for figures. Everyone gets their share of profits but contributes ten percent for group needs, like food and lodging. In fact," at this he handed Tiffany a coin, "you shouldn't have paid for your room last night. You're one of us."

Tiffany couldn't help wondering if this was Max just paying for her again, but she took the coin. She was at least back where she started.

He handed the pouch with the coins to Harley, "I keep track but Harley holds the money. The point is someone could search her but no one would find it on her anyway." Max saw the confused look on Tiffany's face and expounded tapping on her pouches, "magic pockets." Harley opened a pouch on her belt and slipped the entire money bag in without so much as a bulge in it.

“And speaking of treasure, that is a beautiful necklace.” He said, indicating her birthday present from her father.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, touching it subconsciously with her fingers. “It's a…”

“Soul gem.” He interrupted, “I usually see them on mediums and exorcists.”

“Yes, my father had a wizard he knew, atune it to my mother's spirit. But,” she bit her lip and looked down sadly. “I've never seen it glow.”

“According to orc lore, their afterlife is here, wandering around watching over those they left behind, am I correct?” He asked, bending down to look her in the eye.

“Yes, that is how I understand it.”

“Then maybe she is busy watching over your father.” He smiled, trying to improve her mood.

She hazarded a smile back, “yes, perhaps that is it.”

Outside the group was gathering. Rutger and Blithe had horses, the paladin a war horse and the assassin a lighter riding horse. Tiffany pulled the feed bag off Firebrand from last night and put it in his saddlebag. She would have to wait to brush him as the rest were mounted up, and ready to leave.

Max drove a wagon on which Bethany and Harley rode. At least until the little one saw Firebrand, "ooo, shotgun!" She cried, and lept from the riding board to the back of the draft horse and then onto the back of Tiffany's horse.

Harley stroked Firebrand's hide, "he's beautiful."

"Firebrand was my mom's horse," she said with a mix of pride and sorrow, "my daddy bought him for her to return to her tribe. And after she died he became mine."

"Is he fast?" Harley asked with obvious intent in her question.

Tiffany had to smile as she spurred Firebrand into full gallop and raced ahead of the group down the road, the half gnomish girl giggling the whole way.

The location where the group came to a halt was in appearance little more than a hillside. Dark patches of earth and scrub brush, and old rotten pillars holding up a hole in the side of the hill. The group made camp in the setting sun and Tiffany finally took time to brush and care for Firebrand. Rutger approached as she cared for her horse.

"A Nivendellian charger." He said, admiring the horse, "they are rare, but no other breed is as fast."

Tiffany attempted to maintain a haughty attitude and continued to brush Firebrand. "My father wanted the fastest horse money could buy. And you," she nodded toward his steed. "A Flemish war horse. People say it's the closest thing to riding a dragon into battle."

Rutger smiled, "yes Reason has been with me since I left the seminary. He is fierce and loyal. But I was under the impression your people rode big birds…"

She stopped to look at the man now, for his obvious poke at her heritage. "I've never seen a chox. My father taught me horsemanship."

At this point the paladin smiled, "did he also teach you combat? If your mother died sixteen years ago, which I imagine is about how old you are, she surely didn't teach you combat." Now he pressed his gaze down hard upon her, "you better be able to keep up, you get one chance with me. No mistakes. Earn your keep or I will end you myself, Princess."

He walked away, leaving Tiffany with a cold chill. He was on to her inexperience, and she had to be perfect. She was definitely in this above her head.

The group set up camp, it was apparent trying to delve an ancient temple at night was ill conceived. Rutger and Bethany had a full tent, with markings of their church on it, but everyone else circled the fire on bedrolls. Tiffany laid her head on her pack and curled up against the night air.

She was awoken a few minutes into sleep by Max. The young man was spreading a blanket over her, "You'll need this. It gets cold at night here, and I don't mean naturally cold. Negative energy from ancient tombs can sap your heat away rapidly." He smiled at her nervously. "Oh, and you have third watch, so sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep and I'll wake you again when it's time."

Max woke her and Harley again later that night. They apparently were sharing third watch, which seemed to amount to staying up while the others slept to make sure they weren't ambushed by… well, by anything really.

Tiffany walked the perimeter and took a few moments to care for Firebrand. Harley seemed to disappear and reappear at random intervals. The orc girl looked up at the rotted temple and could hear voices on the wind. She shivered even though the air did not seem that cold.

"Undead." Tiffany jumped, almost tripping over a bush when the halfling girl spoke out of nowhere. "Fear is the first weapon of the undead. It's cool, really, the magic involved in necromancy."

"Not everything is fascinating, Harley." She whispered, "some things are just creepy."

"Sorry, I don't like inactivity. I need to be doing things. When I get bored things tend to get out of hand." Harley replied, in a sheepish tone.

"I've noticed." Said Tiffany in a kinder tone, "I think your magic is amazing." She put her hand on the tiny girl's shoulder. "I wish I had that kind of talent."

By the time the sun rose and the rest of the group stirred, Tiffany had fed and groomed Firebrand, Tiffany had found oats and water in Max's wagon and had porridge in a pot. Even though everyone enjoyed them Tiffany was sorry they were bland, "I couldn't find any seasoning."

"It's better than rations," smiled Bethany.

"Nothing wrong with rations," grumbled Rutger, even though he was on a second bowl, "builds character and the oats were for the horses."

"There are still three unopened bags of oats and we are less than a day from the last town." Replied Tiffany with the haughty tone her dad would use when he felt she should know better. "I assumed we would be fine."

The gear up after breakfast was exciting for the half orc girl, Max made up packs of supplies, things that may be needed in the tomb, spread out so no one carried all the weight and no one had all of something in case something happened to them. This phrasing worried Tiffany, but Harley's optimism broke down the darkest concerns. Max lastly pulled out a long complex mechanism, all metal and wood, springs and hinges, like a short thick pole, and racked it on his back. The group lined up behind Rutger, Tiffany ended up right behind him.

"Stay with me 'barbarian', and earn your place." Snarled the paladin, "foreword!" He then yelled, and began the march.

The passage smelled of mold and decay. Tiffany stifled a choke and tried to breathe shallow through her mouth. The light dimmed as they walked deeper in. Rutger stopped as the hall opened up into a larger room. Tiffany could make out a vaulted ceiling that had to take up the whole hill, supported by thick columns every twenty feet. Directly ahead was a stone altar, the slab was flanked by two statues that nearly reached the roof. One resembled a cloaked woman holding merchant scales wrapped in rags and her eyes bound by a cloth and the other a cloaked gnoll, mouth open and holding a greataxe over his chest.

She was about to take a step inside when Max stepped up and reached back into a side pouch on his pack. "Clear", He said and pulled out three small metal balls and tossed them into the air. Tiffany watched as the metal unfolded and spun with a whirring sound and the centers erupted into white light. Tiffany winced as the light stung her eyes and she took a few moments to readjust. In the meantime, she heard scuttling and saw blurry dark smudges retreat into the shadows.

"The gobs have pressed forward into the temple." Max remarked.

Rutger nodded, "now that we can see they won't take us by surprise."

"I could already see," grumbled Tiffany.

"Sorry," Max whispered to her. "I should have explained the warning for lights."

The group advanced into the decaying temple, Tiffany's attention on the statues, which she was loathe to admit, gave her the creeps a little bit.

"Tsiri, who judges the dead and Mortecai, who gathers the fallen dead to bring to Tsiri to be judged." Bethany had noticed the girl looking at the statues.

"Y..yes," she stammered. "I'm not familiar with these gods."

"They aren't so much gods as primal forces." Explained Bethany, "personifications of death that serve a specific function not associated with the god of darkness. Death isn't evil, it is just a part of life in the end. Tsiri and Mortecai are not to be feared but welcomed when it is your time."

"Thank you for the sermon," smiled Tiffany, "I don't think I've had one since daddy stopped taking me to church. The townsfolk were getting unnerved when I attended."

“Ah, prejudice I understand.” Said the tiny girl, in a tone more serious that Tiffany had ever heard from her., “Gnomes are mostly tolerated but I am aware some find us annoying. Most places are unaware of kender but in the ones that are we seem to be absolutely despised for some reason.”

The group reached the back of the temple. Behind the altar a section of the wall had been wedged open revealing a passage further into the hill. Not just further back but down. Curling out of sight of the shine of Max's light makers and continuing into the depths.

Harley was the first through, running a hand here and there like she was searching for something. Rutger squeezed through behind her and Tiffany followed suit. The passage sloped quickly and turned completely back on itself before leveling out into a rough huned passage a little taller than Rutger.

“The hallway must pass back under the temple, maybe as a cellar to the old church.” Offered Max. Ancient sconces reflected in the light of Max's devices on the walls, burnt black and twisted from use. The passage opened up into a larger chamber that Tiffany figured must be under the front part of the church. Rotted remnants of crates were stacked against the walls, long since broken open and pillaged. Strips of cloth from decayed tapestries lined the walls and a single statue stood at the back of the room. An open chest sat in front of it, which it faced rather than entrance.

Tiffany was noting its odd pose, one hand holding its other arm with its mouth agape in horror, when Harley spoke up, “poor Trog.” Tiffany then realized this was their former companion, the “tank” she was replacing.

“Spread out,” commanded Rutger, in his usual growl, “there has to be another way. The map is supposed to be in this tomb.”

If there was another path out of the room, it was not obvious. Tiffany had no idea what she was looking for, while the others fanned out and searched behind ragged tapestries and tapped on walls she stood in the middle of the room and turned slowly looking at everything as a whole. Max's little light balls whirled overhead and the glint of one of the sconces caught her eye. As she walked up to it it occurred to her that while age and use had made the others dull and damaged, this one was newer looking. She reached up to the wall ornament as Harley noticed what Tiffany was up to. She looked around the room and quickly pieced together what had caught the girl's attention.

“Tiffany, no!” She cried, with a click of her heels the pink streak made her way to the half-orc.

Tiffany turned the sconce and with a click the floor beneath her gave way. Harley reached out and grabbed onto the girdle of her outfit, but as Tiffany outweighed the diminutive girl by three times she succeeded only in getting pulled down the hole with her.

The floor closed with another click as the rest of the group watched the far wall behind the statue of their former friend slide away.

“Good work Tiffany!” Cried Max, before he looked around realizing she was nowhere to be seen. “Tiffany? Sprite!” He called, but both were no longer in the room.

“Great,” muttered Rutger. “First encounter and we already lost our new barbarian. And to top it off we lost our little wild card of a thief also.”

“We need to find them,” said Bethany, worriedly.

“Blithe, you're the rogue,” said Rutger, “find where they triggered the door.”

“I am an assassin.” He scoffed hautely. “You need someone inhumed, I'm your man. I'm not a thief.”

“You mean killed.” Interjected Bethany, which Blithe ignored.

“I found it.” Called Max. He moved the sconce and the trap door opened once again as the wall slid closed and closed once again. Max pulled out a pry bar and triggered the door once more. When the floor opened he jammed the bar in the opening at the hinge. The stone slab ground to a stop, still halfway open.

“The bad news, she found the trap we been avoiding since we saw it last time. The good news is she discovered it also opens the door we've been looking for.”

Max called down the hole for Tiffany and Harley, but they were either unable to hear him or unable to respond.

“Well, neither is really a loss so I say we push on.” Quipped Blithe.

“If they are alive we cannot leave them.” Replied Bethany sternly. The look in her eyes indicating she perhaps wanted to add an expletive or two.

“One of us could go after them and risk being trapped too,” Max offered. Then added, pointing to the secret door, “or follow that way and see if it takes us to where this goes.

The trapdoor dropped the two girls onto a smooth stone chute, quickly speeding them far away from the hole. Tiffany was sliding feet first on her back with Harley following head first, a firm grip on one of the orc girl's pigtails.

“Wee!” The bundle of chaos screamed.

The slide whipped left, right and even corkscrewed a couple times before it veered up sharply and catapulted them into a dark open area.

The floor was littered with something that scattered when they landed. A hollow rattling echoed in the darkness as whatever they landed tumbled about.

Harley stood up, still giggling and produced her hoopack. The top flared with light, shoving the darkness to the corners of the room and revealing piles of bones, scraps of armor and rusty discarded weapons filling the room. “Whoa.” Whispered the small fae girl.

The piles began to crumble, at first seeming to fall to pieces until it became obvious the bones were reassembling themselves.

“Harley?” Said Tiffany worriedly.

“Skeletons!” the girl squealed, as she brought her hoopack down in an arc to collide with a rusted out bowl of a shield. “Fore!” She called as the shield raced away from her stick like it had been launched from a siege weapon. The disc sped across the room, severing a skull from its animated collarbone. The room suddenly returned to darkness as the halfling girl disappeared, taking her light source with her and leaving only a small mote of light slowly drifting to the floor.

“Harley? Harley!” The orc girl cried as her eyes readjusted to darkness.

Her bony assailants closed in on her, brandishing rotted rust covered weapons. Their slow patient movements rattled in the quiet hall. The only other sound was Tiffany's breath. She readied her mallet as the walking bone piles surrounded her. She swung on the closest one, catching it on the shoulder and popping out its bicep. As a rusted blade cut her on the thigh she brought the hammer head down, landing it between the shoulder blades of another, crumpling the skeleton back into a pile. A spear tip pierced her leather, stabbing her in her left side. Her first opponent was putting its arm back in place and the second was reforming. Tiffany was backing up. Her hits were seemingly useless against things that were already dead.

Harley ran across the floor, the towering form of Tiffany seemed miles away. Colossal bony feet were slamming down around her. Her wild magic had taken her from three feet tall to three inches. What's worse, it nerfed her light spell at this size and now was barely covering a one foot diameter in light. Tiffany and the bone squad were just dark shapes on her horizon. Even with her boots, she had barely covered ten feet in the last minute. When suddenly a bright blue light lit the chamber.

The pendant shone bright in the darkened chamber. But Tiffany did not see, her eyes burned from within with a bright white light. As a skeletal warrior approached her once more she effortlessly sidestepped it, bringing the mallet handle swinging up to its neck. A pirouette and she grabbed the handle with the opposite hand standing back to back with the monster. A quick motion of her body sent the head flying toward the ceiling with a pop.

As the rusty sword dropped from its grip, she spun again, catching the sword and flinging it into the head of another skeleton. Even as the skull fractured she continued her spin catching the now falling skull with the wood mallet and sent it flying. The bone projectile collided with the head of yet another and reduced them both to powder. Two steps allowed the girl to bring the klurg-hammer up between another's legs, launching the skeleton into the air. A pivot of the hip leveled out the hammer to clock a skeleton in its skull, breaking it in two as it passed. She turned again and brought the blunt weapon down on the skull that had just landed face first from her toss and shattered it. The half orc girl snatched up a rusty spear and hurled it through the eye of a skeleton. It pierced the back of its skull and carried it off the neck to the opposite wall and stuck there. As the spear stopped vibrating, the two halves of the skull fell to the floor. Finally a flick of her wrist sent the hammer flying to impact the last skeleton in the face and smash it.

The chamber was silent as the light faded from the room.

Tiffany was alone in the dark. Her more light-sensitive eyes no longer indicated she was surrounded by enemies. Her heart fluttered and fear raced down her spine. It had happened again, she thought. Once more she had lost time. Once again she awoke to a threat being neutralized with no knowledge of how it happened. She was about to start crying when she felt something crawling up her leg.

Tiffany squealed, batting at the hem of her skirts as she hopped up and down. As she noticed the light it carried, she quickly recognized it as a tiny humanoid with bright pink pigtails.

“That was amazing!” The tiny voice barely reached her ears, and Tiffany had to struggle to understand.

She reached down and grasped the girl's backpack between her fingers. She held her out in front of her face as the now even tinier fae girl continued to gush.

“Berserker rage! I knew you were our barbarian.” she shouted in a high pitched, mouse squeak. “You completely decimated those bone heads!”

“Berserker rage?” She replied, “and what happened to you?”

“Wild magic. When I was young my mother told me I was a fountain of magic because of our link to the Fae Wilds.” The tiny girl rolled up her sleeve to reveal a tiny rune on her tiny forearm, “so she tattooed me to keep it contained. But when I cast more than the most basic of spells, some of it kinda… leaks out and has… these… random effects.”

Tiffany sighed, realizing this was as good an explanation as she was likely to get. She could ask Max later. She set Harley on her shoulder. “How long does this last?”

“Sometimes the effect is instant, other times it lasts minutes, hours, sometimes it needs to be dispelled. But it should wear off.” She replied, holding on to a pigtail as she sat there. “Hey, what have we here?” she held up her lighted staff.

In its limited range, the far wall of the chamber revealed shapes and colors. Tiffany moved closer, as she walked along the wall she began to recognize rivers and mountains, each with accompanying runes.

“The map!” Squeaked the miniature halfling, “it's been on this wall the whole time!”

The secret door led to a short hallway that ended in a descending stair that wound to the right in a spiraling stair. Max's little light balls illuminated only ten feet at a time before the curve rendered their light ineffective.

“Bloody good place for an ambush,” muttered Blithe from the back. He hung out at the rear, just at the point the light was fading away.

Max was about to roll his eyes when he heard the rogue exclaim, “OW!”

Several more Ows followed, by the time Max got the light to him Bethany was also complaining and he watched the point of a small spear retreat into the wall. The entire inner shaft of the stairwell was covered in small holes. “Away from the wall!” Shouted Max. As the length of the area the light covered erupted in spears.

The party pressed back against the outer wall except Rutger, who braved the points with his plate armor to begin hacking away at the protruding spear shafts. But for every spear he broke another soon poked out of its hole.

“Bethany, I'm bleeding.” Whined Blithe.

“Congratulations,” she answered, “so am I.”

“We deal with heals after we deal with foes.” Recited Rutger, still trying to reduce the seemingly endless supply of pointy sticks.

Max pulled out the mechanism racked on his back and folded it in half. He dropped a small cylinder into the center of its front half before closing it again. He pointed it at the wall while looking down its length like a crossbow. With the squeeze of a trigger below, the end of the staff erupted in a stream of flame.

Behind the wall came hoots and screeches as he ran the flame down the length of the wall, and the spears stopped their attack.

“Go,” shouted Max, “get down the stairs!”

The group hustled down the steps, staying just in range of the light and ahead of any attempt to regroup behind the wall and attack. After nearly half an hour of running the steps ended at a room.

Blithe flopped to the floor, “I'm bleeding out.”

“Hardly,” Bethany replied. “You at least have leathers, I'm wearing silks.”

Rutgar looked about, surveying the room as he stepped up to his sister. “We are secure, at least for now.” He examined her wounds. “You patch up the princess, I've got you.”

He put a hand to his holy symbol and touched each of her wounds. She in turn said a prayer and held her hands over Blithe. On both wounds closed and flesh mended. When they were done Bethany looked over the red stains on her garments. “What I wouldn't give for some of Harley's prestidigitation right now.”

“It will wait until we find that little pink pixie or until we can return to town and get more garments.” replied Rutgar. “Max, Sitrep.”

“Empty room, doors, no visible trap triggers.” He rattled off as he continued to look. “No puzzles. And no lock on the doors. Architecturally this appears to be an entry room to something much larger.”

“So, that,” Rutger stated, pointing up, “is not the temple of Morag, that is.” He concluded, pointing ahead.

“Quite possible.” Replied Max.

“I'm guessing deadly traps, mysterious magics and maybe even ancient evils?” Sighed Rutger.

“Most likely.” Max answered.

“Well let's get on with it then.” The big man said as he stepped up to the doors and pulled them open.

At the back of the room that held the mural, Tiffany and Harley found stone pillars driven horizontally into the wall that formed a stairway, of sorts. As the orc girl ascended the stone steps they could see the way through to the next level was barricaded with rubble and trash.

Tiffany put her hand over Harley's light and peered through spaces in the blockade. In the next chamber, a small fire burned in the center of the room and humanoid shapes the usual size of Harley milled about on the outskirts of its light. One moved closer to poke the fire with a stick and Tiffany got a better look at it. It was squat with a large head full of sharp teeth. Its eyes were large and black and it was forced to squint close to even the dim light of the fire. Long scrawny arms poked out of the rags it wore.

“Goblins,” rang the tiny voice of the kender/gnome.

“They don't look threatening.” Whispered Tiffany. “You almost feel sorry for them.”

“Goblins are small threats, but can be dangerous in large numbers. They excel in ambush tactics and swarming. So our current options are sneak past or fight our way through.”

Tiffany looked over the mess above her once again. “I am not fitting through this.”

“Oh, yeah.” She replied, hopping off the orc's shoulder and crawling through the debris. “Maybe I can find a way to make an opening.”

“Harley.” She yelled through gritted teeth, trying to make a grab for the fae girl, “it's not safe the size you are.”

“I'll be fine,” Harley replied between grunts as she made her way around the piled up detritus. “Oh, I got just the thing for this”

Tiffany watched the small girl squat down and cock one arm back while covering it with the other hand. Magic energies ran down her arm and swirled around her tiny hands before she shoved both hands forward at the rubble, screaming, “Sonic Boom!”

The pile exploded out into the room with a sound like thunder when you are directly under the lightning. But worse than their reaction to the sound was that to the blinding light that now poured out of Harley. The girl was a miniature star standing where the blockage once was. Goblins scrabbled and clawed their way past each other to escape the searing light pouring off the shrunken hafling. Tiffany's eyes took several moments to recover as she shielded them with one hand climbing out of the stairwell.

“Wild magic?” She asked scooping her up in both hands. She was so bright Tiffany could see the bones of her hands as the light pierced her skin.

“Sorry.” Replied the tiny voice.

She aimed the wild magic beacon at the goblins pressed against the wall. She saw clearly now. There were small and smaller goblins being shielded by the more regular sized ones. There were even goblins being held barely bigger than Harley at her current size.

“Ok, we have them routed,” squeaked Harley, “I keep them pinned against the wall, and you go berserk again and we can mow through them.”

“Harley!” She replied tersely, looking down through her hands to even see the fluorescent Fae. “There are babies!”

For the first time it seemed in her career as an adventurer, Harley looked at the assembled goblins before her. Where the group before waded through whatever stood in the way, she now saw what Tiffany saw. This was females, children and yes, babies. This was a home, they were the invaders. The others they encountered on their first trip here were defending their home. It was the group who were the aggressors.

Tiffany wrapped her hands more around the blazing girl and slowly approached the cowering goblins. With the light dimmed, a goblin that looked far older than the rest stepped forward. She recognized the rags as the fire poker from before. Bones strung together with twine hung around her head gave her the appearance of authority. Tiffany settled to one knee before her, “I'm sorry, we meant you no harm.”

“Who are you,” she spoke in a broken form of the common tongue, “who are you that summon a light that even my magic cannot quelsh?”

She was some kind of shaman, she had been trying to dispel the halfling. “Sorry again,” she set the halfling down forcing the shaman to peer at her through her fingers. “Her magic gets out of control sometimes.”

The wrinkled goblin let out a chuckle, “fae magic. I thought it was but a light spell. No wonder.” She wove another spell and moved the light off of Harley onto a nearby rock. When it shone with light instead of her the shaman quickly buried it and the room was dark once more.

“We are not here to hurt you. We were only looking for the painting that was on the wall in that room.” the orc girl explained as she pointed back the way they came.

“We do not go in there,” was her response, “for the dead walk and do not like company.”

“Oh no worries there,” added the kender/gnome, kenome? gnomer? Tiffany was unsure how to refer to her, “Tiffany thrashed them good. You won't be bothered by them anymore.” Harley was standing as tall as her knee now. The magic was apparently wearing off.

“Yes you can use that chamber for more room now if you need.” Tiffany offered, trying to keep this air of peace going. “But we need a friend to see the painting on the wall and then we can leave you in peace.”

As if on que with the word peace, a loud sound pierced the darkness.

“That's Max's boomstick.” Whispered Harley.

“This is a misunderstanding,” Tiffany pleaded to the now disapproving face of the goblin, “please if you can get your people to stop we can get our friends to do the same.”

Goblins tumbled to the ground as the catwalk of scrap they had built above the temple main room shattered. Max had put an iron slug through what he saw as a critical support. His light trinkets buzzed about as goblins scrambled for cover. They threw rocks and crude spears from piles of furniture and other items piled in the doorways at the head of the temple.

It was a large room, supported by eight pillars running four to a side. The last columns in each row, the group had taken cover behind. It ended in a vestibule filled by a statue of Morag god of darkness looming over the altar.

“Picking them off one at a time could take forever.” Said Max

“We need to use the pillars to get up to their blockades if we are to make any headway.” Barked Rutger.

“Skitaneee!” Came a shout from the goblin side of the room, and the rain of rocks and twigs ceased.

“Rutger!” Called a voice from the other side. “It's okay. We have an accord.”

The big man stepped out from the pillar, shield up and sword still drawn. “Is that you, princess? Did the halfling make it as well?”

“Please, was there any doubt?” Said Harley from behind him. She was now her normal height.

“No,” he replied, “but there was hope.”

She gave him a rotten look as she heard, “Harley!” Bethany gave her small friend a big hug as her brother strode out to meet Tiffany.

“What happened? Your robes are all bloody.” Harley said with a pout.

“Spear holes built into the stairs.” She replied. “Some of us took quite a poking.”

“Well we can have our healer looking all disheveled.” She said, stepping back as energy rolled down her left arm to her hand. She moved her hand to her mouth and mimed blowing a kiss as sparkles flowed out and covered the cleric. The stains faded and the holes closed in the blink of an eye, as Bethany twirled and even giggled a little bit in the girl's little cloud of magic.

Rutger stepped up to the teenage barbarian standing there with the goblin shaman, “well you made this easier after all, cupcake.” And he raised his large longsword up over the shaman. “This will take most of the fight out of the rest at least.”

As the blade came down, Tiffany swung her mallet up, catching it. The blade dug halfway into her wooden handle but it held. Tiffany looked into his eyes with a fierce determination, “they are not a threat. They live here, this is their home. They were just protecting it.”

“They are an obstacle, little girl.” He growled back, “they are vicious little monsters and will swarm us and kill us the minute our backs are turned.”

“No, we have an agreement, and I promised them we would just look at the map and leave and they will leave us be.”

“The map!” His expression changed immediately “you found the map? Give it to me.”

“It's not on a parchment or scroll, Rutger.” She said, in an exasperated tone, “I can't hand it to you, it's a mural back there.” She indicated the way with a toss of her head. “We need Max to look at it. Probably copy it down.”

The paladin's sword arm went limp as it slid down out of her handle. He sheathed the blade and stepped past Tiffany, “fine, but next time remember, this is not how we do things princess.”

Max was standing before the mural, copying it into one of his notebooks with exacting detail.

“What does it say?” asked Rutger.

“I'm just copying it,” Max replied with, what sounded to Tiffany like annoyance. “I'll translate it later.”

“What if we need something else that's still here later?” continued Rutger.

“I'd think you'd be ready to get out as soon as possible before another fight starts.” Max indicated the glowing eyes of dozens of goblins peeking from the next chamber.

Max pointed at the wee fae girl searching the now well lit chamber with zeal, “Besides, Harley has it in hand. If there is something else here she'll find it. And also this is a burial chamber not a ritual chamber.” He looked about at the bone dust and fragments.

“Yes,” remarked the paladin, “what DID happen in here?”

Once again as usual Harley was suddenly there among them, “it was awesome! Tiff went totally berserk. She moved like that belly dancer in Bulsara, but wielding weapons. She popped one's head off and knocked it into another, threw the spear of one, the sword of another. Swish, kish, ting…” The halfling continued animatedly describing the minute and a half long fight for ten minutes.

“Did you find anything else Sprite?” Max finally managed to interrupt her.

“Oh,” she squeaked, “not done yet.” And bolted off in her signature pink streak.

Max looked at Tiffany over top of his silver wireframe glasses, “seriously though, great job.”

The half-orc girl blushed, holding her mallet behind her and rocked on her feet, swishing her skirts back and forth.

“Right,” grumbled Rutger, “just what I need. Another girl on the team that doesn't follow orders.”

“Well this should make even a grump like you happy,” smiled Max, “I've still not translated anything but I can tell this isn't the whole map.”

“Why would that make me happy.” He asked.

“Because it does show where to find the other half.” He pointed at a spot in the mural, “and guess where it goes past.”

The hobbit once more appeared below his arm, following his finger up, “Shatter Peak!"