Stolen Dreams: Part One - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Rez and Elvira both rushed to the giant's corpse. Rez withdrew a ten-foot collapsible steel pole from a belt pouch and set one end on the ground where the giant's belly rested.

Elvira intervened. "Allow me," she began chanting. A pair of ghostly hands presented themselves and lifted the rolls of fat and giant muscle to reveal a gasping, blood-and-sweat-soaked Rook.

"Oi!!!" The upset mercenary exclaimed. "I always knew they smelled bad, but GODS!!! I thought I would suffocate!!"

Another pair of hands appeared, pulling Rook out with a wet "schluck" sound, the blood greasing his exit.

Reaching back underneath the hill giant's corpse, Rook pulled out his now very battered top hat. Speaking a word in Draconic, he mended it with a cantrip before placing it atop his head. Rubbing his hands together, Rook spoke the magic words: "Well then! Shall we get ourselves paid?"

Walking around to the giant's satchel, the three were dismayed to find two pairs of moldy rolled-up giant-sized socks wafting a powerful stench of sweat and mold. Under the socks was a 23-pound block of hard cheese, at least 58 semi-rotten potatoes, a broken battleaxe, and a few loose coppers.

"Phew!" Elvira exclaimed. "Why do giants never bathe?"

Rez, in lieu of an answer, allowed a tuxedo-patterned dire rat to crawl from a flap in his armor and into the satchel. The rat wrinkled its nose before delving inside one sock and wriggled excitedly, high-pitched squeaks emerging from its throat. Rez cocked his head, seeming to listen before speaking. "Tux says there are shiny things in the socks."

Rook looked up from a chunk of cheese he had carved from the much larger block, nodding as he wrapped it in cheesecloth and tucked it away. "Well then," he retrieved his broadsword and tucked it in a pocket, "Let's take a little look-see, eh mates?"

Pulling a stiletto from his belt, he was about to cut through the thick wool when Elvira stepped forward. Chanting quietly, Rez and the half-elf watched in approval and annoyance, respectively, as the cloth bundles were neatly split down the middle, revealing a sparkling gleam.

"What happened to 'not using magic for frivolous purposes'?" Rook ribbed Elvira.

Tthe sorceress responded airily, "Lighting your pipe and getting treasure are very different."

Rook gave a sour-sounding grunt before pulling everything from the socks. When all was totaled the contents were as follows:

Ten (10) assorted platinum pieces
Sixty-eight (68) assorted gold pieces
Thirty-two (32) assorted electrum pieces
Fifty-nine (59) assorted silver pieces
Thirty-nine (39) assorted copper pieces
One (1) Harp of Command, gold-plated
Two (2) Masterwork (non-magical) Adamantine warhammers, one emblazoned with an autumn leaf crest
One (1) Spiked Steel Shield of Retribution
One (1) Pair of Boots of Springing and Striding
One (1) Necklace of Fireballs
Three (3) large gemstones, approximate value 75 gold Dragons each
Assorted junk worth approximately thirty-eight silver Ravens

"Well now," exclaimed Rook, "not a bad haul. Let's check the ogres, hrm?" On the ogres were found:

Two (2) assorted platinum pieces
Three hundred eighty-five (385) assorted gold pieces
Seventy-eight (78) assorted electrum pieces
Two hundred seventy-four (274) assorted silver pieces
Ninety-nine (99) assorted copper pieces
Two (2) matched +1 adamantine daggers (balanced for throwing)
One (1) Ring of Sustenance
One (1) Darkwood buckler

This time, Rez gave a low whistle. "I call the ring!"

Rook shrugged, he'd been eyeing the daggers, and Elvira could use the buckler; it was light enough it wouldn't interfere with spellcasting. He proposed these terms, and they were found agreeable.

After scooping up the loot (the rest would be divided later, the open was no place for that) the trio decided to set up camp for a bit, as nobody had eaten yet.

Rez left for a few hours and came back with an impressive buck. With the cheese and salvaged potatoes found among the giant's belongings, and some herbs Elvira and Rez managed to scrounge; a simple but hearty stew was made. After everybody had eaten their fill and the kettle had been scraped clean, the camp was packed up and the journey resumed as it was just past noon.

---

The sun began to beat down with an almost unbearable heat, a great scorching disc of gold in the sky, an unmerciful eye beating upon the trio with relentless force. Water wasn't scarce, but Rageford Falls was still a good day away at the current pace; and there was no sense wasting time. At any rate, when Rook finally called a halt two hours later everyone stopped gratefully.

"Good thing about having magical constructs for horses," Rook remarked as he drank from his waterskin, "They don't spook, don't need food, water, rest...nothin'. Saves so much time." Rez didn't say anything, as was his custom, and Elvira wasn't listening as she was too busy stripping down for "fun time" in her magically erected tent.

After a short rest, the trio returned to their mounts and rode on.

"So Rez," Rook said after some time. "What's your story?"

The dusk elf looked up, his gaze going somewhere far away and long ago as he reminisced, before finally answering curtly "Doesn't matter. What's done is done, and talking about it is useless."

Rook took notice of the slight harshness and underlying bitterness of the dusk elf's tone and decided not to pry; though several things became immediately clear to him. One: Rez was hated by both sides of his family, as evidenced by both his heritage and his earlier conversation with Elvira, Two: He kept to himself - though that was already obvious, and Three: The dusk elf was probably trustworthy; but might need to be watched. Oh, and Four: Most of this was none of his business - except the trustworthiness part, of course.

Rook was pulled from his thoughts by Elvira calling something about an inn. As he squinted against the glare of the sun the mercenary saw a squat building come into view. A sign read: "The Oaken Keg". Seemed like a good place to dodge this damnable heat.

The three dismounted, pocketing their now-shrunken mounts, and stepped inside - only to have all conversation stop as the odd trio were surveyed. Then the noise gradually resumed.

Rook bellied up to the bar, keeping a watchful eye on the other patrons, Rez moved with a casual grace that promised a swift beating to any challengers, and Elvira put a swing in her hips to shame any Tyrellian pleasure girl.

Rook ordered a Kromian Stout Ale (his go-to drink) and two shots of aged oaken whiskey from the plug-ugly bartender who gave him an appraising glare, turned and called "Barukh! A Kromian Stout and two oak shots!" Turning back to Rook, the eyepatch-wielding barman growled at Rez and Elvira as one. "What'll it be, knife-ears?"

Rez thought a moment before speaking. "A glass of brandy, Almeria 483, and leave the bottle."

Elvira made her request simpler than her companions, "Just a hot spiced wine please." The day had been hot, but now that the sweat was beginning to cool it left a chill upon the skin.

Presently, a disgruntled-looking dwarf came from the back, wearing a greasy, dirty apron over scale mail that had seen better days and with a chipped and worn axe on his back - though still kept sharp and polished - and set the trio's drink orders down. Giving a grunt that was more than likely a muffled curse, the dwarf made to stump his way back into the kitchen before his gaze locked onto Rook. Squinting, the dwarf asked "You a mercenary?"

Slightly surprised, Rook nodded.

"You got room for one more in your merry little band?" The dwarf asked gruffly but with a hint of hopefulness in his tone.

Rook did the mental calculations - as long as this dwarf pulled his weight they could take bigger assignments, meaning more rewards and more importantly, more good reputation. "Your bearing suggests a warrior, Master...?"

"Ironthumb." The dwarf supplied. "Barukh Ironthumb, of Clan Ironthumb. Warrior and currently dishwasher."

Rook looked around, the barkeep was busy with other customers. "You any good with that axe?"

Barukh stuck his chest out proudly. "Thirty-eight orcs have fallen to this blade!" Then his face fell, and his tone changed. "It's been a bit, though...and I prefer a good hammer. More versatile."

Rook nodded. "Consider yourself hired. We'll do the paperwork later to make it official, but bear in mind your first payment will be in the form of new gear. That acceptable?"

Barukh nodded vigorously, his whole expression lighting up. "Absolutely!"

Unfortunately, at that moment the barkeep came back over, and began yelling at Barukh. "You lazy squat, I don't pay you to talk! Get yer worthless ass back in the kitchen!"

Rook bristled, as the term "squat" was used for more diminutive races and was a definite insult...and as it seemed undeserved. It made Rook like the man even less.

Barukh, however, simply stared at the eyepatch-wearing barkeep before stating shortly "I quit." Throwing his apron on the ground, he stumped over to where Rook sat, keeping his hands free for his axe.

The bartender seemed about to object; but after a snarl from Rook revealing teeth the size of silver pieces caused him to note the size of the half-elf's shoulders, the lazy grace with which Rez carried himself, and the obvious markings of magecraft upon Elvira, he shut his mouth with a snap.

"On your own head be it, then," the greasy man muttered, wiping down a used glass. "Don't need no squats on the payroll anyway." 

Rook stood, having had enough of the filth spewing from this pathetic flab sack; and dumped a handful of coins on the bar contemptuously. "We'll be taking our leave, good barkeep." His voice dripped with contempt and barely suppressed rage; nobody daring to object as he stormed out, his company - now with one more in tow.

As Rook kept walking angrily, he withdrew a block of the cheese stowed earlier and bit into it viciously, chomping with a rage he didn't often feel. It wasn't that racism got under his skin too much - racists were morons, and that was all there was to it. No, this...this was something else. Something entirely different. Perhaps that the dwarf - Barukh, right? - had been forced by circumstance to work as a dishwasher. Those were warrior's hands, not pot scrubbers. Or maybe it was that the man was such an arrogant prick...Rook shrugged. He was a mercenary, not a scholar.

"Master Ironthumb! We never had time for all the official business and whatnot...." Rook spotted a hollow between the trees ahead. "Rez, check out that spot up ahead, see if it's a good place for camp. I have business to attend to before dark."

Rez nodded and unsheathed his blades, striding into the forest.

Turning to Barukh, Rook continued. "You seem like an honest sort...but let me be clear. Cross me or my company...I will end you." A dangerous gleam had entered the half-elf's eyes as he spoke.

To Barukh's credit, he didn't flinch as he replied, "If my actions bring dishonor, may I shave my beard and be exiled from Moradin's sight."

Rook nodded, impressed. "A strong oath indeed, Master Ironthumb...how'd you end up in that shithole?"

Barukh scowled bitterly. "My party was ambushed by a roaming orc warband; and slaughtered. I was left for dead...I should have died. I made it to that inn and paid for a room with what gold I had...he offered me work for room and board, and one copper a week. Unfortunately, I was in no position to refuse...so I did the work. It's been four months...and then you came along. Sixteen coppers, my armor, and this axe...all my worldly possessions."

At that moment, Rez returned and indicated the hollow was clear.

After setting up camp, Rook made a makeshift table as he did every night for paperwork. "Master Ironthumb, here is the contract for joining the Rooks - in triplicate - terms and conditions, pay, healing/resurrection and so forth...."

Barukh nodded and scanned everything, penning his signature.

"And consider this as an advance payment." Rook pulled out the unmarked adamantine warhammer acquired earlier. "You said you preferred hammers, so here. And if ya want, I can take a look at that armor. Might be able to help with it."

Barukh bowed deeply, taking the hammer. "You have my thanks, Master Rook...and I can fix the armor if you have some scrap steel and a forge set."

Rook nodded to his backpack. "Third pocket down...it's magical, so don't be fooled by its size."

Barukh nodded his acknowledgement, reaching into Rook's jingling pockets and withdrawing a bellows, a hammer set, an anvil, and handfuls of scrap. Gathering some kindling and starting a fire, he reached into the backpack again and grabbbed a barrel. Filling it with water from a metal flask, Barukh commenced to heating the fire and stripped off his armor, appraising it with a critical eye.

Soon the air resounded with the ring of a hammer upon a busy forge, and Rook decided to settle in for an early night; the past week had been absolute Hell. Rook strode over to Elvira, hearing her mutter the by-now familiar incantation for summoning an extradimensional mansion, replete with servants, tubs and food.

Rook simply sighed and shook his head - such living made one soft, and life as a mercenary required a rougher touch. Then again, Elvira was an exiled elven noble (she had been caught with a human stableboy, which for her ultra-conservative family, was nothing short of treasonous betrayal), and more than a little spoiled. Besides that, she was also a sorceror, which technically speaking required at least some degree of comfort, for meditation and the like. Thirdly, on the occasions Rook saw fit to join her - such as tonight - the results were...memorable, to say the least.

Rook waited to speak until Elvira was finished casting, knowing that interruption could ruin the spell. "Elvira, lass...hope ye don't mind some company tonight."

Elvira smiled so big and so bright, you'd think Rook had just crowned her Empress of the Lost Isles. "Rook, dear, I would NEVER turn down your night's company. Not even if you got castrated."

Rook chuckled briefly. "Oh? And whyzzat?"

"Because, my beloved employer and paramour, you would still have your fingers and that beautifully long tongue of yours. Now, if you were to lose those as well..." Elvira shrugged. "You'd still be nice to look at and cuddle afterwards."

Rook scowled. "Gee, thanks...wasn't aware you'd put so much thought into it."

Giggling flirtatiously, Elvira touched Rook's arm lightly. "Oh relax...you're always so serious."

Rook shot back wryly, "Aye...I have twenty-three separate bounties on my head, and eighteen were commissioned by the baronies of the Bandit Kingdoms. Old Iron-Eye William and Drack Twoblades have it in for me bad - word is they got the Paravelle brothers to track us."

Having overheard the conversation, Rez dropped in his two coppers. "No worries boss. I've crossed blades with Thom and Grev Paravelle. They're decent together, but absolute horseshit when separated. Divide and conquer."

Nodding, Rook took in what his employee had said before speaking. "Good to know. Now kindly fuck off? I'm about to bugger your sister."

Anyone else would be offended, but Rez simply twisted his lips into a half-smile and replied "Make her scream, Rook...make her scream loud."

Grinning, Rook slung the giggling Elvira over his shoulders and walked into the newly-created extraplanar mansion with the muttered words, "No worries, Master Moonblade...I intend to."

Throwing open the door and kicking it closed behind him, Rook carried Elvira like the spoils of war to the bedroom, slinging her onto the bed with a practiced roughness. Ignoring her giggles and mock protests, the half-elf nipped at her collarbone and yanked open her robes, unsurprised to find only a sheer lacy thong beneath.

"Such a little slut," Rook growled, tearing the lacy scrap of cloth aside. He knew saying such things turned Elvira on most unmercifully--why, he'd never understood. Burying his face between the slender elf's thighs, his tongue snaked out to probe at her, sliding over and into her most tender and intimate of places to the sound of her giggles and cooing moans.

"Oh, Reginald...." She was the only one alive who knew his name, and it was a sign of trust between them. Out there, he was Rook, renowned mercenary. In here, he was Elvira's passionate lover.

Sliding his prehensile tongue inside of Elvira, he began to slowly fuck her with the muscular organ. A talent he had acquired through practice. Hearing her moans become rising squeals, he kept going and suddenly pulled back to clamp his lips around her clit, only to feel Elvira's thighs encircle his head and squeeze, soaking him with her juices.

"You...godsdamned...asshole...." Elvira's ragged voice split the air, thick with arousal. "Get...up here...and fuck me. NOW."

Grinning as he rose, Rook quickly shed his clothing, a sizable erection making itself known.

Her entire face lighting up, Elvira squealed with joy and grasped at Rook eagerly. He lined up with her slick folds and penetrated her, feeling the elfmaid shudder as she stretched around his shaft.

"Oh...dear...Mara...." the words escaped Elvira's throat like a chant of prayer - which they were.

Rook set himself to mercilessly plundering her depths. His broad muscled girth a stark contrast to her slender frame. Moving his hips quicker, enough to bruise even the hardiest of whores, Rook was unsurprised to feel Elvira's legs wrap around him and urge him to greater heights as her eyes rolled back in her head. A low, guttural moan escaped her throat. It didn't take much to get her going.

Feeling Elvira's slick walls clamped around his cock, Rook increased his pace and lifted Elvira up, holding her against his body as he pummeled her in the best possible way. Hearing her moans soon cresting to a shriek, it took everything Rook had to hold back the churning in his balls. She was never satisfied with just one. Ever.

As Elvira came down from her orgasm, a sheen of sweat on her skin, she purred playfully, "Lay down lover. Let me take care of you."

Obliging happily, Rook groaned aloud and almost came as Elvira began to grind her hips.

Her tight pussy milked his cock as her small hands pressed into his chest, moving her hips up and down. Whimpering in pleasure, she voiced her thoughts aloud as she gave Rook sweetest torture. "Oh REGINALD...you make me feel...so full. I swear, Mara herself must have made you just for me."

Groaning aloud at both the pleasure and Elvira's corny, although admittedly hot dialogue, Rock got a wicked grin on his face and seized Elvira's hips before driving up into her. Seeing her eyes fly wide open and her mouth make an 'O' in a silent scream was well worth only being able to last for another five seconds before bursting.

His eruption prompted a very loud scream from Elvira as yet another orgasm washed over her - this one triggered by the great spurts of thick hot seed now flooding her womb. Collapsing onto Rook's broad chest, the sorceress panted, "Please tell me we aren't done yet."

Kissing and nibbling Elvira's sensitive eartips lightly, Rook murmured, "Of course not. We both need to recover though. So for now let's just snuggle."

Smiling as she returned his affectionate caresses, Elvira nuzzled into Rook and whispered "Sounds good to me, lover."

Laying back contentedly, Elvira's head on his chest, Rook thought to himself. The day had been quite eventful, no doubt...the Rooks had doubled in size in a matter of hours. The dwarf, Barukh...he could be trusted. He was a dwarf, and an Ironthumb to boot. The Ironthumb clan controlled the ore mines and trading routes of the Greyfire Mountains north of here...honorable, and polite for dwarves. The dusk elf, Rez, though...it wasn't that Rook disliked him, or even distrusted him. It wasn't his heritage - Rook knew, better than most, how ugly unfounded racism was. It was just...something dangerous lurked behind those violet eyes. Something vengeful. He had a score to settle, somewhere, and Rook guessed it wouldn't matter how many bodies the dusk elf had to climb over to settle it. That being said, he seemed to genuinely care about Elvira, and he didn't seem like a traitor. If it truly came to that - well, Rook had plenty of ways of dealing with traitors; even when outmatched.

Rook spoke aloud, "Elvira?"

"Hmm?" Elvira replied sleepily, nuzzling closer.

"Do you trust your brother? No, let me rephrase. Should I trust him?"

Elvira frowned and rested more firmly on Rook's chest.

"He won't put a knife in your back, if that's what you're asking...but you already knew that. I think you're asking if he'll be able to keep mission-minded, no matter the consequences. Am I right?"

Rook nodded, his tongue flicking out to clean his teeth as it did when he was stationary for some time.

Seeing the gesture, Elvira continued, "He may not have loyalties or codes of conduct as most people think of it...but he dislikes most needless bloodshed, especially when that blood comes from his companions. He will defend his party, even placing himself on the line if need be...but he won't do it for you, or me, or even the money. He'll do it...because he wants to. I'm not sure how to explain beyond that."

Stifling a huge yawn, Rook said, "Elvira...go to sleep. We've gotta get to Rageford Falls tomorrow, and that will mean a fairly early morning."

Nodding, Elvira pulled up the blankets and dozed off, leaving Rook full of uneasy thoughts.

---

Morning came far quicker than Rook would have liked, one of the Unseen Servants waking him at six o'clock in the morning as it was instructed to always do. Rousing himself with a yawn that would do a Tyrannosauras Rex proud (Rook should know, he'd killed a couple), Rook pulled on his smallclothes and trousers. He sleepily padded over to where Elvira sat at a carved mahogany table with a bright and cheery smile. Cutting off the happily uttered "Good Morning!!" with a wave of his hand, Rook said the only two words that mattered at the moment. "Coffee. Breakfast. Now." Okay, so that was three words. Whatever.

An unseen servant brought a plate of bacon, poached eggs and a hot ceramic mug of black coffee; setting Rook's breakfast in front of him, it waited for further orders. Digging in heartily, Rook smiled at Elvira's rumpled appearance - so beautiful when she just woke up.

Elvira noticed Rook staring and smiled back. "Enjoying the view, lover?"

Rook nodded. "Very much."

Scarfing down his breakfast, Rook left the extraplanar mansion to find Rez and Barukh packed and ready to go. "We ought to reach Rageford Falls by tonight. Tomorrow at worst."

Rez simply nodded while Barukh grunted and hefted his hammer.

Elvira exited her extraplanar home, the entire affair disappearing with a quiet pop.

Rook produced his mount, as did Elvira and Rook, while Barukh simply looked bemused. "I don't have anything to ride...."

Rook frowned in annoyance, mostly at himself. He should have realized this would come up, and planned accordingly; never mind the fact that the group hadn't exactly passed any horse vendors.

However, Elvira once again provided a solution; in the form of a floating disk spell. "If you'd care to hop on, Master Dwarf?"

Barukh did so with a grunt that sounded like a mix of gratitude and displeasure - dwarves were notorious for being distrustful of magic. That matter having been settled, Barukh settled himself in cross-legged; and together the four of them set off.

---

The party made exceptionally good time, not running into any wandering monsters or bandits; and in fact found that enough caravans had gone back and forth to and from Rageford Falls that a sort of path had been created. That, combined with the fact that rangers were marvelous at allowing their party to pass through woody areas, allowed the foursome to reach Rageford well ahead of schedule - just after noon, in fact.

Upon entering the town, they received a few odd looks, but not many. This was, after all, a fairly common town for adventurers to rest and resupply themselves before chasing gold and glory. Rook strode forward with a sense of purpose, heading for Tobin Gearsworthy's observatory, only to find a pile of charred wreckage.

The mercenary stopped a moment, his jaw and fists clenched tightly as a dull red rage built inside of him, accompanied by Elvira's gasp of horror. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Rook said quietly, "Rez. Go find a guard. Bring them...gently. Understand?"

The dusk elf nodded, setting off with an odd loping gait he occasionally acquired when upset.

Rook simply stood in place, not trusting himself to do anything, as Elvira quietly sobbed and Barukh shifted uncomfortably.

Finally, the dwarf stumped over to Rook and asked gently, "Friend of yours?"

Rook swallowed and nodded, forcing down the rage that he knew so well. "Tobin Gearsworthy...a gnomish astronomer. He was building a machine that could take him among the stars...."

Barukh nodded, tone deliberately calm. "He have any enemies?"

Rook shook his head. "Not that I know of, no...."

Barukh nodded, just as Rez came sprinting back with a guard in tow, the man's helmet bearing a double horsehair plume and his cloak affixed with a star. "I found the captain. He says nobody knows what happened, that his house simply burst into flame...but he insisted upon seeing you."

The guard nodded and stepped close, his voice low. "We all knew Tobin...everyone thought he was crazy, but he wasn't stupid. Official report lists cause of death as an accident, but...that wasn't an accident. Tobin knew his craft too well...and the char marks are wrong. They start in the parlor, and the laboratory is relatively fine...except his journals are missing. Not burned; mind you...missing. He kept them in a locked chest in his downstairs lab, fireproof. That chest is gone. And there's a stench of foul magic about the place. Now I might not be an adventurer..." The guard dipped his head here. "...but I didn't become captain of the guard for nothin'. Something ain't right, mark my words." The guard captain nodded and looked around before leaving.

As one, the party turned to Rook, who spoke in a grim voice. "He's right, there's malice in the air." Turning to his companions, he spoke in a voice that promised Death. "Tobin Gearsworthy was murdered...and we're going to avenge him."

END PART ONE

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