Stefan plants his rapier in the ground, leaning against the weapon as a support.
Someone notices that a rapier is taller than Stefan.
Stefan slowly slips sideways as the crystal rapier skitters across the smooth paving stones, dumping him in a tiny heap on the ground.
Bard Salvador agrees with Lightfingers.
Sipping Lightfingers says, "Awwww".
Someone offers Stefan a hand.
Bard Salvador offers Stefan a stool.
Stefan kicks his feet out towards Lightfingers, the display looking for all the world like nothing more than a bundle of lorerobes suddenly grown miniscule shoes.
Someone shrugs his shoulders casually.
Stefan flounders up out of his oversized robe, yanking at his beard in agitation. Struggling to his feet, he scowls, crossing his arms defiantly. "Need a skill for it," he mutters gruffly.
Zerthimon says, "I still boggle at the fact that stuff... Just, well,
vanishes.".
Someone grins in an amiable manner.
Sipping Lightfingers says, "Thank the thieves for that".
Someone chuckles long and heartily.
A thick robe spangled with gemstones does not wish to help Stefan kick.
Zerthimon says, "I believe Achelous said everyone can learn to use an
herb pouch.".
Bard Salvador chuckles long and heartily.
Stefan tugs at the hem of his robe, adjusting the garment so it falls at little less heavily about his feet.
Stefan peers at a thick robe spangled with gemstones, noting every minor detail.
Stefan waggles his finger at his robes. "Don't YOU join in!" he mutters.
Stefan turns to the kid, staring over (and then upwards) at him. "Doesn't vanish," he says.
A slight breeze catches the air and for a moment you would swear a tear in the thick robe has formed itself into a grin.
Stunted Stefan says, "Not the important stuff. Anything you EXAMINE and note as seeing BELONGS TO YOU you won't lose when -".
Stefan breaks off, pulling the voluminous folds of his garment away from him to peer at the rather bedragled robe.
Zerthimon blows out a complicated series of smoke puffs, attempting to create a magical smoke sailing ship, and fails utterly.
Zerthimon says, "Oh yes, I'm not actually any kind of a wizard yet.".
Stefan narrows his eyes, working his mouth, causing his beard to twitch in a rather disturbingly violent way (almost reminscent of vermin scuttering about in undergrowth), as he peers at the robe.
Zerthimon says, "I keep forgetting.".
The robe betrays nothing save a lack of due care and attention, a particularly thick-stuck crease toward the bottom, perhaps from years of abuse by short legs.
Stefan edges closer to Lightfingers, his eyes widening in apprehension. "Ahhmm, mate?" he mutters furtively. "Did ye slip anything into my drink?" Warily, he still holds his robe spread at an arm's distance.
Sipping Lightfingers says, "Rufees..... You're hawt... see you in an
hour".
Someone chuckles long and heartily.
Bard Salvador ponders how much an arm distance really is in such tiny proportions.
Stefan blinks rapidly. "Perhaps you could do me a favour and slip something in?" he wails, before dropping his voice nervously. "My robe... It's... Umm...".
Bard Salvador says, "It bears a curse, perhaps?".
Stefan blinks again, scrutinizing the robe. "Too much elixir filling..." he mumbles. "Fumes of the essence getting to my head...".
Someone examines the robe closely... "That's frickin' wierd!" he exclaims.
Someone backs away cautiously.
A sharp wind furries through the air, their speed morphing into an almost but not quite discernible word.
Stefan cocks his head sideways, listening curiously.
Stefan kicks the frayed hem of the robe roughly, managing to sweep most of it behind him, giving him at least a small modicum of freedom of movement.
Someone whispers, "to stefan What did you to piss it off?".
Stefan shrugs helplessly.
The robe twitches animatedly before falling silent once more, the cursed dwarf seemingly satisfied that his stature was the source of the annoyance.
Bard Salvador says, "Perhaps you require redemption".
Stefan nods in satisfaction, scowling at the robes in warning, before crossing his hands over his chest and planting his feet in a short, squat stance.
Stefan mutters to the robes, "HALF dwarf, thank you very much.".
"HALF-ling" tolls suddenly from nowhere.
Bard Salvador says, "I have heard stories of cursed lorerobes before".
Stefan shakes his fist halfheartedly, slumping slightly as he buries his troubles in a disproportionately large glass of toxic-smelling liquid.
Stefan tips a clear glass towards his mouth hopefully.
Stefan drinks some whisky.
Bard Salvador says, "They say those undeserving of their power are doomed to a life of inadequacy and discomfort".
Bard Salvador says, "Which, given your stature...".
Stefan narrows his eyes at Bard Salvador in an unnerving manner.
Bard Salvador continues, "I have to say I'd find that difficult to argue with.".
The once silent robe reanimates, the folds discernibly convuluting into a wide maw.
Stefan venemously hisses a "Pfft," at the bard, the spiteful sound muffled and made comical by a large chunk of wiry beard suddenly blown across the mouth. Sputtering, he merely glares in silence.
Bard Salvador says, "Choking on your beard, eh?".
Bard Salvador says, "I rest my case.".
Stefan coughs sullenly. "No!" he mumbles.
"Stefan you wield my power but one of your height is not deserving of such.".
Stefan blinks down at his robes. "Well unless you're promising me a growth spurt, you fabrical demon, I suggest you zip it, before I mend you.".
"To lift the dwarvesbane curse a growthspurt you need not." .
Stefan nods slowly in agreement, his eyes shifting to Lightfingers.
"Could just hack me off a pair of new legs," he mumbles to himself, one hand stroking his beard thoughtfully.
Stefan yelps slightly, disentangling a snarled ring from the coarse hair.
(Salvador and Stefan go to find an answer!)
Bard Salvador says, "The oracle of the east, perhaps".
Bard Salvador says, "It is told he gave the thief Narissa quite the experience".
Bard Salvador says, "And not the good kind.".
Stefan nods dubiously.
Stunted Stefan says, "Ye not be insulting a Lady, be you?".
Bard Salvador chuckles loudly, "insult Narissa? Me? Are your brains as well as your boots addled?".
Stefan scowls, merely taking another swig from his glass.
Bard Salvador says, "Though one might argue she could hardly be considered a lady".
Bard Salvador says, "We digress, onward, for your fate".
(to the Halfway Taven!)
A Barmaid moves towards Stefan angrily...
Bard Salvador waves his palms about mystically, and brings a wall of ice into existence to the north.
Stunted Stefan says, "Lucia!".
A Barmaid bashes Stefan.
Bard Salvador says, "A friend of yours?".
A Barmaid bashes Stefan.
Stefan bats his eyelashes in a disturbing flutter at the barmaid. "In a manner of speaking..." he yelps, ducking behind a chair in the corner.
Bard Salvador says, "A... Former friend of yours?".
Bard Salvador speaks to a Barmaid in an even, measured tone, weaving gestures of pacifism.
Stefan grins ruefully.
Bard Salvador roll his eyes slowly, deploring such promiscuity.
Bard Salvador points an accusing finger at an oracle.
Bard Salvador says, "Ask your questions dwarf and be quick about i".
Stefan peers around the chair, espying the oracle. "Hail!" he shouts, clambering out from behind the makeshift barricade. "We seek wisdom!".
The oracle seems almost oblivious to Stefan's attempts, the amusing displaying continues for a few minutes before, finally, a sullen voice intones, "I'm sorry, I didn't see you down there.".
Stefan strides up to the oracle, his eyes narrowing and his shoulders hunching at the words, although he schools his expression into a respectful one. "My rob-" Pausing, he considers, amending: "A powerful spell informed us that I've got the dreaded dwarfsbane curse. What advice can you give us!".
Rising for the first time, impressive height towering above your miniscule frame, the oracle surveys the room, and continues, "is this room secure?" He points at Salvador, a curious expression in his eye, "is this singer trustworthy, or after a simple penny for his tunes?".
Bard Salvador glares at an oracle in a menacing manner.
Bard Salvador says, "Tunes!".
Bard Salvador says, "Assist this dwarf, Oracle, or tunes you shall certainly hear".
Stefan whirls his robes about him in a charm of deflection.
Stefan overbalances himself in his spin, toppling into a nearby chair. "No seers about," he reports with a high-pitched yelp. "And, umm...Salvador isn't very good with lyrics. I don't advise taunting him into a tune.".
Stefan yanks his robes out from under him, struggling to stand. Failing, he flops back into the chair, drowning in heavy folds of thick fabric. His voice drifts up from the pile of cloth: "And I'm a HALF dwarf, thank you very much!".
Shaken slightly, the oracle returns to his seat, furrows his eyebrows slightly and glares at Salvador, clutching his ears in terror before finally returning to Stefan.
"This curse, it simply denies you the right to truly own your robes.".
"In spite of an obviously bad fit, are they yours? Do you -feel- them, or are they a tool only for flying?".
Stefan swims upwards again, settling on a compromise with his garments, and sits unsteadily, peering at the garments. The gems offer a menacing glitter, almost a taunting wink, at his scrutiny. Blinking, he stares up in shock.
Bard Salvador grins most wryly, stifling a laugh at the small-one's obvious discomfort.
Stefan tugs on his beard, humming and hawing a bit as he thinks. "Well, aye, tis true I'd rather be without them, in certain circumstances, if ye get my drift," he winks lewdly, nudging at the air.
"You did not come here for salacious anecdotes, address the point before I become tired.".
Stefan chews thoughtfully on a tuft of hair, his eyes glazing over as he considers the various circumstances where a lack of robes would be warranted.
The oracle busies himself with some papers on the desk, ignoring the lewd dwarf.
Bard Salvador's face once again returns to its grin.
Stefan shakes his head, puffing his cheeks and spitting out the coarse lock of chinny chin chinhair. "Yarr," he agrees, scrambling up and managing to finally stand on his feet. "Oi! Yarr! The curse!".
Bard Salvador says, "Perhaps you should think with your head and not between your thighs, small one.".
Bard Salvador says, "Besides, with THAT beard?".
Bard Salvador shakes his head in a definite, "no THANK you.".
Stefan turns to Salvador, offering a look of wounded dignity. "A loremaster and his staff can never be sundered," he replies with hurt pride.
Bard Salvador says, "Would you like to bet?".
Bard Salvador snorts arrogantly.
Stefan steps closer to the oracle, tugging fitfully on the hem of the man's short tunic. "Hey! The curse!" His tone grows more frantic as he jumps up and down trying to get a response.
"Very well, the curse.".
"It is not my speciality, I admit", the oracles sighs wistfully, "however there is one whose advice you might wish to consider.".
Stefan bounces up and down in impatient interest. "Who!" he squeaks.
Through gritted death and crystal clear reluctance, the oracle whispers, "that damn Orestes.".
The forest dweller, he who pores over the palantir of time to forever survey the stars of fate.".
"Seek him, he will know, though you may not like the answer.".
Bard Salvador says, "We have a new destination, Stefan".
Stefan raises bushy eyebrows, glancing significantly at Salvador. "Ooo-reeessst-eeez," he repeats slowly, sucking on his lower lip. "Can't say I've heard of the chap." Slapping a hand against his leg, he crows, "Wait! Is he the one who runs the whorehouse over in the center of the Greenwood?".
Stefan gnaws on a knuckle, shaking his head as he contradicts himself. "No, no, wait, that's Aloides, and a lady, and WHAT a lady." Chuckling, his eyes narrow to slits as he loses his mind in distant memories.
Bard Salvador raises an eyebrow slightly, then suddenly reasserts, "ah oh course, you would not be familiar with a world class seer, but his whorehouse connotations ring countless bells.".
Stefan blinks, grinning slyly at Salvador. "What can I say?" he says lazily. "Us Loremasters are true scouts of the land.".
Bard Salvador says, "Then let us leave for Orestes".
Bard Salvador says, "And perhaps his palantir can quell this curse within".
Bard Salvador mutters something about it being able to quell lust for ladies.
An oracle chants the words of the "impotence" chant.
Stefan stands perfectly still and allow his alchemical robes to afford him the protection of a divine alkar.
Stunted Stefan tells Bard Salvador, "Gooooo quick".
Stunted Stefan tells Bard Salvador, "Goooooo".
Bard Salvador says, "Wild dogs scare you not".
Bard Salvador says, "But erection loss?".
Bard Salvador says, "I despair".
Bard Salvador utters calming words to his steed.
Bard Salvador spurs his mount, a winged horse, upwards towards the skies.
Stunted Stefan says, "Tetsuo and Orinoko together aren't as scary as that curse being cast".
Bard Salvador says, "Prepare yourself for fast travel, dwarf".
Stefan stretches his legs, muttering something about shin-splints.
(travel)
A learned squire of Orestes bashes Stefan.
Bard Salvador speaks to a learned squire of Orestes in an even, measured tone, weaving gestures of pacifism.
Bard Salvador speaks to a learned squire of Orestes in an even, measured tone, weaving gestures of pacifism.
Bard Salvador speaks to a learned squire of Orestes in an even, measured tone, weaving gestures of pacifism.
Bard Salvador speaks to a learned squire of Orestes in an even, measured tone, weaving gestures of pacifism.
Bard Salvador speaks to a learned squire of Orestes in an even, measured tone, weaving gestures of pacifism.
Bard Salvador spins around and cries aloud, "enough, lest you feel bardsong upon your weak ears".
Stefan boxes his fists at the air, piping up in agreement. "Yeah! Don't make me unleash my power!".
Bard Salvador says, "Orester.".
Bard Salvador says, "Orestes' lesser known twin".
Bard Salvador says, "Irrelevant for this meeting but thought you may like to know.".
Bard Salvador says, "In any case".
Bard Salvador says, "Ask your questions.".
Stefan peers at Salvador, then back at the seer. "This the guy?" he snorts, stepping closer. "Doesn't look so tough." Planting his hands on his hips, he defiantly demands: "Cursed, I am! Cure, you know! Answer, you shall give!".
Orestes the Seer draws himself up to his full, impressive height, towering over the pitiful figure of Stunted Stefan, "Do you seek my help or no?".
"Should I slay you outright for your arrogant cheek?".
Stefan attempts to follow up the stern shout with a dazzling and menacing display of swordsmanship, as he unsheathes his rapier, tracing it through the air. Somewhere between scabbard and hand, the blade slips, fumbling about to bounce against his shoulder. Juggling with the sharpened weapon, the short man yelps and squawks, leaping from foot to foot.
Stefan struggles to regain the weapon, barking up at Orestes, "Steady a moment, let me sort out my threats a bit better...".
Orestes the seer scornfully laughs, raising an eyebrow at Salvador, "bard, you bring this excuse for a Loremaster before my wisdom?".
Stefan finally gives up on the rapier, letting it fall to the ground, and grips his lorestaff tightly, unleashing an arc of dazzling candescent sparks.
Bard Salvador says, "He is unto his own devices, Orestes".
Bard Salvador says, "Ignorance works well, I hear".
Bard Salvador pats Stefan in a friendly manner.
Stefan howls in pain as the lightarc rebounds across the room, smashing into his chest and leaving a charred, smoking scorch mark on his robes.
Orestes simply says "enough", and the mists of peace descend upon the room. "Make your wishes known before this curse becomes the least of your worries.".
Stefan mutters something about a spell of impotence.
Orestes scoffs, "impotence? Oh surely not, removal of the organ would be a much more satisfying endeavour.".
Stefan jabs his staff into the spongy ground, his arm jarring as it meets an unexpectedly soft layer of carpet. "NO!" he pleads frantically, staring at Salvador in clear, wild-eyed terror.
"Tell me, how does eunuch life suit you? Emasculation, ostracision?".
Stefan falls to his knees (a height change of about 11 inches), extending his hands in entreaty. "Please, great seer..." he says, his demeanor cracking at such brutal threats.
Stefan chokes back a sob.
Orestes relaxes, clearly victorious.
"Very well, make known your wishes, another request I will not make.".
Stefan flounders to his feet, bounding forwards. "A curse was proclaimed on me!" he wails, tearing out fistfuls of his beard in panic. "My dwarven heritage - rebounding and rebelling!".
"Have you considered there may be an obvious answer to this problem?".
Stefan gapes like a landed fish drowning in air, clearly at a loss for words.
Clearly irritated, Orestes sighs frustratedly, and snaps, "very well, very well, it is clear an intelligent answer shall not be found.".
Stefan finally sputters, regaining his pipsqueak voice. "What answer! Please!".
"If it will eternally remove you from my sight, I see no harm helping you." Orestes pauses for a second, grinning, "no harm to myself, anyway, the female community of fair Avalon, now for those I cannot speak.".
Stefan grins broadly, waggling his eyebrows lasciviously. "The ladies love it," he insists.
"It is simple."
Orestes lifts Stefan by the scruff of his collar, holding him high off the ground, and stares directly into his eyes.
Stefan kicks his tiny feet in objection, squirming in the air.
"The answer is simple, you must unleash your dwarven immaturity upon Avalon, and ownership of your robes will come forth.".
Orestes coughs softly before continuing, "proceed directly to the peak of the Volcano Sapience, and expose yourself to the darkling heavens.".
Stefan furrows his brow, an obvious look of concentration screwing his face up. You can almost perceive the gears turning in his head, while you could swear a small tendril of smoke wisps out of his ears. "Aha!!!" he gasps.
"Do this, and you shall succeed." The air turns silent except for the rasping panting of Stefan still kicking his feet in vain.
Orestes releases Stefan sharply, who plummets to the ground before falling into heap.
Bard Salvador says, "Get up, and let's get this over with".
Stefan bares his teeth in a feral grimace, lurching to his feet in a flurry of tangled garment. "Thanks," he pants, darting for the door, before adding, "You senile old coot!".
Bard Salvador says, "Your libido has consumed enough of my time".
(walk walk)
Edge of the Crater.
Stefan bounces up and down in an eager caper, crowing in anticipation. "Ablution shall be mine!" he shouts.
Stefan begins to hike up his lorerobes, struggling with the confining fabrics as he clears his throat theatrically.
Stefan shouts, "HEY AVALON - LOOK AT THIS!"
Bard Salvador averts his eyes.
Stefan bends over, exposing his bum in a pale, shocking moon to the continent spread out below.
The robe once again begins to twitch.
Stefan tumbles forwards, but quickly turns the motion into an agile sommersault, as his robes swish about him in blanketing concord. "HA!".
Slowly the tears and creases reform into perfect stitching, a fine example of craftsmanship.
Stefan punches his fist upwards in a victorious cheer.
Bard Salvador clears his throat and shouts, "The Dwarf has sought and found absolution for his tribulation. He is cursed no longer!".
Stefan downs a victory shot of whiskey, beaming at Salvador, as her gazes at his robes with pride. "Half dwarf," he absently counters.
Stefan shifts his eyes sideways. "Now, to really celebrate..." he says, tugging at his beard. "I'll need to find someone to help me take them off...".
Bard Salvador chants the words of the "impotence" chant.
Bard Salvador chants the words of the "impotence" chant.
Bard Salvador chants the words of the "impotence" chant.
Stefan glances nervously at Salvador. "For laundering, of course," he hastily adds.
Stefan stands perfectly still and allow his alchemical robes to afford him the protection of a divine alkar.
Bard Salvador winks knowingly, "a lesson from an oracle is always handy.".
