Disclaimer: This is a write up of a campaign I played in. I only own Amahl. The setting is someone else's property; but what was done to it is the DM's warped imaginations. Have fun.
He was shoulder deep in dirt with a shovel in hand, digging a grave. Somehow, Amahl thought things were going perfectly well. The mound of dirt kept creeping up higher with each payload of earth he tossed aside; each scrape of metal was towards the juicy bits buried beneath. Amahl, formerly unemployed, had now gotten into the incredibly enviable market of grave robbing. After all, stealing from the living was one thing. Stealing from a grave in the middle of a packed city in the middle of the night, was an entirely different thing. After all, this was more prestigious.
Picking pockets never caused the same stir.
Sharp impact against pine broke the train of thought. Immediately Amahl looked up and around; and sure enough his partner hissed back at him. "Not so loud you idiot." Barked John. It was a partnership. Not that Amahl had to listen to John; or learned everything from John. Or was scared of John. Those little things would make John more his boss than his partner. This way things were equal. The boot to the head got Amahl yammering and apologizing, "I said quiet! Now crack it open."
Amahl bucked under the foot with a nervous glance around. At his current height, he could barely see the grass, but it made him feel better. Crouched down in a grave, Amahl took a crowbar, trying to wedge and crack open the coffin. Right, the job. Partners. Get the hand, and get out of there. Oh, and fleece the body of shine first. Bit by bit the wood got open; and Amahl let out a fevered pitch, "I got it! Its open." The boot ground into him again and Amahl piped down with another chitter.
The night made everything so hard to see but not so bad to hear. Things traveled so much more. "Hey! He's back! Quick get the guard!"
Amahl's eyes went wide and he looked back at John. John looked back at Amahl. That brief instant of being caught made them both freeze for a second as the fight or flight instinct took the two of them. Amahl tried to scramble up out of the hole he had dug himself into, and John kicked a face full of dirt in his protege's face. John was his partner; just not the kind of one you rely on. Or trust. Or complain to. Blind with dirt all inside the back of his eyelids, Amahl clambered blind to the sound of John running into the night.
"There he goes! Go go!"
Amahl looked about like a wild hamster. The instinct to HIDE overtook him. Dirt, dirt, dirt, wood. Amahl went to the only place available to him: the coffin. With a grimace on his face he climbed in as quietly as he could, listening to the boots above muffle his sound. The human was snug with a corpse in the dark as the sounds of the chase continued. Questioning shouts followed. Just a few feet above him, Amahl was sure. The human just closed his eyes and counted to ten; trying so hard to act like it was all going to be okay.
"So... nice place you have here." He muttered to the body, "Don't tell anyone. Its my first time. Not grave robbing. You know, hiding in..." A shudder rolled through Amahl. So nervous, he couldn't stop nattering now. Gritting his teeth, he heard the sounds roll about. It would probably be another hour or so before he could safely move. The lid was cracked just enough for him to be able to breathe; but not enough for him to be comfortable. "You know. You might get more company if you didn't hog the bed." Amahl was a few steps from jail; and he couldn't shut up!
His teeth clenched in the black, waiting patiently for them to crack open that lid; but it never happened. Seconds stretched to minutes. Stretched to spans. Eventually Amahl pressed against the lid and began to pull out of the night hung over the sky still, and not a guard or torchlight in sight. "Holy shit..." Amahl whispered. He looked down to the body of a human woman. The grief bubbled inside that greedy core. That nice shine. That nice fat ring on her finger could get a nice helping.
No words. No quips. Amahl climbed out the grave. In the shadows covered in dirt, he snuck out of the graveyard empty-handed. Yeah. He needed to find a new line of work. John was gonna kill him.
Temple of Elemental Evil: Hey big man, can I hold a dollar?
Amahl was covered in dirt; and smelled of the grave. It wouldn't take a smarty to put some stuff together. He was about as unremarkable as they came along over all, but that would certainly get him pinched. Times were bad in Cormyr; but that would get anyone pinched. Amahl was born and raised in Suzail; that big fat jewel in the kingdom - so he knew what rocked the boat. Oh yeah. Touching the dead was right up there like telling a sailor his mom kissed a green-skinned gobby.
He forgot what time the city went to mess. Suddenly there just wasn't money to go around; and everybody who was anybody was nobody now. 'Lest they were knights. Riots brought in the Purple Dragons. Since then people were acting nice; scared to mess of guys tougher than nails. People had to get rationed work to fix the place up at the temple of Waukeen, and things still haven't gotten that good. Even lifting a bit of clench for his stomach made things off balance; everybody was hungry. Every person was needing.
Except that gnome.
Amahl stuck to the alleys as he moved about. That sweet city smell mixed with the good stuff to put off his peculiar fixture of attributes. His thoughts turned again to that weird gnome; trying to wrinkle out things. The meet up was near that shop. Some gnome wanted hands. He didn't care how, but that squat big nosed sucker wanted them. John said he could get lots of hands. All the hands the little guy could need. 'Course that meant all the bits of shine went to John and Amahl.
If John was anywhere, he'd probably be there. The creepy rat looking old man found Amahl most of the time. The gnome ran a shop in town. He was some sort of witch or something; and made weird salves and the like that smelled horrible. What a little gnome needed with hands bigger than his face - Amahl didn't want to know. For now his money was good. Though John never went into specifics, Amahl always figured the little the guy was a witch or something. Creepy.
Amahl got to the place ahead of time - if there was a time. No sign of John. The building had been boarded up a bit more than usual. A shiver rolled through the human again, "Creeeeepy." He whispered with a tired weight. He shifted into the shadows a bit more, settling into the alleyway and resting atop a barrel. It'd been a bit since he had gotten some sleep. The sun would be coming up soon; and it was well enough he get some shut eye. Last thing he wanted was to be meandering home at the moment empty handed. Just a bit of shut eye. Then he'd meet up with John.
He couldn't have been out too long though.
The sounds of life stirred Amahl again. The noise of someone clanking about, trying to get into the place. This was a larger guy. A pretty tough looking person too. He looked like a slumming noble or some fancy pants knight without the fancy. He wore some leather, with the metal studs that caught early this morning. This guy, a human, had this massive length of chain he had along with him. It looked like a nasty piece of work. So Amahl did the most logical thing to him to this potential burglar. He spoke to him.
"N'ain't no bidness of mine friend; but I'm kenning you're lookin to get in."
The figure gave a pause. The way his muscles tensed were a slow decisive measure. The way someone that decided not to jump and alarm would. Course Amahl would've been all out of sorts if someone did this to him. John got a kick out of it. "I might be." He was one of those pretty types; the ones that could afford a bath. His hair was pressed back with a grizzled chin. The way this guy was looking at the shadows told his eyes were still adjusting to the dark - trying to pick out where Amahl was.
"So who are ya then? I didn't figure the guy had many ge'nleman callers." Amahl slipped up to his feet to make it easier on the stranger. He put his hands on the waist of his leggings and leaned against the wall. The figure in response, looked back over his shoulder and gave a slow nod, looking back to Amahl. He had a coin purse alright. One with more than rocks in it. The stranger picked up a coin, a nice silver one. The light was more than enough to give it away, but he twisted it just so - and getting the light to glance across the face.
"I'm paying."
It gave Amahl another pause with that much money. The clench in his stomach got a bit more and he gave a smile. He tried to pass it off, rolling his shoulders with a wave, "Yeah. Well le's get you in then friend." He said. Amahl's eyes lingered on the coin for a bit, and the stranger stood back. His form slipped along the dark wall and hid from the waking city a bit more adequately. The grave-robber stepped forth, trying not to disappoint. He knit his brow as he looked about, gathering together some twine before settling at the back door.
The fancy-pants watched in silence. What the witch-gnome had, and what fancy-pants wanted, sure that was a good story. Now though, Amahl was breaking into a store with some garbage bits people tossed. Stories and reasons weren't his business never were. Just like that, the door was open. Easier this way, than breaking down the door or the windows. Just a wiggle and a twist - the whole thing falls open like a key to a lock. Reverse that. Yeah.
The door opened rather quietly, and Amahl gave it a gentle push. With a smile back over his shoulder he gestured onward into the house. "There it be. I thank ya kindly for that shine now." He whispered. The man shifted and walked on over. Closer. Closer. Past, and into the house. Amahl's brow knit and he looked to the guy, following along behind, "Oi. What's the problem man, I thought we had a deal?"
"I will still need you to close up after me."
"Tch."
Amahl followed afterwards, quietly closing the door behind him. He'd never been inside the place before. It smelled funny. "Creeeepy..." He whispered under his breath. It was a dark place. Everything was so small on this side of the house. It was a house for dolls. The stranger seemed to be looking for something in particular, searching for something. Amahl on the other hand, was just trying to make sure he didn't break anything. Everything was so small, he felt like a giant.
It gave him a sense of vertigo just trying to follow along. Then he heard the tapping. He began to speak and the stranger waved him off. Yeah. Something was here. It was very faint, but they were getting closer now. The sound of something bubbling was there too. Just in the corner of the sound. Amahl was so caught up in the sound that he tripped over a small chair in the dark and had to stifle a curse. The stranger just glare at him and they both held their breath for a time - but nothing happened. Nothing came for them.
Amahl picked himself up, trying to brush himself off and managed to put more dirt on the ground that was originally there in the first place. He felt the heat dig into his cheeks as he moved to follow, and recognized a light in the twist of the house. Then he saw the hands. They were moving.
The hands were moving around, skittering about on their fingertips. Animate, the clattering claws tipped back and forth, tending to boiling water, a small fire, writing. They were rushing back and forth without direction, pouring beakers and making foul smelling formulae. Amahl's mind froze and he stood stock still for a few moments just staring. All those hands he had collected. What was this witch doing?! The stranger had a stomach made of sterner stuff and veins more hardened. He wasn't as shaken at the sight of these dancing digits doing dexterous deeds.
Then again, the stranger didn't hand pick the lot of them.
Amahl rubbed the sleep from his eyes and watched a bit more before backing up towards the door. The stranger scowled at him and shrugged it off, nodding towards the upstairs. The fear of these abominations was pressed back in a lump Amahl swallowed. The need for that coin was a bit more pressing. As long as he thought about them as rats, it wasn't so bad. Yeah. Dancing. Moving. Witch-rats. That was more doable. One step at a time.
"So a palm and four fingers walk into a bar..." Amahl begins.
"Shut it." The stranger finishes.
Amahl managed a grumble in response and continued to climb. He finished the joke with mock motions. Oh he did not like this place one bit. His fingertips rested on the walls as he climbed up, keeping his balance in position as he moved as quietly as he could. The stranger kept on up, moving with less skill than Amahl but with definite grace. At the top, Amahl was dreading what he would see. Witch-rat-hands making potions downstairs, he knew; but there were a lot of hands unaccounted for.
His entire home could fit in this place so many times over. Who needed so much space?! The thoughts coiled in Amahl's mind. Maybe the gnome collected feet as well? Maybe he collected shoes for those feet. The worst of those fears came to a head when he saw what the stranger was looking for. A room of clothes - of some fancy boots. A cry of alarm left him, seeing hands measure boots and tack leather in place. Amahl spun around and tried to dart away. All the hands tried to give pursuit now, his stumble before unnoticed but now - they sprang in defense of their demesne.
The stranger barged into the room as the hands left, and took his boots. That fleeting image was ingrained in Amahl's brain as he took off. He ran too fast, missing the stairs in his blind panic, and saw hands set up playing cards. Convinced now he was going mad, Amahl made a spin, trying to barrel down the stairs. The hands were chasing after him, flying at him with lunges of nails or in a fist. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, finding the other hands coming in response at the bottom of the stair.
Revenge! They were coming for revenge! And they'd take his hand! Amahl cried out in terror and leapt over the arm of the stair. Without much cause for pause, Amahl darted out the door, and into the alleyway. He had to slow to a stop, looking in abject terror at the building. The hands clambered up one on another, reaching up for the door handle and in unison, pulling it closed. A hand clapped down on his shoulder, and gave Amahl the scare of his life - a second time.
It was the stranger.
"Calm down. You're safe."
Amahl started laughing faintly, looking between the house and the odd individual. It took him a moment to recognize the shattered glass. Those fine flecks of it on the ground from the second story painted that quick escape just fine as well. He started laughing again and it took him a bit to calm. "Holy hells. I never thought... I... what the..." The man offered no answers to Amahl immediately. His hand withdrew, and the stranger searched his coin, pulling out one with more luster and a few more silver coins as well.
"Get a bath, and meet me at tavern near the docks. Your skill set could come in handy."
The bit of nausea that erupted had to have been done on purpose. The stranger grinned, slapping the coin in Amahl's unsteady hand. "Calm down. We're heroes after all." The incredulous look had to be worth it. "I am Crotus. See me when you have all your faculties." The stranger, Crotus, set off with a purpose. Amahl on the other hand, was just trying to figure out what had happened. Failing that, Amahl decided it was past time he stop robbing graves, and find something else to do with his life.
Then again, if all the jobs paid this well - working with Crotus couldn't be so bad.