ЪЧTale 3  Revenge is a dish best served.. . The bell rang. Tassil Browhorn (Son of Fizil) looked up reluctantly from his book ("Volo and the 7 fiery sorceresses of Thay") to see a stranger (probably a noble or wealthy merchant from his appearance) enter the trading outpost (that he ran for his father). The man was wearing beautiful clothing of the finest cut & weave with materials that looked to be worth more than a prince's ransom in gold, though the style was out of date with the newest fashions by almost a decade. Despite looking no older than 38 he also held a staff of burnt Oakwood in his left hand atop which was a Topaz pommel, and in his right hand he wore a massive diamond signature ring (That was probably worth more than the store and everything in it). The stranger looked around at the interior of the trading shop before turning to address Tassil in a cold, imperious tone dripping with contempt. "Who is the owner of this establishment?" Tassil felt indignant at the condescending tone but remembered his fathers advice about "A potential customer is still a possible customer" and reigned it in. He replied with a civil tone "I am the ow-, manager of this 'establishment'. Tassil Browhorn, appointed manager of this regional branch of the Fizzil Browhorn & Dargof Nerec trade & commerce firm", now can I help you? . The man suddenly walked towards him, a warm smile on his face as he shook Tassil vigorously by the hand with a strong & warm clasp. "A pleasure to meet you my fine fellow, I've come here to this branch precisely because of your exceptional & efficient leadership and management". He then spouted a list of referers, shared acquaintances, the amazing record of the firm and this branch in particular and praise. Tassil was surprised by the abrupt change in attitude but quickly warmed to the overpowering charm, personality & charisma of the man who called himself "Terg Eda" .Terg sat nonchalantly in a chair and continued his talk with Tassil: "As I was saying my good man, I've been hearing amazing things about "your" company. And I want to invest in it, in fact I want to buy a full 25 of "your" trading and delivery firm as a near equal partner". Tassil blinked in amazement. In the 11 years since his fathers "Deal" the family trading business had gone from a bare handful of rotting old wagons propelled by spit and home made contraptions to a major regional trading power. It was now the third largest, seventh wealthiest and most profitable (Before profit splitting) company in all of Central Cormyr (A relative fact, aided by the unfortunate destruction of the assets of various rivals due to the mysterious and unexplained destruction of many rival convoys by means unknown despite heavy guard and watch while passing through well hidden forest and mountain routes) His father had taken the family business public and had released shares in order to aid expansion and raise "seed capital", in fact even now Capital was still low, especially due to the main partner demanding all of his shares of the quarterly profits in precious metals). Still, the vast majority of the company was still held by his family (His father mainly) and the second largest owner was his father's "partner". Terg's eyes were narrowed into slits as Tassil thought of all this but his jovial expression returned the instant Tassil focused on him again so quickly that even an outside observer would think that he had imagined it. He continued talking, the well practiced spiel rolling off his tongue dripping with sincere, oily charm: "I do know that currently only 9 of the total equity of your firm is open to market investment, but surely your father would be willing to accommodate the wishes of a well respected, serious investor such as myself". "I assure you" He laughed as he said this "That I am no coin grubbing merchant from off the streets of Suzail nor a demon worshipping Thayan magic peddler, but a man of old and noble heritage and integrity" His eyes seemed to burn intoTassils own as he said this sincerity and nobleness evident in those bright focused orbs. "Still until you can consult your father and his mysterious "partner" the elusive Dargof Nerec on the future of this firm I wish to provide assurances of my assurances as to my sincerity by having purchased this very day before arriving all available public stock in your firm and have made it public, greatly increasing the value of the shares and the value of any future shares that your father may make public. In addition I wish to sample some of the famously reliable service of the firm in the form of a large monthly delivery and purchase of Rhothe meat, Kara-Turan silks and the shipping of gold from a mine I own in the East. However I must leave, my grand-daughter will handle all the details, negotiations and payment" Terg rose and went to the door before motioning in someone just outside of the thresh-hold "Come in my dear" he said before turning back towards the still sitting (but now rising) Tassil. " I'm afraid that I have to leave now on urgent business, but my granddaughter Isel has my full authority on all deals that need to be made. Good day my friend, it has been a pleasure to meet such a fine man such as yourself. It's such a pity you're wasted here while your old father dithers away any chance of greatness " Tassil blinked not quite understanding these strange parting words but forgetting them almost instantly. "Good day, er- Sir Terg". Anything else that he might have wished to say were choked off as he saw the young lady Isel enter the room. Tassil had never seen a more attractive woman human, elf, gnome, halfling or otherwise and truly, and truly Isel was exceptionally "Sculpted". She wore a single sheer low cut dress of bright green silk, held in place by 3 tightly bound velvet straps that accentuated her slender build and generous curves, her long unadorned obsidian black hair flowing freely behind her down to her hips while an exquisite bracelet of platinum and a single glistening Ruby lay nestled between her firm high breasts its colour bringing out her large, exotic orange-red eyes. Slowly she sauntered towards him, hips swaying as the scent of her perfume, a strange husky scent which reminded him of wild flowers, washed over him. "A pleasure to meet you Mr?" Her voice had a slight accent, a strange almost archaic one that he'd never heard before. "Terg, er you mean I? That is us er that..." He mumbled tongue tied while fumbling with his outstretched hands. She giggled a slender hand covering her small mouth. "Do calm down, I know how daddy tends to befuddle people but he's a dear really. We'll both be spending a lot of time working together so you'd better get used to it" Tassils face turned even redder than he would have thought possible "Lots? Working together lots? We?" She laughed "Come on, you can buy me some wine at Averno's winery to celebrate our impending arrangement then we can discuss business and other things" Tassil's blinked "Other things?" She grinned and pushed him (slightly) with her arm. "Like your name silly, now come on the day is hot enough without being in this stifling little "shop", Where your father has left you to be ignored and under appreciated ". She led the befuddled Tassil after her hand in hand as he stumbled along in a haze of spun confusion and artful distractions. Meanwhile, not that far away in mid shape-shift a Great Red Dragon laughed a roaring chortle that shook the leaves of trees for miles around, while at the same time his polymorphed Great-great Granddaughter just barely kept herself from laughing inwardly at the effects of an overgrown milk-sack & a fragile, weak half-human form enhanced by spells of Enchantment & glamour on small-folk males. The young offspring delighted at their inability to effectively digest & metabolize something as simple as crushed grapes. The evening and morning wore by and again she delighted at the inferiority of the weakest small-folk races in resistance, for how easy it was to alter their desires, shape their memories, alter their minds, implant spells of binding & fealty and to implant mental suggestions in their weak unfortified psyches (Especially after they had been sufficiently inebriated). Many Leagues away a She-Dragon shivered as if someone had walked over her burial plot in her lines ancestral Dragons Graveyard. Her son called out to her anxiously "Mother! Are you allright? I thought that you had shielded yourself against the cold evokation?!" His words were a rapid, anxious babble despite springing from a toothy jaw now capable of invoking increasingly complex magics in time & tune. She turned to him and spoke in a soothing tone "Calm down my dear Koril, you're improving but it shall be a long, long time yet until you'll be able to cast a dweomer capable of affecting me, let alone harming me no matter how good you're getting at using this worlds Weave. Now, lets practice meta-magical augmentations again, your breath was the same tiny puff last time you tried it and the lung exercises will help your breath control and focus". And so they continued their training blasts of energy illuminating the shadowy interior of the cave in a rainbow of colours, many beyond the limit of human or even Elven eyesight, while far away peasants dared not look in the direction of the glowing, cursed mountaintop fearing the demons their parents had told them dwelled within. The caravan train winded to a halt, a mile before the edge of the great forest. Fizil browhorn got off of his seat at the front of his private wagon, pushed out a ladder then descended to the ground. His foreman, a swarthy dwarf by the name of Fah Decorum trotted over on his pony. "What is it Sir? We still have a good run yet until we reach civilized lands and get out of the stalks of the bandits in this accursed wood". - There was a reproachful tinge in dwarf's words. Fizil stared at the ground for a moment then looked his recently appointed Foreman squarely in the eye (though this caused him a considerable neck-ache). "Fah, you remember (no doubt) what I told you when I promoted you from the Suzail branch and bought you here, About there being "special circumstances" that would crop up? This is one of them. Continue with the baggage train alone, with luck I should rejoin you at the base camp within a week at most". "And without luck?" Fizil looked at the sky for a second then returned his steadforward gaze to to match that of the Dwarf's. "Then tell my clan and close kin how much I love them, and to check the legacies with Tassil retrieving the will first". "How do you even plan to get to... wherever you're ventured? You can't maintain a lone caravan and going by foot is suicide!?" "Well, I've been meaning to test the prototype for long enough as is..." "That insane experimental scout wagon!?!... May Glittergold and Waukeen watch over you." "And Moradin's blessings to you, my friend". The "Scout-Turtle " wagon\XV-42 prototype or "Dragon's wing" as it was known was the product of a rare collaboration: Gnomish ingenuity, an inebriated and indebted war-wizard, dwarfish craftsmanship, draconic inspiration and most importantly of all  large amounts of gold and darkwood. Its shape was far more compact and small than a typical Caravan wagon or even Gnomish battle-wagon. Its exterior was smooth and flowed like a rippling muscle lined with hardened scales (Of the rare /living metal, a compound that constantly grew as if it were alive, reducing the need for repairs) although this turtle-like design paradigm was interrupted by a number of large spikes attached to its base and front. It sat on a disjointed multi-part framework that was reinforced by a number of springs and thick pads of soft wood to absorb jolts and the ground underneath it so as to prevent any vital components from being disabled (Such as an Axle), as it moved on its Seven large wheels, arranged as they were in groups of three in the front and back and a single wheel under the base, the wheels were also covered with the same protective living metal as the rest of the wagon's exterior so as to prevent any chance of the wheels breaking in their rapid acceleration under the power of the wagon's motive force. For transportation it relied on devices of great cunning, 12 stones enchanted with spells of flying or for reppeled gravity itself that were welded into a number of areas inside the wagons frame and there they could be manipulated via the ropes and switches that could be flipped by the wagons operator, as he hung in a web of control ropes and levers inside the wagons fortified interior, this method allowed the wagon to rapidly accelerate in any direction (Though the strength of the stones was not enough to let it fly, a short 2 inch hovering being the most it could do without ripping itself apart). Most importantly this allowed the wagon to travel in great silence and without the need for beasts of transport or the amount of supplies horses or even battle-dogs would require, which meant that it could be used for days on end by a single man (Though there was room for three inside it) behind enemy lines or in bandit infested woods while offering amazing protection at incredible speeds, as it flew up hillsides as if it were falling down. It was also the cause of its inventor's painful lumbago. Fizil examined it carefully, checking the spy-holes, the wheels and its internal mechanisms before he entered it and carefully locked the small entrance behind him. After a few minutes of huffing and puffing he was finally attached to the spiders-web of ropes and control levers that controlled the stones (The wheels were autonomous, moving according to the propulsion, each on their own frame). He sat on a chair that lay suspended in mid-air, held there by ropes attached to the corners of the tiny "room", then carefully and securely strapped himself to it with a number of soft silken ropes. The wagon shuddered, rose a half inch into the air, settled back downwards, rolled backwards slowly on the ground's slope then abruptly careened forwards at a blistering speed that would have done a Quickling proud. The only sounds to be heard were that of the wheels bouncing on the ground, birds twittering, Wargs howling and an over-weight gnome screaming for well over a minute: "STUUUPIIIDDD WWAAAGGOOOONNNNN!" A small band of Orc bandits had heard the noise of the approaching vehicle (Or to be precise, its contents) and had laid in wait, springing onto its path as they heard it near. "Yer money and yer Li-"  SPLAT Thus died Berobad, the terror of the woods, burner of the village of "Fair meadows" and second in command of the Raw blood Orc clan. And thus did the Dragon's wing gain a new coat of paint for its front wheel. Onwards rolled the "Turtle", through the dark woods and the sunblasted plains, skirting the outskirts of the few small towns it passed and outracing any that tried to interfere with it. Until, at last, it reached the base of the Mountain. The 'Wing jerked to a halt, shuddered alarmingly then tipped onto its side, shattering a viewing hole and dislocating a ramming spike. Inside, Fizil untangled himself and eventually, after much shoving and grunting, he opened the entry hatch and clambered out of it, shaken and bearing a number of livid bruises but uninjured. After he had finished heaving the rich lunch he had shared two days ago with the commandant of the army supply camp he had visited (A man named Gael Goldpine, and one with an amazing constitution for wine). Fizil staggered over to the very base of the towering mountain then composed himself, a hand over his pounding heart, before cupping his hands to his mouth and shouting for all the world to hear: "OH DEAR, I FIND MYSELF HERE ALL ALONE. WON'T ANYONE COME TO HELP A POOR, DEFENCELESS OLD GNOME!" 'What a ludicrous password' He muttered to himself irritably. "Last time It bought a rogue Air-Elemental after you. Now, I have an excellent summer-time cooling system for the cave. Steady yourself Gnome!". The words arrived in the gnome's head without bothering to pass the toll-booth of his ears, but Fizil had little time to appreciate this as he was sucked away in a breath. Only to find himself facing a titanic Dragon's head, mouth open, teeth larger than his whole body, a hot breath passing through the gaping maw over him. The Two dragons examined the convulsing Gnome quizzically. The Young Korilandatrix spoke first. "I can't remember him ever doing that before. Is that some sort of greeting customary to small fo-To Gnomes, Mother?" "No dearest, I believe that your little "business partner" is having an arrest to the motion of his blood, or what they call a "heart arrest"". "So?" "Most small-folk only have One heart, dear. Now, let me see, a spell of healing to keep him alive and an amulet of health to prevent this from happening again should see him till age takes slowly, or until you decide otherwise" A chant, A cant and an over-weight Gnome's heart regulated himself, leaving its owner to face his business partner in excellent health (Though he did not think much of that, nor for a good many years more). Fizil slowly woke up, feeling as though his head were a pounding drum and his chest the drummer. Opening his eyes to the sight of two massive fang filled maws hovering above him didn t help much, but oddly enough he felt calmer and surer and as his wits returned to him, panic dissipated leaving only a tingling in his gut. He coughed then pushed himself off the floor.  My apologies, for fainting, I fear that-   You did not faint Gnome . The rumbling tones of the Great She-dragon left no room for disagreements on even the simplest of matters, but irritation at his humiliation left Fizil feeling irritable.  My pardon, oh great and all-knowing dragon, then what did happen to me, if your cave sized mind can comprehend the happenings of lesser beings who fail to share your-   You died, little gnome. I would advise against removing the amulet on your breast if you value your continued health . Fizil s mouth gaped like a fish before he recovered.  Er, My thanks lady Wyrm . His benefactor merely turned and strode off to one of the great piles of treasure and platinum coins that lay in the cave s corners and curled up.  Wake me after you finish playing with your little gnome .  Yes mother said Korilandatrix, before turning to the Gnome.  Well, now that s over with, how goes our business? I fear that your last messenger got eaten by a troll on the way here, and the troll s digestive tracts had dissolved the records by the time I d finished dissecting it . Fizil wiped his brow with his silk kerchief (A nervous tic that neither family or draconic business partners helped with much) and began to discuss records, deals, fruits, metals and competitors, his demeanor improving noticeably as he did so.  And we ve managed to keep our competitors from muscling into the routes you ve kept clean by changing routes, leaving them to suffer bandit attacks once the conditions worsen, but we ll need to focus on short term but brutal  cleansings if we want to keep it up. I m especially worried about traitors being slipped into the wagon s staff, as your flambИing half an escort but not the other would raise too many questions . Koril, as always had an answer.  Well, have them take some sort of slow acting poison with the antidote at your destination, that works on humans, doesn t it? Fizil shook his head, and carefully kept a condescending tone out of his grandfatherly reply.  I fear that you ve been reading too many Volo books from what I ve sent you, something like that would net us only desperate men, or those with anti-venom imbibed. Never mind the fact that the venom and its antidote would cost us a literal fortune. I was thinking of offering the men a small but set percentage of each trip en lieu with much lower base wages off course. It would be costly, but we d have the best men with a strong stake in making sure the cargo reaches the market. Another benefit would be that they d have an interest in protecting it in  civilized lands as well, not just the forest short-cuts you clean for us, and we ve had 3 occasions so far of the cargo being hijacked inside or near city walls . Koril huffed slightly, releasing a gust of wind that sent Fizil s hat and handkerchief flying. Fizil spoke hurriedly again.  Of course, it would be your decision, being a security matter, but it would save us so much money, and would prevent so many thieveries. Koril s eyes glittered at the mention of the words  Money and his eyes flashed red at the mention of the mere possibility of  Thieves .  Very well, Gnome. We ll go with your idea, but if it fails the anti-venom s coming out of your share of the profits. Now, I remember your mentioning that the company shares weren t selling well, is that still the case?  Well, after you  suggested that we set the shares at one and a half fold the common buyers price the shares remained entirely in our hands until recently, when someone began to buy every share out on the market, its driven the prices up delightfully even when I promised reduced profit sharing per-share on future stock. I d just recommend against releasing further stock, at this rate someone with the common stock and a few of my families controlling shares could have a serious say in the companies management, and I don t think that either of us would want that, eh? Koril s snout furrowed.  But if the price is so delightfully high&  Fizil sighed.  All right, All right, a few more shares but no more. All it would take is a few of my close family selling or buying the shares themselves and we d be in deep, S-, er, Lava . Koril licked his gleaming teeth white with his long tongue.  I knew you d see it my way eventually . Fizil worked up a chuckle,  Yes, somehow quarter ton dragons always get the last word in everything over 80 pound Gnomes, fancy that . Koril examined him with slit eyes.  Surely, my dear Fizil you re not suggesting that your acquiescence to my profitable suggestions over the years has been a mass to fang ratio matter, and not one of simple brain mass?  No, No of course no- BRAIN MASS?!  As you pointed out, I outweigh you many times over, and my head is rather larger than yours by a factor.  Yes, but it s an issue of quality, not quantity as my dear wife always says. The fact that your brain is huge is irrelevant unless compared to the proportional size of the rest of your body, why a troll or Ogre dwarfs me, but have less brains than what I snort into my handkerchief s . Koril leaned his long neck back as he considered this.  Then Gnome, the only way to settle this would be to weigh each of us and to examine the shape and weight of our respective heads in order to reach an exact ratio .  Well, we could always get a sawn off bridge and a few heads of cattle for you Joked Fizil.  True said Koril, missing the subtle nuances of non volume based languages and hence humour that was expressed in anything less than B-flat.  However, I can t help but recall a tale I heard when but a fresh-beaked hatchling, concerning an adventurer of the dwarven race, who bargained for his life with a game of riddles. When his opponent (My Great-great-great uncle s son s cousin s daughter s nephew) tried to answer the question of weight and head mass by such a scheme as you proposed, he was sadly decapitated by an ingenious saw powered by his own weight. You wouldn t be thinking of attempting such a subterfuge on me, would you! Fizil stammered  Of Co-, of course- Koril began to approach Fizil, teeth bared and wings outstretched in a predator s slow, hypnotic saunter.  You want my share of the profits and my investments, don t you? You think that you re strong enough to succeed without me, that your guards and reputation will keep the wagons safe, that I m not deserving of any rights! Fizil peddled backwards but fell over, arms raised  No,nononoo, It was just a joke, I ve never even heard of that story . Tears of fear welled on his muddy cheeks. Korilandatrix lept forward and lowered his face until his drops of steaming saliva fell at Fizil s feet.  You were  just joking ? Well, He opened his mouth and drew in a great breath, leaving Fizil breathless.  So was I. Boo. His laughter vibrated Fizil almost to the point of unconsciousness. Fizil failed to share the humour  You miserable overgrown lizard! I almost died, again! Your brain s smaller than an ogre s, you, You!  Dragon said the sleeping She-dragon, as she opened one of her slitted eyes. Fizil was never one to fail to notice a warning, but his ire was not so easily diminished.  Bah, you re just a big bully. Take away your magic, and scales and claws and wings and what do you have left?  A genius with a tongue of platinum that could talk you into eating yourself. , Spake the she-drake before rolling over and covering her ears with a tapestry of ancient Myth-Drannor, and returning to her slumber. Koril had stopped laughing, and actually felt guilty over the reaction of the (to him) humourless gnome, but he certainly wasn t going to show it.  Very well, little gnome, so Dragons are superior by far to anything not wearing a halo or wielding a pitchfork, and we use it. What of it? When have you not used your advantage over some animal before eating it, or have you failed to use your size and hands prior to eating a rhubarb? Fizil was still too shaken to reply beyond a waved  Pfah! Koril leaned back.  Well, if dragons are such humorless  overgrown lizards then I see no reason why little gnomes would want to meet such a beasty . Fizil was taken aback.  What? Koril spoke softly, a hint of amusement in his pitch.  You did ask me a number of times about your younger children and grand-children seeing me, how one expressed it as her dream? We can t do it here, but there are enough caves in these mountain that can fit a young Dragon and a gaggle of Gnomish young, don t you think? Fizil couldn t help but smile.  Ye re as sensitive as a mountain, and not just the size of one, but yes, I think that the young scamps would love seeing ye, no matter that the clan don t know about our agreement. They re probably old enough to keep a secret, and if not, who d believe them anyway. I ll tell them that my business partner is a half-dragon or Lizardman or somesuch, and that their imaginations blew ye up . Koril let out a whooping boom that Fizil guessed (correctly) was another laugh.  Do that, gnome, after all, one joke deserves the other. Now, let us eat and drink before you leave, I believe that you favored the hind quarters of the beasts burnt to a black colour, or was it red? As Fizil tucked into a large haunch of (red) coloured meat, he couldn t help but reflect that while this partnership was more stressful than most, at least it was interesting. He just hoped that the dragon would gain a better sense of humor by his son, or future great-grandson s time. If he had known what his son was doing, and what was being done to him by a dragon, he would not have been so optimistic.