Adventurer's Cabin
The 'deluxe' adventurer's cabin in Stonebarrow is actually furnished rather nicely. It's several rooms, meeting/kitchen, sleeping, and bathing. Recent renovations have even added internal plumbing to the cabin, making the bathing room equipped with running water. A second ceramic fireplace equipped with a water reservoir provides hot water. Needless to say, it takes a while to actually get a warm bath. The hot springs are faster.

The front door to the cabin flies open violently thanks to a well-placed foot from the erstwhile adventuring otter, Jack. The Akwavi strides in, chest puffed out and looking rather full of himself. "Well, now that was an adventure! Near death, terrible monsters, damsels in distress! Er, and one guy in distress too, but we'll leave that part out," he says, waving his hands during the last bit. "Now, we can't have that creature think he scared us off. No sirree. Now is the time to strike." He punches his hand for emphasis. The poor Kadie, Aiken, and Midge who follows, may not exactly feel the same level of excitement … not that it stops Jack.

"I'm not wearing a dress," Midge points out. "And neither is Mr. Silverfoot. Not this time."

Aiken staggers into the lavish cabin, holding his tail to his forehead as though it were some sort of therapeutic compress. "Already? No offense, mister Jack, but I feel like my insides are ready to leap out o' my snout." He gives Midge an odd look.

"Really? That's excellent," Jack croons as he flashes Aiken a toothy grin. "That's the feeling of an adventurer. Somewhere between excitement and wanting to vomit up everything you've ever eaten. You're a quick learner. All you need is a few pints of beer and your stomach will settle."

Midge perks up at the offer of beer. "You have beer, Mr. Jack?" she asks. "Real beer? Not the kind that comes from a washtub and requires you to boil the mugs afterward?"

The Kadie flops down in a chair, folding his tail in his lap. "You want to drink before fightin' a monster? That's sort of… crazy, mister Jack."

"Beer ain't called liquid courage for nothing, kiddo. It's just what you need to stiffen that upper lip," the Akwavi claims. Midge seems to have earned a rather confused look from Jack, though. "I've never had beer that required boiling mugs. Egad, girl. How were you raised?"

"Well, if we gotta, then we gotta." The squirrel achingly gets to his feet, and pops his back. "Stonebarrow Akwavi are fond of moonshine, but I've never been partial to the stuff."

"Bah, sit down. What I need you to do is think about what you're good at and how it can be applied to monster fightin'. Meanwhile, I'll get the beer," Jack claims as he starts towards the bedroom.

"The Brewers have really good security here is all, Mr. Jack," Midge notes.

Aiken frowns, and sits back in the chair – although inwardly he's grateful to do so. "I can monster fight! He just snuck up on me is all! I mean, who expects a zombie king? Really!"

Jack looks like he's about to ask Midge a question, then decides against it. So, he heads into the bedroom instead. "That's the spirit," he calls from the bedroom, "What would you have done if he hadn't surprised you?"

"I think Olivia Weaver does, Mr. Silverfoot," Midge whispers to the Kadie.

Aiken gives Midge another odd look, and… nonchalantly… scoots his chair a bit further from her. "Well, I dunno for sure. I guess I woulda burned him or somethin'. Maybe bit him – my teeth are kinda sharp… well, a little." The squirrel idly feels the bottom of his chisel-like incisors with a finger, as if to test the validity of his claim.

"Yeah, Kadies bite really hard!" Midge agrees, bobbing her head. "Why, Suzzy Oggton got her friend Cleo Apple to bite through the side of a rowboat on a dare!"

"Cousin Cleo was diggin' splinters from her mouth for a week," Aiken says, nodding in agreement.

Jack returns with a small wooden keg resting on his shoulder and three mugs in his left hand. "Well, I admire the courage … but do you really want to taste rancid flesh?" the Akwavi points out as he sets the keg down on its side on one of his numerous crates. He holds one of the mugs under the small spigot and turns it. A thick, almost black, liquid pours forth, filling the mug and leaving it with quite the foamy white head. He repeats the same for the other two mugs.

Midge licks her lips at the sight of the foamy brew.

"I can't say that I would – I don't even like fish, for Star's sake." Aiken brightens up a bit at the sight of the beer, his tail bristles relaxing.

Jack hands out the frothy mugs. "Well, first thing to know about the undead is … they're dead! They don't feel pain. So biting them or chopping off a limb doesn't do much good. Why, they would just pick up the arm or whatnot and try to beat you with it," the Akwavi explains.

Aiken's ears wilt. "Burn em maybe, then?" He takes a deep pull from his mug, wiping his lips with the sleeve of his shirt afterward.

The golden-furred Akwavi downs her mug in one long swallow, then wipes the foam off her whiskers with the back of her hand. "Awww, but Aiken is a Kadie! Everyone knows they're the most blood-thirsty, vicious, merciless fighters in the world! So I'm sure he can handle a zombie."

"Aye. Flame does a good job on them," Jack agrees. "But the trick is getting close enough to 'em to use it. A torch doesn't have that much reach and all. If you know a mage, they can be great help too. Get them to place a spell on a regular weapon and whammo, one instant zombie slayer! And let me tell you … the old Necromancer Wars fostered a lot of ingenious weapons for fighting the buggers."

Aiken frowns at Midge, not certain if the otter is being serious or sarcastic – you honestly can't tell with her! "Kind of like… your hat, maybe?" The squirrel takes another swig of his drink, eyes staying focused on Jack. "Just where did you get that thing anyhow? When I had it on, it was… odd. Not bad, but odd. It weren't natural."

"You mean it didn't grow on a tree?" Midge asks, slowly slinking closer to the keg for a possible refill.

"My hat? T'was a gift from an cute little witch I showed a good time to way back in … eh, doesn't matter much!" Jack says with a wide grin, "Let's just say the sparks flew that night, and they weren't made o' magic, eh?" He starts pacing around the room and instead of walking around his crates, he just climbs over them. "Well, it just so happens I've collected a few interesting old weapons made for zombie fightin'. Got them from some old digs back west."

With Jack distracted, Midge hurries to refill her mug. "Hey, maybe you could borrow the Piece Maker from the militia," she suggests.

Aiken raises an eyebrow at the mention of the witch, and finishes off his mug. While Jack rummages in the barrels, he joins Midge to refill his mug. "What do they do? Are they magical?"

The otteress knocks mugs with Aiken. "Bottoms up! Mug bottoms, I mean, not ours… "

"Nah, not magical, just really clever. The funny part is, one of 'em bears a mark that indicates it was made in Tursdi," Jack says. "Hard t' believe given that territory doesn't produce much, and I should know!"

"Why yesh, I am a bit tursdy," Midge mutters, and pours beer down her throat.

Aiken's mug gives a dull "clunk", and the Kadie grins at Midge before taking a drink. "Tursdi? Why don't it produce much? Bad farmland?"

"It 'duces Kadies!" Midge barks with laughter, and then falls down onto her tail.

"Nah, that's just it. It's just a bunch o' farmland and backwater treefolk," Jack explains as he trundles over to one of of crates. He pulls out a box about two and a half feet long by a foot wide, and about six inches tall. It's pretty battered and scorched.

"Why do you know so much about it?" The squirrel inches closer to Jack, absently sipping his beer as he eyes the box.

"Cuz I've been there, kiddo," Jack explains. He flicks a couple of the old latches on the crate and lifts the lid. As it creaks open, Aiken can see that inside rests a rather intricate looking blood-red scimitar. Well, sort of a scimitar, at least. The blade is covered in decorative and intricate channels that curl and dance along it. The handle, though, is the odd part. It has some sort of hand-guard that looks like it can be pulled in towards the hilt with the bearers fingers. The hand guard itself is an odd cylindrical device with a series of small protrusions sticking up from it. There seems to be a catch that's locking it in place … it looks as if it could spin.

Aiken's tail twitches in curiosity as he looks over Jack's shoulder. "How does it work? Some sorta puzzley-type thingamabob?"

"That lookss nasty!" Midge comments, having wobbled over to look as well, leaning on Aiken for support.

The squirrel oofs as the larger otter leans on him – heavily in her current state.

"I bet it's a booby-trap!" Midge barks. "So only the right person can use it, or something. I think Gunther talked about that… "

"Glad you asked!" Jack says. He lifts out the odd weapon, then opens the bottom. Inside is a thick glove … with a tube and what looks like a wineskin sewn into the forearm. He pulls the glove on. Well, as best he can since his fingers are webbed, at least. The Akwavi then takes the tube and attaches it to a small nub in the base of the strange sword. He grips the hilt and takes several steps away from pair. "Now, don't move," he tells them…

Midge sobers up a bit at the phrase, and checks to see that neither she nor Aiken have apples atop their heads.

Aiken stops mid-swig, eyes going wide at this comment. "Er, just what are you going to do, mister Jack," he muffledly asks, muzzle still in mug.

Jack hooks one of his fingers onto the 'trigger' and draws it backward. The cylindrical device clicks as it tries to spin … but the catch holds it in place. The Akwavi looks smug as he pulls it back several times … and after the fourth or so draw, the curving pattern along the blade looks … wet? He brings the blade up to salute the pair, then his thumb flicks the catch loose. "Meet the zombie's bane," he pronounces, then sweeps the sword in a slow arc as he draws the trigger back. Free of the catch, the cylinder spins and sparks suddenly fly as the flint rods strike against part of the blade. The channels erupt into flame that lick along the blade. Each time Jack pulls the trigger, the flames surge bright. "Can you believe this was supposedly built by a Kadie?" Jack asks as he lazily twirls the flaming weapon. "It uses lamp oil in the pouch on the glove. The trigger pumps it into the blade … and well the little flint rods ignite it when it's allowed to spin."

"Wow!" Midge exclaims, her eyes reflecting the flame. "You could slice fish and cook it all at the same time!"

Aiken leaps backwards – ignoring the command to stay put – and almost practically climbs Midge. "Dagh take it, that's a mean piece of handiwork!" The squirrel regains his composure, and takes a small swig from his mug – smoothing down his ruffled fur. "Er… that is… why wouldn't it be built by a Kadie? Haven't you ever seen some a th' stuff Zahn's made?"

Jack quits pulling the trigger. A few more swipes and the blade snuffs out. "Zahn? Who's Zahn?" the archeologist asks.

"He's like, one of the Wingnuts," Midge explains. "He builds crashing machines."

"The who?" Jack asks as he goes about unhooking the tube and pulling the glove off.

"He's pretty handy," Aiken says, finishing off his second mug. "You shouldn't underestimate us Kadies, mister Jack. We're not a bunch of fluffy frilly Lapis."

"Oh right, you're like, from out of town," Midge remembers. "And the Wingnuts are like top-secret town… stuff."

The glove is returned to the case and the sword follows soon thereafter. "Heh. Maybe he's related to the ones who built this. All of you are originally from Tursdi, yeah?" Jack asks.

Aiken scratches his ear. "Are we? I've lived in Stonebarrow pretty much all my life, mister Jack. So did my pop and his pop – I've never been to the place."

Midge points to Aiken, and nods. "Oh, and the Chalks too," she adds. "They, like, marched here ages ago and killed everyone along the way or something. Like, ripped peoples' throats out and such, with their big teeth!" The blond girl nods somberly after saying this.

"Er, delightful," Jack mutters as he offers the case to Aiken. "So, want to try using this?"

"I bet they had swords like that too, only backwards," Midge offers next, warming up to the bloodthirstiness of the subject. "You know, to suck out blood and save it for later. Vampire Swords! I gotta tell Gunther about this… "

Aiken takes the case, tail twitching back and forth. "You're lettin' me use it? Really?" The squirrel looks equally nervous and elated. "Erm, maybe I better try it outside though, I don't wanna set the cabin on fire."

"I would appreciate it if you didn't go babbling about the stuff I have. Some of it is a bit … contraband," Jack comments quickly as he waves his hands wildly at Midge. "You can have the keg if you keep quiet… "

"And sure, we can go outside and try it," Jack tells Aiken.

"Maybe they sucked in the blood to mix with the fire-stuff, then squirted it out on their victims," Midge mutters, tapping her chin with a webbed finger. "Maybe it could shoot out even. Like… whips of burning blood… Oh, the whole keg?"

"Yeah, sure, the whole thing," Jack agrees.

Midge clasps her hands together and squeees happily. Then she realizes something, and asks, "Oh… you can't mention the Piece Maker to anybody! Nobody from outside is supposed to know 'bout our 'tillery. What do I have to give you to forget I mentioned that?"

"We can discuss that later tonight," Jack suggests to Midge and waggles his brow.

"I hope you have another keg for that too!" Midge says, and goes to open the door and check that nobody is spying.

Aiken opens up the box, and runs his finger across the hilt. He notes that the glove is a close match to his own paw – significantly smaller than an Akwavi's webbed hand. "Any other zombie fightin' gadgets in those boxes? That Vermite King was a mean customer."

"Booze!" Midge calls from the door. "I bet they don't like it, 'cause it distant-fecters things."

"I have a collection of thistlebark crossbow bolts, which work great for dealing with undead things," Jack comments, "Dug those up from a battlefield. And … hmm. I should do an inventory."

Aiken joins Midge at the door, and peers around for any peeping toms. "We could go out into the swamp and practice… got anything for Midge to use?"

"Well … what's she good at using?" Jack asks as he peers at his messy collection of odd things.

"Ummm, I can spear stuff in the water," Midge notes, looking up at the sky in thought. "And… I've got a jar of Magic Cheese hidden underwater in the tree roots."

"Er, no magic cheese, thanks. They smell bad enough," Jack grumbles. He taps his chin, thinking for a moment. "Ah, right, I've got the haft from an old spear. It's made from thistlebark too. Needs a new tip, though. Think you can get one from the militia?"

"I could maybe ask someone," Midge says, noncommittally. "I bet there are some blessed points left over from the last necromancer attack."

"Then you can have the spear haft," Jack says as he walks back into his bedroom to get it. Returning after a few seconds with the long shaft in hand, he then offers it to the other otter.

Aiken heads out the door, tucking the box underneath his arm. "We'd better go a ways out, there's bound to be some nosy busybodies out and about, even at this hour!"

Midge takes the shaft and swings it about a bit. "I could make this into a broom!" she says excitedly.

"Right, let's go. And if you make that into a broom, well… " Jack says, sighs, and shakes his head.

"Brooms are great weapons, you know," Midge notes, as she leads them to the edge of the swamp – which isn't too far behind the cabins, really. There is a short pier for adventurers to dock their (hopefully rented) boats, which extends about 30 feet out over the water, but is only about 3 feet wide. The swamp is its usual grayish-greenish-gooish color, with mysterious bubbles occasionally breaking the surface. "If you practice out here, you can just hop into the swamp if you set yourself on fire!" the otter offers.

Once out by the swamp, Aiken removes the sword from the box, and tries to put it together the same way Jack did. Being a Kadie – and this supposedly being a Kadie artifact – the glove fits him like, well, a glove, going on much smoother than it had for the otter's webbed paw. "So how does it work again? Do I need to push this deeliewhopper here?"

"The lever near the handle pumps the oil into the blade. But, it won't ignite unless you release the catch on the little spark wheel thing here," Jack instructs as he indicates the parts in question. "Don't feed too much into the blade … where too much means it starts dripping. That's a disaster waiting to happen… "

Aiken bites his lip nervously, and backs up to give him some distance from the others. "Well, here goes. Never really used a sword before – let alone one on fire!" The squirrel takes a deep breath, holds the weapon back, then takes a swing…

"Maybe you should try it not-on-fire first then!" Midge suggests.

The sword is surprisingly easy to wield in a Kadie's hand. The balance keeps it from feeling too heavy and the trigger is just the right distance to be functional but not uncomfortable to use. The sword sweeps through the air, trailing sparks as the igniter whirls. Midway through its arc, the blade flares to life again, bringing light to the dark shade of the swamp and its overhanging branches.

Aiken sweeps the sword around in a downward slash, then brings it to rest near his left foot. The look of astonishment on his face quickly turns to one of happy surprise. "Look, mister Jack! I did it! I did it!" He picks the sword back up and looks at the blade with a huge grin. "Aiken Briar Silverfoot – master swordsman! It has a nice ring to it!"

"Being able to swing it isn't the same as fight with it, you know," Jack has to point out, though grinning. "You need a sparring partner!"

Aiken's smile fades from his face. "A sparrin' partner? But mister Jack – I don't wanna set no one on fire!"

"Don't look at me!" Midge says. "I don't do that kind of sparring… "

"You spar with wooden swords, not real ones!" Jack comments. There's a pause, then he has to ask Midge, "What kind of sparring do you do?"

Aiken heaves a sigh of relief, and pulls the sword up for another swing. "Do you happen to have any a them practice swords then?"

"Wasters?" Jack asks, "Easy enough to make one so I don't carry 'em around. If this town's got an army, they ought to have some already made… "

"The… you know… nicer kind," Midge admits, looking down and shuffling her feet.

"Show me later?" Jack asks Midge and sidles up to her. "Gotta find Aiken someone to teach him how to use a sword first, alas."

"Then maybe we should practice some later before we go after this zombie fella. I'd rather burn him up instead a my tail." The squirrel makes another swing of the sword, a little bit more confident than before.

Once again, the squirrel sweeps the sword rather convincingly – even better than the previous attempt. "I think I could get used t' this."

"You sure seem to have a knack for that thing," Jack has to agree as he watches. "Just need to get you a sparring partner to practice with a bit before we go after the beastie again." He glances to Midge, then asks, "Anyone in your little cute army that could teach 'em?"

"I've seen Kiona do some neat moves with a stick," Midge notes. "Umm… well, maybe not someone from town, unless you want everyone to know about it. But there are those tiger guys in the other cabin. They've got big swords."

"Tiger guys?" Aiken drops the sword to his side, cocking his head at midge. "I didn't know we had any visitors in town outside a mister Jack and the Gypsies. What are they here for?"

"Oh, they're the bodyguards for the noble lady from… Achoo Gropey… err… some place in the desert," Midge notes. "She threw a big party and gave out swords to the folks who fought the necromancer."

"Abu Dhabi?" Jack inquires.

"Do you think they'd teach me?" Aiken says, idly sweeping the sword back and forth. "If they're bodyguards, they might not be able to. And if they can, they'll prob'ly want some kinda payment."

Midge blushes at Jack. Then blinks. "Oh, right, that's the place… "

"Probably would with payment. Money talks in ol' Abu Dhabi," Jack suggests. "Or keeps people from talking in some establishments there… "

"Umm, they might do it for free," Midge suggests. "Because they're bored. They just… stand around all day."

"Bet they're eunuchs. That happens a lot in ol' Dhabi… " Jack mutters.

"Want me to find out?" Midge asks, swishing her tail a bit.

Aiken winces at the mention of eunuchs. "Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to give it a shot then. I just hope them Khattas don't fight dirty – I heard that they do."

"Even better! Because zombies can't do anything clean," Midge points out.

"Well, I'd rather you find out if I am," Jack comments to Midge, then winks. "So, I guess you'll want to go talk to em, then, ol' squirrelly boy. While you do that, I'll see what my collection o' books has on ol' Vermy. Might give us some other ideas on how to fight 'em."

Aiken frowns at the thought of having to ask the Tigers all by himself, but shrugs with a sigh. "I guess I can. I just hope Curiel doesn't catch me in town – we're supposed to be out travelin'!" Grinning once more, the Kadie gives another swing of the sword – although this time he squeezes the oil pouch a little too much.

Midge just gives Jack a confused look, and asks, "You mean… you might not be an Akwavi? If Eunuchs aren't tall, stripy cats then why would you think the guards are Eunuchs?"

Jack just rubs his forehead. "Nevermind," he comments, looking tired. Though with the sudden fireball that erupts from Aiken's overly excited trigger pull … he isn't tired for long; his tail is on fire. He runs around in a small circle then dives into the swamp with a loud splash!

Aiken promptly lets go of the sword in surprised shock, sending it skittering and clanging a few feet away. Thankfully, the fire dies out quickly and doesn't set the whole swamp grove on fire. His bravado deflated, the squirrel rushes over to the swamp to help Jack up, and make sure he's alright. "Er… how about we put the sword back until I get some practice in? We might want to do that."

"Oh, poor Mister Jack," Midge says, shaking her head. "I sure hope he remembers how to swim… "