The two adventurers make their way up the spiral stairway leading up the inside of the round tower, at last reaching the ceiling and passing up to the next level, which appears to be taken up by a dining room, with an adjacent kitchen and pantry. The stairs stop here, but start up again a few degrees around the room, leading up to another floor.

Wren says, "Well, I was hoping for something a little less mundane, and without cutlery … but this will do."

A table is set out with six place settings – though there is no food visible – illuminated by candelabras. Flickering light comes from the kitchen, where a warm fire blazes in the hearth.

Just briefly, it seems as if the two can hear the faint sounds of whispering … but it quickly dies away.

The Mephitian looks around. "Okay Wren … I think we need to stick together. I may be agile, but it's you who can spot and disarm traps. Unless you want me to be first in line, I think it's best that you're ahead of me. How's that?"

Wren nods. "I hate it when logic puts me first … but okay."

"Okay, then," says Galen. He looks around again. "To be perfectly honest, I don't know if this is an elemental floor at all, even with that fire elemental in the hearth. Maybe the elemental floors are still above us."

Nothing is moving, for the moment, though it can't be helped but that the woodsman and healer notice knives among the utensils.

Galen scans the cutlery. "We better stay away from those … "

Wren walks over to examine the hearth, carefully staying as far from the table as possible, despite the lack of any hope that that would help …

Keeping well away from the table, Wren is able to make it into the kitchen unharmed, and gets a clear view of the hearth, within which the flames dance in a strange, magical way, such that it is not hard to imagine a vaguely humanoid form to them. Amidst the ashes, something catches Wren's eye – a sparkling ruby, glowing with the light of the fire.

The kitchen is full of competing smells. A hunk of cheese sitting out has grown green with mold, and there are hints of other things that have gone spoiled, but there are also more pleasant aromas of hanging strings of herbs.

Wren says, "Do you see that, Galen?" He turns around to make sure that Galen is still behind him.

Galen, following Wren, also sees the flaming hearth, and the ruby resting within. He looks to Wren. "I see it … I'll try to address the elemental. Same drill as with the knocker, okay?"

Wren nods. "I doubt extremely that my bow would help."

"It's better than nothing, methinks," replies Galen. "Just find a good spot – preferably, one where you won't likely be attacked from behind – and tell me when you're ready."

Wren says, "Unlikely to be attacked from behind? But we are surrounded!" He grins nervously.

Galen blinks, once, then nods. "That is true … "

As if to emphasize Wren's point, a cabinet full of dishware rattles strangely. One of the drawers – perhaps for utensils – shakes in place, but it seems to be locked shut (so that no one steals the silverware, perhaps).

Wren shivers slightly, and says only half to himself, "I didn't need to be reminded … "

Galen thinks for a moment. "Tell you what. Before we address Mr. Hearth, how about we look around first, together? We just might find something more useful than a wooden staff and arrows."

As useful as it might be, given the circumstances, there don't appear to be any basins full of water about. There is a large pot, with a bit of sludge at the bottom that might be leftovers of some soup, and a basin meant for washing dishes, but at the moment, no standing water.

Wren takes the metal pot, assuming that it is at least better than wood, and hoping it won't resent being taken.

Amazingly, the metal pot doesn't respond in the least. Perhaps it is actually a mundane pot. Either that … or maybe it's asleep?

Wren empties the pot, careful not to dirty his fur, and brandishes it as a foolish looking shield.

As Wren takes the pot, he can't help but notice a couple of game hens hanging by arrows stuck in a post. The game hens have gotten long past being gamey, however, and it would not be advisable to try eating them in this state.

The Mephitian looks over the pot Wren's holding carefully. He wishes he could tell the cat he thinks it might make a good snuffer, if worse came to worst, but he doesn't tell him out loud for fear of being heard by the rest of the kitchen. What I'd give to learn Savan-speak right now! he thinks to himself.

Wren tries out his new pot in a ridiculous display, and curiously examines the hens.

They're most certainly dead, at the very least. There are two of them, suspended by just as many arrows.

Wren plucks the arrows from their place, letting the poultry drop.

After spotting the hens, Galen looks around some more, scrutinizing everything that can be scrutinized. He even considers opening the drawers, despite Miss Teapot's warnings.

The arrows have silvery tips that glitter in the firelight, and have small runes engraved on them. Wren's knowledge is sufficient that he is fairly sure they represent one of the elements, though not enough to tell him which one.

Wren says, "I don't like the way those drawers rattle, nor the way you're looking at them."

Hmm … isn't there *anything* here that we can use? thinks the Healer, baffled.

Galen, for his efforts, spots a ring of keys lying out on a table. They might fit the drawers. There's also a cleaver firmly stuck into a chopping block.

"Galen, do you think one of the books you borrowed mighthave any information about these?" asks Wren, gesturing to the arrows.

"Don't worry, I'm not opening them," says Galen, who quickly picks up the ring of keys. He turns around and sees Wren's arrows … and his mouth drops a little. He pauses for a moment, then nods. "Yes, yes, I do think we might have something here. Good work, Wren."

Wren grins. "Don't mention it."

The Mephitian quickly pulls out one of the tomes, on magic-making. "Can you hand me one of those, Wren? I need to look at the sigils."

Wren passes an arrow, then notices the cleaver and eyes it suspiciously.

It takes some flipping about, as Galen isn't familiar with the book's layout, but he is able to identify the rune as that of Air. He's also able to file away mentally for later reference the runes of Water, Earth and Fire – and runes for Fire seem to figure most heavily into the decor about the kitchen and dining room, where runes are to be found.

"I saw that cleaver too, Wren," says Galen, not turning his head up, and looking over the arrow's symbols. "I think it's fine enough just where it is … firmly in the block."

Wren nods, and keeps it in his sight.

After reading through the tome, Galen closes it, and puts it back into his knapsack. "Okay … " He looks to Wren. "I believe that this kitchen is in fact the 'Fire' Elemental level, because there are sigils all around here pertaining to the rune of Fire. Now, as for the arrows … I believe they may be 'Air' arrows. Now, if that's true, I'm not sure what effect they'd have … " His eyes side-glance to the hearth.

Wren says, "Ah, an area for cooking represents fire, how appropriate."

"The end result, could be very good … or it could be very, very, very bad," finishes Galen.

Wren says, "Well, if you want to follow the original plan, I can stay here if you will approach the hearth." He offers the pot to Galen. "You might want this."

"Hopefully, there will be no need for force," Galen muses, "but, I'll take a chance of good coming from a shot with an 'Air' arrow than no chance at all from a wooden one." The Mephitian eyes the pot. "No thank you, Wren." It might be sapient, he thinks to himself. "In fact … maybe you should put that back, for now."

"And, yes, I agree with you," Wren adds. "I most definitely hope it doesn't come down to force." He places the pot on his head as a helmet. "And this," he says, grabbing the block and cleaver, "I want well secured."

The skunk's eyes open wide. "No, don't put it there! Put it where you last found it!"

Wren says, "If I do that, I'll have my back to it." He swivels his ears.

"Yes, yes," says Galen, "But that's better than having you head in it. It might bite your head off!"

Wren laughs. "This thing? It's not going to bite anything." He grins.

Galen rolls his eyes. "Just … please, please put it back. Just in case."

Wren starts to take the pot off his head, but just as he does so, the rim starts to shrink inward. The pot comes off just in the nick of time … and Wren tosses the pot away, frightened. "Yow!"

"Ow!" comes an echoing noise from inside the pot, as it clatters into the corner.

Wren walks over to the pot, and puts his ear to its side so that its opening is facing up.

The Mephitian sighs. "Hadn't your mother ever told you to never place your head in places it shouldn't be? Come on now … we have business to do with the hearth."

While Wren's ear is still to the pot, the pot undergoes an amazing transformation as it swells up, its rim opens wide … and it SWALLOWS the woodsman!

The cat now finds himself tightly wedged within an iron pot, which seems to be making very satisfied-sounding smacking noises.

"WREN!!!" shrieks the healer. He grabs hold of his walking staff with both hands, bracing for a fight. "Wren!! Are you all right!?"

A muffled cry comes from inside the pot. The pot starts to bang about rather violently. Suddenly, a cat spills out onto the floor, still banging at the pot …

"Plugh," says the pot, sounding distressed and now very hollow.

Wren gets to his feet and gets away from the pot. His hat is missing, his fur distressed, and he is obviously shaken.

"Ptooie," says the pot, as a hat shoots out.

Galen stares at the recently regurgitated cat, wide-eyed. Then, he quickly recovers himself. "Wren, are you okay? Any bites? Anything? Are you all right?"

Wren grabs his hat, and replaces it, frowning as he fingers the feather and finds that it's broken.

The pot then collapses, ceasing to be animate for the moment.

Wren brushes himself off, "I think I'm alright."

The healer quickly looks him over. "You sure now? Are you absolutely sure you're okay?"

Wren says, "And if you mention my curiosity nearly getting me killed, you will regret it! … A little bruised, but I feel fine. Besides, you're the healer; I'm no expert!" He tests his joints and gives his fur a few cursory licks, shaking slightly.

Galen lets out a sigh of relief. "Good … " Because I'm this close to smaking you behind your head! the skunk adds mentally. You fool!!

Everything seems to be in order on the cat – except for the feather, that is.

Wren says, "Well that settles it, I'm doing something about this cleaver."He grabs up the cleaver (still in its block of wood) and tosses it into the pot. He then kicks the pot over so that its mouth faces down.

Galen says, "Wren … I don't think that's a good – "

"I'M FREE!" the cleaver shrieks!

" … idea," finishes the Mephitian.

Wren blinks startled, then ducks!

The pot seemed to swallow the block nicely enough, but the cleaver seems to have come free. Amazing. It can fly!

Wren says, "How in the world?!?"

"MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" the cleaver cackles, looking about for a suitable target. Hmm. Looks like it found a couple.

Wren stands before the door post.

"It doesn't matter how! Run!!" screams Galen.

Wren watches the knife…

"Oho!" the cleaver squeals. "Things to chop! Chop chop chop! Bwahahahahahaa!"

The cleaver hurls itself through the air, at the baffled woodsman cat! At the last moment, the cat trips over a broom (how'd that get there?) and falls … just as the cleaver sails overhead, imbedding itself in the wall! THUNK! "Curses!" the cleaver mutters. "Foiled again!" It starts to wiggle itself free …

Wren gasps for breath. "This is not my day … " Seeing the cleaver stuck in the wall, he then says, "Well, that's taken care of! Feel like taking on an elemental?" He grins, still breathing heavily.

Galen runs past Wren, dropping his staff, and grabs the cleaver by the handle with both hands ferociously, trying as hard as he can to keep the killer cleaver in the wall and preventing it from flying free. "Forget that Elemental, Wren! Help me figure out a way to secure this thing before it kills us both!" yells the healer through gritted teeth.

The cleaver struggles against Galen's grasp, but for the moment stays in the wall. "Oh! What a nice big bushy tail!" it cackles.

Wren gulps, and eyes the pot again. "Oh I don't want to do that… "

The pot, for its part, still remains inverted, though it wobbles from time to time.

Wren looks around the room desperately for something hard and solid … and movable …

The cutting block, unfortunately, is inside the pot. There is furniture … but so far it shows no evidence of being especially moveable. Perhaps the table, with a bit of pushing …

"Help me, Wren! Find something to secure this thing in! Use anything! Anything!"

Wren says, "Step aside, but don't let it go!" He gets to the end of the table and pushes it near the wall.

The table, thankfully, makes no protest.

The Mephitian nods earnestly and moves to the side, with both his hands still clamped onto the cleaver's handle.

Wren upends the table, pushing it up in front of the cleaver.

"Okay!" says Galen. "Now, what we're going to do, is you're going to grab onto this cleaver's handle, too, along with me … then, on the count of three – as soon as I say the word, 'three' – we pull the cleaver out, and hack it into the table as hard as we can. You got it??"

Wren slams against the bottom of the upturned table, pushing into the wall.

WHUMP! "Grrrrr!" growls the cleaver from behind the table.

Wren swallows.

"I don't think your idea's working, Wren." says Galen, quickly.

Wren shakes his head solemnly. "Quite observant." He prepares to right the table.

"Okay … now then," says Galen, "shall we try what I suggested?"

Wren nods. "Yes. Definitely yes." He throws down the table and quickly grabs at the handle.

"Okay, then!" After Wren grabs the handle, along with Galen, the count-down begins. "One … "

" … two … "

" … THREE!!"

"I'm FREEEE!" the cleaver shrieks, though perhaps a little prematurely … as the healer and woodsman FLING the cleaver with all their combined weight and strength into the thick, stout wood in the middle of the table. With a thick, heavy THUNK!, the cleaver finds itself imbedded, a whole half-blade deep, into the wood.

The cleaver grumbles, supremely disappointed.

Wren pants, "Good job!" He wipes his brow, thenshakily leans against a wall.

Panting, Galen nods, appreciatively. "Thank you." After a few moments, he recomposes himself, and looks sharply at the cat. "Now … from now on … please do NOT try to do uncalled-for things with pots, cleavers, or anything else in this tower. All right?"

Wren sighs. "Do you really think you need to specify that?" He cracks a grin. "No problem, none at all … " He restrains his urge to kick the pot.

"Yes, yes I do," retorts the Mephitian. "Now … on to the hearth now, shall we?"

Wren nods, and takes out his bow. "I hope this works better than the last things I've tried," and prepares one of his newfound arrows, aiming at the hearth.

Just then, the hearth flares up. Out of the flames comes a serpentine form, reptilian in aspect, formed wholly of flames. "I would not advise that," the salamander intones. "And I do think you've made a bit of a mess of the kitchen. I must ask you to leave. Immediately."

Wren blinks, and lowers his bow.

The elemental easily stands from the floor all the way to the ceiling, flames licking around its form, and even though it is only (?) made of flame, its form is that of a very muscular being, and seems to radiate a sense of considerable strength.

Galen's eyes go wide. "Why … why, yes. We were just on our way out, thank you. And we're terribly, terribly sorry about the mess. Our apologies."

Wren is speechless. He nods, and points with agreement, then edges his way to the door.

The fire-salamander smiles mirthlessly. "Good day."

The healer turns around, looks Wren straight in the eye, and tell him, in a calm, low voice. "Walk away, and don't run."

Wren tips his hat, and calmly, quietly, walks toward the door, tail drooping behind him. He whispers to his companion, "Perhaps another day. At least we know more about what we are up against."

As the two adventurers walk away, the healer slowly nods at Wren in acknowledgement. "We'll be back later … but notbefore I've had a look through the tomes. Hopefully, I'll have spotted something that can help us deal with fire elementals … "

He turns his head back once, for a final look at the kitchen, then turns back around. " … and killer cutlery."