The Riddle Quest (29 Aug 2001) Tom and Agatha follow a series of riddles that take them on a day's quest.

Danzwyck's Stables
This is a fine old New England-style house located where Miner's Road makes a right angle, two stories tall, wooden beams crossing over whitewashed walls, roofed steeply so that snow will fall off to the ground. The actual stables are behind the house, near paddocks and fenced off fields where the horses can be let out to graze and to be exercised. Miner's Road crosses the Cler River through a covered bridge called Eve's Ford, and a spur just short of that leads to the old boathouse.

It's the weekend, and even though that makes not that much difference during summer vacation, it still tends to have an impact on children's activities. In this case, Tom is not far from his home on Baum Street, looking for new and interesting things to explore, and Agatha is near one of her favorite spots -- the stables.

There is a particularly large and gnarled tree here, known by many names given it by kids over the generations it has grown here, and though its lowest branches are low enough to the ground to invite easy climbing, the sheer tangle makes it a challenge to get very high amongst its boughs. It is an exotic sort of tree, and some say that a long time ago, it was actually imported from another country, perhaps the Far East, as it is certainly nothing like the conifers found in far greater abundance in the area.

So, of course, it's not all that unusual that a spiky-haired boy might be in said tree.

Halfway up in the tree, Thomas straddles a branch, leaning back slightly. His head tilts and he hrms softly. "Now, I wonder," he begins, "I wonder if anyone would complain if I built a fort up in here. I bet I could build a small platform encircling the trunk, with thatch walls or some such." His fingers tap against the branch. "I wonder if I could even make it hidden, for others to find. Now, that would be cool."

As Tom taps the branch in the shady darkness afforded by the leafy boughs, he feels something give way, such that wood should not do. In a flash of realization, it occurs to him that something was snagged on the branch, but before he can react, whatever it is has been knocked free, and plummets to the ground, making sharp popping noises as it bounces off of another branch on its way down.

"What the heck?" mutters Tom as he tries to crane his head and see what fell from the branch. "This tree doesn't have acorns, pinecones, or whatever, I don't think."

Not far off, Agatha is cautiously inspecting a bush with her sword when the sound of a sharp pop draws her attention to the tree, where she can just catch sight of something falling. Sheathing her wooden sword, she goes to investigate!

With a thwunk, an arrow imbeds itself in the ground in the path in front of Agatha. Tied around its midsection and fluttering lightly is what looks like some sort of aged paper -- parchment, perhaps?

"Hey!" the girl yelps, and looks around quickly to see if she can spot the archer.

The drama of an arrow with an attached message is somewhat blunted -- when it's evident that the arrow it's attached to happens to be blunted as well. The arrow only stands in place for a second or two, then falls to its side, the paper crunching audibly under its slight weight.

"What archer?" a voice calls out from the tree. "Nothing up here but us squirrels," the voice then adds, "What the heck fell down there, anyway, Agatha?"

Agatha kneels down and picks up the arrow, then starts to untie the paper. "An arrow! Is that you, Tom? You better not have thrown this at me, or else you'd better get used to living up in that tree!"

The arrow has more string than should be required to hold just the parchment. Perhaps something else was tied to it as well, given some extra string that is dangling loose. In any case, the paper unties easily enough, and it seems to have some sort of writing on it.

"Nah. I'd have used something bigger to get through all that red hair of yours," comes another comment, then a slight rustling as if something was moving around in the branches above.

"What, like one of the rocks in your head?" Agatha retorts, although not with quite the effort she might normally use as she unties the message from the arrow carefully, since the paper looks a bit fragile.

More rustling, then a branch lower in the tree starts to move. Tom is carefully easing himself down to the next branch. One foot is already on it, making it sway slightly. "Hey, look up from down there. Can you see anything in the branches? From my position, looks like there's something on one of them. And hey, can you see anything moving in the distance? I thought I saw something out there a moment ago."

The paper crackles a little in Agatha's hands, but it seems to be a fairly thick weight, and stands up well enough to the treatment. In short order, she has it free.

"I've only seen you, and maybe a cat in the bushes," Agatha says as she unfolds the message. "And this message-arrow of course."

"Message arrow? What's it say? What is this, we have some sort of parchment gnomes running hiding stuff?" comes another question as Tom makes his way carefully back down, to the branch with the object he thought he saw on it.

There's a crack, as something waxy falls from the edge of the paper -- some sort of a seal? Meanwhile, Tom makes his way back down to the branch, and something golden can be seen hanging precariously on the edge of one of the crooks.

Tom grins mischievously. Once he reaches the branch with the object, he tries to bounce lightly on it and shake it loose.

The girl hmms as she reads the archaic-looking handwriting. "It says, 'If you seek out sweet perfection, Find the place of sly confection.' And gnomes don't hide in trees; they live underground and in gardens. Everyone knows that."

Something golden is shaken loose from the bough, and as Agatha has moved over to pick up the arrow, it just so happens that she is standing directly under this golden item -- which is perhaps why she did not see it earlier. However, she can hardly miss it, as it lands on her head.

"Ow!" Agatha complains, and reaches up to rub her head while shooting Tom a nasty look. "You did that on purpose, didn't you!"

Tom's head peeks through the leaves, a huge grin on his face. "Who, me?" he asks.

It didn't hurt much though, so Agatha soon stops rubbing and starts looking for the small wooden object that she felt bounce off her head.

On the ground beside Agatha is a wooden block of very irregular cut. In fact, one side of it has a groove and the other a tab such as one might see on a jigsaw puzzle -- though the other sides have no such links, and are irregularly shaped. The top and bottom, however, look fairly smooth, and the whole thing is a rough golden in color -- metallic, but obviously not actually made of metal.

The piece is not particularly large (and Agatha's crown is all the better for that), and could easily be encompassed in one's hand.

"Well, is it unbroken? I was hoping it would land on something soft would protect it," says Tom, still grinning. "Hang on, I'll be down shortly." He disappears back into the tree and begins to climb the rest of the way down.

Agatha picks up the block and checks it for any writing or other hints as to what it might be for, and says, "Well, what do you know, a gold nugget, and it was just laying here on the ground. It must be my lucky day!"

"You have gold now too? Cool! I found a whole bunch of gold coins in that chest you weren't interested in last week," comments Thomas.

The block has no writing on it that Agatha can discern. Just a red hair on it, and she can fairly easily determine where that came from.

"Gold coins?" Agatha asks, and closes her fist around the block to hide it from Thomas. The arrow and note in her other hand are quite obvious though.

Tom drops the last couple of feet to the ground, landing with a soft thud. He heads over towards Agatha. "Yup, bunches of gold coins and an old sextant. It's really keen." He grins. "So, want to head over to Foxworthy's? I'm sure that's the location mentioned in the note. Maybe this is some sort of new advertisement."

"Shooting arrows at people is a new sort of advertisement?" Agatha asks skeptically. "But it sounds about right. And since you're loaded with gold, you can buy me an ice-cream soda in exchange for letting you see what fell out of the tree."

Something crunches under Tom's foot. Not that this is unusual in the woods, but it just sounds a little different from a dry twig or leaf.

"I shot an arrow into the air, and where it landed, I do not care. I just hope it brings in customers," rambles Tom. He then pats Agatha on the shoulder, "And sure, I'll buy you something. It was worth it to see it drop on your head, after all ... erk!" He lifts his foot and looks under it.

Something red and powdery is on the ground under Tom's foot. It looks like candle wax, and some of it is in the tread of his shoes. It might have been in a more cohesive shape before Tom stepped on it.

"You squished the seal!" Agatha accuses. "I was just gonna look at it closer too, when you dropped that thing on my head."

Tom looks at the wax, balancing on one leg. He tries to make out if it has any shape left whatsoever. "This thing is a seal?" asks Tom. "I guess was is the right word," he adds as an afterthought.

"Oh well ... better clean that off before you stick your foot in your mouth again," Agatha advises, grinning like a cat.

Alas, there is nothing left of the seal to make any useful discoveries from, except for the fact that it's red and made of wax.

Tom scrapes the wax off with a fingernail and comments, "I'm sure you'd rather I put my foot in my mouth than in your butt, though." He grins.

"Nah, your mouth is a much bigger target," Agatha retorts, but moves a safe distance away all the same.

Tom glances up at Agatha. "After seeing how you ate lunch on the isle, that may not be true for much longer," replies Tom, still grinning. "Okay, are we gonna insult each other all day or shall we head over to Foxworthy's?"

"Yeah, a chocolate soda would go a long way towards improving your presence," the girl admits. "Lead on, oh Explorer!" she says, bowing and stretching an arm out in the direction of the road.

A respectable hike later, Thomas and Agatha make their way to Foxworthy's Sweets, a confectionery run by a tall, thin fellow from England and his wife. This shop serves ice cream sodas as well as candies of various types -- and in the summertime, the former is more of an attraction than the latter, given that sodas are much cooler.

Bells jingle on the door with their entrance, and it most certainly is more shady and cool inside than outside. "Hey, look at the rats," a high schooler says from his stool up at the bar.

Tom glances over at the high-schoolers, saying, "Mister Rat, if you don't mind." He looks back at Agatha. "C'mon, let's find a place to sit and you can show me what fell out of the tree."

The high schooler in question is Boris Aleksevich, a 15-year old who used to be the star football player in grade school. He's gone from big-fish-small-pond to being a big fish ... among bigger fish ... and he tends to take out his frustrations on the younger ones by establishing himself as a bully. In any case, he just sneers at Tom's retort.

"Can't help it if rats are so attracted to the sound of your voice, Boris," Agatha says, and gives the high-schooler a pat on the back as she follows Tom, secure in the knowledge that picking on a girl is bad for a bully's reputation -- and getting beaten up by one is even worse.

Boris grimaces even more at this, but says nothing more, as his mental gears grind for a proper retort and fail to come up with one.

Tom grins back at Agatha. "What say we grab a booth? I'm sure Boris doesn't want to be near any rats, eh?"

Foxworthy's isn't totally taken over by high schoolers, though. A couple of younger kids sit at the far end -- about Alice's age -- one of them a dishwater-blond girl named Catherine, and the other her brother, a dishwater-blond boy named Peter. "Hi, Tom!" Peter calls out, waving eagerly. Tom enjoys a small following amongst some of the younger boys for his intrepid exploits (and the fact that his dad is so cool).

Agatha nods. "A booth is fine. Closer to your fan club."

Tom waves to the younger kids at the end of the counter. "Hey guys," he calls out, making his way over to an open booth. "There's always openings in that club, Agatha. I suppose you're worthy enough to join," he says, chuckling. He slips into the booth and asks, "So, what fell?"

After sliding into the booth, Agatha unfolds her hand to show Thomas the golden "cube". "Any idea what it is? It's pretty odd."

Tom reaches out to pick it up. "Mind if I take a closer look? It sure looks odd from here," says Thomas.

Although the golden piece does bear some remote resemblance to a cube, and the top and bottom (that is, if they even are top and bottom) sides are flat and parallel to each other, the other four general "sides" are very irregular in shape -- two of them, adjacent to each other, having the look of being part of a jigsaw puzzle, but the other two being alternately curvy and jagged here and there.

Agatha nods, handing it over. "Maybe it's a stamp, you know? Like you'd carve out of a potato?"

Tom hmms, turning it over in his palm. "No, stamps are usually one sided. This is really strange. It's almost like part of a puzzle, or maybe some sort of odd key. You know, kinda like something you might use in a Chinese puzzle box." He peers slowly at the designs, looking for scrape marks to indicate it perhaps being inserted into something.

Tom at least has a fairly good idea of what he's looking for, even if it's fairly noisy in here with the high schoolers at the counter. He doesn't find anything noteworthy on the irregular, bumpy edges, but he does find a few scrapes on the "notch" and "tab" sides, where it looks like something may have been slid against this, rubbing away some of the golden paint. Judging from the look in Agatha's eyes, she's probably noticed this as well.

"So it's part of something," Agatha concludes. "Can't be something small though. Not as small as a box anyway. And what's a sextant?"

Tom hmms. "It's like it's part of something. It's got a few minor scrapes on the notch and tabs, but I think you knew that much. Strange." He looks up, then nods to Agatha. "And a sextant is a device seafarers used to navigate. It measured degree differences so you can locate your latitude, if I remember right. So you can plot your position, for instance. You had to use it right at noon, though." Tom looks around the room. "I wonder why the note said to come here."

There seems to be nothing out of the ordinary about the establishment. A few drinks are being set out for the high schoolers, the kids are chattering amiably amongst themselves, and it's pleasantly cool. It'll likely be a bit before Agatha and Tom are disturbed with any table service, given the popularity of the joint in the summer, so if they want a drink, they'll probably be better off going to the counter to order.

Tom shrugs and looks at Agatha. "So, what do you want?" He also hands the "cube" back to her. "Said I'd grab you something for knocking that thing onto your head."

"Get me a chocolate soda, with whipped cream," Agatha says, smiling. She then takes out the arrow the message was attached to, and looks it over -- not that she's very familiar with arrows.

The arrow is simple, wooden, with red feather fletching, and a blunted metal-capped tip rather than an actual arrowhead -- a practice arrow.

Tom calls back to Agatha as he heads toward the bar, "The side without the feathers is supposed to be shot into something!" When he reaches the bar, he waits patiently for the person behind the counter to get to him.

Mr. Foxworthy grins as he sees Tom. "Cheerio, Tom! What'll it be today?"

Agatha hmphs, and sets the arrow down in the middle of the table, wondering how far away someone could be and still hit their target with it. She doesn't know anyone into archery whom she could ask, though.

Tom waves to Mr. Foxworthy. "Hey. The usual for me, a vanilla soda. Agatha would like a chocolate soda with whipped cream, please."

"Ah! Treating a young miss, eh, Tom?" The gentleman winks at him, then turns to fill a cup.

Tom erks, turning red. "Um, nothing like that. I promised her one if she'd show me the trinket she found today near Danzwyck Stables. You know me, always curious."

Agatha snickers back at the booth, but holds back from deliberately embarrassing Tom.

Mr. Foxworthy sets the drinks in front of Tom. "Ah, I understand," he says with a chuckle. "Oh! And that reminds me ..." He reaches below the counter, and pulls up a brown paper bag. "I believe this is for you." He pushes it across to Tom, alongside the drinks.

Tom smiles, "Thanks!" He digs in his pockets and slides his soda money across the counter. His attention then turns toward the bag, "Oh? What's this? Where did it come from?"

Mr. Foxworthy grins. "Why, hmm. Funny you should ask that. But it has rather specific instructions on the back." He turns the bag around. Written on it, in an archaic-looking script, it says, "Please hold this for Lord Explorer Thomas Winthrope, and tell him not where this came from."

Tom hmphs. "Okay, someone is having some fun." He shrugs, "Ah well, I guess I'll go along with it and have some fun, m'self!" He picks up the bag and the two sodas. He slowly makes his way back to the booth, careful to not spill anything.

Despite a lame attempt on the part of Boris to stick out his leg where it might possibly trip someone, Tom doesn't fall for that stunt, and makes it to the table without incident.

"What's in the bag?" Agatha asks when Tom returns.

Tom sets everything down on the table, then pushes Agatha's soda toward her. He then plops down into the seat and shrugs. "Don't know. About to find out, though." With that, he opens the bag carefully and looks inside.

Inside is another irregularly cut golden block -- and a rolled parchment with a red waxy seal on it.

Agatha slurps on her soda, her eyebrows shooting up as she sees the contents of the bag. "Check the seal first this time! You must have a secret admirer, Tom."

Tom blinks, and picks the items out of the bag. "Apparently another block, and another note. I won't step on the seal this time, sheesh!" he says, grinning. He looks at the note first, namely the seal.

The seal is imprinted with an indentation that resembles some sort of medieval-looking pattern, with a couple of serpents forming a circle around the circumference, each in the act of swallowing each other's tails.

Tom hmms. "Infinity circle of snakes? How odd." Carefully, he tries to peel the seal off and open the note.

The seal comes off easily enough. Inside, the parchment reads, in the same careful handwritten script, "The baker pierces his dough with a hole in the middle, In the shadow of the tower does he work his griddle."

"Another clue?" Agatha asks, then winces as she drinks too fast and gets an ice-cream headache.

Tom hmms. "I think our next stop is Sherman Tower, to look for a donut vendor." He slides the note over to Agatha, "What do you think?" He then proceeds to slurp on his soda for a minute, before all the ice cream melts. Semi-satisfied, he picks up the block and examines it.

The block seems to be fairly similar in general construction to the first block -- about the same thickness, same gold paint, same general weight. It has two sides with links on them -- one tab, one groove, like the other -- and the other two sides form a sharp arc.

"Hey, lemme see your block," says Thomas.

Agatha hands over the first block while reading the note. "Same handwriting. Looks like what you'd see on a certificate or something."

Tom fiddles with the blocks, trying to see if they fit together.

At first, he gets them to roughly "fit" together, but it's not very satisfying of a mesh. However, he tries the other obvious way ... and they slide together fairly tightly. In fact, when he does so, the two blocks joined together look very much like a stylized wing.

The tab and slot that are not taken up by this juncture are still exposed, hinting that there may be something left to attach yet.

"It's a wing ... I think," says Thomas. He takes anther slurp of his soda, "What do you think it might be?"

Agatha risks another sip of soda, looking at the partial figure. "It looks like a wing. A golden wing."

Tom blinks, something clicking. "I bet the final shape makes it look like a stylized hawk," he says.

Tom turns the "wing" over in his hands. "How about we head over to the Tower after the sodas?" he asks. "I wanna see if I'm right. I also wanna know who's been planting these."

*slurp* *slurp* *rattle* "Yeah, a golden hawk would make sense, since this person knows you're the Lord Explorer," Agatha says. "And we know they're a good shot with a bow and arrow."

Tom eyes Agatha. "You like weapons like that, right? Being a knight and all. Plus, you were in the area."

Agatha sits up and looks offended. "Knights use swords. Bows are for soldiers."

Tom grins. "Okay, okay. Calm down, already. Sheesh." Again, he returns to slurping his soda through the straw. A moment later, he finishes it off and sits back, satisfied.

Chewing on her straw, Agatha says, "I guess I'm ready then."

Tom gets up. "Okay then, on to the tower!" he proclaims, glancing at the younger children. "Off to solve this mystery."

Sherman Tower
This is the single skyscraper in the city, reaching some six stories. It's filled with offices of various sorts, grown-ups doing various jobs behind desks, that sort of thing. There is a parking garage under the building, and the ground floor sports a donut shop, and a cafe which serves breakfast and lunch. Perhaps inspired by the architecture of some of the older buildings found in Ainigton, this structure sports Gothic touches, such as "gargoyle" waterspouts, though these look more like eagles than monsters, giving it a patriotic touch.

The smell helps lead the way, as does the sign that reads "Sherman Donuts" at the bottom level.

Tom points toward the first floor. "There's a donut shop in there, see? I'm sure that's what the clue was referencing." He glances at Agatha, "Shall we?"

"What, you want to go in arm-in-arm?" Agatha teases, then goes to hold the door open for Tom.

Tom grins. "Sorry to disappoint, but you're just not my type. I know that must break your heart, but I'm sure you'll get over it," he retorts, slipping through the door and heading toward the shop.

Inside, the lobby of Sherman Tower has a wide-open area of glass and steel and concrete, flanked by offices, with a glass-windowed elevator providing access to the upper floors for those who don't care to use the stairwells. Sherman's Donuts is off to one side and open for business, though not quite as busy as it would be during weekday mornings.

Swallowing a snort, Agatha follows.

Tom makes his way toward the donut shop, looking for any "interesting" people mulling about that might've been the clue-leaver, such as someone he knows.

A burly man in a powder-marked apron waves to the two kids as they arrive. "Good morning!" he says, after a quick check to the clock to gauge the precise time for himself. (It is, in fact, still morning, though getting toward noon.) As it is, there aren't many people milling about at all, since this is definitely not a hang-out for kids, and grown-ups would be here in greater numbers if it weren't a weekend.

"You wouldn't happen to have anything for a Tom Winthrope, would you?" asks Tom, then adding, "If not, may I buy a donut?"

"Winthrope, Winthrope," the donut vendor repeats, scratching his head in thought, and leaving some white powder in the wake of his hand. "Aha!" he says, snapping his fingers and producing a small white cloud. He reaches down and grabs a paper bag, and brings it up. It looks much like the previous one, only a little more sugary. "Of course, you are still most welcome to buy a donut!"

Agatha looks over the display of donuts herself, but doesn't have much of an appetite after the soda.

"Want a donut, Agatha?" asks Thomas as he accepts the paper bag. He digs in his pocket and gets the last of his change. "I'd like one, anyway. Can you tell me who left the bag?"

"None for me, thanks," Agatha says.

"Oh, can't do that," the donut vendor says. "I guess that one's a mystery!"

Tom buys a single, glazed donut and finds a chair to sit in. He sets the donut aside for now and opens the bag, peering in. "You can have half of the donut if you like, Agatha," he comments.

Off to the side is a convenient little table with a couple of chairs, and a stack of napkins. Inside the bag, perhaps not surprisingly, is another rolled scroll with a red seal (same snake-eat-snake design), and ... another golden block.

"Too much sugar for me," Agatha says, taking the other chair at the table. "Is there a note?"

Tom again peels off the seal and opens the message. "Sure is," he says, "Reading it now."

"Until time comes for the final battle," the note says, in the same script, "Forever will this one saber-rattle."

Tom blinks, "I think this one refers to the Siege." He slides the note over to Agatha and pulls the block out. He produces the "wing" from his pocket and tries to attach the new piece.

Sure enough, the piece attaches snugly. This one happens to have grooves and tabs on all four sides, and it hooks to the forward segment of the wing.

Agatha reads the note and nods. "Yeah, sounds like a description of the Angel alright," she comments, then watches Tom fit the newest piece of the puzzle into place.

Tom hmms. "At least three more pieces, then." He returns the puzzle to his pocket and munches on his donut, finishing it quickly. "So, you still interested in finding out the solution? Shall we move to the Siege?"

Agatha grins and nods. "Sure! I'm curious as to who would go through so much trouble to keep you running around town."

Siege des Anges
Just across from the Ainigton Grade School, this little square has been kept as greenery since the old days of the town. A low brick wall, four feet high, surrounds the square, through which paths enter on west and south sides, forming semi-circles which intersect a circle, paved with an irregular pattern of tight-fitting white and black slabs of stones. Trees overshadow the paths and line the edges of this square, all but hiding the center square, in which four benches look onto a bronze statue of an angel facing east, hand drawing (or sheathing, some argue) a sword. Houses border the north and east side, some of a colonial style, others built where older buildings once stood.

In short order, Thomas and Agatha not only have made it to the Siege ... but found yet another paper bag. As would be expected, it has another parchment, another red seal (same story), and another golden piece. This particular golden piece forms a beaked head in profile, and fits onto the front of the slowly-forming golden hawk. And the parchment provides another riddle ...

"In a silent place, filled with rows of books," the riddle reads, "Seek a history of the homeland of the Lady of Rooks."

"One more part down! And one more puzzle," Tom says. "The Lady of Rooks? What do you make of that?"

"Lady of Rooks," Agatha mutters. "Oh! Rooks are crows! Maybe it means Elinor?"

Tom smacks the side of his head. "Oh! Ruritania. Of course. I have meant to check out her homeland, after all. She seems upset by what is going on there," says Thomas, "So, shall we head to the library? It's not far from here at all."

The next stop of the knight and explorer would be the Ainigton Library, a very austere structure complete with a couple of stone lions flanking the front entrance. Tom has become quite familiar with the layout as of late -- or, at the very least, the map section -- and it is with little difficulty that he is able to find the history section. At the moment, Agatha is checking the other end, so that they can cover the ground more quickly. Ainigton's library has a rather impressive selection of books for serving such a small town.

Agatha searches for the Russian History section, figuring that would be close to "Ruritania".

Tom runs a finer along the spines of the books, "Rural Electrification, no, not that, grr. C'mon, please be a book called 'Ruritania, a Complete History', or some such." He glances back toward the desk, pondering if he should just ask the research librarian.

Just as Tom is about to give up, and try the sensible approach of asking for an adult to assist, he happens across a rather battered-looking spine. It looks like the original covering has worn away, revealing the strands of reinforcement underneath, and the title has been rewritten on the binder, "A History of Ruritania" in a script suspiciously like that of the parchment sheets. At the bottom is a silhouette of a crow.

Tom halts, one leg stuck in mid-step. "Hey ... that looks promising!" says Thomas. Gently, he pulls the book from the shelf. It's in bad shape as it is; he shouldn't make it any worse.

"Find it?" Agatha asks, looking from a book on the Russian Revolution.

"Found something," says Thomas, trying to keep his voice low.

The book is in wretched condition, with no writing on its front, only a plain and tattered cover. The pages are yellowed with age, and the book rattles in a way that books generally don't when taken off of a shelf.

Tom steps back from the shelf and slowly opens the book. "C'mere. This is odd; the book rattled," says Thomas to Agatha.

"Maybe it's one of those hollowed-out ones for stashing stuff in," Agatha suggests, and comes over to stand next to Tom.

The book opens up with a crack, as flakes of dried glue fall away. It is but a shell, some old school textbook, given new purpose by hollowing out the centers of the pages, and gluing them together to form a box. And inside is another block and another parchment.

"Bingo, you're right," says Thomas. He picks up the items from within the book, then offers the book to Agatha. "Hold this a moment while I read the next clue?"

Agatha takes the book, and wonders if they should replace it on the shelf or not. Probably shouldn't....

"I have scales not of gold, but for it," the next clue reads, "Store, take or borrow, you can't ignore it."

Tom's brow furrows. "Fishing store?" he ventures.

Agatha reads the clue, and suggests, "Bank."

Tom nods. "Bank. Right."

First Bank of Ainigton
This bank has been serving Ainigton for as long as the town has been around, and there are scales and weights and ore-assaying tools on display in the lobby from the days when it was serving miners. Now, many minors have experienced the joy of opening a savings account here.

The piece that Thomas and Agatha found happened to form the rest of the main body of the forming hawk. By their best estimate, it's still needing a couple more pieces, at the least.

In any case, it doesn't take them long to get to the bank ... and after looking around, a helpful security guard noted that he found a suspicious-looking paper bag laying around, with a note on it that it was for "Lord Explorer Thomas Winthrope". When Thomas identifies himself, he's presented with the bag ... another wooden block (the tail!) and ... another parchment!

Tom opens the parchment, not minding to keep the seal this time. He's already got several now. He grins. "Looks like we're almost done. Let's see where to go next."

"Spoken at creation," the parchment reads, "Platform for exhortation."

"It could be one of the churches," Agatha suggests.

Tom looks at Agatha, "City hall? It is a place of buzz words, which I think is what exhortation means. Though, the creation part could mean a church."

Agatha hmms. "Town Hall is closer though, and there are two churches. I think your guess is better."

Tom nods. "If it's not, we can always check the churches." He points dramatically. "Anyway, off to City Hall!"

Agatha grins, and says, "You've got my vote!"

Town Hall
This two-winged building is built in the old "Colonial" style, and boasts a modest clock tower in its center. It was once large enough to accommodate the entire town in its hall, but with the expansion of the town and the decrease of interest in local politics, the north and east wings have been turned into offices.

Agatha and Thomas make it to Town Hall without any fuss, but seeing as it's a weekend, there's not really much open, though they're allowed to walk around the publicly-accessible area.

Between the two of them, they find nothing remotely resembling a parchment, a golden block, or a paper bag containing said items.

Tom hmms softly, "Well, phooey. Looks like I was wrong. Should we check out the old Church, perhaps?"

Agatha looks around and then nods. "Might as well, at least someone is likely to be there."

Tom nods. "Should have considered that. Town Hall isn't open on the weekend." He points. "Thataway!"

Church of God's Word
This is the old church that served Ainigton in its earliest days, and is built rather like a miniature cathedral, in a cross shape with quarters for the priest and church's stores in its arms, and the altar at the head. It has a functioning steam pipe organ and real stained glass windows. A sprawling graveyard at the back has gravestones dating back all the way to the oldest days of the town.

On Saturday, there aren't many to see here, and even the priest is out making calls. However, the groundskeeper gives Thomas and Agatha a cheery welcome, and when they explain their quest, he grins knowingly, and directs them to a paper bag tucked behind the lectern. Another parchment, another puzzle piece ... and this looks to be the last one.

As for the remaining parchment, it reads, "I bark but I do not bite, I look down on horses from my height."

Agatha sits at one of the pews and says, "That sounds like where we started, the old Gnarly Tree."

Tom nods. "Yes, it does!" Thomas hrms. "A puzzle that goes full circle. How curious. Sounds like it's up high, too." He looks at Agatha. "Well, shall we make our way back there?"

"That's a long walk ... but it has to be something near the stables anyway," Agatha says. "Just promise not to drop anything else down on my head this time!"

Tom nods. "Right. I promise I won't drop anything on your head."

Right before leaving, Thomas clicks the last piece in place and looks at the completed object. "Very cool," he says approvingly.

With an assembled Golden Hawk in hand, Thomas and Agatha find their way back to the gnarled tree at which their quest began. It looks unchanged from the way they left it, except that is a conspicuous flash of white they notice on the way -- another parchment, tucked into one of the low-hanging forks.

It's now well into the afternoon, and with stops along the way, distractions to pay respects to friends and answer questions from friendly adults, the adventure has taken the better part of the day.

"At least we don't have to search hard this time!" Agatha notes.

Tom looks at Agatha, "Would you like the honors of obtaining that parchment? I have drug you all over town, after all. Or would you prefer me to get it?"

As Tom examines the scene, he notices that some of the earth has been disturbed near the base of the tree -- not unusual so close to a path and a popular climbing tree, but just different than how he (with his fine tracker instincts) remembers things being earlier this morning. Namely, there are a few scuffs in the dirt, as if something had scraped around in it, and points at which it looks like a round pole has been pounded onto the ground at intervals.

Tom walks around the base of the tree slowly. "Now, this is odd, Agatha, look," he says, pointing. "Something was here after we were. And look at these holes. I wonder what caused them. Ladder, perhaps?"

"I'll leave the climbing to you, Lord Explorer," Agatha says, grinning, then looks at the holes. "Could be. A ladder would make sense, especially if the person wasn't a good climber."

If indeed it was a ladder, it's one with a round point on the base of one of its legs, and has been pressed into the ground at multiple points along the path leading to the tree.

Tom hmms. "A peg leg, perhaps?" Thomas follows the holes, stepping normally to see if they space similar to footsteps.

Agatha hmms, and says, "I'll get the note." If she stands on tip-toe, she figures she can reach the paper. She puts this theory to the test by making a grab for the parchment.

Yes, they do seem to go along at such an interval. And while Tom is investigating, he hears the branch shake ... and a moment later, Agatha has the parchment in hand. It's a low-hanging branch, and Agatha is pretty tall, after all.

"Maybe it'll say something about the holes," the girl says, then unfolds the note to read it.

"Interesting, they do pace out like footsteps!" he says loudly, still looking at the holes. He kneels down and presses a thump into the dirt, to see how much of an imprint he can make.

In finely hand-written script, the letter reads, "Congratulations, Sir Redmane and Lord Explorer Thomas of the Golden Hawks. You have completed this quest, and obtained the shards of the fabled Talisman of the Golden Hawk, lost long ago. May its dweomer lead you to new and exotic places."

At the bottom is a sigil that looks like the emblem of the seal, only reversed.

Agatha reads this aloud to Thomas, and notes, "Our admirer has been following us too, it seems. Think those holes could have been made by a walking cane?"

Tom nods. "Actually, I was wondering about that." He looks at the dirt where he pressed. "I was trying to see how soft the dirt was and how much weight would be needed to make a hole. That would give us an idea how heavy the object was, or how much weight was pressed. Does Richard use a cane? I don't remember."

As Agatha unrolls the parchment a little further, she finds that the writer has been kind enough to leave a signature: "Pelles of Caer Bannuac".

Tom hmms. "It's just not enough to be an adult. Someone younger, or smaller. The gait is shuffling. See how the dirt is scuffed? Perhaps it's intentional to hide the footprints." He gets back up. "It was a cane or walking stick I bet, though. No real idea who left it."

"What the," Agatha mutters. "Okay, it's signed this time! Pell-ess of Cay-err Ban-you-ack," she tells Tom. "Ring any bells?"

Tom looks at Agatha. "Sounds like someone from Arkansas. Sorry, no clue."

Agatha hands the note over to Tom. "Maybe it's Simon's uncle? How many people could know about the Golden Hawks and Elinor, after all?"

Tom hmms. "Possible. Still, the walking marks just aren't what I would expect. It's really odd. I wonder if any of the others might know that name. Maybe it's some sort of historical name."

Noting the position of the sun, Agatha says, "Well, my Dad's doing barbecue tonight, if you'd like to come over, Tom. I'm grateful for the soda, after all."

Tom glances up, thinking. He blinks. "Aw, crud! You're right, it's getting close to dinner. I have to get home or Mom and Dad'll be upset." He hrms. "Well, if we hurry and swing by my place and check with my parents, they'd probably be fine with it. Just need to let them know soon enough."

Agatha nods. "Let's go then! I wonder where whoever did all this got the hawk puzzle, too?"

The Cunningham's Front Porch
The covered front porch of the Cunningham's cottage runs the full length of the house. Redwood railing is handy for leaning against, and tonight an ice-chest full of sodas and a picnic table have been set out for an evening barbecue.

By the smell, Mr. Cunningham is already at the grill out back. If Thomas wasn't hungry before, his stomach grumbles in anticipation now. As Agatha and Thomas make it up tothe house, there's a small grey cat -- a Siamese, with icy blue eyes -- lounging on the front porch. At their approach, however, it yawns and stretches, then leisurely trots down the steps.

Tom covers his stomach. "Hush, you," he mutters. "Dang, After a soda and donut, I didn't expect to be this hungry tonight, whew," he says, "Remind me to thank your dad for letting me stay, by the way."

"Hello there, kitty," Agatha says to the cat. "Oh, no problem, Tom. All this walking around has given me a killer appetite too."

The kitty stops, looking at Agatha with a strange gaze -- It takes a moment for Agatha to realize that the cat is cross-eyed, but by then, it starts off, its collar jangling with a little silvery nametag with some sort of a decorative circular emblem on it, as it pads off. Curious -- it looks like the newspaper box has something in it, and the post doesn't come on Saturdays.

Tom starts, noticing the cat. "Hiya, kitty." His eyes follow the cat and he asks, "Yours?"

"Nope, don't have any cats," Agatha says, and checks the news box curiously.

"Did you get a look at it's collar," he asks, getting up to see if he can still find the cat.

The cat has slipped off, as cats are wont to do. Meanwhile, as Agatha checks the news box she finds -- behold -- another rolled scroll, complete with seal, as old as this must be getting by now.

Agatha breaks the seal and unrolls the scroll, raising one eyebrow to Thomas. "This is getting weird."

Tom nods. "That's an understatement. What does this one say? How long do you think it was there?"

In a handwritten script that looks more neat, less rushed than the last parchment Thomas and Agatha received, the scroll reads, "To Sir Redmane of Ainigton -- This is a time of dire peril to the Land, of many Trials and Tribulations. I come here only for a short time from a Place far away, seeking noble Heroes who might be able to set Right that which is Wrong. If you are Brave in Heart and Strong of Arm, I have a test set for you."

Silently, Agatha hands the scroll over to Thomas to read as well, and looks off towards where the cat vanished. "What do you think?"

The message is quite long-winded, as it goes on: "In the Place of Rusted Metal, Past the Troll that guards Mounds of Refuse, are many wandering Beasts that defend their Domain from any who dare enter. Next to the Lair of these Beasts is a Golden Arrow, and attached to this Arrow is a scroll which describes the Time and Place of a journey fit for a true Knight."

"One must retrieve this Scroll," the letter continues, "and then you must decide whether you are Brave and Strong enough to undertake the Quest described therein."

Tom looks at Agatha, brow creased. "This is weirding me out. First all the stuff on the island, now this. But, can we stop now? I want to know where these come from."

At the bottom is that seal again, signed once more as "Pelles of Caer Bannuac".

"It sounds like the junkyard," Agatha says. "I'll have to think about following this up ... after I've eaten something," she adds, after taking another sniff of outdoor cooking.

Tom looks up at the sun again. "Oh, definitely after dinner. Perhaps tomorrow, though. The evening is not a safe time to travel in that place. The junk is too unstable and could slip. In the darkness, we're more likely to not see the really dangerous spots." He grins. "Plus, after we eat, we may not want to move. It smells great!"

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.