In the morning, we look around through the parts of the castle that we’d left unblocked, and think some more upon the extra-foul stench coming up out of the pillar. “You know,” says Slade, “We don’t really have enough oil to burn more Zombies – and the stench is different. So they might be something else entirely.”
Pertherditeis says, “Well, then you’re arguing for a trip to town.”
“Yeah.” grumbles Slade.
“Well, we have a lot of junk to get rid of too. Our poor horse and pony will be practically overloaded.” says Carolin. So we decide to head back to town. But before we leave, we shift the rubble back in front of the storeroom we discovered hidden with rubble, and make sure the other two doors aren’t going to be opening. Then we set off for Cishathorpe.
When we fight our way clear of the unused section of road, Slade is hit with a barrage of bright blue sparks while I have to deflect two arrows headed my direction. Carolin is also shot at, but the archer is inept. Now there’s more magic gathering at the source of the earlier bolts – luckily, Blue Eyes was ranging ahead some and lunges at this attacking wizard. He stumbles and creates a sticky mass of thick black strands across Slade and one of the other attackers.
Slade manages to wrench out of the web on our side, and everyone but Blue Eyes and myself attacks the third attacker – the only one on that side of the web.I run around the swath of stickyness, then Blue Eyes and I manage to get the wizard. Pertherditeis and Slade get the unarmored monk-wannabe. He’s yelling something inane like “Fear the Turk! Cower under the fists of fury!” Which is a lot less impressive with a sword through the abdomen. Then, Slade deals with the fellow who was stuck in the webbing. What an atrocious ambush. They clearly thought we were a lot weaker than we are, and knew we had been weakened in the Moathouse. I wonder if the merchants went through Cishathorpe first.
From this completely inept ambush, there’s a suit of spintmail, 40cp, 12sp, 21gp, 11pp, three zircons(50), a token for the stables back in Cishathorpe, a journal and a spellbook. From the journal, we find out that these three used to be called Flaming Fred, The Turk, and Jonus Konig. All were desperate for money when they heard the merchant’s story upon their return last night. Flaming Fred’s spellbook is mighty thin, but Carolin is happy to poke through it. It turns out to contain Belphianor’s Appraisal, Web, Magic Missile, and Shrike’s Tiny Typesetter. She’s never heard of half of the spells.
So we arrive back at Cishathorpe, and trudge our way to the Trader’s shop. He’s willing to buy most of the gear, household goods, and cheap jewelry off of us for a reasonable price. He does give a couple of very brief avaricious looks at us during the transaction, but we’re able to get rid of a lot of the bulk we were porting around. The Trader can get us a small cask of oil, the door wedges, and a new blank book useable as a temporary spellbook. But he laughs at the request of a cask of Holy Water. Carolin announces her intention to spend time in the inn transcribing Flaming Fred’s spells into her new, blank, spellbook. Slade wants to talk to the smith and see if he can get either of the two suits of scalemail into good condition. So Pertherditeis and I go to the potter’s shed, where she explains that we’d like flasks that are actually easy to break. After some discussion, the potter agrees to make a crateful.
Pertherditeis is at loose ends, and wants to learn more about making the ointments we’ve been using. So I drag her around outside of town pointing out (and harvesting) patches of Woundwart and Figwart. Pointing out how much light the spots are getting, the type of ground they prefer, everything one might want to know about that pair of herbs. Then we crash for the night at the inn. We’re rich enough thatI don’t have to share a room with Slade, which is exquisite.