Break 4 - Mortan Osserfid

"Will you step into my parlor," said the Spider to the Fly.

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Brownose, the half-hobgoblin, set about his daily chores in his little shop. It wasn't much to look at, but no one bothered to collect rent and any who thought that doing so may be a grand way to make some easy money soon found their bones scattered in the back store room, their wares quickly on sale to supplement an "exotic pets" shop that hadn't had a pet for sale in it for a good year. A guy's got to eat, after all, and some of them were quite tasty.

The shop-keep looked up from dusting the tattered cages in his shop as the bell on his door tried heroically to ring but instead gave nothing more that a dead clunk noise. At first, a wave of paranoia overtook him as he looked at the door and could see no one. Then he looked down.

Brownose had seen gnomes before, happy and amusing little things with a wisp of idiocy inbred in them as far as he was concerned. He had even had the chance to eat one or two with his tribe when he was many years younger and found them quite tasty. The slight tickling of fear in the back of his mind eased as he unconsciously began to salivate.

"...Annd hwhat cann I hellp yu'z wif t'day, liddle frend?" he said as he began to advance on the small form. "Wee dun git manny liddle Nnome frendz en theez partz. Arr yu m'be lozt?"

"Quite the opposite, actually," stated the gnome matter of factually, "I was led to believe that a brethren of mine wandered in here some time ago and while he was never seen again - He just slipped out the back afterward, I'm certain. I'm sure the remains of a spleen, dark elf if the coloring and indentations on what looks like the main arterial valve are any indication, stuck in your teeth are completely coincidental. - he left a few odds and ends that may be of benefit to myself. These trinkets would be of no real benefit to anyone not of our 'trade', but I would be interested in purchasing any of these items that still remain."

The gnome's words mostly flew through Brownose's ears, but he heard "trinket" and he heard "purchase". If you plan to make any form of a living in this town, both of those are key phrases. The shopkeep's eyes glanced to the gnome's belt where a large sack of coin could be seen. Mmmm...dinner AND payment. Something else triggered an alarm somewhere in the back of his head, some ancestral instinct that had originally been evolved in his species to let a hobgoblin know when danger was close at hand. But the money-hungry (and just plain hungry) human side of him had full control now.

"P'hapz I cann hellp you, liddle frend. Hwhat iz eet dat yu'z arr lookin' f'r?"

"An item of Gharlamaal's favor, my dim friend. They seem to be hard to come by in this town, so if I have to slink through back alleys and deal with half-breeds drooling on me and stinking of bad ale and dog meat, so be it." Luckily, the insult went largely misunderstood as a compliment.

"Ahh! I haz ehzactly hwhat yu'z be wanntin' den, liddle frend," the half-hobgoblin said as he dipped behind the front counter and came up with a small necklace (and the butcher knife that he kept for such occasions). "Eet bee ah ch'rm zed ta giv yu'z da powerz o'da Deth God, Heemzelf! Bezt en da lannd! J'zt ah zingal Drak!"

The warning again sounded in the back of Brownose's head. Did that snake pattern on the gnome's robes just move? And why was he carrying a walking staff with a blade off the side of it? Suddenly, the half-hobgoblin wasn't so certain.

"P'hapz fer yu'z, liddle frend, I giv eet fer hundr'd an fiddy crownz! Cuz yu an mee gud frendz nohw, zee?"

"Oh, are we? Is that why you have that dull cutting implement behind you? Is that why you have been staring at me like I would look good as some form of main course? Stupid unfortunate hobgoblin, did you really think that I would be unprepared for something like this?"

"HWHAT YU'Z C'LL MEE?!?" The half-hobgoblin's Fight or Flight instinct finally kicked in, albeit incorrectly, and Brownose leaped over the counter in one solid motion, knife bared and teeth gnashing for insolent gnomish flesh.

But the gnome was ready for such an advance and struck out with a single finger towards the shopkeep. Brownose suddenly found himself motionless and paralyzed; the strong smell of undead invading his nostrils. He tried to speak but could not form words, his mouth frozen open, mid-bite.

The gnome picked up the amulet from the counter and, making a quick motion with his hand, smiled as the item began to glow with magical recognition.

"This item is not all that you claimed it to be, my 'friend', but it will do well. Of course, considering our position, I find that negotiation is in order. I believe that sixty crown is more than a fair price," and with that he withdrew the stated coins and deposited them on the table before disappearing from view in the store's back room.

Several moments passed before the gnome reappeared, holding a well-bound journal encased in dark leather. "And I believe that you offered to include this in the purchase as well. I find myself looking for information and perhaps the tellings of my brethren may be of some use in finding what I seek."

Just then the spell wore off and, every muscle tightened and ready, Brownose pounced once again at the gnome, taking him momentarily by surprise and clamping his jaw into the gnome's arm. Once again the gnome struck out and the shopkeep found himself paralyzed a second time.

"My my! Such ineptitude! And you've wounded me! A simple enough fix, though, once I remove your mouth from my arm, though I am sorry to say 'friend' that unfortunately it will require the removal of all of those teeth," the dark gnome stated as he quickly flashed a very sharp knife of his own and proceeded to cut the teeth out of the half-hobgoblin's mouth. After the gnome's work was completed, Brownose's eyes flashed in surprise as the wounds quickly healed themselves and the teeth fell harmlessly to the ground.

"I think that, my 'friend', it is time for me to take my leave, considering your less than stellar disposition. However...," the gnome ran a finger across the shopkeeper's chest, just over his heart. Brownose winced as the place touched burned and then he felt a growth begin to form just under the skin. "...let this be a lesson to you. Do not disrespect those who are smaller than you, especially in less reputable places. If they're still alive, usually it's because they've killed anything that's thought them tasty. I won't personally kill you today, however this lump here will allow me to know where you are and what you are doing at any point I wish. Should you ever try to find me, I will know you are coming, and your death will be anything but fast or painless. Oh! I almost forgot! While I was in your backroom, I found some old friends of yours. They told me that they wanted to say hello..."

With that, the gnome gave a nod and left the half-hobgoblin alone once again in his shop. A few seconds later, the spell wore off and he slumped to the ground, his mouth bleeding. Just then, he heard something move. Several somethings. Many somethings. He lifted himself so that his eyesight reached just over the front counter. He was greeted by several rows of glowing red eyes, humanoid and not. Brownose screamed.

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Somewhere, several blocks away, his head in a dark leather-bound journal, the gnome smiled. The shopkeeper's path was his own to fight for. Either way, Mortan won.

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