Tavern Brawls S06WK05

Fletcher sat at a table and watched the portal of the Friends in Low Places and Keepers of Trogdor cleaning their brawling arenas.  One of the more tenacious staff members by the name of Iris was supervising their work and occasionally making one of them redo a spot.  Shania Pain, the fighter daredevil of the Friends in Low Places, once tried to sneak up the stairs and out of the scene, but tripped on the bucket of water being used by a couple of Keepers of Trogdor.  Iris marched over to the ogress twice her size and somehow managed to stare down her nose at the fighter.  “Whatcha doin’, Ms. Pain?  I suggest you finish washing that post before you and I make it messier.”  With that, she smiled and marched back to where she could oversee the whole operation.

Chuckling to himself, Fletch took one last long pull from his drink and got up from his chair.  As amusing as the antics of some of the teams were, he had a visit to make.  He had gotten word over the weekend that the clerics were finally allowing visitors to Nudeltulpe and he intended to be one of the first.  Catching the eyes of Cantrip and Selena across the tavern having a meal of their own, he signaled them towards the door.

—–

Though the Hall of Clerics was not very large, the healers had found a small room to put Nudeltulpe in off on his own.  One attempt had already been made on his life and they had no intention of losing him now after just bringing him back from the brink of death.

Fletcher, Cantrip, and Selena entered the room just as the Brawlmaster was finishing his own meal, a small bowl of steaming soup.  “Egg drop soup, or so they tell me,” he stated as they came around his bed.  “Best healers in the world supposedly, but you would think they could spare a few minutes to learn how to cook.”

Cantrip gave a little cough.  “Actually, I’m pretty sure that came from my brothers’ tavern.  I saw Kevin making a huge batch of it.  They’re finally getting to the end of their stockpile of eggs.”

Nudeltulpe looked down in slight embarrassment.  “Please don’t tell him I said anything.  I’d hate to get on his bad side and end up with a chair that spins me in circles or have him replace me with a magical automaton.  Not that he would do such a thing!” he exclaimed as he saw the look of horror on Cantrip’s face.  “I apologize for my callousness.  Spending my days in this bed wondering if this was an accident or an assassination attempt has muddled my thinking as well as increased my tendency to speak without thinking.  Your brother is wonderful and I trust him implicitly.”

He gave a mischievous smile.  “Well, as long as he doesn’t cook for me, that is.”

The young mage laughed at the Brawlmaster as he set his bowl on a side table.  “Now, I presume you are here to discuss the incident.  I’m afraid I don’t have any more to tell you.  Everyone in that room was vetted.  Nothing suspicious was reported before everything went ‘sizzly’.  After it happened, I was in and out of consciousness for days or weeks if you believe the clerics.  Where are we at in the Brawl, by the way?”

Fletch held up 6 bony fingers.  Nudeltulpe’s eyes widened a bit as he shook his head.  “It really HAS been weeks then, hasn’t it?  So much time to make up.  Well, the clerics say I should be able to resume minimal activity soon, so I hope to get over to The Two Brothers soon…”

Selena cleared her throat loudly enough to interrupt his train of thought.  “Before we get too far into pleasantries, we do need to ask you about this.”  She pulled the glove returned to her from General Grindstone out of her tunic pocket and dropped it on the bed theatrically.

Nudeltulpe looked at her curiously.  “You found my glove?  But that’s wonderful.  Where did you find it?” he asked.

“That’s not important right now,” the rogue answered evasively.  “Why did you have it?”

As he reached for the glove, his face showed confusion rather than any kind of guilt.  “What do you mean, why?  This is a rubber tree glove.  I had to pay a pretty coin to have the pair sent to me.  They’re used to handle items safely near magical portals such as those we had at the Draft.  Metal is especially susceptible to the energy, but if you hold such objects while wearing these gloves, the energy has no effect on the wearer.”

“Yes, yes, we know that.  The alchemist that Grindstone brought in told all of that to Fletcher,” Selena spewed out.  “But why did you have it?”

The Brawlmaster gave her an incredulous stare.  Fletch sighed as Cantrip whispered in Selena’s ear.

“Oh, you just told us.  Sorry, I’m kinda new to this.  I-I mean, that sounds awfully, well, reasonable actually.  I’ll let you be with your glove,” Selena stammered.  Her head dropped as she backed up a step.

“Let me answer your next question for you, my dear,” Nudeltulpe continued.  “I know of no one else here in town with a pair of these gloves.  They are unique.  I’m actually surprised Mary Jane didn’t tell you that.”

The three investigators all looked at each other sharply and then back at the bed where Nudeltulpe lay.  “What?” he asked.  “I assume that Mary Jane was the alchemist in question.  The good general asked me for the best, so I implored her to come as quickly as she could.  She works for me, you see.  In fact, I hope she has some potions that will help me recover a little quicker so I can avoid more soup.”

“Why wouldn’t the general or Mary Jane have mentioned your connection?” wondered Cantrip aloud.

Nudeltulpe thought for a moment.  “They might have thought it unimportant.  Or more likely they were trying to protect me.  Like I said, I was still pretty out of sorts until very recently, so the fewer people who knew about me, the better.”

A knock rang loudly from the door.  “My apologies for the interruption,” began an older cleric as he opened the door, “but I must insist on having the visitors leave now.  The patient needs his rest.”

Nudeltulpe sat up further to argue, then seemed to lose focus.  Losing his fight to the dizziness, he lay back down and nodded.  The trio of investigators said their farewells and headed to the door.  Fletcher stood aside for the women and was about to leave himself when the patient called out, “Oh, Fletcher.  We may have a problem.”

The ranger turned to look at Nudeltulpe anxiously.  The Brawlmaster held up the glove that Selena had dropped on his bed.  “I lost a right-handed glove on the evening of the Draft.  This glove is left-handed.”