“Okay, here’s what was on the body.” I said.
“All right!” said Mike. “Who’s writing this down?”
“I am,” said Melissa, throwing a glance in Carl’s direction. He appeared not to notice.
“Okay. There are two scrolls and two wands. You can identify them later when you get a chance.”
“Aren’t we just stopping here?” asked Carl. “Make camp? I could do with a long rest.”
“You could do that,” I said. “You’re a bit out a ways though, so there’s a chance your rest might get interrupted.”
“We can set watches,” said Mike. “It’s not a problem.”
“The wind whistles mournfully amongst the trees, wafting the stench of freshly-killed goblins across your face,” I said.
“Well, perhaps not right here,” said Mike.
“Why not?” asked Carl.
“Can we just move away from… this?” asked Melissa.
“Sure,” I said. “Though that smell is going to linger. You’ve basically set up a beacon for anything that hunts by scent.”
“Okay, no rest for the wicked,” said Carl. “Best we move on.”
“Yeah, let’s get some distance,” agreed Melissa.
“Yep,” said Mike.
“Okay,” I said. “You travel for about another hour before the last of the smell leaves your nostrils, though you aren’t sure it will ever leave your clothes.”
“Or your minds,” said Carl with a smile.
“Oh, that reminds me. Can everybody please make a Charisma saving throw?”
“A CHARISMA saving throw?” asked Mike.
“That’s what I said,” I said.
“Twenty-one,” said Carl.
“Nineteen,” said Melissa.
“Four,” said Mike.
“Okay,” I said. “Something Carl said just won’t go away. The way you so gleefully hacked apart those goblins disturbs you now. You can’t stop thinking about it. You guys notice that Mike, as he’s travelling, is kind of muttering to himself. When you interrupt him, he has no idea he’s doing it, and he doesn’t know what he was saying.”
“Okay…” said Mike.
“I mean, you’re pretty sure you’re not evil, right?”
“No, I’m neutral good!”
“Exactly. You can’t possibly be evil. That guy who hacked apart those goblins – that was someone else.”
“Okay…”
“So while you’re travelling, you’re looking at the other stuff you got from the dead dwarf,” I said.
“Oh yes!” said Melissa. “What else was there?”
“Okay, there were the two wands and the two scrolls, which you didn’t have time to identify before you hoofed it. There was also an axe of unusual design.”
“Unusual how?” asked Mike.
“It’s about the dwarfiest thing you’ve ever seen a dwarf carry.” I said. “You’ve seen dwarven design before, but you’ve never seen anything like this. This came from deep in the Dwarven strongholds. It’s the kind of thing that they would never normally bring above ground.”
“Does it radiate magic?” asked Carl.
“Are you going to check?” I asked. “On the move?”
Carl considered this. “No, I guess it can wait until we make camp.”
“Okay, you do. You’re far enough away from the place where Mike brutally slaughtered all those goblins that anything wandering will be more attracted to it than to you.”
“I got one too,” said Melissa.
“I know,” said Mike.
“So you sit down and make camp,” I said. “Carl, you cast detect magic. Immediately your attention is drawn to something in your pocket – a ring that you picked off the dwarf’s corpse and pocketed absentmindedly.”
“Sounds like something I’d do,” said Carl. “I pull it out and take a look at it.”
“It appears to be a plain gold ring, like a wedding band, but as you look at it you think you can see a faint image of black flames consuming everything in sight. There is a throb in your mind and for just a moment you really want to burn stuff.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Carl. “Is it like the dagger? I pull the dagger out too!”
“The dagger that makes you want to make things bleed? Yes, it’s definitely linked.”
“I put the ring on my finger!”
“No wait!” cried Melissa.
“Okay,” I said. “The ring’s on your finger.”
"Do I feel any different?" he asked.
"No," I replied. "It was just a very brief flash, like a momentary compulsion to destroy by fire."
“Well, that’s disappointing.”
“You can read enough of the scrolls to know that you wouldn’t be able to use them. They’re written in some magical language that you assume wizards know. By the looks of it, each of the two scrolls contains three spells.”
“Sell them,” said Carl.
“Right,” said Melissa.
“And of the two wands, one discharges bolts of energy, and the other one appears to summon a large and angry badger.”
“A what?”
“Just pops out of thin air, hissing, and looking for something to tear to shreds.”
“It doesn’t attack us, does it?”
“No. In fact, you appear to be able to direct its attention by pointing the wand at things.”
“Please don’t point it at me,” said Mike.
“Can I, like, dismiss the badger?”
“Turn it off?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she replied.
“Yes, you can in fact make the badger disappear, and reappear again. You have used three charges determining this fact.”
“Ooh, it has charges?”
“Yes, you can feel it losing a little bit of stored power each time you summon or dismiss the badger.”
“Can I tell how many times I can use it?”
“You can feel the stored power reduce each time you use it, but you’d have to use it some more to determine how many charges it might still contain because you don’t have anything to compare it to.”
“Okay. And the other one shoots laser beams?”
“More or less. It too seems to have charges.”
“And neither the scrolls nor the wands have the same compulsions to evil deeds?”
“No,” I replied. “That’s just the dagger and the ring, both of which Carl has.”
“They’re safest with me,” said Carl.
“Oh, and that dwarven axe?” I said. “It’s definitely magical too.”
“It’s probably an heirloom of some kind, isn’t it?”
“It did strike you at the time that the dwarf was quite young,” I said. “His beard was very short.”
“So we’ve got this dwarf youngster out here with some magic items and this axe, who dies in his first encounter with goblins. Is there a dwarf stronghold in the area?”
“Mike,” said Carl.
“As a matter of fact there is.” I said.
“We’ve got to take this back,” said Mike.
“We absolutely do not!” said Carl.
“Sorry Carl, you’re outvoted.” said Melissa.
“Wait, so we’re a democracy now?” asked Carl.
“The stronghold is no more than about a day’s journey from where you are. You all get a long rest. In the morning you pack up your things and set off. It’s raining, and it looks like it’s going to get heavier as the day goes on.”
“I have a poncho,” said Carl.
“You have a poncho?” asked Melissa.
“Yes. I put on my poncho.”
“At about midday you encounter a patrol of dwarves. You show them the axe, and they show you the way through the cliffs to the stronghold, which you reach in the evening. Again, the axe is sufficient to grant you immediate passage through the gates. Two of the dwarves on the inside give each other grave looks and one of them gestures for you to accompany him. He does not engage in conversation.”
“Oh, I do,” said Carl.
“About what?”
“Small talk. Nothing about the boy.”
“Roll Charisma.”
“Nineteen.”
“Okay. He still doesn’t talk to you, but he tolerates you continuing to speak. You’re drawing quite a bit of attention as you make your way through the halls. A number of dwarves seem to be following you. Most of them appear to be carrying weapons.”
“Excellent,” said Carl.
“How is this excellent?” asked Melissa.
“Dwarves are notoriously racist, you know.”
“Do you say that out loud?” I ask.
“Sure.”
“No dwarf in the crowd disagrees with you. You are led to what you assume is a rather magnificent manor. Everything is covered in gilt and glittering gemstones. There are crystal chandeliers in every room.”
“Sounds very breakable,” said Carl.
“Very,” I agreed. “You are brought before a middle-aged dwarf seated on a stone chair.”
“Is he… the king?” asked Mike.
“Sure looks like it to you,” I replied.
“I kneel before him and hand him his son’s axe.”
“His hand shakes as he takes it. I had hoped, he says, that he would get a little bit further than that.”
“Wait, what now?” asked Melissa. Carl laughed.
“What else did you find on his body, the king asks. What else?”
“Well, there were these scrolls, and these wands.”
“Yes?”
“And that’s it!”
“The ring! Did you find the ring?”
“No!” cried Carl. “We found nothing else!”
“Did you kill my son?” I asked.
“No! I say, relieved that I don’t have to lie about that.” said Carl.
“Roll Charisma.”
“Twelve.”
“Okay, the king sits back down. Then those that killed him must have taken it.”
“No way,” said Mike. “None of those goblins escaped.”
“The dwarf looks back at you, Carl.” I said. “Roll Deception.”
“Eighteen!”
“Okay, I believe you, he says. But I must impress upon you how vitally important it is that we recover that ring. And send it far, far away from here!”