Bissandrei wanders off...

It's another one of those days; a day when the rest of the group does a lot of talking about things they haven't done yet. "We're going to kill a red drake," they say, and, "We're going back to Vallaki to set the prisoners free." As is customary, Bissandrei believes none of it. He wanders through hallways of gold with his companions, trying desperately to tune out the sounds of whipping and sawing of bones that plays constantly through his head. It's only after several minutes of this that they announce something they are actually going to do. "There are baths here," they explain to him, "that can leave you feeling like you've had a full night's sleep in minutes!" Bissandrei does not share their enthusiasm. Unlike the rest of his party members, Bissandrei has never slept, and does not intend to start now. This place is Dwarven. And as such, Bissandrei reasons that it must have skilled smiths. While the rest of his fellows prance off to wash themselves, Bissandrei decides to seek answers.

After wandering through the meat market for some time, Bissandrei discerns hammer strikes amidst the sounds of commerce and screaming. With no preamble nor introduction he approaches the most competent looking smith and asks, "YOU! What d'you know about this?" and pulls from his pocket the small brass puzzle-box which he had presented to Eylylyn some days ago. The old dwarf recoils, then spends some time inspecting both Bissandrei and the contraption before finally replying...


And uh, I guess that's your cue Cody. What does the old dwarf reply?

There needs to be more heatThe long corn-colored knotted and matty beard of Hadan the craftsmith swung wide as he forced the coals to burn brighter with several firm presses on the bellows. The last inspection of his work revealed the nearly imperceptible impurities he had failed to remove, and though such standards might be acceptable for human smiths, both his own standard and that of the Noir Ferrum council deemed it as unacceptable and a waste of good metal.

He withdrew the white hot hunk of slag steel and rested it upon his forefathers great anvil as he began hammering the rough form into something reminiscent of a blade in fluid motions. The sound of steel forging steel, the vibrations from each hammer blow, the smell of sweat and steam mingling drowning out all distractions. His body in perfect tune and time, was suddenly jarred by a loud and abrasive but commanding voice.

Hadan turned to face the source of disruption to find a figure pointedly staring at him and holding out an odd but intricate made brass piece in his direction.

He secured his own work and tools before reaching out and examining the unusual trinket.
The dwarf stared closely at the tiny box for a moment before reaching for a measure and jot down some of the dimensions.
Hefting it up into the air, he found the piece to be extremely light but he knew he had never crafted something like it. He licked the edge to taste the metal but spat out the taste almost as quickly, "You've been dealing with arcane magicks friend... They have ruined the heart of this metal!" His tone and body language revealing this fact to be rather upsetting. "If you are wanting me to fix it for you, I'm afraid this is too far gone. If you're wanting me- Hadan, to duplicate this horrible travesty you can go eat schist, because its not gonna happen in your lifetime-not on my forge nor any in Grimstone...the Noir Ferrum guild does not stamp its seal on such abominable work."

Hadan huffs, "The aged brass has already been tarnished and fouled by what I can only assume was human hands...not even the bloody elves did hack jobs like that."
Seeming to notice Bissandrei for the first time as he looked up from the box, "No offense intended...if you're the -gulps- smith that made this."
Hadan scratched his chin, "What is it exactly you want?"

Flatly, Bissandrei replied, "I don't care if you like it. I want to know what it is! I spent days bound up in chains, starving half to death, getting stabbed and prodded on by a bunch of prissy folk in cloaks who were fascinated by this! What was it to them? What did they like about it, what did they need it for? What was it built for? You build things! Why would someone make this? What is it?!"

A small trail of smoke trickles off from Bissandrei's eyebrows as he comes to the end of his questions.

The response from this foreigner surprised Hadan. He looked down at the piece and back to Bissandrei.
"Oh."

The dwarf looked back at the piece and says "Sounds like both you and this piece have both been banged up by people who had no business dealing with you."

He clears his throat and says, "Well..I can tell you what it is. That's the easy part. I assume you have already tried opening it without success. I can tell you why that is too. But I will need to talk to another of my guild to figure out how to open it."

Hadan slides it back to Bissandrei. "But as far as the first question-you've got yourself a prison."

The mere mention of the word 'prison' sets Bissandrei immediately on edge. With a sudden meekness he asks, "The fuck kind of captive was this built for? I... no. I don't care. Whatever it takes, I have to get it open. Speak to whoever you must, charge me whatever you must. Just get it open. Let them free."

He does not venture to touch the box again

Hadan nods and says almost by rote, "Members of the Grimstone guild don't charge for information-only finished product." But upon seeing Bissandrei's response and hearing his demands, Hadan nods and leaves the man and the brass prison for an indeterminable amount of time. Upon his return, he has at his side a haggard looking blue cloaked figure.

The cloaked man walked with a limp and leaned heavily on a cane carved out of a single green polished emerald. Hadan led the man arm in arm to his forge and pulled a workstool up for the man to sit. The blue cloaked man removed his hood to reveal thick metal framed bi-focals and dark amber colored eyes.
Hadan turned to face Bissandrei and the brass box and says, "This is Eldaf, one of our eldest smiths. I told him of your box and your interest in trying to open it."

Eldaf's deeply wrinkled face sported a silver-golden colored beard and was well groomed. The elder craftsman fumbled with the box for only a moment, his eyes closed-seeming to feel around instinctively for something, while Hadan looked on in total silence. The old dwarf scrunched his thick eyebrows in frustration.
After a moment sat the box down in front of Bissandrei and leaned forward, and spoke something in dwarfish, Hadan translated on his behalf. "I do not know if the prison has anyone or anything in it or not. The metal does not speak as it should."

The old man gestured at the box and kept speaking. Hadan replied in dwarfish and seemed confused. After going back and forth for several minutes Eldaf grew silent, and Hadan turned to face Bissandrei and spoke: "He says this prison has no key-at least not one that we can fashion. He says the prison requires something-something old to be sacrificed...some type of ritual. But the only ones he knows of that would have the needed item or even know the rite...are very skilled Druids or an ancient Treant. Either way-we cannot open this box here, and from what I know of the world above-Druids are rare. You might come across an old treant if you're lucky but-they're likely to be cursed, bitter, or worse."

Hadan looks down at the box and then back to Bissandrei, "Sorry we can't be more help."

Bissandrei pauses, and lets out a long sigh. "Well," he begins, "it's more than I knew beforehand. Thanks for your help." He then gently picks up the puzzle-box, places it back into his robes, and walks off to rejoin his fellow travelers. "Don't worry little friend. We'll get you out of there someday. Just have to find the right ant." As Bissandrei sees the rest of the group now moving once again through the halls of the city, he runs to catch up with them; a smile on his face for the first time in weeks.

He still has no idea what he's doing.