Characters

Crutches the Thief - a male half-elf

Life had always been easy for you. What you lacked in talent you made up for in skill, what you lacked in skill you made up for in luck, and when that was lacking, sheer bravado would get you through. You coasted through your teens a happy-go-lucky kid. You knew, however, that 'work' was just never going to suit you. When your parents kicked you out of the house, you landed, of all places, in seminary.

Now you could never stand the strictness of most religious institutions, but the Hermes Theological Seminary was no ordinary school. Hermes is the god of thieves, messengers and arbitrators. Messengers means travel, and arbitration means talking to people. Throw in some thievery for excitement, now that sounds like a life. The teachers were not overly strict, and the studies came fairly easy to you. Soon, however, your easy, beer-swilling college days were over. You were so busy having a good time, you didn't even notice that you were one of the best students in your class. When graduation came, you inadvertently graduated magna cum laude. Normally, this would be a good thing, but not for you. Because you didn't have common sense enough to be a mediocre student, the Synod was sure to sock you with some ultra-hard assignment. If you were using your head, you would have answered some of those test questions wrong, and you'd have gotten some job that was easy, and you could loaf around a lot. But no, you had to graduate top of your class, and, no surprise, they gave you the hardest assignment ever.

The gnomes of the Doosenbury Engineering and Think Tank Facilities Corporation (DETTF) had designed a new type of vehicle based on a concept sold to them by a human, Elgin Roder. After designing a prototype of this 'Rodercraft', and expanding their facilities to accommodate mass-production of the vehicle, they discovered that a competitor, the Induché Velator Transit Corporation (IVT), had, according to Mr. Roder, apparently stolen the plans for the craft. To make matters worse, IVT had already released a Rodercraft of their own, which they termed the Velator 1000S, into the marketplace.

Roder, in conjunction with the gnomes of DETTF, filed a Delaying Production Motion to try to stop ITV from producing 1000S vehicles until the rights to the plans could be resolved. The effect of the Roder Motion on the Induché Velator Production of Rodercraft was naught, and you were called in, as an arbitrator, to resolve the situation.

After loosening up Mr. Roder, Mr. Velator (president of ITV) and several of the gnomish engineers from the DETTF with several bottles of a rare Deskovician wine that you had recently procured, you managed to trick Roder into admitting that he actually sold his idea to ITV prior to selling it to DETTF. After the gnomes beat the hell out of Roder, the ITV president and the DETTF gnomes who were still coherent agreed upon a merger of their two companies. With your help, a new superpower in the vehicle market was born. You received a substantial commission. Your newfound fame brought you many job offers. The most interesting was from a small, non-descript man with a weasely voice, Silas Wishbone, and Great Hunt 97 was truly memorable.

Life was quite the whirlwind of activity after you and your team finished Great Hunt 97. You received a title of nobility, Lesser Baronet, which turned out to be a relatively worthless title. The land-holdings you received were far from civilization and were what most people considered to be dangerously close to the lair of the Spongebeast, a fabled monster of truly terrible proportions. The million gold pieces you received, however, were quite real. You lived life in the fast lane for about two years, making even more money endorsing various products. Soon you decided you'd seen enough of the city of East Lansing and you set off to see the other sights this new land had to offer. Everywhere you traveled you went first class; Pittsburgh, Sea Kay, Livonia. You even had an entourage of what you now realize were nothing but sycophants and floozies. You kept this lifestyle up until, eventually, you ran out of money. You thought you might take up the adventuring life, but you knew there had to be an easier way to make a living.

In a society as bogged down in bureaucracy as this one, surely they had a use for a skilled arbitrator. So, while you were in Whippany, you found some office space. Now, you didn't have any money for rent, so you had to use your diplomatic skills to circumvent this little problem.

"Well, I really need to start my business today, so how about I give you the rent money after my lease license is approved? You know, me being a Hunt Champion might attract some business for you in the upcoming Hunt", you said applying some of your 'star' power.

"Uh... I don't know", replied the landlord, "the renting laws are quite clear..."

"Listen", you interrupted, "I actually know Pharondondalae. You know he'll need plenty of office space in several cities to set up research facilities for the upcoming Hunt. With him, you know, it's 'show 'em the money'. I might be able to talk to..."

"Alright, alright", he said with gold coins in his eyes, "you can move in today!"

You knew you were famous so on the sign in front of the office you wrote:

Later that day two men entered your establishment.

"Yes, gentlemen, how can I help you?" you said.

"Are you Crutches the Contract Attorney?" one of them asked. The other was examining your empty wall space.

"Yes, I am", you replied.

"I don't see any of your licenses or documentation. Are you sure you're allowed to call yourself a contract attorney?" the other man asked.

Now Hermes is the god of arbitrators, but thankfully he is also the god of liars.

"Yes, I'm fully licensed and insured", you said. "I just haven't unpacked any of that stuff yet. Now, let's get down to business."

The two gentlemen had a disagreement over some pedigree Osaloke puppies that they were to divide, and after a bottle of wine, the two were best friends with a fair agreement for them and a pouch of gold for you. You immediately went down to the Licensing Claims Office to submit your claims for being a contract attorney. From there, you thought, you could pay your rent and then you'd be on easy street for a while.

With both outstretched arms you handed the claims clerk a pile of papers with the processing fee perched on top.

"Here you go", you said with a grunt as you handed over your bundle.

Are you Crutches the Contract Attorney?" the clerk asked.

"Yes, I am", you replied.

CLICK, CLICK. You found yourself locked in a pair of handcuffs.

"It seems two gentlemen", the clerk began, "came in here earlier praising the Contract Attorney Crutches' skills as an arbitrator. When we went to look up your file to place a commendation report with it, we found that there was no such person as 'Contract Attorney Crutches'. You are under arrest for unlicensed contract negotiating, impersonating a contract attorney, renting without a permit, disorderly conduct and general nuisance to society. By the way", the clerk added with a sneer, "I bet on Hammerhan's team last Hunt!"

With that last comment, you knew you weren't going to charm your way out of this one, and as the room filled with constables, you figured you weren't going to escape either.

You didn't stand a chance at your trial. The prosecution called thirty witnesses, including the two 'gentlemen' you had helped. Those two guys proved to be the most damaging. Even though you had helped them to the point of them going to the clerk to report your superlative skills, you were a vile, evil man in their eyes, all for the lack of a license. Of course, had you not done the exceptional job you did, those two wouldn't have reported you. Part of your problem was that perfection came way too easily for you.

You were sentenced to one year in prison and forbidden to practice the art of arbitration. At this, you were most upset, but your court-appointed lawyer cautioned you not to display anger at the judge's ruling.

"You'll only make it worse", he said. "I'll file a Livelihood Exemption Appeal for you. It will take some time, but at least you'll be able to be an arbitrator, after you're properly licensed, of course."

At first your time in the joint was brutal. You sat there thinking about your arbitration career. Even if you got your stupid license, who would want to hire an ex-con? Hermes, however, stepped in to help you out.

In jail you were surrounded by thieves, and, thankfully, Hermes is the god of thieves. Word soon got around that you were an arbitrator that preferred to work 'off the record'. With your criminal record and your reputation as a tough guy (you were a Hunt Champion, after all), your fellow convicts were lined up outside your cell for your services. The best part about working for these guys was that they didn't want any paperwork, in fact, they insisted that there be no record of their dealings, for obvious reasons. This, of course, couldn't have made you happier.

This work not only made the rest of your time in jail go quickly, but it made you a little cash and plenty of connections. You knew you'd need these connections to continue your illicit business once you got out of the joint.

When you finally did get out, the 'underworld' was anxious for you to set up shop. With Great Hunt 98 coming in about two years, there were a lot of disputes amongst various thieves' guilds over territory due to the possible changes on the political horizon. You couldn't get a regular office, the paperwork involved would not only be problematic to obtain, but it would not be at all good for the type of clients you would do business with. No, there could be no paper trail. You thought of just working wherever: alleys, bars, etc... but your parole officer insisted you get a legitimate job with a legitimate income.

You heard that some of your old Hunt teammates bought Isaac's Bar. You had retrieved Isaac's bar during the Hunt and had to actually purchase it from the owner who had built a tavern around it in Whippany called, of course, Isaac's Bar. The actual bar was placed in the Great Vault, where all Hunted Items (except some intelligent, alive items) are placed, but Khelven Stihl-Tewth and Big John Drott opened the tavern under the name Isaac's Bar in East Lansing, even though it was missing the famous bar of metal. You decided to go visit them, maybe seeing some old compatriots would help you think of a solution.

"Wow, Khelven", you said, "this is quite a place you have here."

"Yeah, me and BJD really put a lot of work into the place", Khelven responded.

You and Khelven spent some time catching up. About a year after he and BJD bought the bar, they decided to hire a manager, someone with a good head for business (something Khelven admitted neither he nor BJD had). About a year after that, Khelven married the young dwarven manager. Her name was Jari. Apparently, she was down at the warehouses, picking up a shipment of beer, so you didn't get to meet her right away. BJD wasn't there either. Khelven had said that it was his day off and he usually spent it at the gym. Khelven then turned the topic to you.

"So, uh, not to bring up a sore subject", he began, "but I heard you were in jail?"

"Yeah, yeah", you responded. "No biggie, just a foul up with some paperwork. It got me a year in jail though. This place is so strict with papers!"

"Let me tell you", said Khelven. "Me and BJD ran into enough red tape to remake Mount Olympus! That's why we first hired Jari. She seemed to have a head for details. So, what are you up to now?"

"I don't know", you said. "My parole officer says I need a legitimate job."

"If you want you could work here", Khelven said.

"That's a great offer, but I don't think working as a busboy or whatever is really me."

"Look, if you need help, I'll help you. Apart from Jari, you're the closest thing to family I've got. Us outlanders have to stick together. I'll tell you what, how about you buy into the bar?"

You thought for a moment. Khelven and BJD had excellent reputations amongst the establishment; in fact, BJD was working as a security officer for Pharondondalae. Working with them would surely get that parole officer off your back. You looked around the place. There were some private rooms. You could use those rooms for your business dealings. You thought, however, you'd never be able to tell Khelven or Big John Drott about what you were doing or with whom you were having your dealings. If something ever went wrong, the less your friends knew the better. If the constables ever caught you, Khelven and BJD's only real defense would be ignorance, and even if they were willing to lie for you, the authorities could cast a 'detect lie' spell or something and then they would be in real trouble. If you were to continue on with this plan, you would have to keep every one of your friends in the dark.

"All right", you told Khelven. "That sounds like a good idea. I have some money."

"Listen, we'll work something out", Khelven said. "I'll work out the details and Jari will fix up the paperwork. Don't worry, it's going to be great."

Things for a while were indeed pretty good. Khelven's wife, Jari, seemed slightly aloof, but generally a good sort of person. She didn't really seem to trust you, but she also seemed to understand your and Khelven's relationship. You and Khelven, as a matter of fact, grew to be almost like brothers. BJD, however, definitely seemed critical of you. Because of the secrecy of your business dealings, you told everyone that what were really your clients, were really your friends. You overheard BJD going on about "the wrong element being in the bar". Fortunately, his job as security advisor and his time at the gym kept him away from the bar a lot.

Your 'business' began to thrive and soon you were using one of the side rooms at least four nights a week. Soon you ran into the problem of 'laundering' the money back into the hands of Khelven, Jari and BJD, to whom you owed everything. You knew that if you started to just give them the money you owed them (for buying into the business), they would ask you where you got it, and you couldn't tell them what you were doing to earn it. You couldn't dump it into the bar's cash register either; nothing like that would get past Jari. She'd be into the books, nosing around, and that wouldn't do either.

You decided to start taking the bulk of your payment in 'favors'. For example, you worked out a deal with the Brewer's Union so that the bar would get better prices on alcohol purchases. Of course you knew the prices couldn't just drop for no reason, so you told the Union's price setter to give into Jari's haggling skills (Jari handled about all of the business transactions for the bar). That would kill any suspicions she would have otherwise.

And that's how things worked for quite some time. You would have a 'party' in one of the side rooms and then Jari's haggling skills would work through the Dockworkers Strike or the Teamsters delivery rates, etc... Things went well until the Arvanetes crime family decided that they didn't like a deal you had hammered out between them and the McCrackens. 'Lucky' Lucius Pennyplucker of the Arvanetes turned you in as well as several members of the McCrackens. You were relaxing in the bar with a glass of your favorite cognac, when Inspector Jakil Fedgehoffyit of the East Lansing Constables' Office burst in, arrested you, and threw you in jail. You knew you were in trouble. If you talked, not only would you be convicted, but so would most of the McCrackens (and they wouldn't take kindly to that), but worst of all, Jari, Khelven and BJD would get dragged into this whole thing. The best thing you could do is just keep your mouth shut. Inspector Fedgehoffyit interrogated you for hours at a time, and you were held for three days with no food or water, before Khelven got you out. Apparently, Jari, who was at the bar at the time of your arrest, immediately told Khelven. Khelven then asked BJD to pull some strings with Pharondondalae. Apparently it worked as you were finally released. Khelven said BJD was back at the bar and you couldn't wait to thank the big guy for his help. Maybe you were wrong about BJD. Maybe he wasn't so stiff.

"Well, well, well..." BJD said as you walked into the bar. "If it isn't Crutches the jailbird!"

"Hey, wait just a minute", you tried to defend yourself, "I didn't do anything wrong. It was a case of mistaken identity!"

"Yea, right", he huffed. "I don't care what it was, I'm not bailing your good for nothing hide out of trouble again. Do you know we could have lost the bar?"

"Hold on now", Khelven interrupted. "Let's not say things we're going to regret."

"I know you're fond of Crutches, dear", interjected Jari, "but if he gets into trouble, it will reflect on all of us. Maybe we can work out some arrangement..."

"Arrangement!" yelled BJD, "Jari, just because you can smooth talk some ruffians down at the docks doesn't mean you can rehabilitate this... this... thief!"

With that, BJD stormed out of the bar.

"He may have a point", Jari said. "This isn't the first time Crutches has been in trouble. I'm going home to bed. I'll see you later."

After she left, Khelven turned to you and let out an exasperated sigh.

"You know you're like a brother to me", he began. "We've been through a lot together and you're one of a handful of people I know from home. I've got an idea of what you're doing in the back rooms. I also know you've got reasons to keep quiet, and after what I heard you went through to keep quiet for our protection, I know you care about us. I also know that no one, not even Jari, haggles for deals as good as we've been getting since you bought into the place. I'll talk to them. Don't worry, we'll straighten this out."

"Yeah, you're right", you said. "I'm going to take tomorrow off. We'll let everyone cool off. I'm going home. I'll be in, in a couple of days, and we'll all sit down and talk. Thanks for believing in me."

You slept in late the next morning and then went out to a small diner for some coffee and a light breakfast (no longthorpes). You ran into one of your girlfriends and the two of you enjoyed the afternoon together and it was quite late when you returned home. Much to your surprise, waiting for you at the door was Rico, a busboy from the bar.

"Hey Rico, what are you doing here?" you said as you nudged him awake.

"Sir", Rico said as he rubbed his eyes, "Mrs. Stihl-Tewth wanted to know if you've seen Mr. Stihl-Tewth. He's been missing for a while."

You got to the bar as fast as you could. The mood in the bar seemed gloomy at best. BJD was talking to some constables and Jari was crying. That really surprised you. She was always in control of her demeanor and seeing her sobbing made you think the situation was indeed grim.

"Thank you for your help", BJD said to the constables as he escorted them out.

"We'll let you know the moment we find anything out, Mr. Drott", they said as they left.

"What in Hades happened?" you asked.

"Well", BJD started, "it seems Khelven left early to get today's shipment at the docks. When he wasn't back at lunchtime, Jari sent one of the busboys to go look for him. The wharf manager said that he hadn't seen Khelven at all that day. Jari sent for me, thinking I might know where he was. Then we sent for you. Now we have no idea where he is, and with the rumors of gnome-nappings flying around, I'm starting to get worried."

"It's all my fault", sobbed Jari. "Khelven said that he wanted to talk to me and John about you, Crutches. I said I wasn't about to do all the work around here just to hear Khelven tell me and John to leave you alone. Khelven told me that he would go pick up the shipments. And now he's gone! If I wasn't so selfish, he'd be here!"

"Now, now", said BJD, putting a comforting arm around Jari. "If it's anyone's fault, it's Crutches'! I knew those 'friends' of yours would only give us trouble! I'm sorry they ever let you out of jail!"

Jari now had her face buried in her hands, weeping uncontrollably.

"But, but..." you stammered. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"That's right! You never do anything wrong", countered BJD. "Those girls with paternity suits, those hooligan friends of yours, and the jail time! Just get out of here before I... I..."

BJD's eyebrows began to twitch and he was clenching and unclenching his fists. You got out of there fast. There was no way you could have defended yourself against BJD if he lost control.

You wandered around the streets for what seemed like days, but it was only until dawn of the next day. BJD was right. It very well could have been your fault. You'd have to make it up to them. You would have to find Khelven. He was the only real friend you had.

You busied yourself that day calling in every last favor you had, trying to find out what could have happened to Khelven. You even had to give out some big-time IOUs. Apparently, there was something real serious going on. Something that had far-reaching political effects. You got leads to some big conspiracy and government cover-up. Finally, you got a name. Hammerhan. Someone told you to check out his mansion on the north side of town.

It was just before sunset when you planned to sneak over a wall, and into Hammerhan's mansion. You don't quite remember what happened next, you must have blacked out or something. The next thing you remember was being inside the walls of the mansion somewhat disoriented, and being slapped in handcuffs by the constables. In the light of the moon you could see those damn elves of Hammerhan's laughing at you. In a sack, slung over your shoulder, was a platinum tea set with the Hammerhan crest on it, an eagle clutching a sword surrounded by roses.

The constables took you straight to the Bursley Asylum and Rehabilitation Facility. When you started screaming that you wanted to see your lawyer, they put the Collar of Silence on your neck (the Collar has a silence spell placed on it to silence a criminal's screams; it is usually only used in intense 'interrogation' proceedings). You knew you were really in trouble. You also knew you hadn't done anything wrong, least of all steal a lousy tea set. They dragged you down to Level Nine, where only the most heinous of criminals are kept, and threw you into a cold, dark pit, and locked you in, still cuffed and collared.

You weren't exactly sure how long you were in there, though it felt like an eternity. You were almost to the point where you could see your sanity slipping away. The only thing that kept your mind in reality was the staggering pain of hunger and thirst. It was literally as if they cast you into the pit and completely forgot about you.

Finally, someone opened the door to your cell. It was a guard, and a man with a limp. The guard removed the Collar.

"Please hurry, sir", said the guard. "If they catch us, I'll end up in here."

"Don't worry", said the man, "this won't take long".

The guard then left.

"Well, well. The famous Crutches the Thief", the man said, "I'm glad to meet you. My name is Perigar Adanac."

"What am I doing here?" you asked him, in a raspy, almost inaudible voice. "Why did you have me thrown in here?"

"I had nothing to do with you being put here", the man named Perigar said calmly. "I do, however, have everything to do with getting you out of here."

After a pause, you responded. "I'm listening."

"Good", he said. "Let me start at the beginning. I am a professor of Planar Mechanics at East Lansing University. According to my calculations, the Great Vault, which is packed with highly magical items, will be the center of a whirlwind of destruction. All that magic, confined in such a close proximity, is sure to cause a catastrophe of world-ending proportions. Some friends of mine and I want to put an end to this danger by destroying the Vault and dispersing its contents."

"That's all well and good..." you faintly croaked, "but where do I come in?"

"Well, not many people believe my calculations. The only way I can get rid of the Vault is to get the Pooh-bah to do something about it. But the only way I know of changing the Pooh-bah's mind is to change the Pooh-bah. I've assembled a team of Hunters, but I need someone with experience and some, shall we say, 'special skills' to round out the team."

"Listen", you said to him, "all I know is my friend is missing and I've got to find him."

"Well, you can't find your friend sitting in here, but if you were out, and had a friend as Pooh-bah, things might happen. I know that one of the Council members had you thrown in here. If I were Pooh-bah, I could rattle his cage for you. What do you say?"

It didn't take long for you to realize that this would probably be your last chance.

"O.K.", you said. "When do we leave?"

"I'll have you out as soon as I can. In the meantime, you'll get plenty of food and drink."

"Who's on the team?" you asked.

"There's a dwarven tracker, a human cleric of Thoth, the god of knowledge, a human mage, a half-elven mage who is rather brilliant and multi-talented, and two Blood Bowl players, Dakota Hotspur and Oglethorpe Trollspine. I'll see you soon, don't worry. Just keep your strength up."

The cell door swung shut.

You had heard of those last two. Dakota Hotspur was supposedly the best Blood Bowl quarterback of all time, and that Trollspine fellow was supposedly some monstrous brute who stepped on people to get them out of the way. All you could do now was focus on getting this Perigar guy the Pooh-bah's seat, and then find out what happened to Khelven.