Characters

Tap Brthzpn - a male gnome

You were a child of the sea, born on a merchant ship bound for Denmark. The rigors of labor at sea proved to be too much for your mother to overcome, as she died shortly after you were born. Your father was Captain Sircst Brthzpn, perhaps the finest gnomish seaman of his time.

Your father was a loving and caring man and he did his best as a single parent to raise you alone. The two of you were constantly together at sea. Life at sea was never easy, but you grew to love the sights and smells of the open ocean. You thought you might live the rest of your days as a seaman like your father, but he always used to say, "Life at sea is just no good son, take my word. When you get older, I'll see to it that you get a proper schoolin'. That's what your mother would've wanted, God rest her soul."

You always thought that your father blamed himself to some degree for the death of your mother. Sometimes late at night you would here him talking to himself. "Oh Elouisa, if only we'd had a proper place to live underground somewheres. Maybe you'd still be with us today. Lord, I miss ya." You felt really sorry for your papa. He had obviously loved your mother very much. And he blamed himself simply because he was trying to make a living the only way he knew how. From the many stories your father had often told you about your mother, you had imagined that she had loved life at sea as well, and that she probably wouldn't have lived any other way, regardless of how much your father insisted that "it wasn't proper."

As caring and loving as your father was with you and your mother, he was that stern with the members of his crew. The men didn't seem to like him much, but it was pretty clear that they feared and respected him. You once asked your papa why he was so mean to the crew. He responded, "Son, these men aren't my friends. See son, I'm the captain of this ship. I have the training and the know-how. The sailors know that as long as they do what I say, everything will be fine and dandy. But if these guys start thinking that I'm their buddy, then they'll get lazy and think that it'll be OK if they don't do their work right. They'll say, 'Oh, that Captain, he's our pal. He won't mind if we don't put a second layer of pitch on the hull.' Then where will we be when a squall hits? We'll be with the fishes, that's where. So do ya understand that, me boy?"

It made good sense to you. It was the same reason that papa would occasionally be stern with you. He knew what was best. He did not want to allow you to fail. Because if you failed, then ultimately he failed. You would never disappoint your father, not ever. Failure was not an option.

Mostly you entertained yourself during the long voyages by reading or fishing. Sometimes your father would tell you stories or even occasionally let you drive the ship. There were not too many days when you had time off of the ship to play. But when you stopped in port, if it was sunny outside, you loved to walk along the beaches, collecting shells and shiny pieces of rocks. On one particular day while walking along the beach, you found something most unusual. It was long and gray, kinda dull looking. It certainly wasn't a rock. You picked it up. Then you realized that you had seen something like this before. On the ship, sometimes messengers would come with a message for your father to deliver overseas. It usually was in a bone container similar to this one. This one looked old, and was a lot more beat-up, but you were reasonably confident that this was a bone case for carrying messages. You remembered that one end could be pried off, opening the container. You noticed a fine crack at one end and went to work. It was stuck on there pretty good, but you were determined to open it up. You worked on it for a solid half-hour before it finally came loose.

You gently removed the contents. It was some sort of scroll, and a very old one at that. You unrolled it. It seemed to be a sketch of a jar with some kind of mechanism in the bottom. A few notes were scrawled next to the drawing. "Place fish in container. Wind key to start and press button to engage blades. In minutes, a delicious piping hot fish soup will be ready for consumption", the notes said. A large caption on top of the scroll said, "Bassomatic". Some other notes on the back of the scroll and some more sketches to described how the mechanisms worked and even how the device could be built.

This scroll looked like it could possibly be very valuable. It was so old looking; it couldn't be that anyone had recently lost it. You looked around. No one was paying attention to you. You were just a kid on the beach. You slipped the scroll back into the case and slid it into your backpack. You would hide the scroll on the ship and tell no one that you had found it.

The scroll had sparked your interest. Every time you got into port, you headed for the library or the bookstore. You read everything you could get your hands on, but especially books about engineering. You often secretly pulled out the old scroll, trying desperately to understand the intricate design.

You bothered your father constantly to teach you. He knew a lot about the stars and navigation. You watched him make diagrams of where he was headed based on the position of the different constellations. His sketches reminded you a lot of the scroll you had found on the beach. You eagerly absorbed this knowledge. Soon, you had learned how to navigate the ship on your own. "Best navigator I've ever had, and he's only 53 years old", you would often hear your father boasting to some of the other sea captains in port.

It wasn't too long before you had learned about everything your father could teach you. It was time to leave the familiar life aboard the ship and head for school. Your father would miss you desperately and you would miss him as well, but you had a great thirst for knowledge. You approached your father that evening at dinner about attending school. "Father", you said between bites of salted pork, "I think that I am ready to start school."

"I too have felt that you are ready me boy," replied your father soberly. "I sent a messenger off to the University of Slgrthzk. I've been told it's a fine school. They sent me back a message saying that they usually don't take kids so young as you into the school. But you can take a test and if you do well enough, then they'll let you in."

You hadn't considered that there would be a test. "I can pass their lousy test," you declared confidently. "I'm ready to go to school papa, please let me take the test."

"Of course me boy," replied your father. "You will take that test and you will succeed with flying colors. You'll make your old daddy proud."

Your father arranged for you to take the entrance examination in one month's time. You studied hard over the next month, reading and re-reading all the books you had acquired. You reviewed problems with your father and had him quiz you.

The day of the test soon arrived. You were confident, but pretty nervous too. Your father had packed up all your belongings. "I haven't been admitted yet, father," you pointed out.

"Oh, but you will be. I've got great confidence in you, me boy," replied your father.

The test was difficult. There were quite a few questions you simply couldn't understand. But there were more questions that you had answered correctly. Or so you thought, at least.

You waited for what seemed like an agonizingly long time until the results of your test were ready. The examiner called you and your father into his office. A nameplate on his desk identified him as Mr. Hugh Mobley. "Well, he's a very bright boy," said the examiner. "However, he falls slightly short of the requirements for entry. We can get him into one of our preparatory schools."

You were crushed. You had failed the test and let down yourself and your father. "I don't want to go to any school for dummies!" you exclaimed. "I came here to be in the University."

"Calm down son," your father interjected. "How close did he come to passing?" he asked.

"We require a score of 70% for entry into the school," replied the examiner. "Tap answered only 68% of the questions correctly."

"Two percent?!" exclaimed your father, now getting a bit excited himself. "You're going to keep the boy out of your school because of a measly two percent? Look, this boy's had no proper schoolin'. Only what I've taught him. And he's a quick study as well. He'll pick up something completely new to him right away. All he needs is a chance Mr. Mobley, don't deny him that."

"I'm very sorry sir, but we have very strict entrance requirements," replied the examiner.

"Son, why don't you step outside while I discuss the matter further with this fine gentleman," your father said, pointing you towards the door.

You did as you were told. So, you stood in the hallway waiting and hoping that your father could think of something to say that could change Mr. Mobley's mind.

A few moments later, the door opened. The examiner stepped out with a huge grin across his plump face.

"We've worked out an agreement so you can attend the school, son," declared your father, excitedly.

"Yes," said Mr. Mobley, "I think you're going to do just fine at the University."

So, you said goodbye to your father and moved your stuff into the dorm.

Life at the university wasn't easy for you at first. The life aboard ship hadn't allowed you to be around many other kids before. Add to that the fact that the other students were all 10 - 20 years older than you were and it was easy to see why you didn't make too many friends. Oh well, you weren't here to enhance your social skills anyway.

The time in which a typical student would have been talking or playing around with friends or even dating, you spent studying. At first, most of the other students were a bit ahead of you academically. Most of them had received some prior schooling, but you caught up quickly. The grades for your first term were mostly average, followed by a slightly above average second grade report. The long hours of study really started to pay off as you aced the next term and every subsequent term.

You didn't know exactly what subject you wanted to major in, but you did know that you wanted to be able to figure out how to build things, especially things like the device which was pictured in that sketch that you found on the beach many years ago. But you also took a few classes in basic illusion and that appealed to you as well. You decided to double major in Illusionary Arts and Mechanical Tinkerism.

You graduated near the top of your class. You decided to enter the advanced Future Inventors program. The program accepted only the top ten applicants, but your high grades guaranteed you entry into the program. They supplied you with a lab, any tools you needed and all materials. You were expected to design, develop and test a new device. The device was not required to have any particular application. You would be graded on the design and general usefulness of your invention. You were given 6 months to complete your work.

You spent weeks thinking and even came up with a few preliminary designs. You designed a self-fastening shoe which used a sort of self-adhering fabric that you called orclev. That didn't seem like a very good idea. Then, you came up with another device that would allow someone to record his voice into a round, flat disk. The recording could then be played back over and over again. Who would want that? You were running out of time. You would have to come up with an idea soon or you wouldn't have time to complete the project before the deadline.

Then, you remembered that scroll. You didn't have time to come up with anything else. The bassomatic would be your final project.

Going back over the ancient plans now, the device was really quite simple, yet brilliantly designed. Every gear and spring was fit into place just perfectly for the ultimate efficiency. You ordered the parts and assembled the device. It worked flawlessly.

Your program directors were very impressed with your invention. A representative from the Gnomish Inventors' Association even came and inspected all the projects. He approached you after examining the bassomatic.

"Hello, young man," he said, "Mertle Beakman's the name. Look, I don't want to waste a lot of your time. You're obviously very talented. This bassomatic invention of yours is quite frankly brilliant. We'd like you to join our group, the Gnomish Inventors' Association. We can market the device for you, set up manufacturing facilities, the whole works. All we ask is 20% of the profits. You get the rest. In addition to that, we'll provide you with a lab, any assistants and tools you may need, full testing facilities, and we'll set you up with contracts for inventions. We have a lot of clients out there that are looking for clever new devices and they're willing to pay handsomely. You think about it and let me know."

"No need to think about it", you replied. You didn't want to worry about marketing or advertising. "I'll accept your offer. Except, I think that your 20% cut is too much. How about 15%?"

"You drive a hard bargain," he replied. "It's a deal. Great to have you on the team."

So, you went to work for the Gnomish Inventor's Association. The bassomatic became a phenomenal success. As the bassomatic started appearing in more and more homes, you gained some degree of fame, especially among the gnomish population. You also became very wealthy.

You didn't waste your money, but you weren't exactly frugal either. You clothed yourself in the finest clothing. You didn't wear jewelry; it was too gaudy for your taste. You enjoyed fine food and wine and often ate in the finest restaurants. Your house was definitely comfortable, but not palatial.

Your labs were built in a secluded area outside Slgrthzk. You really didn't need a lot of personal interaction. The Gnomish Inventors' Association had occasional meetings that you attended. There were a few assistants always hanging around, bothering you. You preferred to spend your time in solitude, drawing up designs for new items, or tinkering with existing items, looking for any improvements. You also did a fair bit of reading and studying spells. You tried hard to keep your spell casting skills honed. You often used illusions to assist you in creating new items. An illusion was much better than a drawing when you needed to picture some intricate mechanism. Sometimes, if you needed a particular assistant for something, you would create an illusion to go fetch him instead of doing it yourself. This usually spooked the lads a bit, but they got over it.

Your father usually came to visit you 3 or 4 times per year, when he was in port. You spent hours talking about the old days aboard the ship when you were younger. You took him out to the best restaurants and lavished him with gifts. It was always great fun to have papa around. He always told you at least once per visit, "Son, you've made a good life for yourself. I'm very proud of ya. But you need to find a wife me boy, someone to share your life with. And I need some grand kids." You always smiled and nodded when he said this, but you really didn't have much interest in a wife. You were too busy with your work.

Over the years, you created a fabulous array of devices. A few household appliances, different weapons, gardening tools, mining tools, just to name a few. You did quite a bit of work for the government, creating different devices for the Gnomish Royal Legion, which was busy warring with the Kingdom of East Lansing.

In general, you enjoyed your work immensely. The Gnomish Inventors' Association always came up with interesting projects. There was one recent instance however, in which you became very annoyed with the GIA. They wanted you to train some of the soldiers on the proper utilization of a few of the inventions you had created for the military. You really didn't want to do this, but the GIA insisted, so you reluctantly agreed. You gave detailed and repeated instructions on how to use and maintain each of your devices. There were still so many questions. "How come we have to do it like that? Why doesn't it work this way? How do you do that again?" The young twits just didn't seem to catch on. You were doing your best to tolerate the situation when one of the boobs engaged a vacuum device you had created and nearly sucked one of your best velvet cloaks right off your back. Enough was enough. You walked out of the class and vowed never to do anything like that again no matter how much the GIA begged.

Around your 130^th birthday, news came that your father had passed away. He had sailed right up to his death and had died aboard ship. The crew buried him at sea. You were saddened by the news, but father had led a long and happy life and you tried not to let his death get you down too much. It did make you start to think though. You had spent nearly sixty years at hard labor. You were getting old. You decided it was time to retire, to enjoy the good life and quit working so hard. Oh, you would still tinker. That was your life. But it wouldn't be a job anymore. There were some neat things you'd always wanted to work on, but no one could come up with the funding. Now you'd have the time.

You also decided that you needed an apprentice. Someone to take under your wing like your father did for you. You also needed someone to share your secrets with, someone who could learn the trade. So, you set out interviewing potential apprentices. You wanted someone young, who you could mold. But you didn't want to have to go back to basics, so the apprentice would need some schooling. Gnomes typically did not start their children in school at a very young age. You talked to a lot of people and you found a temple that had taken in a couple of very bright young students.

You traveled to the temple and interviewed the two youngsters. They were both very bright indeed, but for one of the kids, you think his name was Plummy, everything seemed to come easily. The other boy, now he impressed you. He had worked hard for his grades and really seemed to embrace his studies. You decided that the young Spike Zxzxzxn would be your new apprentice.

The young lad obviously had a great deal of respect for your abilities. He took every instruction you gave and followed it to the letter. He picked up ideas very quickly and worked diligently. The two of you became very close. You shared many of your ideas with the young lad and you even confided to him about how you'd found the design for the bassomatic on a beach and that it wasn't your idea. You had never told anyone else that before, not even your father.

Recently, the Gnomish Inventors' Association contacted you again. It seems that with the recently signed peace treaty between the gnomes and the people of East Lansing, some of the gnomish devices were being exported to the neighboring kingdom. Many complaints of defective devices were arising from the people of East Lansing. The GIA wanted you to inspect the new factories in Slgrthzk, look over the planning and testing procedures and provide a report. You figured that seeing the factories would be a good experience for Spike, so you agreed. The inspection went very well. You reported no problems in either the facilities or the testing practices.

These supposed defects were such a concern that you were even asked to meet personally with the Gnomish Prince, Isa Skbar. The prince seemed to be a very concerned and dedicated man. You assured him that every precaution was being taken to ensure the manufacture of high quality working devices. The prince then thanked you for the time you spent conducting the investigation and your many years of services to the people of the gnomish kingdom.

Some big newspaper from East Lansing also wanted to talk to you about these supposed problems. You told the reporter that the testing for the devices was more than adequate. Certainly any device failures were caused by improper use.

Things were going very well for you at this point in your life. Spike was on his way to becoming the next great inventor. You were enjoying your retirement, relaxing and savoring the development of your prodigy.

Then one evening Spike went out for some supplies and never returned. It was unlike Spike to run off.

You immediately contacted the police. They were obviously incompetent. No trace of Spike could be found. You found a well-respected private investigator in East Lansing named Sham Shamshonite. He agreed to take the case. He did some preliminary investigations and reported back to you.

"Shorry mac, I hash to drop dish caysh," said the investigator.

"What?! Why?" you asked, befuddled.

"Well, you didn't hear it from me, but I've sheen another caysh jusht like dish beforesh," replied Shamshonite. "It'sh shome kind of conshpirashy. You shee, gnomsh have been dishappering all over the playsh and no one hash an exshplanation. Anyone who gets involved alsho dishappears. Sho, you shee why I want to shteer clear of dish one."

You had heard of the disappearing gnomes before. Many gnomes were complaining that the current government in East Lansing was not doing enough to try to catch the culprits. You had also heard that the Gnomish Prince, Isa Skbar was forming a Great Hunt team so that if he won, he could assume leadership of the Kingdom of East Lansing. As the Grand Pooh-bah, Skbar would make it a primary objective to find and punish the gnomenappers.

You were horrified that Spike could fall victim to such a crime. You needed to do something to ensure that Spike's death would be avenged and that every possible measure would be taken to halt these crimes. You made an appointment with the prince.

The prince agreed to meet with you.

"Sir," you addressed the prince, "I would be an excellent addition to your Great Hunt team. When can I meet with the other team members to discuss strategy?"

"Hold on Mr. Brthzpn," replied the prince. "You're an old man. What do you have to offer the team?"

"I'm an experienced inventor and I have knowledge of the design, repair, and even history of some devices which may very well be on the Hunt List. Also, I am a master of illusion," you replied.

"Hunt items are usually artifacts, not inventions," he declared, "and more experienced spell casters are available. I'm not convinced."

Then you remembered a couple of inventions that you and Spike were working on. "Well, I could contribute a couple of my latest inventions for use by the team," you said. "I have a fully automated robot, but only I can control it. It's far too complicated for a novice." This was an exaggeration, but you were looking to get on the team here.

"Also," you continued, "I have a Gyro-Pack which will allow the wearer to fly. I could allow another team member to use this device." Spike had flown around a bit and it seemed to work OK, but you were afraid to fly, so you hadn't tested it yourself. You weren't sure that it was completely ready to go into service yet, but you needed the additional bait to get yourself on the team.

The prince now seemed intrigued. "Well, these devices do seem like they could be very useful and we do need one more team member. OK, you're in. The Hunt begins in 2 weeks. I'll be in touch."

You returned home and began practicing your spells while awaiting further instructions from the prince.