Chapter 231: Dressing for Success
Once again, Milo wondered who had designed Arcane Libraries. Arriving on the wide porch that fell off into the void was unnerving. He opened the door and scampered inside as fast as he could. Cichol was reading through a book, one of those from the Code Mage's library, and chuckling to himself. "You paint this person as a fearsome foe, stern and serious, and yet I find a disguised book of Elvish Porn that came from his library. He obviously had a few flaws and vices." The book was set on the floor beside Cichol's chair, with several books between the pages.
Milo shuddered. "He had many flaws. A true monster in human form."
Cichol "And not the last you will encounter, but enough of him. What can I do for you today?"
"I need advice on dressing myself."
The old sorcerer nodded as if in earnest agreement. "Yes, I can see that your upbringing lacked lessons in the proper way to style your hair, and that blouse is out of fashion." He laughed. "You are a Wizard; dress as you like. Or call yourself an engineer and wear those bulky coveralls the dwarves prefer. Wizards don't adhere to fashion! We are the bad examples people warn their children about."
Milo shook his head. "My problem is the cowl; it's very distinctive. I have two forms, and in both of them, I'm wearing a tattered, orange, rune-covered piece of clothing. There are people moving between the Hollow and Shadowport. Someone will notice. The advantages of being a were-rat go away when everyone knows you are one. And humans already react badly to me some of the time."
Cichol looked confused. "Then why not change its appearance?"
Milo looked down at the cowl. "It can do that?"
Cichol touched his shoulder, and the cowl changed to a low-cut pink evening gown, perfect for dancing at a Prince's fancy ball.
"Well, not when you first bonded to it. The bond must be strengthened by blood. Have you been injured while wearing it? Silly me, you showed up half-dead in the arms of Astraeus; of course, you have. Simply concentrate on the cowl as you would to Identify it, and think hard on its appearance."
Milo did so and felt his connection to the cowl strengthen. Hastily, he changed the garment back to its traditional look.
Bone-Runed Cowl
An enchanted garment crafted by Archmage Cichol in his youth. Bound by blood and soul, an apprentice mage gains the following benefits:
+2 INT
Access to Cichol's Arcane Library.
Fellowship with the spirits trapped within the Cowl.
After a sufficient time, the worthy mage may claim further benefits:
Arcane Tailoring: The cowl will lengthen or reshape to another style of robe, dress, or hooded shirt. Color is changed, and the runes may shine bright or be nearly invisible.
Arcane Dry-Cleaning: Never have to wash out the dirt again! For only 50 mana, the cowl becomes sparkling clean and doesn't disturb the spirits resting inside.
Cichol chuckled. "Amazing, isn't it? Most wizards try to go for power, but a little quality of life is nice as well. So, which of you gets a new look, and who is still stumbling around in an orange rag?"
"Too many people in Shadowport have seen Milo wearing the cowl, and it won't matter to people in the Hollow if Tallsqueak has a new look."
"Well then, I'd say I have done my share of fixing your problems for one day, or did you have another?"
Milo was experimenting with changing the garment's look but paused momentarily. "I have some girl trouble..."
The old man laughed and shook his head. "Can't help you, never did figure them out."
Sometime later, a traveler moved up the tunnel that connected the mines below Shadowport to places deeper in the earth. He was a mage dressed in a thick robe that started at his cowled head and covered him to past his knees. It was split on the sides, front and back, for easy movement. The flaps covered most of a pair of jet-black pants, the dark pants contrasting with the ivory-colored robe the same color as his staff. His face was hidden in the cowl, but clawed feet and hands declared him to be something other than human. He carried a tall staff of rune-carved bone, and on his belt was the traditional ratkin weapon called a spikey stick.
As he entered the mining area, he was noticed by a few of the humans and dwarves hauling ore and rock. He simply nodded at them and said nothing, continuing on his way until he came to the large cavern where the mining guild processed ores into ingots. On the side were offices where the guild bought ores from independent miners who worked for themselves, staking claims in far tunnels. More people were in this area, working the ore processors and standing in line to sell ore. The ratkin mage strode confidently to the line of ore sellers and took a place there, looking around curiously and humming to himself. The two dwarves already in line noticed him and recognized the tune of "How many spanners will it take to get her armor off?" a classic dwarven drinking song. One started humming along to the same tune.
The next two people who got in line were less than thrilled at the presence of a ratkin (or maybe they didn't appreciate the humming, who can say?), but in any case, they were annoyed and spoke up. "I think you've got the wrong line. This is for selling ore. You know, the metal you find in rocks?"
The ratkin turned, smiled, and replied. "Yes, thank you for confirming that this is where I sell my ore. You are quite helpful for a human, if a bit obvious." He turned back around.
The two humans grumbled a bit, and the first raised his voice. "And it's for members of the Miner's Guild. I'm pretty sure I've never seen you around here!"
The line moved forward a notch. With plenty of time to spare, the mage turned around to speak. He threw back his hood and stepped toward the human heckler. "Take a close look; I'm sure you would remember a handsome face like mine with my sleek fur and sharp teeth. And you have my assurances that I will be a proud member of the Guild before I take even a single copper in payment for my ore."
"What ore? You don't have a pack with you! You don't even have a pick!" His voice growing louder and louder, attracted several other people, most of whom seemed only amused or curious. A few humans backed the hecklers up while several dwarves were humming and singing the drinking song that Milo had started. The noise attracted the attention of a large and heavy-set dwarf who stepped out of the building.
"What are you ninnies carrying on about now? And it's not time for afternoon beer, no matter how much you sing that song. We went over that last week." The dwarves chuckled and, while not ceasing their humming, took it down to a much quieter level. The discussion of what time the afternoon beer break came was never over.
The ratkin bowed deeply. "Greetings, Guild Master Durthanson. I have come to sell the ore I have mined and am enjoying a lively discussion with my fellow miners. I apologize for the disturbance. They are loud in their happiness to make my acquaintance and establish friendship with a fellow miner."
"Pipe Down!" Master Durthanson yelled at the half dozen miners upset with the polite visitor. "Yeah, I can see they are just itching to sit down and have a beer with you." He shifted his cigar in his mouth. "I don't believe we've met, but you profess to know me."
The ratkin bowed again. "My apologies if it seems I was insinuating a relationship. I am Professor Tallsqueak, a Mage of the Tower of Strife, pre-eminent college of magic in Limburger Hollow. You and Master Engineer Rolf Morgenstern are known to us since you represent the closest Dwarven Mining and Engineering guilds to our Hollow. I have traveled far through dark tunnels, collecting ore as I walked in strange places. I seek to pay my Guild Fees and sell my metal."
Grundle Durthanson didn't know a lot about ratkin. And most of what he knew about them was from dungeons. He'd heard the people of the Hollows were a different breed entirely. This one certainly knew how to be polite, and his bowing reflected a knowledge of dwarven etiquette. But still, he didn't look like a miner with his bulky robes and staff. "From what I heard, the boys here may and may not have a point. You can sell ore here, and if you pay your dues, you will receive a higher pay rate. But the guild is for miners, not mages. It doesn't matter if you have metal from some old ruins."
A polite nod of understanding preceded a moment of thought. "I see the point, and I must agree. The guild is for those who crack rock, not merchants with metal to sell. Perhaps you could judge my mining technique, which will settle this argument?"
There were calls from the hecklers. "Make him prove it." "Yeah, make the rat show us he can work."
Grundle was OK with that. "Sure, show me you can mine."
The ratkin pointed to a rock wall where a mechanical drill was being repaired. "Am I correct in that you are expanding the cavern in that direction? Can I mine there?" When the Guild Master shrugged, he walked that way, momentarily pausing to look at the machine and shake his head sadly. "I suggest you all take a step back. The rock really flies when I get going." There were chuckles from that comment. After a moment when no one moved and were wondering just what the hell the ratkin was going to mine with, he raised his hands and staff, and a glowing rune took shape in front of him. His tail began to inscribe what Grundle swore were Dwarven Engineering runes around the large rune in the center. Mana flowed into the formation for ten seconds.
The mage brought his staff down sharply on the rock, yelling loudly, "Sunder!"
Magic dispersed in the wall, rock cracked and split, chips and dust flying, and then with a loud rumble, a twenty by twenty-foot section of rock wall almost ten feet deep fell in an avalanche of rubble to the floor. The mage avoided being crushed by leaping backward high in the air, turning in a complete flip, and landing with both feet solidly on the ground. He paused to let the dust settle before speaking. "I also have a good pick for small stuff."
The five humans who had been far too close to the front were covered in bruises and small cuts. They scrambled to their feet and moved away from the frightening creature they had been annoying. Two of the dwarves clapped slowly, followed by others. Grundle shook Professor Tallsqueak's hand. "Welcome to the guild. Let's sign your paperwork and look at your ore."
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