“No listen here , its probably one of these levers, or maybe this glyph needs to be connected to this .. er.. thingy” mumbled Klaus unconvincingly.
“I’ve been doing this a long time young man, I think I know what Im doing” gloated Klauss , just as something cracked loudly under this finger.
“Didn’t need that I suspect”
Taahir massaged his temples to relieve the pounding headache. Why did he invite the man to stay here? Luca and he were just passing by, but the mans insatiable curiosity was almost as bad as that goblin. How could he be taken in like that and think that anybody other than a proper mage or god butcher of Slat in Wounds could get the tower “up and running” as the old man put it. He would actually prefer serving Throkk tea at this rate. Penelope sat silently watching the exchange.
“Klaus, trust me please, I have read all of the books in the library, and I swear to you there is no possible way you can … how did you say… “hot-wire” a tower.”
“Nonsense. Did I tell you about the time I was a prisoner in the Bloody Baron Red Beards dungeon of pain and I…”
“ Yes, you told me ”
“Oh right.. so I did. Well this does remind me of the duel I had with the Duchess of Findlestrom with both my hands cuffed to…”
“I heard that one”
“Ah. The Beast of Gloamhollow?”
“Yes”
“Adventurers league invitational anniversary dungeon crawl time challenge?”
“ Yes Klaus”
“Seige of Serendoch?”
“Yes Klaus, I have heard all of your stories by the fucking Twins and you know what? You know what? I think your full of shit old man and you made them all up! And you never ever, ever shut up!” screamed Taahir in frustration.
Silence filled the room now, thick and awkward. Penelope whimpered.
Klaus spoke first.
“I see.” He said quietly.
Taahir was flushed with embarrassment, and guilt.
“Klaus, I .. I didnt mean it like that I just ..” He stuttered
“No its ok young man. Ill have overstayed my welcome. Just pass me that squiggly looking thing will you? The one that looks a bit like a duck penis with the ruby encrusted bagel running around it”
______________________________________________________
Ben sat milking his goat into the rusty pail, slow and methodical, like he had done every day since he was a lad. Every day. He stared thoughtfully at the tower. What a strange elf that had attended his fathers funeral that day. How did he know so much about his father, and yet Ben had never met him or seen him around. Tulip he had called himself. He had been thinking about it for weeks now.
As Ben worked steadily he gazed at the tower. Something was.. off. He crinkled his nose as the smell hit him first.Earthy… Citrus hops and .. bitter almonds? Confused he looked at the hairs on the back of his hand, all of which were sticking up, erect like soldiers. His goat looked more like a sheep now, a ball of confused enlarging fuzz. As the tiny sparks of energy leapt from his hands to the pail, Ben looked up again at the tower, glowing and crackling on the hill.
It was as if the world had a sharp intake of breath. A gasp of wind. One crisp slap of sunshine, a sudden quickening of the pulse and intensifying of the colours, and with a flash, the tower vanished.