[Lylia and Phever were next:]
(Lylia stands and walks to the center of the clearing with uncharacteristically halting steps. She begins to speak in a low, measured voice that encourages you to lean in to hear her.)
Lylia says, "I once knew a hunter, a woodsman who always had a song for the ladies. He knew what they liked, what they needed a strong man who could care for them. Girls, he said, were really just looking for someone to dote on them."
Lylia says, "He was tall enough and handsome enough, and the women of the villages he visited did not always see how he looked at them when they were not watching. His girls, he called them, always 'his' girls. He liked the young ones best, of course."
Lylia hisses, "His kind always does, do they not?"
Lylia smirks.
Lylia says, "He did not mean to hurt the girls, you see. He only wanted to keep them with him. Their bright hair, their high voices, their long smooth limbs he loved them so."
Lylia reasonably says, "To preserve that pure, sweet love and keep them safe, he sometimes had to...take things from them. Oh, it was never easy, that taking, but it was the only way he knew to make them stay. And oh, he wanted them to stay."
Lylia says, "From one, he took her wide blue eyes so she could not see to leave. He was so tender as he stitched her sightless sockets closed that he wept as he did it."
Lylia softly says, "She, of course, could not."
Lylia closes her eyes for a moment.
Lylia says, "Despite his love and his care and the feel of his hot tears on her ruined face, she tried to leave. He caught her fumbling toward the door, drawn by the warmth and summer scents instead of the sunlight she could no longer see. He had no choice but to end her life."
Lylia says, "He cried then too, and slipped the knife in between her ribs to spare what was left of her beauty."
Lylia narrows her eyes.
Lylia says, "It was not long before he found another, a girl with flaxen hair and a musical voice. Her singing is what drew him:"
Lylia sings:
"Hush, my sweet, and stop your cries
For there's no more to fear
The night is done, the sun is warm
And I am with you here."
Lylia says, "When he took her, he left her her voice, sweet as it was, but took her arms. When he carried them off, they were still warm, downed with fine blonde hair and so slim he held both her wrists in one hand."
(Lylia clasps her own hands together as if her wrists were bound.)
Lylia softly says, "He kept them until they were too cold to imagine her loving caresses. He liked that."
Lylia angrily says, "But she betrayed him too. He could not bear to slit her throat and silence that honeyed voice. Instead, he held her close until her breath failed, and she could not push him away."
Lylia angrily shouts, "Women are betrayers," he said, "and they can't be trusted to take two steps without the help of a man who knows and loves them. My girls need my protection to set them on the right path."
Lylia says, "With the next, he learned. Instead of her eyes or her arms, he took her legs just above the knee. He liked that it left her her beauty, and the pleading in her gaze told him how much she wanted to be saved."
Lylia says, "The kisses he bestowed on what was left were reverent, a far cry from the bestial caresses her immaculate skin might otherwise have suffered."
Lylia shudders.
Lylia says, "But he did not forget his lost loves, and he still sings that song, or something like it."
Lylia sings:
"Hush, my sweet, and stop your cries
For there's no more to fear
The cold, cruel world so full of lies
Will never touch you here."
Lylia leans forward.
(Lylia drops her voice to a near-whisper.)
Lylia softly says, "Should you hear it as you pass through the woods or catch a phrase of it in a tavern somewhere..."
Lylia carefully gathers the long skirts of her silk gown in her hands, exposing her legs to mid-calf.
(Lylia takes a halting step forward on legs cunningly painted to look like wood and metal from the knees down.)
Lylia shrieks, "Run! Run while you can!"
After darting a quick glance around, Phever straightens her posture and adopts a refined pose.
Phever recites:
"Good Evening to you all. My name is Phever Ta'rsakh and my story this evening is the tale of Nine-Toe'd Pete, who happens to be the meanest, nastiest, ill-tempered ghoul that ever spawned from under the Dragonspine. We start off with Nine-Toe'd Pete in a bit of a cunundrum. Nine-Toe'd Pete wanted, more than anything in the world, to be a locksmith. Not just any old locksmith, but a locksmith that specialized in disarming Jaw traps. You know the ones, they can snap your hand right off your arm if you're not careful."
Phever folds her hands.
Phever recites:
"Well, one day Nine-Toe'd Pete found a jawtrap, and not just any old jawtrap either. This was the "Queen of the Jawtraps". Well, Nine-Toe'd Pete, being a ghoul, was mostly a pretty arrogant fellow, as far as ghouls go, in addition to being nasty and ill-tempered, and he liked to do things the fancy way. He decided that he'd disarm that trap with his left foot. Well, seems Nine-Toed Pete used to have ten toes, and was just called Pete. That is, until he met up with the "Queen of the Jawtraps."
Phever recites sardonically:
"Nine-Toed Pete decides Jawtraps aren't to his liking, smarter than your average ghoul I suppose, so he says to himself, "Pete" he says, "we'se jus' gonna hasta work on boomers now". So Nine-Toed Pete finds himself a boomer, and not just any old boomer either. This was the "King of the Boomers". Nine-Toe'd Pete works on this boomer, and well, I suppose Pete screwed up, just a little bit, because next thing you know there's a very loud BOOM! and Pete parts are scattered all over creation. Eyes, nose, legs, just about everything."
Phever shifts her weight.
"Now Nine-Toe'd Pete had stirred folks up so much with his nastiness and his disdane for the safety of others that no one would go retrieve his body parts and fix him up. The only thing left of Nine-Toe'd Pete was his torso with his head, or part of it, both arms, hands attached, and one finger on each hand. So, this being the case, what's left of Pete drug his carcass across the Wehnimer's Landing hunting areas, killing creatures and putting their body parts on himself until he builds a brand new body."
Phever recites candidly:
"He acquired a heart from a stone mastiff, a nose from a wind witch, a scalp from some hobgoblin, ears from a hobgoblin shaman and even nine toes from various glacier creatures. You have to understand that Nine-Toe'd Pete just had to keep only nine toes. I mean, who's called Nine-Toe'd anything that has ten toes, right? So Nine-Toe'd Pete goes on killing things and fixing himself. Being a ghoul he can do things like that."
Phever wrinkles her nose.
"As it happens, Pete got himself all re-built. Found everything he needed, except for his fingers. Poor Pete was stuck with just one finger on each hand. Now, I know you're asking yourself, if Nine-Toe'd Pete has but two fingers, one on each hand, how in the world is he going be a locksmith? Well, old Nine-Toe'd Pete asked himself the very same question."
"He says to himself, "Pete" he says, "how da heck ya gonna be a locksmith wit' but one finger on each a yer hands?" Well, Pete says to himself, "Pete", he says, "der just ain't no way yer a'gonna be able ta disarm no Boomers er even no Jawtraps."
"So Pete, being wily, like ghouls are by nature you know, decides he's going to get real good at those sphere traps. You know, the ones where the locksmith wiggles their lockpick around in the lock to make that sphere drop right out of sight. But Pete decides he won't use a lockpick, he can't hold it anyway, since he has but one finger on each hand. He decides he's just going to poke his finger right in there and make that sphere fall out of sight, just like that."
Phever snaps her fingers.
Phever recites amusedly:
"So Nine-Toe'd Pete finds himself a sphere trap, and not just any sphere trap either. This sphere trap is the "Granddaddy of all the Sphere Traps". A real whopper. Pete, well, he sidles up to that box, sticks his finger in that keyhole, and wouldn't you know it, he finds himself stuck in a void. Well this makes Pete feel quite bad. He makes up his mind he's never going to open another box or mess with another trap in his whole life, and that's a pretty grand statement, because ghouls live a very long time."
Phever folds her hands behind her back.
"At this point Nine-Toed Pete thinks it's about time for him to make himself useful, and doing something besides messing with boxes because that was an utter failure. He decides he's going to go about collecting stuff left laying around. He says to himself, "Pete" he says, "der's silvers ta be made collectin dropped stuff. All kindsa silvers. Some stuffs good, some not so good, but tis all worth something ta someone." Pete began to collect cast off items, things that we as adventurers didn't really see much value in, anything laying around was fair game, and he became quite successful at it too."
"This is the end of the story of Nine-Toed Pete, but there is something else you should be made aware of. Something very important, both to your peace of mind and your general knowledge of things."
Phever nods knowingly.
Phever recites seriously:
"If you're ever in a hurry running through town and you see a hunched over creature in dark, forbidding robes, talking to himself and slouching his way slowly along, don't yell or draw attention to yourself, because when Nine-Toe'd Pete waves, it's with both hands, and only the middle finger of each hand. Also, depending on which town you're near, you might hear him called Nine-Toe'd Pete, or even Two-Bird Pete, but, and we should all say this in hushed tones because Nine-Toed Pete has been known to rip peoples hearts out and devour them if he hears himself called this, he's really known as......"
Phever glances warily around the area.
Phever recites impishly:
"The Janitor."
Phever recites:
"Thank you!"
Phever bobs down and back up in a quick curtsy.
