The Life and Times

Griswald Grimm

Early Adventures of the Master Alchemist

and His Friends

by Linda Kepner and Bob Liddil

Fleet knew he was being followed. How could he help it, having played stalker and assassin with his friends since he was old enough to toddle? Casually, he brought his hand to an inside pocket of his light blue jacket. He increased his pace slightly. The tune changed. Some residents of the street of dreams faded into the shadows; others became more alert. The footsteps behind him fell a little heavier as the man took longer strides, sacrificing a measure of stealth to keep up, confident that his victim’s whistling covered the sound.

Abruptly, Fleet stopped, knelt on one knee and adjusted his boot. The stalker made his move. The boy stood, and turned to face the attack. His hand flew up, dousing the would-be kidnapper in a cloud of white dust.

He had never had time to cry out before the shell hardened around him.

In a trice, Fleet was surrounded by some of the nastiest, scurviest scum ever coughed up from the city sewers: his neighbors. A tall, bearded half-man growled at Fleet. At least, anyone outside the street would have heard an inarticulate growl. What Fleet heard was, Are you hurt, boy?

* * *

Meet the werewolves, wizards, soldiers, and spies of Bob Liddil’s world, as they step out of the pages of Sorcerer’s Apprentice Magazine and into a deadly contest of magic.

THE

Life & Times

OF

Griswald Grimm

By Linda Kepner and Bob Liddil

Onset Adventures

A division of Flying Chipmunk Publishing

Bennington, NH

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and locations portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, events, or locations is purely coincidental, and in the imagination of the reader. Certain characters used in this story, Griswald Grimm, Fleet ’o Fleet, and Freerover the Bard, are the inventions of Bob Liddil, and are used here with his generous permission.

All Rights Reserved by the author. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written permission of the publisher, except short passages for the purpose of reviews.

The Life and Times of Griswald Grimm

By Linda Kepner & Bob Liddil

Copyright © 2013 by Linda Kepner.

Editing and Format Copyright © 2013 by Terry Kepner.

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The Life and Times of Griswald Grimm

Published by Onset Advetntures, a division of Flying Chipmunk Publishing

162 Onset Road

Bennington, NH 03442

ISBNs

Trade Paperback: 978-1-63384-622-7 — 1-63384-622-9

ebook: 978-1-63384-623-4 — 1-63384-623-7

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design by Terry Kepner, adapted from Mosque El Mooristan, Cairo by David Roberts, 1796-1864.

Frontispiece: A Turkish Bazaar (1854) by Amadeo Preziosi, 1816-1882.

Memorian: Alley of the Old Time (1878), Ebers, Georg. Egypt: Descriptive, Historical, and Picturesque. Volume 1

Chapter 1: Fountain and School (1878), ibid.

Onset Adventures: 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Table of Contents

About this book

Frontispiece

Title Page

Copyright Page

In Memorian

I. The Audacious Apothecary Robbery

II. The Mystery of Fleet O’feet

III. Heroes

IV. Dragon Medic

V. Sri Karnuth

VI. The Graveyard Adventure

VII. Thieves and Villains

VIII. Half The Knowledge of the Thief

IX. Ballad of the Bad Bards

X. Ladies Night Out

Illustrations:

In these quiet places, who would notice?

It seemed like everyone was watching him today.

The city of Belestria is a busy, bustling trade city in the heart of the Desert Trail.

Flying Chipmunk Publishing Catalog

In Memoriam

Bob Liddil

Bob Liddil (b. July 1947) began Dungeons and DragonsTM gaming under the instruction of his good friend Jack Powers in the late 1970’s. During that time, Bob wrote and published Dimensions and Doors, Castles and Kingdoms, Demons and Notmen and designed Certificates of Birth, Life, Death, Survival, Slavery, Manumission, and the all important Master Scribe’s Certificate, (sort of The One Ring of certificates), a certificate that authorized or entitled owners of blank certificates to issue certificates. These were later incorporated into The Masterscribe’s Kit sold through Zocchi’s of Biloxi and The Armory of Baltimore, both pivotal distributors of dice and all things gaming.

Bob knew the great Lou Zocchi, and the late impetuous Roy Lippman, both guru level distributor-entrepreneurs during the heyday of D&D gaming. It was due to the enthusiasm of those pioneers and others like them that Bob’s publications actually got into the hands of game fans around the USA and Canada. Many of these can still be found on eBay and other online auction and used services.

In the 1980’s Bob authored The 30-sided Character and Other Tales on a commission for The Armory, then authored The 30-sided Adventure and Other Tales, featuring a gorgeous Ruth Thompson cover, for publication by The Armory. Those were followed by: Rascals, Rogues, Rapscallions And Renegades; Little Shop of Poisons and Potions; and Apothecary On The Street Of Dreams in association with Pandora’s Treasures and Dallas Nillsen, creator of Pandora’s Dice Wheel.

Bob turned to fiction in the late 80’s and early 90’s, penning Dragon in a Box, The Old Troll Comes To Town, Feodor Felonis and the Thief, and Yorkshire Luck for "Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Fantasy Magazine," followed by The Blue-eyed Thief for TSR’s Dragon Magazine. His science-fiction murder mystery short story, Murder Under Glass was published in Mike Resnick’s well-received anthology, Whatdunnits. Shortly thereafter Bob’s long sought after membership in the prestigious Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America was accepted. Along the way, he inspired others with ideas and challenges, including The Whispherwood Ordinaire, by Linda Tiernan Kepner, which is only now seeing print.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, Bob started and ran a computer software business, The Programmer’s Guild, which released numerous computer programs and led to the books The Captain 80 Book of Basic Adventures, and a new (especially for the Commodore 64) version of Castles and Kingdoms.

Bob Liddil passed away on 2 May 2011. He was loved by many, and was truly a gentle giant. He will be missed by everyone who knew him.

— Terry Kepner

The Audacious Apothecary Robbery

The street of dreams of the City of Belestria is truly a street with no name. Even heroes tread cautiously here. The Belestrian City Guard never enter this vile alley. The residents handle their own problems — quite capably.

Dangerous men and not-men live here: wild assassins, burnt-out adventurers, solitary recluses, all spending their last gold pieces. Some of their gold goes to food, maps, secretive planning. Too much gold goes to dream powder, which only gives them an excuse to seek more gold—and no peace.

No King’s Representative, or Prince’s Representative, collects taxes on this street. Regular doses of medicine, in the form of inert bodies hung in various positions at the entryway to the street, have demonstrated the folly of this.

The tradesmen and guildsmen are as sophisticatedly savage as the other residents. Here you will find Hyatia the serpent-seller, Turoc the armorer, Slice the werewolf navigator, and dozens of others at the top of their dangerous professions. They dare to live here because danger is a natural part of their existence. Daily they train, trade, and barter in a thousand kinds of pain and death.

Also on this street is Griswald Grimm, who knows more ways of dealing pain and death than any other man in Belestria.

Or so says legend.

The inexperienced observer, watching the boy walk cheerfully down the street of dreams, might think that the young fellow was in terrible danger. Certainly, one would not expect to hear his cheerful whistling. The street of dreams was, after all, a prime location for slavers—especially for a desirable youth like this. He had blond hair, fair skin, and blue eyes—he could have been any mother’s darling, anywhere. How long before some lowlife grabbed him and carted him off for just such a fate?

That same observant eye, should it take time to register the fact, would see that the lurkers in the shadows made eye contact with the boy. In short, they knew him. He lived here. They nodded familiarly, the clearest sign that there was more to Fleet O’Feet than met the eye. This casual familiarity with this forbidding street—combined with the natural running ability which gave him his name—kept him safe.

At least, it usually did. The black shadow stalking his steps was a stranger to the street. That was mistake number one. There was a job to do, and the stalker went at it enthusiastically—mistake number two. He was promised a great price when he brought back the lad—mistake number three. Better to be paid in advance on such a straight-forward kidnapping job.

Fleet knew he was being followed. How could he help it, having played stalker and assassin with his friends since he was old enough to toddle? Casually, he brought his hand to an inside pocket of his light blue jacket. He increased his pace slightly. The tune changed. Some residents of the street of dreams faded into the shadows; others became more alert. The footsteps behind him fell a little heavier as the man took longer strides, sacrificing a measure of stealth to keep up, confident that his victim’s whistling covered the sound.

Abruptly, Fleet stopped, knelt on one knee and adjusted his boot. The stalker made his move. The boy stood, and turned to face the attack. His hand flew up, dousing the would-be kidnapper in a cloud of white dust.

He had never had time to cry out before the shell hardened around him.

In a trice, Fleet was surrounded by some of the nastiest, scurviest scum ever coughed up from the city sewers: his neighbors. A tall, bearded half-man growled at Fleet. At least, anyone outside the street would have heard an inarticulate growl. What Fleet heard was, Are you hurt, boy?

His mother had taught him to be polite to his neighbors at all times. No sir, thank you. But I think this one might need help—if you don’t mind? At least give him air holes, or he’ll suffocate.

Lad, what did ye do to him? This came in a respectful tone from a one-armed thief with scars all over his face and visible body, watching while someone else chipped away at the kidnapper’s nostrils.

Cement powder, Fleet explained. Dr. Grimm makes me carry it. You throw a handful of it at an enemy and it gives him a new coat of armor.

...without joints for walking or moving, finished a deep voice further away from the crowd.

The voice parted them instantly. A robed and bearded giant stood there—a fierce and formidable-looking man with knowledge in his eyes and danger in his voice. He stood like a tall dark thundercloud, an imposing figure. Master Alchemist Doctor Griswald Grimm was considered dangerous even when he was calm.

W—w—we just answered the call, D—Doctor Grimm, stammered a tall, thin beggar, we would never hurt the lad...

But Grimm knew that. Lad, go on to the store. I shall deal with this myself. Fleet nodded and broke into the run which had earned him his name.

The alchemist told the group, I am grateful to you for responding to the whistle. Which meant name the price, and he would pay them. But the ruffians excused themselves as well. They had not actually done anything, and it might be helpful to have Doctor Grimm feel he might owe them something still. He did not argue. Inwardly, each neighbor shuddered, relieved that it was someone else and not himself receiving the wrath of the giant alchemist. They faded back into the street, leaving the stalker to his fate.

Now then, said Griswald Grimm.

He lifted the entire statue with one arm and set it carefully against the stone wall of an adjacent building, in a niche made by a porch. A scuttling noise beneath the porch revealed itself as a beggar hastily escaping the secluded area.

Grimm removed a pouch from his potion belt and extracted a vial. Removing the cork, he sprinkled a few red flakes onto the head of the frozen figure. There came a frying sound. The cement faded from the stalker’s head area. The man gasped as if he had been holding his breath for an impossibly long time. Then he saw who had freed him enough to accommodate breathing, and actually squeaked.

You and I must talk, said Griswald Grimm.

I don’t—don’t know anything, said the man.

No doubt. Nonetheless, perhaps you could think of something to tell me, Grimm suggested. I should warn you… it must be a short story. You may have noticed by now that the covering over your body is contracting.

I just—I did not—please don’t kill me.

You have, just. You did. And I will.

It was a—damn them all—straight snatch. Two guys I met at the Bell ‘n Bottle.

Grimm stared. The Bell and Bottle on Palm Street? Disgust and incredulity filled his voice. The Bell and Bottle was a popular public watering-hole on the main street of Belestria. "Any Belestrian resident should be ashamed to be seen with tourists."

Yeah, well, that’s what makes it so safe for meetings, ya see? Survival was winning over embarrassment. They offered me five hundred gold pieces to snatch a kid who always ran down this street, a fast kid, well-known.

Did it never occur to you to ask why he was well-known?

No. Five hundred GP buys a lot of wine, women, and song.

Who hired you?

Just some guys. Never seen ’em before. I s’pose they’d heard the landlord threatening to pitch me out ‘cuz of my bar tab. I should—should’ve known it wasn’t the easy money it looked.

And you knew nothing about this street?

I just figured quick in, quick out. The man was sweating profusely. No doubt the cement coat had clamped tightly by now.

Grimm sprinkled the remaining contents of the vial on the shell. With a hiss, it dissolved, leaving the trembling rogue standing drenched in his own sweat, waiting for the inevitable death stroke.

The giant alchemist asked, What is your name?

Shaker. They call me Shaker.

How appropriate, said Grimm dryly. Well, Shaker, your life belongs to me now. Shall I end it, or loan it to you for just a little while?

Shaker gulped.

You have two breaths to get off this street. I shall watch for you. If you ever appear here again, I will collect the loan.

The kidnapper vanished