Embarl cautiously made his way back into the Friendly Arms, covering his ears with his hands as he picked his way between the tables, heading to the familiar faces of Cotirso, Nara and Graham. Aefer was still propping up the bar, though the grimace on his face clearly showed that the noise was just as unpleasant from his vantage point. When Embarl had managed to squirm into his seat without removing his hands, he leant over towards the others.

"Who killed the cat?" he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the din.

Nara just shook her head, and nodded over towards the platform in the corner. Embarl looked over; a large, middle-aged woman wearing far too much facial paint was standing in the centre, displaying her amazing lung capacity as she... 'sang'. Beside her, Rinnie was sitting on a stool, delicately plucking at the strings of a fine harp. You couldn't hear it, though.

"Apparently, Rinnie calls it 'karaoke'," Graham explained, looking apologetic on the bard's behalf. Embarl just stared blankly at him.

"She says it's when people take turns to sing odes and ballads," Cotirso yelled.

Embarl just nodded, a look of horror etched on his face. "Sounds... delightful," he shouted, somewhat unconvincingly. Unfortunately for him, the woman's song ended just a split-second before he finished speaking, and all eyes slowly fixed onto him in a sea of disbelief and wonderment.

To make matters worse, Rinnie stood up from her seat and waved at him. Foolishly, he gave a half-wave back, and was promptly beckoned to join her on the stage. He groaned. Nara snorted and buried her face in her sleeve to hide her laughing. He'd have glared at her, but he was fixated with the platform in abject terror.

"I think she wants you to go up," Graham noted observantly.

"You always said you couldn't say no to a pretty lady," Cotirso remarked. Embarl shot him a poisonous look. And then it started.

"Embarl, Embarl, Embarl!"

It was Aefer's voice. Then others joined in. And, suddenly, the whole place was clamouring for him to join the bardess on the stage. He wished the floor would just open up and swallow him whole.

"Go on then," Nara hissed. "Are you shy, or something?"

"I'm a rogue," he muttered darkly, standing up reluctantly. "It's not my job to be in the limelight!"

"Go on," Nara said slyly. "You never know. You might enjoy it!"

He grumbled obscenities to himself as he picked his way through the tables, making his way over to the platform as slowly as he could. Around him, everyone was chanting his name merrily and clapping their hands, and Rinnie was smiling over to him in an encouraging manner. When he eventually reached her, he shuffled over to her side and bent over to whisper in her ear.

"You don't want me to... sing, do you?"

She blinked once at him, then dissolved into a fit of girlish giggles, nodding. He sighed heavily.

"I don't know the words to any-"

"Here!" A piece of paper was thrust into his hands, covered in neat, small handwriting. Embarl cursed his parents for ensuring he was taught how to read and write. "It's my latest composition," Rinnie continued, almost bashfully. "I thought you might want to sing it, for me? I will play... you're such a music lover that you should be able to keep up no problem!"

"Well, er, I-"

"Great!" she announced, pushing him away so that he stumbled into the middle of the platform. Everyone clapped again briefly, before settling into an expectant silence. He heard the plucking of the harp to his right, and with a shaking hand, he raised the paper up to try and read the words, opened his mouth... and sang.

Embarl staggered upstairs to his room, giddy from the experience, adrenaline pumping in his veins. He'd done it - he'd really done it! He'd stood there, on the platform, and sang for the patrons... and they'd loved it!

He hiccupped and sniggered to himself, swaying slightly as he held onto the banister. He'd had one or two drinks that his adoring audience had bought for him because it would have been rude to have declined. The rest of his companions had gone to bed hours before, but Embarl had stayed downstairs until the very last person had left. Who was he to deny them his amazing voice and super talents if they wanted an encore?

Suddenly he didn't feel very sleepy; the memory of his time in the spotlight was enough to stir his adventurous streak and he idly remembered the temple he'd been in earlier. A chance to convince Cotirso to be his distraction hadn't appeared, and they were to be leaving the next day as they continued south. It might be his last chance... and even clerics need to sleep sometimes, don't they?

He giggled at his amazing logic skills and padded softly towards his room, unlocking the door quietly and retrieving his backpack. It was bigger than his pockets, and would be able to hold more of his ill-gotten gains. He paused for a second, a brief moment of clarity fighting its way through his drunken and adrenaline fuelled energy. How was he going to get the gems out of the wall? They looked pretty well embedded, after all.

And then he thought back to the dwarf who'd suggested Embarl's first song for his encore. Of course...

As quietly as he could, he made his way back to the landing, and wondered which room his target would have. He tiptoed along, listening outside each door until he came across a snoring so intense and loud that he first became aware of it half a corridor away. With a solemn nod, he pulled his lock pick free from his pocket and got to work.

Several minutes later, the snoring was still going on, and Embarl was exiting the bedroom; smiling deliriously, hammer and chisel in hand.

Mask favoured Embarl that night, for not only was there just enough moonlight filtering through the breaks in the clouds to allow Embarl to pick his way over to the temple while staying out of the sight of the patrolling guardsmen, but the temple door was unlocked, and a quick and almost stealthy scout around suggested that the building was apparently empty.

The thief could barely believe his luck. There was one single ante-room, devoid of life, and a bedroom towards the back which also lay empty. He walked along the walls of the main room, letting his fingers run over the jutting out jewels.

"Ah, my precious," he whispered to himself, before giggling inanely. He clasped one hand over his mouth, just in case any of the guards happened to come nearby, then scoped around the chamber for the best place to start.

When he'd settled on a particularly gem-infused part of the wall, he carefully laid down his cloth bags, opening them so that they were ready to accept the bounty he'd discovered. And then he delicately placed the chisel to the side of a ruby as big as his fist, and drew back the hammer.

There was virtually no sound as the wall cracked slightly, a rent appearing in the stone surrounding the gems. The ruby shifted slightly, tantalisingly jutting out a bit more than previously, but still firmly embedded within the wall. Embarl gave it a half fond, half stern look, tutting at it as if it were maid who was playing coy after leading the rogue to her bedroom.

"You want me to make the extra effort, hmm?" He readjusted the chisel's position and drew back the hammer again. This time, there was a faint cracking noise, then the dull thud of a heavy gem landing on the carpeted floor. Embarl barely contained his whoop of joy as he snatched the jewel up and planted a slobbery kiss on its shiny surface.

"By Mask, yer a pretty 'un!" he drawled, copying the accent he'd heard so frequently back in the Athkatlan docks. He turned to place the gem in his bag, a little too quickly, and swayed dangerously as he deposited his goods. He giggled drunkenly at his state and tried to concentrate on standing up straight. He closed his eyes, took several deep breaths, and finally thought he was stable enough to move again. He opened his eyes.

He screamed.

Standing in front of him was a short figure in bright purple robes, wearing a golden helmet and matching gold belt. A massively large nose protruded from an otherwise wrinkled face; Embarl noted that the lines didn't appear to be from age, as such, but from the mischievous grin and glint in the gnome's eyes-

"Am I dead?" the thief asked. He was sure he could still feel the hammer and chisel in his hands, but it was always best to make sure. He didn't want to look around for his body because it meant taking his eyes away from the strange creature in front of him.

"Oh, no, most definitely not!" the figure exclaimed cheerfully.

Embarl wasn't sure if this made him more or less relieved.

"Are you, uh, the proprietor?" he hazarded.

The gnome shook his head happily.

"One of the, er, priests?"

The gnome's hand rose to his face and he thoughtfully tapped his lip with one finger. "Hmm. Is that a trick question?" the stranger asked.

Embarl stared blankly at him. "No?" he queried in return, wondering if it was him who was facing a trick question.

"Ah, then… no," the gnome decided. "Not as such, anyway. Though you're close."

"I… see."

"So, are you a builder?" the gnome queried

The rogue looked down at the instruments in his hands, and then back up at the gnome. He was still smiling. Embarl felt sweat forming on his forehead.

"The builder… yes. Yes, that's exactly who I am."

The stranger nodded and peered past Embarl at the wall. The smile faded, and a small frown appeared. "Have you been a builder for long?"

"All my life," Embarl replied hazily. He was starting to see two of the gnomes, and he felt quite sick.

"I would have thought you would have noticed the large crack in the wall, then."

Embarl snorted derisively. "It's not a crack," he argued, turning back, slowly, to the wall. "It's just a- BY MASK'S PAINTED HAIR!"

The rent in the wall had expanded quite significantly, and was still growing every second. The pieces of stone were starting to separate and, one by one, gems of various designs were beginning to drop down to the ground. Embarl spun back around to the gnome.

"Are you sure I'm not dead?" he asked urgently. "Because it's raining gems!"

The gnome was definitely not smiling. Nor was he a he, any more. And Embarl had no idea where the two towering Keep guards had appeared from, flanking the strange woman. "No, you are most assuredly not dead – though I've got a good mind to make you wish you were for such trespass! Get him!"

Embarl opened his mouth to protest; to ask where the other guy had gone. But before he could say anything, one of the guards had clubbed him over the head, and everything went black.

When Embarl awoke, his head was thumping. He could feel the sunlight attacking him, and so he kept his eyes clenched shut, trying to roll over to avoid the glare. His bed was hard; much harder than he thought it should be. And it felt… almost… grassy…

He sat up with a start, causing him to feel dizzy and nauseous; but neither could take away from the fact that Embarl was not, as he'd expected, tucked up into a soft, comfortable bed in the Friendly Arms Inn. Instead, he was lying in what appeared to be a ditch full of overgrown grass. Thankfully, it was quite dry.

He scrambled to his feet and tried to take a few steps forward, successfully tripping over something hidden in the undergrowth, and stubbing his toe painfully. After a stream of expletives had passed, he rummaged through the ferns and leaves to find the culprit, and lifted up an innocuous looking hammer and a plan chisel. He frowned; something was lingering on the edge of his memory, but it wasn't quite coming to him. What had he done, this time?

He climbed out of the ditch and then looked down at his clothes. There was no bag; his belongings were… well, he assumed they were still in the inn. This meant he had a room. So why on earth had he decided to sleep out here?

He noticed that he'd not managed to stray far, at least; the ditch he'd slept in was part of the mock-moat around the inn, and so he shambled over to the drawbridge, trying to mumble a good morning to the guards. To his surprise, they barred his way.

"Sorry sir," a fresh-faced youth told him civilly. "Can't be lettin' you in."

Embarl stared at him. "Why not?" he asked simply.

The guards exchanged a look. "Wouldn't be right," the young one said.

"Especially after last night," his older companion agreed. The two of them nodded sagely.

"An' anyway, you're barred."

Embarl kept staring at the young guard. After a few moments, the man shifted uncomfortably under the unblinking gaze. "I'm… barred?" he questioned. On the edge of his conscious thought, he was vaguely aware of something shiny and alluring.

The two guards nodded in unison.

"You mighta just been given inta trouble," one of them continued, his tone suggesting that he hoped he was being helpful, "had the Western wall not fallen down completely."

Embarl stood on his tiptoes and craned his neck to peer past the guards and into the grounds beyond. Everything looked perfectly to him. The Friendly Arms itself was still standing tall, and the stables were looking no more run down than they had when he'd arrived. The fountain was still spouting forth water, the grassy orchard looked as peaceful as usual, and the temple was only collapsing on one side.

So everything was…

"Oh Gods," Embarl muttered to himself, looking at the rubble of the temple's wall. It seemed that the other three walls were still managing to hold up the roof, and a few people were seemingly investigating the scene, parchment and quills in hand. A small female gnome was standing beside them, and she glared over to Embarl venomously when she spotted him.

"Did I…" He didn't even bother finishing the question. He remembered everything and suddenly he felt quite sick again. "Uh… would you be able to let my friends know?" he asked weakly, stumbling away as the guards offered sympathetic nods. His legs felt shaky, and he moved away from the immediate vicinity of the drawbridge, and slightly away from the road, lowering himself down on an upturned tree trunk. He remembered it all.

He groaned, allowing his head to sink into his hands, his elbows resting atop his knees. Just when things had been looking so right, he'd allowed himself to get stupidly drunk and become barred – barred! – from a proper adventurers' inn.

Barred... just like proper, tough adventurers, that picked fights, and had brawls!

And then he smiled. He raised his head from his hands, grinning widely. A gnome smiled back at him, and he started; but the gnomish man, the same as he'd seen in the temple before it fell down, only winked at him, pointed to Embarl's left pocket, and vanished. The thief frowned, and tentatively patted his side, feeling a large, hard presence in his tunic pouch. Hesitantly, he reached inside, and drew out the offending object.

A large red ruby glinted back up at him warmly, and his smile returned. He whispered a silent thank you to the gnome, carefully wrapped the gem in one of his spare handkerchiefs and returned it to the safety of his pocket. Then he leaned back against another tree, basking in the sunlight, and sighed contentedly as he realised that only now – now he'd been barred from a well known establishment, was he truly beginning to make a name for himself.