Riloth the 19th the 65-68th

The next morning, I felt my desperation growing, overtaking my new-found purpose. The stakeout was proving fruitless, simply sitting around and waiting for my theoretical fellow time traveler was not working. I needed to try something new, to stir the pot and see what came of it. I spent a few hours on the rooftop planning the night before. I needed to drastically alter events, but not in any way that my quarry could tie back to me. Eventually, I settled on scattering my winnings in pouches throughout the town and market. I figured that once a few had been discovered, a frenzy of searching would break out, and—so long as no one saw me place the gold—it wouldn’t be traceable back to me.

After collecting my winnings and leaving Trish’s note with Simon, I walked out of the Parlor contemplating the best way to purchase some pouches to distribute the wealth.

Should I buy all the purses from one location? What are the odds they get traced back to that seller before the reset occurs? Maybe I should buy a few from each store in town that sells them. I could steal them, but would that draw even more attention?

When I was a few feet into the market square, lost in thought about the best method of covertly purchasing bags while keeping a low profile, I heard a shout in Torcish from behind, "Faust damn you! Leave me to my torment in peace! Why today?"

Stunned at this very unexpected event, I turned to see the previously-passed-out dwarf yelling at the Parlor security.

She, for the unconscious drunken form I’d assumed to be a male dwarf was free of a beard, despite the otherwise unkempt appearance, continued her tirade to the confused guards, "Can’t you just leave me be? Leave me to my shame!"

Finally, in Rilith she said, "Fine, fine, I know how this goes. You don't have to stab me again. No need to tell me where the ceiling is." Brushing the dirt off herself, or at least trying to—she was quite dirty—she walked away from the guards towards me.

Faust's embers! Could this be it? Am I not alone? Was she right here this whole time?

Dumbstruck, I stood there as she passed right by me, oblivious to my wonder and stares. Without a second thought, I followed her through the crowd. When she came to a sudden stop, my heart leaped, but she hadn’t stopped on account of me. Looking at the ground, she carefully positioned herself near a crack in the flagstones and stood staring at it. We waited there—her watching a crack and me watching her—for almost ten minutes. I started to wonder if the dwarf had lost her mind until I noticed what she was watching. A shadow from a nearby stall was slowly creeping towards the crack as the sun moved through the sky.

When the shadow finally reached it, the strange dwarf burst into action. She made off through the crowd at a brisk pace. Once more I worried she had noticed me, but it quickly became clear she was focused on a destination, not evasion. Without looking, she reached out and grabbed an apple from a vendor selling fruit as she passed. The vendor was occupied with another sale and didn’t catch her theft. She kept walking through the market and paused seemingly at random, all the while I could see her right hand rhythmically tapping her hip as if keeping a beat.

After each stop, she ran to a stall and stole something unnoticed; a loaf of bread, a hammer, a cup. Each time I thought she would be caught, such brazen thefts out in the open, but she timed each snatch perfectly. Finally, she stopped near a stack of kegs, eyes fixated on another point on the ground. On a cue I could not see, she walked up to the pile of kegs and began to take one from the bottom. As she was working, a commotion broke out in the square.

The goat was loose.

People screamed, and through the chaos I saw the goat heading our way—panic as clear in its eyes as in the crowds.

By the time the dwarf had worked the keg free, the goat was upon us. It crashed through the stall of the brewer, knocked over his stack of kegs, and scattered the workers. In all the confusion, the dwarf made off with a full barrel.

She rolled the keg to an alley, set it on its end, and then left the alley. I followed her all the rest of that day, and through it she followed a similar pattern. The dwarf would rush from place to place, waiting for some cue and keeping time on her finger. Each movement was efficient and exact. She stole blankets, wine, and food. Occasionally she'd return to the alley to unload her booty.

Wait, that's pirates. Her plunder? No—still pirates.

Anyway, after an hour of scampering all over town, she settled in her alley, broke the top of the keg open, and sat down to get completely hammered on her spoils—that's the word! Over the next twelve hours, the dwarf did nothing but drink, eat, and stare at the wall. And I sat watching her watch the walls from a nearby roof.

There's a ship clan expression my mother was fond of, "as fun as the crow's nest," and it was apt here. Watching the dwarf in her near fugue state had the same agonizing mix of tedious boredom and knife-edged jumpiness, for while nothing was happening, anything that did happen would bring along potentially fatal consequences. Though I'd now died many times, I still feared death.

Nothing happened that first day of surveillance, and I watched her as she drank right up to the reset. The next morning I only withdrew enough coin to buy my daily allotment of whale excrement. After buying the potions, I climbed atop a building lining the market square and set in for a long day of surveillance. Without the Parlor security to wake her, I wondered how the dwarf would begin her day.

Shortly after I had gotten settled, an over-laden donkey answered that question. The donkey’s owner, not paying attention to his surroundings, narrowly missed being clipped by a passing cart. The cart knocked a pot off the side of the donkey’s load, and it hit the ground with a loud tong. The dwarf jumped up out of her slumber at the sound and raced to the same spot in the square she had watched the today before. This time, she only stood still for a few seconds before racing through the market and repeating her rapid succession of heists. From my vantage point, her passage was quite visible, as she made no effort to navigate around the people in the crowd.

After her mad dash caper, I relocated to the same roof as the today before and set up camp to watch her. This time I had snacks. Salted nuts, a loaf of bread and honey. The roof gave me a view of the baker who sold the much sought after pretzels, and the sign still bore the red "X" it had every reset.

I really want to try one of those. I bet a hundred gold would buy me one, sign be damned. Or maybe I will sic Simon on him.

Putting pretzel related planning to the back of my mind, I got comfortable on my roof and began to read as I waited for the dwarf to do something. After nothing happened the first day, I allowed myself to relax a bit and read. I had moved on from the romances and picked up a fiction book from Levar's called Another World. It was about a wizard who died and woke up in a world where magic was unknown. The protagonist taught everyone magic and ushered in an era of peace and prosperity. The author had a very limited understanding of magic, and half the feats the protagonist performed would not have been possible without some combinations of Blessings, sorcery, wizardry, and druidic magic. Despite that, it all would have been much more believable if every woman the protagonist met hadn’t tried to immediately seduce him. It was very bad. I tried to branch out, but maybe I should stick with the romances. The only reason I made it through the book was that the dwarf did the same thing as the day before and just stared at the wall.

The next two days were much the same. The dwarf stared at the wall, and I watched her from afar while reading and eating Simon's alphabet meals. Hidden in Levar's shelves, I discovered a whole genre of stories like Another World. These were all much better reads, their authors having a better understanding of how magic actually worked. One, Clockwork King, was about a gnome trapped in a world without magic, where he developed a world-spanning empire through the use of his inventions. Aside from the typical, excessive, gnomish cursing, it was pretty good.

Between books, I had time to ponder, growing my ever rising list of questions. Who was this dwarf? What was she doing? Was she involved in the resets? The more I watched her, the less likely it seemed. The rats, which had continued to behave erratically, could not be caused by this vagabond. Her actions looked like those of a woman broken by the resets, not the plotting of some magical mastermind.

Riloth the 19th the 69th

The morning of the next reset, I decided to treat this as an experiment. I'd not performed many in my studies, focusing mostly on history, but I had done a few and read the reports of dozens.

If my subject wasn't changing, I needed to add a stimulus. My plan to flush out my fellow time traveler had me disrupting events to put them off balance so I could find them. But now that I had found them, I could more easily—and covertly—do so.

That day, I stood in the square where the donkey was set to sideswipe the cart.

As the donkey's owner approached, I yelled, "Hey! Watch out!"

Shocked out of his inattention, the man looked up in time to avoid the cart, narrowly pulling his donkey out of the way.

Without a wake-up clank, the dwarf slept on. And on. And on. It wasn't until well past noon that she finally woke. Rising slowly, she looked around in confusion that turned to a hopeful wonder.

She ran into the square, excitement evident on her face, retracing her path from the previous resets, but not stopping to count or steal. When she reached the spot where the stack of kegs had collapsed, she spotted the wreckage as the brewer still labored to clear the mess.

At the sight, the dwarf collapsed on the floor and began to sob, all her previous hope and joy stolen. After a few minutes of crying, she began to scream at the sky in Torcish. Even from my perch I could make out her pleas, "Why!? Why?! Why?? Let me die! Stop this torment!"

The woman’s pain was something I could almost feel. I'd been there before, and was even then just barely keeping that same sentiment at bay with the illusion of a goal. The cycle of hope and crushing disappointment that chipped away at your sanity was one I knew all too well. This dwarf was not some agent of the gods or a demon in disguise. She was just as much a victim of this situation as I was, only she didn't have the fortune of a spellbook that let her know she was not losing her mind.

I watched her from afar for the rest of that day. It felt like cruel torture, but I had to see it through. She sat off the edge of the square for hours. At first, she cried, but eventually, she simply lay still. Closer to sunset, she rose and started making her way through the clearing market square. Gone was her purpose and eager stride, replaced now with a defeated shuffle of small steps. The brewer from before was loading his cart, and when his back was turned, she grabbed two bottles of clear liquor from the cart’s diminished stock of alcohol. Taking her smaller spoils back to her alley, she resumed her vigil until the reset.

Riloth the 19th the 70th

Doubt filled me throughout the next morning as I made my preparations. I second-guessed all my decisions, constantly trying to talk myself out of my plan. Tilavo, though I hadn’t known him well, had shaken my notions of safety. He had shown me that death was not permanent, but gave me a glimpse of how fragile my awareness of these resets really was. This dwarf looked like a kindred—if further gone—spirit, but what if I was wrong?

How would I have handled this before Tilavo had killed me? Would I have approached her as soon as I discovered her? Or is this newfound caution a sign of growing wisdom? Or maybe growing fear?

What would Daulf do? That’s obvious, he’d help. Bearskin would probably say his honor bound him to aid her or something along those lines. Trish probably would help too, if you forced her to a decision—but she’d definitely stake out the situation a while longer. Roland—I had no idea, maybe if the dwarf was a rabbit or something he’d help.

This dwarf needs help, like Gerald, but this time I’d have lasting aid to offer. I can’t let my fear rule me—or change me.

I was still debating these ideas as I left the Parlor with my security escorts. As they noticed the dwarf, I waved them away, "Please leave her be, I will take care of her."

Looking from me—dressed in my traveling gear with my sword at my hip—to her, they said, "Sure, just don’t kill him—er, her," and headed back inside.

At Levar’s, I bought an extra dose of foregone sleep, and picked up two coffees from a cart selling it in the market. I had spotted this particular vendor during the previous days’ surveillance. Having only ordered what Simon would bring me, I’d been kept in the dark of the wider world and variety of coffee. I discovered there was a vast array of choices in the drink. Each type was called a "roast," and Simon, it seems, had only been giving me the dark kind, but there were milder roasts as well. People also added cream, sugar and other flavors to it. I did not have time that day to experiment, but it went high on my mental to-do list.

Coffees and potions in hand and satchel respectively, I walked up to the sleeping dwarf ready to brighten her temporal prison. Clearing my throat to wake her, I let out a "Ahem."

Nothing.

I coughed loudly to get her attention.

Still nothing.

Finally, I yelled, "Wake up!" and moved to tap her lightly with my foot, just as the pot fell off the donkey and let out a tong. The dwarf jumped to her feet and—upon seeing me looming over her—screamed, "Bah! Get back demon!" and pushed me over onto my butt, whereupon I spilled the coffees all over myself. Continuing past me, she ran to her first marker in the market.

I screamed as the hot coffee burned my face and chest.

Climbing up from the ground, I chased after her yelling, "I’m trying to help you, you idiot!"

Without looking up, she said, "I’m not falling for your flooding demon tricks. Leave me alone and go rip the skin off a unicorn or pillage an orphanage."

"I’m not a demon. I’m trapped in these resets, just like you! I wanted to help. I have potions that will cure your hangover and wake you up. I have—had—coffee."

"Save it for your next victim. I know where I am, and I know what you are," at that she must have seen her cue, for she raced off through the crowd.

I followed her at a slower and more careful pace, trying to avoid decking random farm wives. I caught up to her at the next stop, where she was eating an apple while still marking time.

"Stop running!"—I panted between breaths—"We need to figure out a way to escape this together!"

She threw her apple core in my face and said, "We can end this whenever you decide to let me go," and ran off to commit her next minor crime.

At the next stop, I said, "I’m not a demon."

"Exactly what a cankerous fungal sprout of a demon would say," she shouted before running off with a loaf of bread.

We continued like this for each of her tiny heists. Me beseeching her to listen to reason, and her calling me assorted dwarven insults and insisting that I was a demon.

At the brewer stall, I decided to stop playing nice. As she readied herself to snatch the keg I yelled to the brewer, "Hey, that dwarf is stealing your ale!"

Roused by my call, the brewer approached the dwarf, ignoring the commotion breaking out around him as the goat broke loose

"Hey, get you gone! Scram!" he shouted.

The dwarf turned to me, rage evident on her face.

"Why. Did. You. Do. That?" she asked, punctuating each word with a step closer.

Backing up into the now panicking crowd, the dwarf didn’t even flinch when the goat toppled the tower of barrels behind her. Murder in her eyes, she picked up a newly formed piece of wood debris and charged me.

I drew my sword and cast Mage Armor as I tried to explain, "I’m only trying to help!"

Her small statue and disheveled appearance disguised her strength and speed. She closed the distance quickly and batted my rapier out of the way with her wooden scrap. Had it not been for my spell, she would have broken my jaw with her follow-up swing. Instead, I took advantage of her surprise to hit her with a Lightning Bolt, dropping my Mage Armor as I completed the spell.

She fell twitching to the ground and I tried once more to explain, "I’m not a demon!"

The chaos of the crowd grew at the sound of my spell, and a wide circle opened up around us as people gave us a wide berth.

She recovered faster than I expected, and leapt to her feet in a smooth motion, swinging at my knee with her improvised weapon. My joint shattered on impact and the blow brought me to the ground. The pain rivaled anything I'd suffered at the hands of the golems, for their blows quickly ended in death.

While I lay in shock from the pain, the dwarf leapt atop me, pulling a knife from her belt. As she brought the weapon down onto my chest, I struggled to cast Blink through the pain of my shattered knee. Just as the knife made contact, I finished my spell, and disappeared from below her attack, causing her to drive her blade into the stone of the market square with a loud clink punctuated by a curse.

“Green bellied coward!”

She scanned the crowd and quickly found me, still laying on the ground. Picking up my dropped rapier, she marched towards me again, murder clear in her eyes. With my knee broken, my only hope lay in killing or somehow disabling her. I summoned and threw a Firebolt from my prone position, which she batted to the side with her—no my—rapier.

I didn't know it could do that!

Switching to Lightning Bolt I tried again, and this time the dwarf brought the rapier between herself and the attack. The lightning went into the tip of the blade and traveled down its length until disappearing in the hilt.

"Huh, this is a wonderful blade," she remarked casually as she continued to move towards me.

She advanced slower now as she marveled at my sword, "Not dwarven made, but the quality speaks for itself. Who'd you kill for it, demon? Or is this just another illusion?"

Taking the opportunity, I cast Gust on her, and she tumbled back through the chaotic market square. Anyone who hadn't fled from the goat now scrambled to escape our battle. The dwarf toppled end over end, and the spell followed her until she fell prone. I looked through my satchel for a clarity potion, but found only wet leather and shards of glass.

I couldn’t escape. I tried to crawl away, but once she regained her feet, she was on me in seconds. The last thing I heard before she plunged my blade into my heart was, "For the Wardens' sake, just leave me be."