Toby Treacletart had always been raised to be a trusting gnome. His childhood in Gorshire left him curious, to a fault even, but he was never given reason to distrust those around him. For years, he watched from behind the counter as adventurer after adventurer made their way into Treacletart's Confectionery. He envied them, in a way, and he desired greatly to become one of them.

Over the course of his adventuring days, he met many people, some kind and some not, but he was never outright assaulted. Until he made his way back to Hashan, that is, having taken a wrong turn within the Ithmias. Once there, he was lured to an underground location, slain, and dissected. Toby may be small, but even mice can do great things beneath the feet of unaware fools, and so he hatched a plan. Perhaps his training in the confectionery would come in handy after all.

Watching from the shadows, he learned of the Hashani fascination with horse milk. It was all right, he supposed, but nothing to write his mother about. Nevertheless, it provided a welcome opportunity.

Toby consulted with Andraste Montenegro about rumours of a certain frog that is known to possess a rather potent toxin, the slightest touch causing great discomfort and even death. Protective gloves and mask in tow, he slowly accumulated a vial of the dangerous poison, raw commodities necessary to craft a suitable disguise and cart, and hatched his plan.

Gnomish proportions make the milking of a mare far easier than he anticipated. He suspected they might believe him to be one of their brood. He would have been a hungry one, if so, as he filled bottle after bottle with the creamy milk, each glass containing a deadly dose of frog poison mixed at its base.

Next, he needed some food to induce thirst, and what goes better with a cool glass of poisoned milk than a grilled cheese sandwich and the treats his mother made for the wild dogs of Gorshire? They certainly made him thirsty just looking at them.

His cart full of wares in tow, a certain gnome ostler made his way to the gates of Hashan to ply his trade, but today his trade was death. Toby painted a smile on his face as he handed out bottle after bottle to the Hashani populace, his facade of a mask hiding a maniacal grin.

His stomach rumbling and his suspicion aroused, Gurklukke Vorondil-Al'Jafri looked more closely at the gnome ostler and moved to confront him. Suspecting his cover was blown, Toby gleefully giggled and took off as fast as his tiny legs would carry him, the sounds of vomit, blood, and spoiled milk splashing against the floor behind him.

Maybe adventuring would be fun, after all.

~

Summary: In retribution for his murder and dissection, Toby Treacletart disguised himself as an ostler merchant and sold poisoned horse milk to the people of Hashan.

Penned by My hand on the 3rd of Chronos, in the year 866 AF.