Tales By The Fire

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  Musings From The Fugue
  • nealparr

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  Well now don't forget about the lost sould of Bilbow. He has been seen moping around the fugue with you from time to time, greating he others that have come along. expressing his long lost stories of battles faught. neferith
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  Letter to Fadien
  • chripso

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  The Leaf-Covered Journal of Green Starfire
  • Green

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  Arch 13. **Whispers, partings. It is hard, after so long, to start writing afresh. So much has changed in the lands around Norwick, and perhaps, more in myself. I have found myself accepted into a family at last, the Druids of the Circle, under kindly old Andu’mien, have made me feel welcome, a sister, a part of them that is hard to explain. I would never have dreamed that Nature’s blessings, it’s raw power, could pass through these poor scarred hands. I could not have guessed, on that day six years past, that the voices I heard were coming from the trees themselves, beckoning me to them, asking me to listen to their quiet messages. I went to Lady Adriell, and asked for her advice, as she is wise in matters of the wood, and it was she who first knew what haunted me. She suggested that it was perhaps Mielikki and the Forest calling, that my path might lie as one of her priestesses, or on the path of a druidess like herself. In truth, I have always doubted myself, and it made the turns in my path difficult for me to see clearly. I went then to wise Grivel, the old wolf, who has always acted as a quiet mentor to me, and we spoke long. He told me I should follow my heart, and not think too hard about my choice, as that it was this that was blinding me to the truth. Little did I know it would be our last campfire together, this one time that our meeting was not by fate, but by my purpose. I had become so familiar with seeing his fire ahead on my trail from time to time, I fear that I had become complacent, and thought in my heart that for many years hence, I could look forward to enjoying this wise man’s council and friendship. When he was slain on the Nars in battle, alone but for his companion-wolf, all of the forest-folk weeped. When it occurred, I felt struck down where I stood, and I know that our Woods became less for his loss, and that the place where Mielikki dwells was blessed with his arrival there. I have heard from the ranger-folk of the Wolve’s Den saw The Lady, in all her beauty and kindness, when she came and took the old Wolf to her bosom. The Great Tree that grew on the spot where Grivel lay is a reminder to us all, that our paths only seem to end, and that another journey awaits all who are true and good and walk their path in this world with honest hearts. Now, in the wood, when I near the crest of a hill, and see a lone star shining through the darkened wood, I cannot help but remember his fires just ahead on my trail, gleaming through like a beacon guiding my way. I miss him. Several of his closest companions seemed terribly effected by his death, and young Bilbow, who was the very first person to welcome me openly into these lands, followed Grivel shortly thereafter, as did the enigmatic Chiero, whose grief was too awful for me to think about still. The loss of Grivel, it’s seems to me, signaled the beginnings of much change in the lands around Norwick. For long, the great evil force in the Rawlinswood, long hidden and building it’s power, seemed to at last find the confidence to strike out in an attempt to topple the balance between light and dark. Even as I strived to find my place, as an apprentice to the Archdruid, things in the Woods south of Norwick became ever more terrible and dark. The Circle was besieged by night-marish creatures, some that seemed parodies of the Druids themselves. All of this evil was spreading and slowly engulfing the Woods, the Elven Encampent, and Norwick itself, and it was plain to all who lived in these woods, that if action was not taken against this evil menace, The Defiler, a mighty fallen Druid himself from ages past, that he would overwhelm the Balance that makes up Nature itself, and all things would be corrupted, and taken, and we would all be no more. Thus I found myself, as yet only a fledgling druid, trying to learn as quickly what I must to help The Circle to survive. My journals from this time were destroyed in the cataclysm that was The War for Balance, and long I have been unable to speak of what transpired, but, I feel I must try and relate here what happened to myself and my new family, and the others who sacrificed so that the region would not fall utterly into evil. For, if we force ourselves to hide the pain of those days away, we will forget those who gave all that one can give, in this terrible time. My words are poor, journal, and time has passed since this dark time, but I shall do my best to retell some of what happened here, as I remember it. I must.
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  Movement on the Lanceboard
  • frostfire

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  This is the day I leave for home, its a little cold out and Im already missing all of my friends. I left a letter under Alice's door, to tell her I'm leaving. I dont know why, but I was afraid to tell her. Vashere tells me to return as soon as I can, for there is much to do. I feel important. Am I? Well I'm off.. See you soon Narfell.
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  Entangled steps
  • Tori

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  Tris sat on a bench in Jiyyd for a while, smiling as Belade argued with a local drunk about Sune, Belade sighed and left the drunk to his ways of booze and ugly woman. "He never even stopped asking me for a ale, and all I wanted was to aid him with his wounds" Belade remarked as she sat down next to Tris and grinned. Tris shrugged, then smiled back warmly. "How are you feeling anyway Tris?" Belade asked as she kicked off her boots and leand back on the wooden seat. "My head hurts a little, but overall I feel fine, just wondering what the heck is going on!" She joked. Belade nodded in reply, fiddling with her pendent of Sune. "I think we should see Khaya or someone and see what they can do, or maybe it wil come back in time, I'm not to sure" The days slowly crawled by, Tris often getting embrassed when a old friend suddenly ran up and hugged her, others calling after her, even a red haired man humming a song to try and show her. Belade taught her how to fight again, after an indicnet of running head first into a group of orcs and having to be dragged back to jiyyd for a painful recovery. She soon found out that the Romni wine was meant to drank slowly after a little mishap with Varen and a rock throwiing contest. The memoires, most important of all were allowed to come in small doses, a name here, a face there, but it soon became of annoyance when she couldn't rember anything much about her past. She thought maybe it was best forgotten, but maybe not… But of all the silent, treading fear of spiders still lingers some where in her mind, dorment. Where ever she is meant to tread, her foot steps to her are still Entangled steps..... (( takes a bow!, I am finshed long at last! Whohoo! Sorry about the lack of story line, but I've given my best ( a few spelling errors) phew Right , time to get on with the others stories I started AGES ago, feel free to post some comments if you want! ))
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  Specter of the Nars
  • D

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  8.1 A temple… Beautiful… Pristine… A beacon to those that traveled, calling out to them, gathering them in the name of the lady of mysteries. Strong… Pious… Wise… Eight men and women, their hearts filled with their god, their lives ending as their hearts would be, in mystery and secrets. A fall… Darkness… Rising… A temple of darkness, seething with power and corruption, it enters his mind, to him it is as precious as the most glimmering diamond or ruby. Restlessness… Pain… Suffering.. The souls of the damned, wandering in the darkness, trapped in a icy hell that is neither alive nor dead. Secrets… Loss… Power… He saw these all, swirling, coalescing, coming together in a portrait of grandiose evil. He saw what must be done, that she must succeed, her will must be done, and these souls must be hers. And he…he would be her mortal hand once more.
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  The Tales of Ronie Benthendt
  • wonderloss

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  The Stories of Nico Black
  • Gobbletom

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  Nico lays in his bed, his wife sleeping soundly beside him. He rolls over in his bed as if bothered by some unseen pest. A tiny bead of sweat forms on his forehead as he drifts off into the dream. Welcome to Nico's General Store. The fine blue shirt. It was very striking against the other clutter in the dusty shop. It seemed as if it were a lone flower in a muddy field. The words though seemed to flow off the young merchants tongue as if they were made of the finest silk. He was charming if not a little cocky Nico could tell. Let me know if I can help you with any thing. _Nico nodded to himself as if acknowledging the statement. He just stood there watching the young man occassionally looking down to the object he was holding. The elegent collar shifted a slight bit higher on the young merchant. My what a shirt that was. He watched as the young lady entered the shop and his physical body settled into the bed getting more comfortable. He took in her features carefully and a small smile creeping across his face as he did._ Why I think I have one right over here. _He looked back down at the item he was holding…..what was it anyway? He looked up watching the young man walk over to the table. The charm he exhumed before now lost to a newfound clumsiness. My what a striking difference he saw then. The young merchant dressed in his finest garmets, keeping his person in perfect order and well groomed. His shop seemed like a cluttered mess compared. The two were quite different. He watched as the young youthful hands moved through the merchandise on the table. He watched as Nico turned the pot over and caused it to smash to the floor._ I didn't mean to startle you Miss…. He looked back down to the clamp…yes it was a clamp. He sat it aside and moved around a shelf to get a better look at the merchant. His hands moving along the shelf as if looking for some item of great importance. He was watching as the merchant bent low to pick the metal container off the floor and place it back on the table. Still the young man maintained his pleasent attitude. Nico stood there in his brilliant blue shirt with the high elegent collar and smoothed down the muttonchops he had began growing. Looks like I am all out. _The words accompanied with a wry charming smile. The young lady taking her leave after a few more words exchanged. He watched as the merchant arranged a few more items before approaching him….wait. Was he really there? Sweat beads on Nico's physical form as he turns in bed to face away from his sleeping wife. As if somehow in his slumber he realized her position. His face almost a mask of anger and confusion. _Name's Nico. Nico What did he just say? He watched as the hand extended out to in front of him. Well met. he heard the voice come from him. Pleasure's all mine. the young merchant responded with a polite smile. Indeed. replied Nico….Nico Black. He shook his hand with a smile of his own..... _Nico's eyes dart open quickly with a jerk in his bed. The bedsheets and blanket had long been tossed to Yolande's side in his troubled sleep. He lay there now, sweat tickling the side of his face as it inched it's way down toward his ear. The room shown with the familiar glow of the enchanted rapier he kept near his bed. His eyes blinking a few moments as he let them adjust to the pale light in the room. Looking over he saw the crumpled leathers he had left on the chair when he had come in from his recent business trip south. He couldn't be too prepared he always told himself. Hanging on the back of the chair was his weapons belt. He looked upon the blades that hung there. The shortsword that once belonged to the man known as Thyrm Cardea….How many had he killed with that blade he thought....Then again. How many had Nico killed with it? On the dressing table lay his collection of rapiers. He knew he would have to remove them before Yolande awoke. She never seemed to like getting dressed beside his gear. He smiled briefly thinking of her and looked over to make sure she was sleeping soundly. The one that once was in the hands of noble families who lived so long ago in the area lay in the front. He could almost see the name Shining etched on it. He so needed to sell that blade, but a buyer just couldn't be found. The blade often found it's way into his hands though. It felt nice. To think that royal blood once held it and took it to their grave....only to weild it in their undeath. It was a treasure. The next was an odd piece indeed. The skull on the hilt stared out into the night as if keeping a vigil on the room. Nico almost found himself amused as he stared over at the dark blade laying there. It was more a conversation piece than anything else. It didn't hold an edge well and had a few nicks here and there. It was interesting though. The newest one that was a particularly fine piece. The cutlass was light as any he had held, but wasn't quite as sharp as many. Still the lightweight metal felt good in his hands. It was a pirate's blade for certain. The markings on the hilt had been cleverly covered so as to not reveal it's heritage. He was fond of his newest blade. Very fond indeed. Not like it's previous owner would be missing it anyway. Though if Shining is any indication, the owner might pull himself from his watery grave to retrieve it one day. Various pouches lay around the table. The metal jacks he carried and the dark liquid he put on his blades to prevent reflection of any light. Did he really need all of it. Did he really need to keep himself so prepared? The thought flew out of his mind as he drifted back to the dream a moment. Of course he did. He leaned over and kissed Yolande on the cheek and smiled. He whispered to himself as he pulled the bedsheets back over and snuggled beside his beautiful sleeping wife..._ I am Nico Black….__
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  Kato's notes
  • Kismets

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  Page 2. Mahir A. While investigating Mahir A. with a very talted bard by the name of Lilly, we came upon a rather stranger discovery. I had taken her to the formation near the old Jiyyd cave, to ask if she knew of rocks similar to this, and where I could find them. While studying the strange rune marks a spark lit within the stones. Lightening later struck and a white beam rose up from the ground. I feared at first that an outsider would enter our planes, but Lilly entered the light without little hesitation. I charged after her and we both fell on to the ground, near some odd ruins behind the temple of Helm. It seem like all Mahir A. is, is some form of Teleportation device, but I will not confirm this before I have spoken to people that has dwelled within this land for some time. Note to self: Find out what the odd ruin behind the temple of Helm used to be.
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  Blood in Payment - Tales of the Crimson Guard
  • Grey Bishop

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  Ormpur hadn't changed in three months. But whereas on the first trip Vashere had wanted to see what lay within the walls, this trip he sought knowledge of what lie outside. Many places of interest were looked over and within one cave there were even signs of some predator but no predator found. But it was the tower that proved deadly. Empty Erok had said. It wasn't empty this day. The trap erupted into a cloud of poison. Vashere coughed as he pulled his helmet on. He had inhaled some. The helm's protective magics kept him from inhaling more but the poison was doing its task. Coughing some, he leaned against the wall slightly as he allowed the poison to finish it's task. He would live it seemed. Erok and Baragorr both seemed to be suffering fromt he poison as well. Kalina and Drelan had not been near enough. Kalina pressed on and examined the door then declared it clear. Vashere pressed on with his blade at the ready. As he stepped through the door two things happened. First Erok's eyes bulged and he fell, the poison reaching his heart. Then a massive ogre rounded the corner already casting some foul spell. Once more Vashere's life was likely saved by his armor as the spell wrapped around him and failed. With a snarl of anger Vashere threw himself at the Ogre Mage, Baragorr by his side, Kalina and Drelan supporting from behind with bow and spell. A few very precise strikes and the ogre was dead. Another stepped into the hall from a room. Erok's body was still visible to Vashere. Things were not going well. He ordered a withdrawal and stepped back through the door and down the stairs. Vashere watched the stairs waiting for the ogre to come down. As he did he began gathering up Erok's things then quickly tossed the large half-orc over his shoulder. The ogre suddenly appeared beside him as a hazy apparition. No one saw him but Vashere it seemed. Setting the body down he rushed the ogre who did not seem aware of him landing three rapid and near deadly blows. The ogre retreated back up the stairs and Vashere did not follow. Grabbing Erok once more he set out for the exit. Everyone left but Vashere tossed the corpse out the door and slammed it shut telling no one to come back in. –------------ Vashere exited the tower and closed the door behind him. Baragorr was carrying Erok now. They asked what had happened while Vashere was inside. Parlay he said. But when the ogre mage cast at him, Vashere told them he had attacked the ogre once more, forcing it to retreat again. The four with Erok's body over Baragorr's shoulder, returned to Ormpur. They had lost Erok and were all injured. A return trip was not feasible. Morosely, the band stood around Ormpur hoping a solution would present itself. It did so in the guise of a wandering cleric. While Vashere was convinced this cleric happening along was not chance, he could not turn away the offer of help. The price however was the coin for a diamond and the head of the ogre mage in the tower. And so, the band returned to the Tower. Opening a door in the upper tower, a much larger ogre mage presented itself. It's skin was as stone as it roared, "You killed my brother!" His roar was answered by Bargorr's own, "You killed my brudder, too!" The battle seemed doomed as every blade and arrow that struck the ogre did nothing but chip at stone. But with each blow that stone was chipping away. Then blade found flesh. The ogre fell. There had been yet another ogre in the tower and some gold. Erok was returned and the band made it back to Jiyyd. Another tale ends while another begins.
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  Inheritance of Fate
  • Grey Bishop

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  ((The background story will be continuing seperately from this part. Eventually it will catch up to this story which will be in the form of a journal kept by Valeran myself having been inspired by Kallethen's rather entertaining journal project.)) **_Father's journal is both interesting and frustrating. Why are there so many missing pages? Every time I come across something that seems of great importance to this new land the missing pages seem to mock me. I suppose I'll ask him once I see him but I doubt his answer will be of any help. Which brings to this journal I now write in. Why do I write a journal? If I ever have a son it won't be to give it to him with missing pages. But the real reason I write this is because if Father did so, it may prove important one day for me to have done so as well. I suppose in time we shall see. Norwick seems a prosperous little town. Out of sheer boredom I decided to see if there was any work to do. The men Wald and Fine sent me on some errands. Some rather huge rats were my reward. I'd better wash these bites out again in the morning. The Eastlanders were an interesting lot. I did not speak to them but reading of what father wrote about them I find it difficult to believe they wouldn't set upon me in force yet they left me umolested on my journey to Jiyyd. Arriving in Jiyyd I met Baragorr. Father had introduced me to him when I arrived in Norwick. Baragorr was to be my watcher it seemed. He and a hin woman named Rhianna Bare had heard of an orc warrior in the plains to the south. The orc apparently posed some significant danger and Rhianna had sought out Baragorr to help her slay him. So I found myself on a hunt to kill an orc warrior. Hobgoblins and those orcs we first encountered fell before Baragorr's axe so quickly I rarely got a shot off with my bow. Then from around a hill came a much larger armored orc. He had a large axe in one hand and a small wicked looking axe in the other. His attack was fierce. A lion appeared and began attacking the orc as Baragorr and he clashed axe to axes. Rhianna and I stayed well back with her using magics and I using my bow. I was pleased to manage two shots into the orc despite the chaos of the battle. One was particularly well placed. I suppose all that training is showing dividends. In the end the orc was slain and Baragorr injured only slightly. I now find myself carrying the orcs axe and armor. It took some effort to refit it and get out the smell but now it serves me well and hopefully better than it did the orc. We shall see I suppose or rather, should entries cease in this journal that will speak of the success of this new acquistion. Rhianna seems a pleasant and friendly hin and I am glad to have made her acquaintance. After seeing Baragorr in battle I am very glad he is on my side as well. I feel I have learned a great deal from all of this._** Summary: Level Change: Reached Second Level Gear Gained: Chain Shirt, Battle Axe, Light Crossbow, 317 gold Contacts Made: Baragorr the Outcast & Rhianna Bare ((At the end of each entry I will include an OOC summary noting the significant accomplishments such as levels gained or lost, new equipment/treasure gained, any new contacts/friends/enemies made, etc. Gear will only be listed if it is something of value to the character be it monetary or of actual use. This will be primarily for my own reference but should serve to make the progression of the character apparent even when the words in the journal do not. :)))
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  Drix - Stricken
  • Perius

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  _Long had he trod these cold lands. He had bullied, intimidated, robbed, deceived and blackmailed. Few seemed to care or notice. He had murdered. But nobody batted an eyelid in this cruel land. He had done all this, yet his goal was still out of reach. Fear. He wanted to be feared. He wanted mothers to pick up their screaming children and flee in terror when he approached. No people would laugh at him any more. They would show him respect or their souls would spend eternity trapped in a rotting corpse. Restless, angry and tormented. Then, just as he started to gather in power, just as he found kindred spirits, just when their hate had become united into one common purpose, folk started to take interest. BAH! They had left him and his allies alone for a long while, why now, when he was getting close to his goal! Perhaps it was time to act. Perhaps it was time…._ A loud man, loudly declaring his faith and his intentions, disturbed him from his reverie. Drix looked around with thinly veiled hatred in his eyes at the preacher and the folk of Norwick who listened. "So there you are, and I know your name….. " Drix smiled, his teeth yellow, blackened.
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  Thoughts of the Tradeshaman
  • Archon_Prime

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  The true story -- The Uramesy girls...
  • Tanto628

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  Steps in an Erroneous Direction The Corruption of Abigail Uramesy. Part 2… Doran’s eyes widened as she caught the first glimpse of the magical flames forming along her youngest daughters belly. She caught the angry glare in Abigail’s eyes and sharply turned her body, trying to shield Elli from the flames. With quick thinking Doran quietly hummed a series of lullabys, while waving her free hand over by Abigails face. Her first rhyme was a quiet hinnish drinking melody, when played in a certain key it possesses the ability to heal minor wounds, she spread the positive energy over her daughter, healing the seared flesh. The second melody was a quiet Elvish lullaby, when this tune was played Elli went fast asleep, she didn’t even have a moment to cry before she was knocked out. Abiie didn’t stop. Even with her mothers back turned she continued to shoot wave after wave of the burning red and orange flames towards the two. The entire room lit up like the hells. Abiie too set on her anger to realize the walls were starting to catch on fire. Doran’s final melody was an elemental resistance tune, played quickly with a small wave of a hand produced a barrier to shield herself and Elli from the flames until Abigails spells expired. Abiie stood tall, with her hand held outward. Her eyes were narrowed and her teeth were slightly visible. With a quick motion she recalled her hand to her side and crossed her arms, turning her body to look straight down at her kneeling mother. Doran was on her knees glancing in Abiie’s direction with fearful eyes. She held Elli close to her chest, keeping her close and secure from her half-sisters rage. Her entire right side was charred and blistered. The edge of the room was black from the magical flames. Abiie continued to glare at the two for a moment before her concentration was broken by her mothers sweet voice. “Abiie… get out.” The young Abigail shrugged and brushed a lock of her hair to the side. She headed toward the door feeling that nothing was the matter, that this was the correct thing she should of done. That she did with her bare hands. She reached for the door handle before glancing over to her mother another time, she was now rocking Elli back and forth slowly while she silently cried. “Weakling. You get it from that Selunite.” Abiie departed the room, slamming the door loudly and sitting with her back to it. “I hate her” She gritted her teeth. “I did not ask for another brother or sister, I already HAVE one.” She glanced over her shoulder as the door handle was turning from the opposite side. Her mother opened the thick oak door and smiled. “Abigail, pack your bags. We are going to take a trip. Let us go fishing for trout. Just the two of us” Abiie smiled brightly and nodded, feeling that her plan to burn her sister to catch attention for herself was without flaw. She ran into the room and reached for her bagpack, giving her sister one glance in passing. “Where are we going?” Abiie asked while folding a thin olive tunic into her pack. “Tis a surprise my dear.” Doran responded “But I’m sure ye will be better away from here. I am sure”
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  New Opportunities
  • Kalina

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  Lavin Darkheart's Story
  • Lavin

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  Melancholy smile
  • MerydianAmakir

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  Abiie was sleeping on the small couch of the corner of the room. Merydian smiled ever so slightly as she gazed on the young woman who was like a daughter to her. Her brow creased as she started to again worry about all the things that mothers worry about. "All that young, hot blood boiling around in that little frame. It seems like hardly yesterday I was only 20" Mery thought to herself. "But of course, when I was 20, all me Da' had to worry about was whether Dane Forrester was trying to get up me skirts again" She chuckled slightly at the memory. Her brow creased further as she looked at her daughter's prone form once more. There was much more to worry about with this one, oh yes. Mery sighed as she gently sat on the worn couch, avoiding the creaking corners, and stroked a lock of Abiie's hair. So much power and anger in this young girl, and Mery didn't have the slightest idea what to do about it. She knew that them living together was just a small reprieve. She just hoped that she could find some way to make her daughter change her ways before she grew bored with Mery's way of life. Mery's lip curled slightly, her hand tightening on Abiie's hair momentarily as she thought of Syne. She was not going to give her daughter over to that man, after all of her fighting to get back into her life. And there were things… Mellia had said before she died. Mery took a deep breath as her racing mind contemplated some of the dangers Abiie could even be now facing. She closed her eyes a moment, then quietly covered Abiie more firmly with the blanket and stood. Making as little noise as possible, Mery stood and grabbed her cloak, then left a few gold on the table for Abiie to get breakfast when she awoke. Once she was outside the room, she murmered a quiet incantation, her fingers twitching as her body tensed. Protection spells cast, she made her way out of the inn and to the bardic college to do some research.
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  The noble death of Chiero Aengrilor
  • Hekatoncheires

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  Some weeks after the event an accquaintance from her college days sought out Doran. His brothers and sisters do not own much and I even less than most but what we have, he shared and if you wish help with his ..natural..family, then his spiritual one will only be too happy to provide what we can. For myself, I hope you will accept this as a small momento. S_aying this he pressed a scroll case into her hands. After the puzzling enconter Doran opened the case to find a somewhat creased and stained parchment bearing a poem_ @507e0cc85e=The: Here's to Us Here’s to us brother. Let’s lift a glass to salute the pain Life’s bitter dregs we have to drain For when a death means more than life A panacea, an end to your strife Then we’ll toast the victory of your final breath And celebrate your glorious death Then we’ll think of you no more And carry on as we did before Here’s to us brother. We’ll drink to those ones that remain To ponder your quenching again and again Who’ll sift through the lees in search of a clue Looking for answers, a distillation of you Then they’ll quaff the dregs and stumble along Appearing no different from the rest of the throng They’ll raise a glass to mask the pain But they’ll never be the same again. So here’s to us brother. Raise a cheer for us, revellers all Carousing in life’s vast drinking hall Spending our days in stupor sublime Till the innkeep calls for our time Then we’ll rise from the table, drinks left behind All thoughts of our comrades purged from our mind Never knowing finally if answers were found But content we could partake of your round
• ?

  The story of Jeff
  • Guest

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  ///OOC not bad He does need to learn who to obey and who to talk back to though But I'm sure kerrith can teach him.
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  A Hin's Troubles
  • HalflingRogue

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  The Duel Gears sighed. A slight wind ruffled his hair, as did Lilly’s hand. Tallies, he thought, always messin’ up my hair…still, nothin’ better than one o’ their women t’use as furniture, he smirked to himself. He lay stretched out lazily, his head in her lap, the soft fabric of her pants brushing against the back of his neck. It had stopped raining, for once. The sky was blue, with a few puffy white clouds drifting slowly across it, propelled by the same breeze that blew his hair gently. Mirk was massaging Lilly’s shoulders, and yammering on in the background, as usual. Shutting him up would require copious amounts of either force or magic, Gears knew that much for sure. Bow and some other bard named Daria sat nearby. Toning them all out, Gears concentrated on relaxing. He wasn’t sure how, but sometimes put genuine effort into doing nothing strenuous seemed to work. Closing his eyes, he yawned slowly and languidly…before being dumped unceremoniously on the ground. Frowning, he opened his eyes to a chorus of Lilly, Mirk, and Bow calling his name and saw…her. A familiar small figure stood over him: blue hair, violet eyes, dark armor and all. Cassidy Rayun. His love, his lover, his dark blue beauty. His eyes widened as he sprang to his feet. She was back! But back from where…? Somewhere where she couldn’t have told him where she was going, or have sent word from, in the entire year she’d been gone? He realized he was both staring and babbling gibberish to her and quickly shut his mouth. She’s not going to get out of this one with just a smile and some skin he thought, assuming a stern stance and expression, arms folded. They drew their blades. “So…where’ve you been?” “Somewhere… I needed a holiday.” “Oh… I see…and you didn’t see fit to tell me because…?” He glared at her, brows drawn down. And then Mirk chimed in… “So, you going to give up moping now, Gears?” The insufferable git grinned. “He missed you something fierce Cass. Couldn’t get him to shut up, really…” Not now you idiot, Gears growled to himself. “Sod off Mirk! I’m tryin’ to have a talk here,” Gears snarled. “Yes, let’s leave these two alone. I’m sure they’ve got much to talk about,” Bow smiled amusedly, nearly dragging Mirk away. Turning back to her, Gears got to see her look at him slightly quizzically, head tilted to the side. “I didn’t tell you? Huh,” She brought her slender shoulders up in a shrug… “Sorry,” and brought them down. Her blade nicked him lightly, earning her first blood. … “Sorry”? She left him for over a year, no notice, no warning, no word…and she was… “sorry”? He’d worried about her, antagonized himself over what to do, hoped and prayed for her safe return…and she was sorry. He felt a heat building somewhere deep inside of himself, but he didn’t care. He opened his mouth, ready to let fly with something… something to show how it hurt, how he was angry. But she’d already turned away. “You hear that?” She said, looking over at the gate. “Might be slaads about.” And with that she dashed out the gates, leaving Gears with a half-open mouth to close it angrily and follow after. Brushing him off again, so easily… Another cut, slightly deeper this time. “Nah, no slaads,” Foilir grinned, standing just outside the now open gates. “Jes’ some elves out fer a jog.” Then he noticed Cass. “Oh lass, ye came back! Well, Gears ‘ere missed you plenty. E’ wouldn’t stay quiet ‘bout it oftentimes…” Gritting his teeth, Gears bore Foilir’s comments. Why couldn’t they all just shut up? Turning, Foilir went back inside the gate, with Cass trailing after. She looked back, motioning Gears to follow. Letting out a low, angry breath he complied. Only then did she seem to realize something was wrong. At least now she was actually paying attention. “What’s wrong?” She asked curiously, switching to the Halfling tongue. What was wrong? She wanted to know what was wrong. Oh, she’d bloody well find out what was wrong… “What’s wrong? You LEFT me! Bloody well left for over a year, without so much as a goodbye or a letter!” He glared at her. Beginning to understand, she narrowed her eyes in return. He lunged. “Well it’s not my fault if you’re harder to find that a dwarf in a high forest!” She snapped. She parried, sparks flying as their swords clashed. “Hard t’find? I’m in bloody Norwick all the time!” He raised his voice, gesturing widely around him. “I’m nearly always here!” “Well maybe you should get out more then, instead of sitting around, getting lazy, and not doing anything!” She snarled back, folding her arms as he did the same. Turning his blade away, she slashed his ribs, a slow stream of crimson her reward. Not doing anything…Ikurus… “Maybe I was waiting f’YOU t’come BACK! Do you know how worried I was!?” He yelled, then sneered, “But I guess was just something pretty t’look at, aye? You pop in, we have a good tumble, I say a few sweet words, an’ off you go!” Pushing on through the pain, he drove his blade deep into her chest… Fire burned in her eyes. Taking two quick steps forward she snaked out her hand. He saw it coming…but let it. Her palm hit him full on his right cheek, turning his head with it. “Don’t you ever…EVER…accuse me of not caring,” She trembled in her fury. Gears brought a hand to his red cheek. Slowly he turned his head to look at her, anger and pain swirling in his own green eyes. “Then give me a reason not to…” …and twisted it. He had said it quietly, but it carried better than anything he’d said before. She stared at him for a moment longer. Her perfect, pink little bottom lip quivered slightly. Slowly she turned around and silently…walked away. Light green eyes, like a leaf not yet turned to autumn watched her back as she grew more and more distant, until… “nnNYAGH!” He screamed. “Bloody HELL!” He clenched his fists so tight his fingernails drew blood in his palms and his knuckles turned white, he kicked at the ground, he ground his teeth together. His first victory over her…and he’d never felt so hollow. Misery Angry, uncertain of what to think, what to do, he reacted instinctively. So, soon he found himself sitting behind the tree by the fire, bottles strewn about. Opening the first one, he upended it into his mouth drinking greedily, letting the liquor gush down his throat as it slopped down his chin. It burned, but it dulled a much sharper pain. Finished with it, he contemptuously tossed it aside and began a second one. From behind the tree, he could hear Mirk and Lilly at the…laughing together. He drank quicker. Another bottle…he needed another. Grabbing one, he poured it down, letting it wash over him…over the pain, over hurt, the sorrow, the anger. All became fainter, before flaring up once more. His hand closed around the neck of a new bottle. Mirk and Lilly giggled again, idiotically, like two people in love. More liquid slopped down the front of his clothes, almost more than he managed to get in his mouth. What did it matter? Lilly’s sigh…he could see her, without turning around. Nestled against Mirk, grinning his stupid grin. What could possibly go wrong for them? Desperately he looked around, trying to find a bottle he hadn’t emptied. He rummaged through his pack, but it was no good…he had nothing left, and it still hurt. Baring his teeth, he grabbed a bottle and hurled it against the wall. It smashed into a thousand pieces against the stone, giving a satisfactory noise of destruction as it did. Gears lurched to his feet and stumbled off. The Boarshead…there would be more there. Barle had more. As he moved, he felt the bile rising in his throat, vile and sour. He nearly tripped as he shuffled over to the side of the inn, leaning his weight against it with one hand as he emptied his stomach. He’d been a fool to ever think it would work out…nothing ever did for him. It all went wrong. The better it was for a while, the worse it would be after. Laughing bitterly he wiped his mouth with the back of a hand, attempting to move to the inn’s door but falling flat on his face along the way. It didn’t matter…he was tired anyway. Dragging himself over next to the barrel, he slumped against the wall and slipped into the welcoming darkness. And he dreamed of midnight blue hair, stolen kisses, tears welling in violet eyes, and a perfect, beautiful, sorrowful quivering lower lip.