3. A Hin's Troubles

A Hin's Troubles

  • The Halfling Defence League

    "Hehe…you sure that's proper, pet?"

    Gears snickered in his sleep.

    "Ooh...a show and ale? For me? You all shouldn't have...," He smirked.

    THUMP

    Rubbing his right elbow, Gears sat up on the floor of his room in the Boarshead. With a groan and a wistful look at the bed he had just tumbled out of, he decided it was time to get up. This was the third, THE THIRD bloody time he'd woken up from his dream with Ginger, Blueberry, Lavender, and Cassidy. And always just when they had taken out the oils...
    With a last, long sigh he pulled his tunic over his head and headed out to wash up.

    After splashing his face in the fountain outside the Trade Market, he looked about idly and tried to think of something to do. Walking over to the well, he plopped down on a bench and thought of everything he HAD to do.

    Get into the jail to see Ikurus somehow.
    Make more plans against the Sterrs with Elor and Keira.
    Help Cass get...normal, or something that passed well enough for it.
    Save the hin being tortured by the Defiler.
    Get more money.
    Find Erevaine.
    See if he could trust Frin.

    He shook his head.

    Too much, he thought. Bloody Ikurus...he had gotten him in at least half the trouble he was in now. Had to pull that heist. And without him! Prime opportunity to get rich, and he hadn't even asked Gears! True, he did botch it, but it was the principles involved...

    Running a hand through his hair, he stood up. Moving a finger across the new crossbow strapped to his back, he decided he might as well go and look at the jail again. Was Ikurus still held in the same cell? If so, he could probably jut sneak in. Maybe show him some of that gold he'd taken from Sterr's nephew...or cousin, or whatever. Taking a few steps towards the gates, he rememberd another chore. Keeping an eye on that creepy man claiming to be Ikurus's brother. Gears wasn't sure if they were brothers or not, but he did look like him...and more importantly the bastard was wearing old Ikky's necklace.

    A light went off in Gears's head.

    If he got in to get that... maybe he can get ME in, he reasoned. Smirking, and with a new purpose in his stride, he set off to find his friend's supposed sibling...

  • The Halfling Defence League

    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.

  • The Halfling Defence League

    _~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    Baby don't worry
    'Cause now I got your back

    And every time you feel like crying
    I'm gonna try and make you laugh.
    And if I can't, if it hurts too bad,
    Then we will wait for it to pass

    And I will keep you company
    through those days so long and black.

    
_She'd be the death of him yet.

Waltzing in after being gone for weeks, months, she just appeared. Offered no explanation besides having buisness outside of Narfell, no doubt for the bloody Dolvaks, and acted like nothing was different. Which was the worst part, one look at her and it **wasn't**. It was exactly the same. The way he felt, the way he couldn't see anything, hear anything but her…just like before. Hells, he'd even ended up giving her a present! What's a man to do?

Then the fool she'd made of him. Not more than an hour or two later they were basking in the afterglow beneath the sheets. And as usual, he'd started babbling some idiotic heartfelt sentiment to her. Curse him for a fool for saying it, let alone meaning every sappy syllable! So she lay her silky head on his chest, sighed happily, and he forgot every cross word he'd had, every frown, glare, and icy silence he'd planned...all lost in the concentration on the perfection of her. How quickly she shifted from nonchalance to teasing to amorous. With the way things were going, pretty soon he'd be asking Penny or Lilly for help with poetry for her!

Oh gods...Penny and Lilly. The fool he'd acted in front of them..._and_ _Erevaine. It simply wasn't fair that she could do this to him! Make him leap about like a rabbit in front of his friends, grinning like an idiot… How did she stay so calm and collected?

Thankfully the rest of that day was hazy, lost in a cloud of ale fumes...though he was fairly certain Lilly had ended up hitting him with a club or something. And Foilir and his brother roughed him up. Couldn't forget THAT. Who would've thought they'd get so upset over one little false key?... And the fifty gold? Bloody grumpy dwarves.

Once again he found himself hoping that Cassidy had no idea of what she did to him. Bloody puppet on a string was what he was. Jerking and swaying to her every move...all eager and big-eyed. It was a wonder she put up with him at all. He didn't like love. Love made him burn, made him hurt and forgive so quickly. Made him note every detail he could about her...made him sigh, brood, snap and shiver. It was so much easier when it was only about the friction between his body and someone else's...lust without the passion. Not like this. Feeling everything with her at once. It was too much.

The softness of her lips, the gentle firmness of her skin, the way her mouth turned up when she was smiled. It was all there, and he couldn't get it out of his head. She was worse than any drink, drug or spell that clouded his mind. Not like he'd thought everything through so clearly before either, but still...Who knew what she could get him to do? Or what he'd do by himself? He knew he'd do whatever he could to make her feel good, to comfort and protect her, and he felt a satisfied tingle in his whole body whenever she gave him some small sign of thanks or affection. At least he was able to hide that much usually. Usually.

Better to try think of something else...like the key standing between him and a jail cell or a beating from a "poking stick". It was time to get back to work.__
  • The Halfling Defence League

    On the wall that separated Norwick from the Rawlinswood, Gears lay sprawled out on his back, his left arm and leg hanging over one side, his right hanging over the other. To his left sprawled the trees, bushes, and other vegetation that made up the forest. To his right lay the small, quaint, and most of all boring town that he had been living in. And above him, a dull gray sky poured down rain, its pitter-patter occasionally interrupted by a dull rumble of thunder. His near white hair was slicked messily back by the falling water, and his light green eyes blinked often as raindrops fell on his face.

    Why had he come here?

    It was just supposed to be another quick stop, on the way to somewhere more interesting. He hadn’t quite been sure at the time where that was, but it certainly wasn’t a three cow town like this. Then he’d made friends, met his lover, and gotten suckered into staying. At least then it had been a bit exciting at least…now that the Defiler was gone, there weren’t even goblin attacks, Cass was busy more than ever with whatever errands the Dolvaks set for her, and most of his friends were busy getting married, serving jail time, or dealing with problems of their own. Oh, and he’d been told twice in one day that he looked like a male prostitute, couldn’t forget THAT.

    Absentmindedly he ran a hand over his new clothes. Some basic bandit attire dyed a nice crimson. He was thinking of embroidering a small wave on the left breast, if he ever got around to asking that Kross woman how to sew. Sighing, he hopped off the wall and walked back to the Boarshead, a warm bed, and a temporary respite from his thoughts.

    The Next Day

    Once again, Gears found himself wandering around Norwick, trying to find something to amuse himself. This time, however, fate smiled on him. Walking out of the Boarshead came Erevaine, Ikurus's lover, mistress, and occasionally master, all confidence and grace.

    “Well, well…if it isn’t Erevaine,” Gears smirked, stopping in the road.

    “Hello Gears,” she smiled.

    So, hoping for any distraction, Gears talked to her. The longer they talked, the more interesting the conversation got. Erevaine had gotten off with a mere temporary banishment, and was working on getting Magistrate Barrim to allow Ikurus visitors. What was more, she had even been given a way to sweeten him up: information. Oftentimes more valuable than gold, the good Magistrate apparently wanted anything Erevaine could scrounge up on the criminal element in Peltarch. Odd that he’d given her that option at the same time he was banishing her, but it would help their cause nonetheless.

    “All right, I get it…you want me to find out anything I can, that right?” He smirked, but he knew he was already going to do it. He wouldn’t be bored, and he’d help Ikurus.

    “That’s pretty much it…any authentic information would help. But make sure it’s real. Barrim won’t be pleased if I give him anything fake,” She grinned.

    “Right then, no problem. In fact, I’ve already got something I could look into…don’t suppose you know any “Purple Artists”, do you?” He asked hopefully.

    She shook her head. “No, afraid not…”

    Fine, he could figure it out for himself. He just needed to do a little snooping in Peltarch. It had been too long since he’d walked in a city anyway…A quick farewell to Erevaine and he was on the road. He’d never really liked the elven woman, but tough circumstances put strange people together. Besides, she was helping Ikurus, more than he could say…or could have said. Grinning, he set off at a run for the city, and anything he could dredge up about a purple artist.

  • The Halfling Defence League

    Creak

    Gears whipped his head around, searching for the source of the noise. Nothing. It had been nothing every time he'd looked, but he couldn't shake the feeling of unease from his mind. A slight prickling of his sideburns, a small voice inside him, that's all it was…but he'd learned to trust his instincts. He was sure he had been followed, was being watched by...something. But what could he do until it showed itself?

    Slowly turning back to the door, he resumed his work with the picks. Delicately he inserted the long, thin instrument into the lock. Lovingly, he wiggled it back and forth, searching for the tumbler, the satisfactory click that would come with that discovery. His green eyes lit, he felt it, he heard it, he SAW the inside of the lock. Given time and his tools, there wasn't a lock made he couldn't persuade to open. He grinned satisfactorily as everything fell…into…place.

    Cl-Click.

    The sound echoed hollowly around the empty room, rebounding off the hard wood floor and walls. Tensing, Gears waited for the alarm, the yell, the trap, for anything unexpected that a good thief always expected...but there was only a-

    Creak

    Again, the sound. Unsheathing his sword, Gears whipped around, confronted by…nothing but the gloom and dust. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Then there was another, different sound. Not a creak, but a…dripping, like a leak. He felt something fall onto his head. It was small, nothing more than a drop of something, yet...cautiously, his hand went to his head. He felt something wet, and brought his fingers to his face. It was red, and smelled like copper. Blood. Leaping back, Gears eyes shot to the ceiling.

    Ikurus.

    Ikurus stood there. On the ceiling, his dark hair hanging loosely around his face. Grinning his arrogant crooked grin with folded arms.

    “Gears, mate…you’ve lost your touch!” He grinned down.

    “Ikurus…what’re you doin’ here? And what’re you talkin’ about, I undid the lock, didn’t I?” Gears asked cautiously.

    In the blink of an eye Ikurus disappeared and reappeared to his right.

    “Not with locks mate…with life! Y’need to get your priorities straight! After all,” He put his arm around Gears’s shoulder, “Don’t I matter anymore? Ain’t I yer friend still?”

    “Of course, but…”

    He reappeared on Gears’s left.

    “Don’t I matter? Shouldn’t you be spending sometime thinking about me, rotting in my cell, instead of mooning over that wench? Doesn’t friendship come before some silly BITCH!?” His voice built in anger and volume until he was screaming. Grabbing Gears by the throat, he slammed him against the wall.

    “D’YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST FORGET ABOUT ME!?” He yelled, his face red, lips curled back in a snarl.

    …

    In fact, he was all red…and his robes seemed like they were…flowing?

    “Oh, Yondalla help me…” Gears whimpered.

    Blood. Ikurus was wearing the blood, it was all over him. Drops slid down his face, his sleeves dribbled little rivers onto the floor. Small streams came from in between his teeth.

    “Ikurus, it wasn’t like that…I wanted to help you, I tried to, I was going to, I will!” Gears cried desperately, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead as he eyed the blood slithering towards his face.

    “Just like Lilly did? Or Penny, maybe?” He sneered. “Nah Gears, I think I’ll preserve the memory of the sidekick who ~wasn’t~ a total failure by killin’ the one who IS!” The blood slammed into Gears’ face, red everywhere, filling his nose, his mouth, leaking out his eyes and-

    “AAAAAAAAAA!”

    Sitting upright in bed, Gears gasped for breath, feeling at his face for the blood. Gulping in large quantities of air, he ran a hand through his hair. Just a dream, he thought, shoulders slumping as he put his head in his hands.

    …

    Why won’t you leave me alone, Ikurus? If there was anything I could do, I would…but there isn’t. Every plan to help’s been stopped before it even got a chance. If I get the chance I will…Why won’t you leave me alone?

    A small moan brought him back. Lifting his head from his hands, he looked down. Lying next to him, Cassidy stirred, her brows creasing. Reaching out a hand to smooth her hair, calm her, Gears hesitated.

    Am I helping you Cass? I got you to drink and you nearly killed someone…can I help you? Or will I just fail again…

    He looked at her. Curled up, her hood off and her hair let loose of its usual bun, she huddled under the sheets. Her breath came in small, even intervals, her chest slowly rising and falling. Her eyelashes twitched. She was still clothed, this time…

    Gears allowed himself a small smirk. He didn’t think he’d ever shared a bed with a woman when she was still clothed. She’d wanted him to stay with her, to make sure SHE didn’t come back…He shook his head. She was so like a child sometimes, so, so…trusting. Trusting him to make things better. Keep the boogeyman inside her away. Could he?

    I’ll be damned if I don’t try…Urogalan take my soul if I don’t. As for… Ikurus…

    He’d do what he could. That’s all he could ever do. And maybe, for once, it would be enough…

    Settling back under the sheets, and resting his head back on a pillow, he pulled Cassidy closer. But no matter how tight he held her, he couldn’t get rid of the doubt, or the guilt.

    (And since I neglected to mention it before, this just Gears' perception, so don't get angry if your character is mentioned in here and portrayed in a different light than they really are.)

  • The Halfling Defence League

    He and She

    He loved her.

    …

    He loved her?

    ...

    _HE LOVED HER?! What kind of response was that?

    True…maybe it had been the logical response of ANY sane man when a barely-clothed, beautiful girl is straddling him and says she loves him, but this was different! Damn her, she'd made him mean it. And she'd made him say it, without even asking...just turning away with those sad violet eyes..._

    A sigh.

    How had he gone from being rightfully angry at being left to wait in the rain for over an hour to holding her in his arms, saying…that...to her? It didn't make sense. For that matter, why had he even waited so long for her to come? A few moments and he should have gone back to the Boarshead and sat by the fire. He should have

    Left

    Yelled

    Broke it off

    Laughed it off and walked away from it

    From her
    Not stand there and let her trap him. With three words. Three words and now he was bound to her. One girl, one woman…and he hated her. He hated her for making him love her, without so much as a struggle. He hated her for making him miss her laughs, her snickers, her smiles, her habits, her touch. The way she looked when she pulled back her hood and let her hair fall down around her shoulders. And he loved how she'd made him love all those things about her. He loved how she made him feel helpless and afraid and truly needed when nothing else did.

    Bitter, joyful, mournful laughter.

    Now he was hers. She'd do whatever she felt like with him. And he would stand there with his star-filled eyes, enjoying every moment just standing there, close to her, feeling her heart race against his chest when he touched her, stroking her midnight blue hair, telling her things would be all right, knowing she didn't need to hear it. She was tough, she would be all right with or without him, and he loved that too. But she felt like she needed it. And maybe he was actually able to help someone, when he was failing so many others…Maybe this would even things a little.

    Love. Unwanted, unexpected and unlooked for. Ensnared and wishing to stay trapped. Sorrow every time she walked away, knowing she wouldn't be with him for days at a time mixed with the pleasure of watching her walk away. His stupidity. Her grace. Her hand in his.

    A smirk.

    What was the use in fighting when the ogre already had you in the cookpot? She loved him. She had honestly meant it. And he knew he loved her back. Why worry? After all, it was the man who proposed, wasn't it? Which meant he got to decide when and if they got married…and it wouldn't be for a bloody long time, that was sure.

    A movement interrupted his thoughts.

    Snuggled close to him, she stirred slightly in the sheets, a small frown creasing her mouth.

    A smile.

    _Drawing her closer with his arm, he kissed the top of her head and stroked her smooth, indigo hair. Satisifed, she put an arm across his chest and lay still with a small sigh, comfortable once more in sleep, beautiful in her repose. Content that she was all right, he closed his eyes, and settled back, pulling the covers tighter in the dark.

    A whisper…

    "I love you Cass…"

    …Followed by silence.

    Heavy covers and darkness muffled the gentle breathing of two Hin, and the gentler beating of their hearts._

  • The Halfling Defence League

    Sitting at his usual table in the Boarshead, Gears lounged, nursing a few bruises he'd picked up on his latest excursion into the Rawlinswood. The reason he'd got them was the same reason he had a stupid grin plastered on his face instead of a scowl at the pain in his, arms, legs, torso, and the back of his neck.

    Cass.

    Sighing happily, he took another tentative sip of his ale and winced at the effort of lifting his arm. A minor hurt couldn't dissuade him from his thoughts of her, however. With her cuddled up next to him in the sheets last night, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so content. Her blue hair spilling across his chest, her violet eyes closed lightly, the little curve that turned her mouth up into a smile…Why hadn't he done this so much sooner? She had even been concerned over his bruises. How sweet was that? And how she'd moved in that fight! She wasn't too bad with that sword, and a regular deadshot with her crossbow! And the way her armor hugged her body when she lunged forwards...

    ...

    Wait…

    …

    Gears jerked his head up straight, wincing at the pain from the internal bleeding in his neck as he did. He was letting himself get distracted. He had to stay focused. After all, Ikurus wouldn't get himself out of jail, would he? Or…even get visitors in... just to say bloody hello...

    "Hells...," He muttered to himself.

    Ikurus was right. They all were. He WAS just a sidekick. And not even a passably good one at that! How long had Ikurus been in jail? Months? And what had he been doing? Sitting around, drinking, and getting distracted by women. He'd made plans, sure, but what good did a plan do when it was never carried out?

    Ikurus was the one who always made the plans, he thought, scoffing at himself.

    Well, as long as he was alive, he could do something! ANYthing would be better than what he was doing now. Hell, if it came down to it, he could just bribe a damn guard to get in. If they were corrupt enough to let someone in to beat him, they'd surely let someone in to talk to him, wouldn't they? Determined, Gears stood up out of his chair…and moaned as he put pressure on his legs.

    All right…soon as I'm all healed, I go to Ikurus, he amended to himself silently.

    Settling himself back glumly into his chair, he took out a gold coin and rolled it along his knuckles. As it twirled and flashed in the light from the small flame on the table, he tried to think of… something, anything besides her…and failed miserably. The failure was compounded when he remembered that he'd told her his name...his real name. He snickered to himself darkly.

    Maybe Penny was right too. Maybe Cass would try to put him on a short leash. Or maybe… she already had...and his eyes were just too filled with her to see it. Sighing, Gears dragged himself out of the chair and staggered up to bed. The wood stairs creaked under his feet, and outside he could hear some nocturnal bird making its noises. A faint smirk flashed across his face as he remembered a distant time, when he'd run among the trees bordering Luiren in search of rabbits with his father, hearing the same sort of noises.

    A long way from home now, eh Tando? He thought bitterly.

    Pushing open the heavy wooden door to his room, he collapsed on the bed. Stripping to his smallclothes, he crawled under the covers and nestled his head on the pillow. Exhausted, he closed his eyes and tried to think of an easier time, when he'd been traveling the road, not worrying about his friends and women. He was slightly surprised when it worked, but pleased, and he felt himself drifting off to a long-gone dusty dirt road, where his mentor stepped alongside him, grinning confidently about their next destination.

    Just as he was taking his first step along the path, the ground firm under his foot, he realized that he…

    Could still...

    Smell her on the sheets.

    "Bloody hell…"

    A small halfling named Tando, but called Gears, groaned into the dark in his room at the Boarshead Inn.

  • The Halfling Defence League

    "Damn it…"

    Gears frowned at the returned letter Alazreal had sent him. What was wrong with the creepy bastard? Wouldn't even come for a reward? Glaring around the common room of the Boarshead he took another swig of ale. He was running out of options. Even HE couldn't break Ikurus out of Peltarch without quite a bit of help, and he preferred not to put too much trust in others. There is a silver lining though,he thought, leaning back in his chair to stare up at the rafters. Even if Deacon had threatened Ikurus's old crew, it seemed it was just a bunch of idle threats. Probably didn't think they could do anything to him. Not that he's wrong, Gears thought with a grimace. To top it off, ever since Penny had talked to him about marriage he'd started having nightmares where Cassidy either shoved a ring on his finger, jammed a blade in his gut, or both. They amounted to about the same thing either way anyway. Maybe he'd feel better after more alcohol…

    A few ales later, Gears decided he'd much rather have stayed sober. Now he was depressed and the walls kept moving. It was about when his drink started talking to him that he thought to himself, bugger this, and promptly passed out.