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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Rish" data-source="post: 1358747" data-attributes="member: 14000">((OOC: Gah. I'm really sorry it took me forever to get my act together on this one. All I can say is, REU applications and the NSF are punks, and the week got away from me while my back was turned. It should get better from here on out.))Kirran again seems to be spending a long while lost in thought, ignoring the exchange between Gadreman, Rolf, and Valdir - disappearing into the wilds doesn't appeal to him in the least. He watches Argus toss fitfully in his sleep with a strange expression on his face. "Dropped your druid totems, won't wake to a touch, restless sleep... Strange things going on with you, aren't they?" His words are quiet and rambling, spoken as much to himself as to the sleeping figure. "Well, don't be too hard on yourself, eh? Gods are fickle, I s'pose, but not that fickle. Still, best to have someone looking out for you for sure, even 'f you don't believe yours is. Here... Hm."  He pulls a wooden coin on a leather thong from around his neck, and takes the usual one out of his pocket, weighing them in his hands. Finally he wraps the thong around the first coin and tucks it into Argus' belt, sash, or similar. "There. Everyone can use a little extra luck now'n then."Finally he twists around to respond to Fleck. "Dumeldein? Er... sure, fine. Not like I had any real plans anyway. Though I'd rather not wear out a welcome like we have here, or I'd be running out of good-size towns to stay in, in Mittendein anyway."Kirran accompanies Fleck back to Dumeldein, but once there sees very little of him. He's clearly in his element here in the city with no pressing commitments, and though he could conceivably see Fleck quite frequently if he chose, he doesn't. He sets himself up in a smallish room in an attic somewhere on the border of a shadier part of the city, immune to heights and the neighborhood because of the simple fact of his upbringing.He occupies part of his waking time working as a skilled brewer at a preexisting brewery, disinterested in the bother of finding his own equipment, but he spends much more of his time just walking the city, refamiliarizing himself with the workings and bustle of a place where many types of people come together. Time passes for him largely without consequence, until in mid-autumn he catches a glimpse of a youngish human man, Jan, whom he knew from his time in Marzen, crossing the square a short way from him. Through some kind of bizarre luck (though strings of odd coincidences do tend to trail after clerics of Felicitas), Jan also catches sight of Kirran despite his being only waist-height amid the other passersby. He waves to the halfling, and the two work their way through the surrounding hubbub towards each other.There proceeds the requisite few years of catching up, Kirran largely glossing over the previous spring's events; but he soon finds that his old friend has a strange tale to tell. Kirran's old "mentor", Callahan, has been killed - and though this in itself is not odd, because the streets are rough, it seems the man responsible has had a bizarrely good string of luck lately - better than anyone has any right to. Jan can't quite relate the details, as the information has come to him already second- or third-hand.While Callahan's death means Marzen is probably open to Kirran again, he finds himself strangely disinclined to return after a few years adjusting to being away. Still... he also finds himself disturbed at the account of unnatural good luck, because he knows that Felicitas makes even the lucky take some bad fortune along with their good fortune, and this man seems to be immune to misfortune (if Jan's account is accurate). As a cleric of luck he feels some obligation to investigate further, but the winter and the meeting date are drawing too near for him to leave Dumeldein, and so he remains in the city, somewhat frustrated, until the time comes to rejoin the group.</blockquote>

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