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<blockquote data-quote="Bob Aberton" data-source="post: 235373" data-attributes="member: 1518">Chapter 1Nystyra sat in the corner of the bar, feeling miserable.&nbsp; She had wandered aimlessly over the past day, eventually ending up here.&nbsp;&nbsp; It wasn't a very high class bar, it was more of a cheap wayside hostel.&nbsp; Still, the wine wasn't bad.With nowhere else to go, she had come to this inn and decided to follow the advice of the bleary-eyed steward of the Sorcerer's Guildhall - when in doubt, get drunk.&nbsp; Listlessly, she offered her cup up to be refilled, while half-listening to the music of a minstrel with a lute in the corner.&nbsp; Judging by the music, not only was the musician apparently deaf, but deep in his cups, and the instrument wouldn't have been hurt by a little tuning up.Soon enough, however, she felt something that roused her out of her torpor.&nbsp; A hand was scrabbling around in her pocket, reaching for her spellbook!&nbsp; Quickly, she reached out and caught the offending hand by the wrist.&quot;Oo, m'lady, please don't hurt me!&nbsp; I was only...err...looking for something I lost!&quot; said the pickpocket.&quot;In my pocket?&quot;&nbsp; Nystyra asked acidly.&quot;Eh...that wasn' one o' me better excuses, was it?&quot;&nbsp; I would-be pickpocket asked, grinning beatifically.&nbsp; &quot;Well...a man's got to be making a living don' y'know...&quot;Nystyra held out her cup to refilling, and began massaging her temples.&nbsp; This was too much.&nbsp; All she wanted to do was fall asleep and wake up in her old room in Caer Merddyn.&nbsp; Still, she supposed, this thief needed to be taught a shaarp lesson.&nbsp; Putting one hand to the little casket that hung around her throat, holding her Coal, she tried to focus her mind on the glowing ember, concentrating through a wine induced haze.&nbsp; There was a sudden flare that flashed out of nowhere, and then her pocket seemed to speak.&quot;DON'T PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE THEY DON'T BELONG!&quot;&nbsp; &quot;said&quot; the spellbook.&quot;Oo, interesting!&nbsp; Yer a witch, then?&quot;&nbsp; the thief said, fascinated.Nystyra was nonplussed.&nbsp; &quot;Fascinated&quot; was not the reaction she had been hoping for.&nbsp; &quot;Fearful,&quot; maybe.&nbsp; Or &quot;Terrfied.&quot;&nbsp; But not &quot;Fascinated.&quot;&nbsp; This was clearly no ordinary pickpocket.&quot;No, I'm no ordinary pickpocket,&quot;&nbsp; the pickpocket said.&nbsp; &quot;Strictly speaking, I'm a Gnome.&quot;&nbsp; As though to prove his point, the pickpocket suddenly began juggling a trio of torchflames.&nbsp; &quot;I'm seekin' me fortune in the world, y'see,&quot;&nbsp; the Gnome continued.&nbsp; &quot;And, seeing as we know each other now, I'm thinking maybe we could travel together. I'm Eliad Pelgrin, by name and by nature*, by the way.&quot;Nystyra's head throbbed, with wine and confusion.&nbsp; A Gnome?&nbsp; Travelling with her?&nbsp; Travelling where?&nbsp; She looked around the common room, full of drunks and with the thumb-fingered minstrel still plunking away on his lute in the background.&nbsp; Anywhere, she supposed, would be better than here.&quot;Yeah, anywhere woudl be better than here,&quot;&nbsp; the Gnome said.&nbsp; &quot;&quot;Course, we need money.&nbsp; I don't suppose you have any?&nbsp; Didn't think so.&nbsp; Hmm...&quot;&nbsp; Apparently out of sheer boredom, he snapped his fingers at Nystyra's tankard, and as a tavern patron walked by, he held the tankard out toward the man.&quot;D'ye have any money?&quot;asked the tankard.The man peered at the tankard with bleary eyes, and then dropped a silver piece in it.&quot;Nice trick,&quot; he mumbled.&quot;Thank ye kindly,&quot; the tankard called out.Eliad fished the silver piece out of him tankard.&nbsp; He grinned.&quot;I have an idea,&quot; he said....Next Installment comign soon...</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Bob Aberton, post: 235373, member: 1518"] Chapter 1 Nystyra sat in the corner of the bar, feeling miserable. She had wandered aimlessly over the past day, eventually ending up here. It wasn't a very high class bar, it was more of a cheap wayside hostel. Still, the wine wasn't bad. With nowhere else to go, she had come to this inn and decided to follow the advice of the bleary-eyed steward of the Sorcerer's Guildhall - when in doubt, get drunk. Listlessly, she offered her cup up to be refilled, while half-listening to the music of a minstrel with a lute in the corner. Judging by the music, not only was the musician apparently deaf, but deep in his cups, and the instrument wouldn't have been hurt by a little tuning up. Soon enough, however, she felt something that roused her out of her torpor. A hand was scrabbling around in her pocket, reaching for her spellbook! Quickly, she reached out and caught the offending hand by the wrist. "Oo, m'lady, please don't hurt me! I was only...err...looking for something I lost!" said the pickpocket. "In my pocket?" Nystyra asked acidly. "Eh...that wasn' one o' me better excuses, was it?" I would-be pickpocket asked, grinning beatifically. "Well...a man's got to be making a living don' y'know..." Nystyra held out her cup to refilling, and began massaging her temples. This was too much. All she wanted to do was fall asleep and wake up in her old room in Caer Merddyn. Still, she supposed, this thief needed to be taught a shaarp lesson. Putting one hand to the little casket that hung around her throat, holding her Coal, she tried to focus her mind on the glowing ember, concentrating through a wine induced haze. There was a sudden flare that flashed out of nowhere, and then her pocket seemed to speak. "DON'T PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE THEY DON'T BELONG!" "said" the spellbook. "Oo, interesting! Yer a witch, then?" the thief said, fascinated. Nystyra was nonplussed. "Fascinated" was not the reaction she had been hoping for. "Fearful," maybe. Or "Terrfied." But not "Fascinated." This was clearly no ordinary pickpocket. "No, I'm no ordinary pickpocket," the pickpocket said. "Strictly speaking, I'm a Gnome." As though to prove his point, the pickpocket suddenly began juggling a trio of torchflames. "I'm seekin' me fortune in the world, y'see," the Gnome continued. "And, seeing as we know each other now, I'm thinking maybe we could travel together. I'm Eliad Pelgrin, by name and by nature*, by the way." Nystyra's head throbbed, with wine and confusion. A Gnome? Travelling with her? Travelling where? She looked around the common room, full of drunks and with the thumb-fingered minstrel still plunking away on his lute in the background. Anywhere, she supposed, would be better than here. "Yeah, anywhere woudl be better than here," the Gnome said. ""Course, we need money. I don't suppose you have any? Didn't think so. Hmm..." Apparently out of sheer boredom, he snapped his fingers at Nystyra's tankard, and as a tavern patron walked by, he held the tankard out toward the man. "D'ye have any money?"asked the tankard. The man peered at the tankard with bleary eyes, and then dropped a silver piece in it. "Nice trick," he mumbled. "Thank ye kindly," the tankard called out. Eliad fished the silver piece out of him tankard. He grinned. "I have an idea," he said. ... Next Installment comign soon... [/QUOTE]

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