Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.
Rocket your D&D 5E and Level Up: Advanced 5E games into space! Alpha Star Magazine Is Launching... Right Now!

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Cinerarium" data-source="post: 855347" data-attributes="member: 9349">Sad Partings -- Hammer 3, Happy Harlan's, Continued Upon leaving the Library, a man broke out of the crowd and approached Fineon.  Hailing him as friend, he claimed to have a long history with Fineon.  After a dazed moment, Fineon responded in kind.  I assumed that Fineon, though by no means a native of Harren, had met this man on one of his other travels.  The stranger introduced himself as Chardin, and seemed pleasant enough.  Driade reacted quickly though, instructing Gunn to move Fineon away, and telling us to distract Chardin.  I told Chardin we were busy, but he could meet up with us later at Happy Harlan’s if he so chose.  He took the bait and let us be.  As we returned to Happy Harlan’s, Kazir asked Zazu to follow Chardin from the sky.  Chardin left us and proceeded into an alley, whereupon he simply disappeared!  Whether he magically transported himself or turned invisible, I do not know.  The air was cold, but not bitterly so, and the streets and plazas of the Sevencity were astir with ebbing masses of humanity.  We decided to press back to Happy Harlan’s where our fate in the form of Chardin could meet us as it would.  Gunn pushed a path through the crowd, not too gently, and the rest of us follow in his considerable wake. Driade, in particular, seemed disconcerted by the recent events.  She eyed Fineon with distrust, and not for the first time I realized just how alien Driade was.  What could I know of the elven mind?  “Fineon,” Driade said, “you are gammedrel [elven] and as such have my respect.  But you acted strangely back there, and you claimed that the nadadrel [non-elven]  was your friend.  Yet you have told me, many times, that you only passed through the cities of men as a wanderer.  You do not know that man nor—“Fineon scoffed.  “I know whom I know and whom I don't.  Chardin is a dear friend I have known for...quite some time.”Kazir increased his pace to walk alongside the two elves.  “Fineon, I am fairly confident – as are our companions – that you are, or were, under the effects of an enchantment.  Such arcane tricks are not uncommon, and they are as transient as a small sandstorm.  Soon you will come to your senses once again.”  Fineon frowned and gestured towards Driade, his eyes on Kazir's own.  “You, too, believe this nonsense?  Tell me, is it so difficult to believe that I may have a human friend in this city?  I have done much traveling over the years—“Kazir held up a hand and shook his head.  “No, it is not difficult to believe you would have such friends.  Even here.”  At this Kazir shook his head somewhat at the press of humanity around us.  “But that man is not one of them.  If you give my words any weight, please understand that Chardin means us nothing but ill fortune.”“You do him wrong, sand wizard.”  Fineon replied less hotly than before, nimbly stepping over a pile of horse manure.  His mood grew contemplative for a long moment as the group continued through the packed streets.  Finally, he nodded toward Kazir and Driade.  “Very well, if I am indeed under some foul sorcery, then I shall agree with your thinking once the spell fades.  For now, let us speak no more of Chardin or of enchantments.”Fineon’s reasoning seemed sound, and after another ten minutes we arrived at Happy Harlan's.  A few moments later found us around a corner table, cups of heated, spiced cider on the table in front of us.  I took a long draft, savoring the warmth and spice around my tongue that chased the cold away.  Gunn ran thick fingers through his beard, a habit the Gordian exhibits when uncomfortable.  He cleared his throat, began to speak, seemed to think better of it, and once again started toying with his beard.“Gunnstein, speak, please.  It is obvious you have something to say.  You are among friends,” I said, trying to open the Gordian up, and hoping the conversation would lighten the somber mood.Gunn nodded.  “Indeed I am.  Which is why this is difficult for me.”  The northern warrior stared at me, his blue eyes cold under the crags of his brow, then let his gaze fall to the table's pitted surface.  “I canna be going wit’ ye no more, master Tryn.  Your father is a fine man, and pays like he ought.  Never did he miss a day, and always I had me coins for whoring or what-have-ye.”  I could not help but smile at Gunn’s coarse manner.  “But I think it time I be hittin’ the roads once more; a man must make a livin’.  Yer safe here in Sevencity, safe with these others.”I could not feign surprise at this.  I knew for some time that Gunn was uncomfortable with the path I was taking, and where we were going as a group.  He had argued against returning to the Hills estate, against going to Harren, and it was obvious our encounter with Chardin had shaken him.  “I understand, friend. You have served my father, and me, well. But whither would you go?”Gunn shrugged his massive shoulders.  “I am thinkin’ I might like to see the Prince's Tower up by way o’ Tarn Cal.  Or maybe fish the fjords in the Borsk mountains.  Or, by the blue tits of Umberlee, maybe e’en head home to Gordia.  There's always fightin’ to be had there.”“Then I wish you well, friend.  I believe I will remain here, for the time being, and I will let my father know of your decision.  Should you have need of work in—“Gunn interrupted me, reaching out a meaty hand to grab my shoulder.  “Enough, master Tryn.  I am not a man who likes g’byes.  ‘Vaclava,’ in my home speech, is both a greetin’ and a farewell, ‘cause we ne’er like to be saying bye.  Let us not say it now.”I nodded slowly, feeling sad at his parting, but also somewhat guiltily feeling proud of myself, that Gunn felt I could take care of myself now.  I clasped the Gordian's hand in my own.  “Then… vaclava, friend.”Gunn stood.  “Vaclava.”  He eyeds the group, nodded quietly, and gathered his staff and pack.  “May Tempus shower you with glory.”With nary a second glance, the burly Gordian walked out of the common room, leaving a subdued party in his wake.  In a moment, Fineon stood.  “I’d have a last drink with the Gordian.”  Anticipating Driade’s objection, Fineon raised his hand.  “Don’t worry, Driadele,” he said, using a form of her name I had not heard before, “I won’t seek out Chardin.  And besides, if I was enchanted, then I won’t be here when Chardin arrives.  I shall return by morning.”  With that, Fineon hurried out after the Gordian.To be continued...</blockquote>

Verification