A Hin and his Trade

[Kildahr]

Muttering at the falling snow all around him, Bim pulled his leather highneck tighter around himself as he walked down the main road of Shadowdale village. His mastercraft blade and unbelievably powerful crossbow, both of dark elf design, were within comfotable reach, a constant source of both comfort and agonizing conflict to the young halfling.

Glancing up at the Temple of the Morninglord, Bim hurried down the road towards the woods, and a possibilty of seclusion. Stopping as he came to the small pond, and the surrounding trees, the hin quickly began to climb to the lower branches of a nearby elm. Resting the crossbow on his lap, Bim turned in his perch to survey the patrolling Dalesmen on the path below. As his eyes lost focus, his mind began to sort through the events of the last week.

He'd nearly died at the hands of the enemies who's weapons he now so comfortably wore, not a tenday past. Running a hand across his neck, to the beginings of a mass of burn scars, he clearly remembered the dark arcana and flames that had surrounded him on that empty farm. Yet, his allies, his freinds........they had come back for him, leaving his gear in the process. At least I lived..........to be poor, for that short period of snowfall........

Shivering from the memories of sitting outside the tavern in nothing but a pair of hem breeches and a sleeveless tunic, Bim drew his high neck tighter about his burned neck. Swiftly the image of his most interesting ally.......the Red Dwarf......came to mind. Not long after their skirmish with the Sembian nobility, the dwarf had been so eager and willing to fight in the name of his god. Now, merely a day ago, the dwarf seemed a shell of his former self. Head hung low, his armor recently died black to cover the symbols of deity, and his beard cut in half.........the image caused pain to the hin. He could not help him though, was not a person for healing the emotions of others. Still, as the image of his tormented freind, and indeed he was the hin's closest thing to a freind this far from Silverymoon, floated across his mind once more, his heart ached to leave the tree and do something, anything, to see that battle lust in his eyes again.

For that lust was what lead to profit, in the end. Bim desperately wanted nothing more than to settle down in peace, perhaps in Merrydale farther south. To retire from this dangerous buisness, and enjoy the rest of his days in the employ of the local militia, perhaps acting as a town merchant............Bim's deepest desire. To be respected, and to be needed by those around him. How often since he had left Silverymoon had he been saved by another? These heros, these gamblers.........they had their own demons that needed settling, and whenever they had brought the hin along, he had been nothing but a burden, or an occasional tool to them. He so deperately wanted to have them view him as an ally, as an equal........but it seemed less and less likely as the days went by.

Absently pulling back on the powerful string of his crossbow, Bim's thought shifted to the earlier meeting in Ashabenford.........another dangerous addition to his mounting problems. Simply to report on a traveler's movements and reasons for entering the dales........nothing too dangerous. Yet there remained a hidden tension in the employer, in his mark........his mark........laughing at the thought of being a spy for the cloaked stranger, Bim gazed down the road to where he had left his mark. A black gem was his reward for the job, a near worthless piece of rock when compared to what he would loose if his tentative allies found out of his task....their slight trust in him. Grasping at a sudden flare of painful warmth inside his inner pocket, the hin grimaced and leaned forward, clearing his mind of those thoughts........to think of betraying the employer would only end in certain death.....

Taking comfort in his two most precious possessions resting near his waist, the merchant hin removed his hand from the small shard of some long dead creature that he had been given for the task. If only he could trade his drow-craft weapons for those of their surface kin, and warn his mark of her danger without ensuring his own death, Bim would have thrown the shard and the dark weapons in the lake, and ran down the street, crying for all to hear. But even the thought of removing the magical shard seemed to paralyze the short merchant. And losing his only sources of dependable protection.......that would ensure a much quicker death.

Looking up at the darkening sky, the Merchant Hin wished for nothing more than a cosy fire and a cold glass of wine, with his freinds beside him, their current troubles long behind them.

His eyes saw nothing but the falling snow, and heard nothing but the mournful moan of the wind blowing across the empty field.

Gods.........I'm so alone........I'm so afraid.........

[Brimsar the Wanderer]

well written. Do try to keep him alive, I'd love to hear more

[alynnrobinso]

Very nice.

[Brokenbone]

Die on the Sembia side of the border with those loots would you?

Just kidding, a really nice little addition to the library, GL with your PC's developing tale.

Also, get a standard issue hin sized lead sheet if hanging out with paladins, Belkar style.

[fade]

Me: 3 || Paladins: 0

[Kildahr]

((Hey, no spamming my story posts ))

Finally slowing as he reached the town gates, the hin pulled his newly woven cloak tight about his shoulders, even under the glare of the midday sun. Looking up and down every road he passed in what could only be described as a paranoid manner, he rushed towards the south gate without stopping for a meal or drink, despite his rumbling belly. He couldn't think of food..........he just wanted to run, until he reached the woods and he could blend safely into the shadows under the great boughs and gain some small measure of comfort.

He'd gain none from the towns he'd just left, he knew that much.

"Yer not welcome here........"

Holding his hands against his ears as if to block the damning words and the anger behind them, he put his back to the milita barracks near the gate and hid in the shadows till he was sure he could make it out without stopping. When the time came, he darted out under a wagon heading out south, and fled ahead once he'd left the main road far behind.

Stumbling into some brush, Bim noticed a large hollowed oak in a clearing. Scrambling into the trunk of the towering tree, he wrapped himself up and watched the entrance warily, calming under the songs of the birds around the clearing, the soft breeze across the grass.

Running a hand over his empty crossbow sling, the image of clutching the drow-crafted crossbow in front of the smithy, and his attempts to responsibly sell it, swam into view, and the terror invoked by what he'd seen. Betrayal............ Sniffling softly, the young hin curled up and let himself slip into near bliss that his sleeping mind ensured.

Near bliss, for the last clear thought was of his crossbow at the feet of his once admired freind........the one who wore black over his once proud symbols......who had denied comfort or saftey to the overwhelmed merchant...........








Betrayal.............

Gods.......I'm alone........I'm so alone..........

[Kildahr]

((edited: misclick while typing up story))

[Kildahr]

"Tell me Kipper, is it right to grieve for those who have left us? Isn't it a greater evil to waste part of life mourning instead of celebrating a life?"

"Well.........I think there's a balance of all things in life......all things have a time to begin, and a time to end."

"Good..........tell that to Foli would you?"

Scaling the Ashabenford wall silently and quickly, the hin quickly left the town gates behind him. His prayer to the Scamp for a divine sign had been placed, with as much heart as he could muster at the time. He'd confided in yet another of his freinds, endangered yet another..........

And lost two he could have fully trusted. "Did you hear about Fallain?" Stopping as the words floated past him, he reached up to brush away a single tear, then continued on..........there truely was no need to waste time in depression when life was there to be lived....challenges to overcome, coin to be earned, freinds to be made, loves to be found.......in his mind, life was indeed far too short to openly grieve for a fallen comrade.

Arriving at his hidden tree trunk, the hin set up the blatently visible snare trap, and avoided the hidden frost traps he'd buried just inside the oak's massive trunk. Swiftly climbing up a makeshift ladder of daggers sunk into the wood at intervals, Bim came to the small opening onto a high limb. Climbing out onto the thick branch, he settled down to watch the stars and ponder his suddenly complicated, if satisfying, existance.

I've confided in two........one's died protecing the other..........and the other.........his heart is set to grieve, and to find holy justice..........he can be relied on, but not trusted...... not until I can confide in him again. Watching Selune's orb hover in the ink field of the night sky, Bim came to find some measure of comfort. Not even a week ago, he'd come here fleeing from certain death. Yet, in a week's time he'd come to terms with his diety's dogma......live life, with all it's risks and challenges, to it's fullest. He didn't feel the blind fear anymore when he thought of facing the dwarf's bluster, or from idea that the cloaked wraith was constantly watching him. He would certainly fear pain from a fight........yes, that would always be with him......but he did not see them as near-gods anymore. No.......they were only challenges to overcome.

Life was indeed too short to openly grieve for a fallen comrade, but as he sat there on his trunk under the canopy of stars, Bim allowed his tears to flow. As the sky faded from darkness to a pale azure on the horizon, Bim wiped away the last few salty-sweet memories. Sliding down the trunk, he turned to face the dawn's first faint rays.

Free...........I'm truely alone, and thus, I have freedom in life and death.............



((Dedicated to NesChampion/Fallain, we'll miss the finger-wiggler. Looking forward to the next one though))

[NESchampion]

((Love the story, more I say, more!))

[Kildahr]

The acolyte hin padded across the meadow, passing from shadow to shadow in the setting sunlight. In his right hand, he gently rubbed his thumb across the faint imprint of a foot on his hand to a steady rhythm. In his left hand, he clutched a dart covered in faint etchings. As he slipped behind a rotting elm, he exchanged his dart for a wickedly designed short blade from his hip.

Peeking through the foilage, he recognized his prey just ahead on the main road. Grinning in anticipation, he put the blade away and pulled for a small pouch made from a rat's stomach. Rubbing the smooth and fragile organ, he let the dark green mixture inside slosh around before going into a crouch. Padding softly towards the biped, just under the tops of the high grass, he paused when he came within striking distance.

Taking carefull aim, Bim Bramblefoot tossed the pouch up and over the young lad and his pig, so that it came to detonate just between the two. Snickering softly at the lad's groan at the smell of the crude and smelly mixture, Bim made his voice as gruff as possible and grunted in the goblin tongue Charge! .As he began shaking the grass around his hiding spot, Bim enjoying the sight of the lad fleeing head over heel back towards the village, his pig in his arms, Bim felt a small sense of satisfaction.

The woods at night were no place for a child.

Turning to look up into a few stray beams of light penetrating the thick copse of trees above, he smiled at his results. At least the lad wouldn't be in the woods alone again for a while.........and when he did return, he'd be more aware of his surroundings.

Turning back to the road into Shadowdale village, Bim noticed a small wooden disk the lad had been flipping, curved into a shallow bowl and about the size of the hin's fist, on the ground. Grinning at his luck, the acolyte pocketed his soon-to-be-holy-symbol.

Gods I love this.........life is good......

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