The Rune Stone

Bow

After a series of pointless debates between the three hired mercenaries in front of the door of the mage, they agreed upon the plan of having one of them look for the mage in the city proper while the rest hauled up in the tavern. Who would go on this endeavor however,  was another matter entirely, as none of them were really ready to forfeit their arrangement with the mage yet. For Nicholas it was about money. Varonno had the promise of a way home and for Torstein it was the chance for way back to his clan through an honorable death. At the suggestion of the rogue they ended up playing a round of swindler's dice, a popular tavern game. Each of them would roll six dice, hidden from the eyes of the others. Nicholas started by calling out first. "I'll say... Two fours." This was followed by Torstein who raised it up to four fours and lastly Varonno who raised even higher to five fours. Nicholas took a moment, trying to study the features of the ranger, to detect any hint of lying or deception but he only saw a cold expression staring back at him beneath the smoke cloud he was puffing from his pipe. "Fine. Six fours!" he'd say before Torstein raised up smacking his fist unto the table, calling out. "SWINDLER!". As customary, all those present revealed their hands. Nicholas had a single four, Torstein had three and Varonno had none. "Hah. I'm playing with a seasoned bunch I see. Here I was judging neither of  you would bullshit your way. I will take this defeat then, and go look for the mage at the expense of my employment." the rogue said with grance, in an upbeat tone, as he got up on his feet, dusting himself off.

In a few mintues he found himself upon the cobbled streets of Ewrorin, among the many pedestrians and carts going about their business in an haphazard, yet bizzarely harmonious way. Weaving and dodging came natural to Nicholas and he had no problam avoiding bumping into anyone else, he even got the chance to admire the architecture and sights of the city proper, now that he was heading deeper inside. He used the grand tree as a landmark, reckoning that was his best bet, yet he also felt an invisible hand guiding him along but he could not tell where it was coming from. On the way, the rogue passed various winding streets and crossroads with fountains of clear springwater, sprouting out of the ground, clearly made by the elves, but looking like they had been there from the very beginning, before the were paved or the houses built. It was at one of these fountains that the rogue found himself being guided towards.

Here he stopped to take both breath and stock of where he had been lead to. It was nice to be away from the yapping mouth of the barbarian, the broodiness of the ranger and the general off-feeling from the mage. Ewrorin was a calming place indeed, something just felt uplifting about it as the gentle breeze carried the refreshing smell of raw leaves and cool air upon Nicholas' face. He glanced about at the many houses built atop the trees on either side of the winding roads. They looked as if they had grown out of the trunks and branches of the trees instead of being built upon them. It was at the porch of one of these houses, at the base of the tree it was built upon that he saw a fletcher. An authentic elven fletcher and bowier ! Impulsively he found himself heading straight for the man and in no time he was sitting right in front of him. The elf looked up at him, putting the arrow he was working on to the side. His face was ageless, neither old nor young, though in it was written the memory of many things, that much Nicholas could tell. "Good day sir. My name is Nicholas Hook. I'm terribly sorry to intrude upon your work. I was mearly... eager to finally meet one of you. One of the fabled bow-makers of the elves. Your craft is legendary if I do say so myself. I have been trying to obtain one of your creations for many moons." he would say as courteously as he could muster. The elf looked at him longingly, judging even, before he finally spoke. "Here I am then. But I will say that I am hardly the best or the most renowned one. That is not what we do it for however, so it is no matter." "I'm sure that any of you is far more knowledgeable about it than any human, we have inherited the craft from you after all." continued Nicholas in the same curteous tone. "What is it you wish for then ? You want to purchase one of my bows ? Some arrows ?" "Oh, I do not think I could afford such fine craftsmanship, or be worthy of it even if I did." "Hm. That is for me to decide young one." said the elf standing up straight now, a head taller than Nicholas. He looked at him with eyes as grey as a clear evening. The rogue felt something stir in him, he felt watched, not just on a surface level, but within his very being and bones. The elf kept this one for what felt like an eternity until he went inside the house without another word. Nicholas waited around for a few moments, rather bewildered. He then finally began to head off only to be interruped by the elf tapped him once on the shoulder, as if he materialized right behind him. He was now holding an elegant looking bow in his hands.It was longer and stouter than any of the bows he had ever used, and it was strung with what appeard to be a string of elf-hair. Nicholas blinked a few times, not being able to believe what he was seeing. "Take it. It will be useful on your journey I am sure." the elf said as he extended it to him. Nicholas took it with a bow of his head before noticing a green vine-like carving running across the length of the bow, splitting it in two. "Oh. And please do not attempt to win me over with honeyed words in the  future, or any elf for that matter. We will know." Nicholas blinked twice again, opening his mouth to protest, but he deemed it futile, with a multitude of thanks he fastened the bow on his back, removing the old one. "But... why then ?" he'd ask finally "Your heart is in the right place. That much I could tell, you sometimes may stray away from what it tells you, but let this bow server as a reminder for you. Stick to the path." answered the elf before he turned his back on the rogue and went about his business as if nothing had taken place.

Almost with renewed vigor Nicholas then began his journey across the forested streets once again, not being able to shake off what the fletcher had said to him. It grinded at him, debating how he could have known that about him by only looking. This trains of toughts was only interruped by two elven guards, clad in golden carved armor, weileding intricate spears in their hands, who bumped into him as they rushed towards the great tree. Something was wrong, and Nicholas did not need any more signs that that to tell. Aceepting their hurried apologies and allowing them to gain some distance, the rogue began to tail them to where-ever they were headed as he suspected the mage would in some way shape or form be involved with it.