Wayward Tail: The Mortal Realms Trilogy, Book 1

Man from Teziir

Easting was, basically, a collections of scattered houses, a central carriage house, and a few notable stables. It was known mostly for those stables and the horse breeders that did business there.

Easting was also known as a staging post for dwarves heading to work in the Far Hills. The population was mostly transient, yet wholely diverse. For the city center followed the thoroughfare from southcentral Faerun to the Sword Coast.

Throk and Artifax entered from the west and got several strange glances from the farmers on the outskirts of the village. "I guess they have never seen someone quite so small... and a dragon gnome." Artifax smiled up at Throk. Throk rolled his eyes in response.

The carriage house, called the "Coach and Horses Inn," didn't take them too long to locate. Artifax had visited there once before wearing only the robes of a passing stranger. It was here that the traveling caravan first stopped after picking Artifax up form Lake Tun, naked, and ranting something about dragons and fire. "Ah the memories..." Artifax exhaled to himself.

When they entered, they saw that the dinner crowd had not yet reached the dining area. Many were still in the fields and surround hills finishing up before the sun set. There were a two individuals that were seated in different sections of the inn. One was a famous sage, whom Artifax remembered, named Rulthaven. The other was a gristled warrior type.

Artifax saw the mugs of ale on the tables and he remembered just how thirsty he was. When he pulled the stool up to the bar, the bartended looked down at the gnome. "Hmmm. Overtax... no... no, that's not it... Miralax... Artifax?"

"You have a good memory, my fine sir. Could I trouble you for a few pints?"

At that brief interaction, the scruffy warrior sitting in the corner sat up straight. He blurted out, "Artifax! The fire gnome of Baldur's Gate?"

Everyone seemed to jump at the outburst. Artifax turned around with his hand on his staff. "You have heard of me?"

The man staggered up to the bar next to the men. Throk grabbed the warrior by the shoulders and held him at few arm lengths from the gnome. "Who are you?"

Artifax looked the man up and down. His armor was heaped in the corner. It appeared that the man had been on the road for days. He had mud up to his chins and he had the smell of wind dried sweat. It was his left forearm that caught Artifax's attention. Only briefly did he catch a tattoo or a scar, he wasn't able to discern. The writing appeared foreign but familiar. It reminded him of something...

"My name is Ladon. Ladon Renorvlos. I hail from Teziir. I have been following tales of your party for months it seems." The man stopped to catch his breath. He braced himself on Throk's strong arm with his left hand. That is when the scar came into view. Artifax realized just what it was. Infernal... just like...

The man's words spoke in unison with Artifax's recognition of the strange writing. "I am searching for my sister. Her name is Azrael Renorvlos."