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Gartom pushed the stone from the exit and climbed up out of the dank cavern.
"Alas, the sun sets again." he muttered as the dying rays cut into his retina. Lugging the treasure-bag behind him, he set out on the old road to Brixton. A lonesome crow took flight from the high wall ahead, and the silhouette of yesterweek's acquaintance Vairn made a mark against the white bricks of the arch-gate. The blue trees of the Hinderconti were blooming in flourished splendor on the eve of the summer grogfest, and Gartom brushed them away as he shook the blackened hand (which Gartom delighted in) of Vairn, Artificer, explorer, adventurer, and purveyor of honest, fun magick. Gartom gesticulated to the region of the ground that held his happy little napsack full of gold and silver with a knowing grin. Their subsequent conversation soon turned to the raids that had carried on recently, up in the Northern part of the region.
"Hell, that world is cold and hard. My estranged brother lives up in Bourgium, and the raiders took his shop, and they left him nothing but the sand and some extra biscuits, which he has had to sustain himself on ere the arrival of the Force. Anyway, the dungeon over yonder is filled to the brim with those nasty rock-men, just as thou had previously spoken of, on Saturday, when we happened to meet. I'm always eager for opportunities to get into bad situations. Adventuring is weird business, eh? Hast thou caught the rumor that the duke of Klockrock wishes to meander over to the headquarters of the Force and steal their Kingly Medals? They covet them terribly, those arrogant, sad keepers of justice, in lands that are rank with antijustice and won't have them, mostly. Wouldst thou like to join with me, and take his money to go and quest? I would be pleased to have a crippled companion, such as thyself, if thou would be willing to carry the burden of the sad psyche in the midst of the dark, desolate deserts we will undoubtedly cross over on our journey there."
He gave an inquisitive and cheerful look, wringing out his hand simultaneously. Long, thin tongues extended from the seat of his right palm and shivered for a few seconds. His eyes flashed.

((Ha-ha, you needn't learn it. It was just a flirting with an aesthetic. I think I shall stop, for regularity's sake. I am also bad at doing a subjective narrative...I am learning. I assume that time should maybe go slower than I'm making it, or, in other words, more linear))

Gotem nodded, scratching his chin, while the two men walked through the gates of the gradually-darkening city.
"Aye, the Force is surrounded on many sides by lesser men. Never in my long years have I chanced upon the rumor of a more valiant group of individuals. I would love to meet them, if it be only for a short while, and in, perhaps, deceit. I suspect that they must warm their hearts with ale and delusion if they are to muster the courage to ride around everywhere, protecting the public and propagating their valor, although courage is a curious thing; its motives are strange, its methods stranger. I was never terribly good at it. The main problem with the Force is that nobody likes them, at least in the meantime.
The duke, who, I suppose, we'll start on the road to visiting tomorrow, has little in the way of faithful followers, and it has crossed my mind that if one such as yourself, meaning one who delights in making people cross who have dark intentions, should desire to waylay the designs of one such person, meaning, of course, the duke, he would do well to accept such an offer as this; one that promises the chance for...situational irony to take place. Then, of course, we could drop in with the Force and help them defeat the duke. We are, of course, the best adventurers in the wide Earth. The smell of Good at nightfall is a pleasure to the senses. As to your crippledness, I find that it enriches my walking if there is somebody to deregularize my pace."
Gartem laughed, and then smiled in thought, and didn't talk much for the rest of that time.

After spending most of the night at the warm local pub, Gartom and Vairn parted ways, agreeing to meet outside the city at sunrise the following day. Gartom lived outside the town, in a tent next to a near blue tree, but didn't sleep. He played the lute to his tree all through the night, delighting in its reactions, and whistling out of tune to the moongrass's flashing.

((Vairn, upon encountering Gartom, noticed most of all his strange facial expression, which was hideously vague, yet somewhat silly as well. Gartom wears dark leather garments and has a balding head of hair that reaches to his shoulders. He is sporadic yet not prone to real emotion. He regards emotion as a fun game. He is actually a madman, who ran away from home at the age of 19 to become an apprentice shoemaker. When his master died, he decided to, instead, become an adventurer, and so he consolidated his master's wealth and bought a large pair of magic whips. He met Vairn a week ago at a market, where Vairn was, in his spare time, selling things like magic pots and alchemist's fire, and Gartem was looking for potatoes.))

((Indeed, I understand, and I apologize for that. I am grateful for this opportunity to learn to prepare for such things in an rp setting with one such as yourself, who is honest about such stuff. It is interesting to note the character traits that carry over from player to character - for instance, you tend to manifest more high-resolution reactions to dialog than I do in RL, i.e. you appear to take note of things more often, while I am highly prone to raving bluntly, then absorbing information in a fashion that doesn't devote energy to acknowledging things until that segment of text is finished being spoken.))

Gartem watched the sun slowly rise in the East, and smiled. He began the short walk to the city at a brisk pace, and as various newts crossed his path, he attempted to step on them each in turn, and each escaped him. He did not know why they did it so effortlessly - it was he who was letting them pass, not them. But, of course, they were probably imaginary. As he neared the city wall, its shadow engulfed his, and it immediately became cooler. He pushed his finger on the wall, and then followed a nearby crack on its continual winding path towards the ground, finally sitting.

"Indeed, comrade!" proclaimed Gartem merrily as he gradually rose to his feet. He had been sitting there for quite a while, and consequentially he was rendered a touch dizzy. He steadied himself with one hand against the wall, and his face was aglow with the anticipation of a fun day of walking. Vairn's tardiness hadn't affected him, for the passage of time tends to be mostly imperceptible to Gartem in situations such as this, and so he pointed to the sun and said "Alas! That crooked sun has overtaken us!" in all honestly, and then continued to explain, while drawing out and chewing on a bit of dried meat from his hip-pack (which he had salvaged from the dark encampments of the rock-men during his cave-expedition the day before), that this sort of thing used to happen more frequently to him in his youth. "I'm sure it'll be back tomorrow after it has gone, in any case," spoke he, and added that he had neglected to bring his hat. "I'll go over and fetch it when we walk past" he said, and, grasping the nimble walking-stick that he kept in his knapsack, led the way on the northwesterly dirt-path. "How goes your magickal studies?" he asked, being amused by the seriousness of countenance in discussion that often possessed those who had the luck to wield the power of making silly things happen to the world.

"Lovely, lovely" said Gartem in response, feeling at ease that the immediate world was largely at ease. He sniffed a nearby tree to be sure, but it didn't smell unusual, so he continued. There was an indefinitely queer quality to Vairns hair today, and, although Gartem had been bouncing the prospect around in his head (that perhaps he had been chanced with a strange daydream concerning Vairn the night before, in which his hair didn't look at all like it did now, (although it didn't seem likely that he would have had a daydream that he'd forgotten about, or, for that matter, that Gartem had had a daydream at all, seeing as the only period in which he had seen Vairn before then was the night, and the twilight, before. He had been wondering if twilight constituted 'day', but decided not), and concluded that he must've had a nightmare about Vairn that morning, while he was sitting, it suddenly interested him so much that he inquired about it, although after a brief pause he realized that Vairn might have not heard him, so he took the chance to get his hat, as they had reached that point in their travels.
Gartem ran over to his diminutive encampment and fetched his hat. As he walked back, he noticed that Vairn seemed wrapped in though, similarly to how he had left him. Gartem thought this was silly, so he suddenly decided that it would be fun idea to jar the man out of his preoccupation, and perhaps see what he would do, being surprised, for Gartem had never before seen Vairn in any menacing sorts of situations. He was sure that Vairn would be unoffended, so he stealthily crept up behind him, letting his 1.5' hat cast a shadow over his body as he crouched, and then, when he drew near enough, leapt towards the old man.

Gartem roughly took out his longsword and, with pronounced menace, put it to the Vairns neck, saying "I am, in all actuality, NOT the man whom many call Gartem! I am really the high goddess of necromancy, frying pans, and bed-wetting, who has possessed the man Gartem and temporarily taken human form! Now you must tell me what you've been thinking about, or I'll cut off your head and eat your spleen from the inside out!!"

As Jaric was walking aimlessly down the street browsing the shops of the local town for anything interesting, he over heard what he thought to be a confrontation; out of curiosity, he followed the noise and happened upon two men bickering over something he was currently unaware of. At first glance, it seemed to be a rather awkward confrontation, primarily due to the fact that one man had a sword to the others throat, and the "other" merely held a staff at the other abdomen.

This is indeed an awkward sight, however, it obviously doesn't involve me; so I have no need to intervene. thought Jaric to himself. And so he continued walking along. He soon paused, and wheeled his head back towards the two men However, it may help me to know what they're arguing about, and perhaps one of them may know Bairn. Following a cold trail is getting me no where fast Jaric then turns himself, and walks up to the two men.