The Biscuits	Gimar - Fighter 8th Level (PC) Nicola - Cleric 6th Level (PC)
Locale	Northbank
Date	15th day of Wealsun, 585 CY (Common Year)
Time	late-afternoon

Gimar	. . . So you see, that's how we ran the defense of Northbank.
Nicola	(relieved) Isn't that it up there?
Gimar	Ah yes, I can just make out Blackfair Manor now.
Nicola	What's that structure this side of it?
Gimar	Since the last year of the war, oh, was that last year? Anyhow, they've been building a temple to Mayaheine.
Nicola	Ah, Pelor's faithful.
Gimar	I've heard it's a cult.
Nicola	Now it's time for me to tell and you to listen.

As the two Biscuits rode into town, Nicola talked at length about the relatively new religion of Mayaheine. The pair had not run into any Fiends on their southern trip, and the road had been fairly clear of other travellers.

The priestess hadn't actually been to Northbank, and was looking forward to spending some time there. Gimar confirmed the rumours that there were plenty of refugees from the war living on the town common. If she had any time remaining, she planned to spend it visiting the new temple construction.

Nicola	. . . So you see, the way to Mayaheine's glory is through both defending the innocent and destroying evil.
Gimar	For me, salvation is a clean battle axe and a good horse.
Nicola	Not so different really. (blinking) Hello, that is going to be quite a church!
Gimar	(glancing at the run-down shacks) From what you've told me, it's certainly in the right neighborhood.

Gimar, on the other hand, had a lot of catching up to do. Among his duties in town would be setting up a new caretaker of his house. He thought back to the wagon load of Banthor's Best and smiled, knowing that his hard work would be rewarded with a party very soon.

Gimar	You can stay here at the house if you like.
Nicola	I think that's a grand idea, if you're sure you have the room. Would you like some help getting down?
Gimar	You get down off a duck, har, har. Ouch!
Nicola	Leg still a little sore?
Gimar	(grumbling) Just a wee bit, sister.

The Biscuits	Gimar - Fighter 8th Level (PC)
Locale	Northbank
Date	17th day of Wealsun, 585 CY (Common Year)
Time	early afternoon

Since the mayor was busy, Gimar stashed his kegs and put the word out around town. Gelfant had watered the appropriate plants, but it was definitely time to hire a replacement for Humbun.

Gimar

I wonder how that little guy is doing? I may never find anyone that good.

Gimar called out for the first applicant to be sent into his office and nervously looked over the resume. The script was full of curlicues and swoops and other decorative folderol.

Gimar

(Damn hard to read)

Clearly this halfling had never taken a class on basic user-interface design or effective typography, and was just another graphics arts junkie. Not what he wanted in a butler. Not at all. Gimar looked up, meeting the gaze of the halfling perched on the chair opposite.

Gimar

So you were a butler to Hammerfist the Bloody for several years. Err . . . . Can you tell me about that?"

The halfling sighed, and gazed deeply into Gimar's eyes.

Halfling

I loved working under him, but he . . . well, died. Eaten by a dragon . . .

The little halfling shed a tear and cried softly into his hankie. Gimar shifted nervously. The halfling quieted and looked up at Gimar.

Halfling	I'm looking for someone else I can take care of, and 'do for', you see. I'd love keeping your home for you, drawing a bath for you, helping you braid your wonderful, big, thick beard . . .
Gimar	(eye's widening in alarm) Err . . . well . . . thank you . . .
Halfling	(dreamily) Washing your clothes for you, making them all warm and soft on your skin, fluffing your pillows for your before you drift off to sleep, making you wonderful things to eat . . . Why what was I thinking! Here, I made some Seed Cake for you as a sample of my cooking skills!

The halfling took a small bundle out of his satchel and delightedly passed it to Gimar, gently brushing Gimar's hand as he placed his precious bundle in Gimar's scarred, muscular grip.

Gimar looked like a stunned Minotaur.

Gimar

(mumbling) Err . . . Thank you again.

As he unwrapped the halfling's bundle he kept his eyes on what his hands were doing, avoiding the halfling's worshipful gaze. The Seed Cake was fresh from the oven, and smelled wonderful. Gimar's taste buds came alive and his eye's lit up. This was the best Seed Cake he had ever had. Or could imagine ever having. He quickly finished off the large slice the halfling had given him. Gimar licked his lips and looked at the halfling, considering the options before him. It was truly wonderful Seed Cake. He would have to think about this . . .

The Biscuits	Gimar - Fighter 8th Level (PC)
Locale	Northbank
Date	17th day of Wealsun, 585 CY (Common Year)
Time	a bit later in the afternoon

Gimar shifted in his chair. This resume didn't have all that swirly writing, just a little here and there. Extremely professional. Gimar twisted his neck up to look at the elf standing stiffly next to his chair. The elf was staring off into the distance.

Gimar

So you were the butler for Sir Reginald for many years. Why did you leave?

The elf looked down at the warrior. Gimar resisted the urge to see if he had a seed stuck in his teeth.

Elf	Sir Reginald decided to move into town, and closed his country estate. I prefer less crowded environs.
Gimar	Really! I'd heard his country estate was really something. Why did he close it?
Elf	(sniffing) I'm sure I don't know.
Gimar	(looking up) Now look, I'm not asking where he kept the silver, I'm just asking why he moved into town.

The elf gazed off at something on the far wall. Gimar knew it was a perfectly good wall but not really worth that much scrutiny.

Elf	Sir Reginald is a masterful man, and kept his estate in perfect condition. In spite of his best efforts, there arose a minor infestation. Sir Reginald chose the opportunity to relocate to his property in town.

Gimar recalled the story now. Sir Reggie was a twit who had managed to get his estate overrun by several Orc tribes. Normally they fought too much amongst themselves to be a major threat to a noble's estate, but he'd pissed them all off enough they'd put aside generations of infighting to rid themselves of him. Or at least that's how Gimar had heard the story.

Gimar

Were you at the estate when it was overrun? I heard the fighting was pretty tough. How did you make it out?

The elf sniffed and looked at Gimar. Gimar wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. The elf was standing next to him, and the elf's eyes were right above the elf's nose, but Gimar felt the elf and all the world was staring down that long nose at him. This was not a feeling beloved by dwarves (who often feel the world is looking down at them). The elf sniffed again.

Elf	Sir Reginald kept people for that sort of thing. (sniff) I merely ensured my lord was properly attired for the trip into town before departing with him.

Gimar looked up at the elf. Gimar sniffed and arched his eyebrows thinking "take that elf!".

Gimar

Uh huh. Look, you met the halfling who was just here, didn't you?

The elf sniffed. And then cleared his throat.

Elf	Yes sir.
Gimar	Well, I'm going to hire the two of you, but you'll have to bunk in the same room, well, the same bed really. Would that be okay with you? On the other hand, I'd hate to deprive ol'Reggie (the elf's eyebrows shot up at this familiarity) of your skills. Are you sure he doesn't need you?

The elf was silent. Gimar felt pleased that he had fixed the sniffing problem. On the other hand, he wasn't sure the elf was even breathing.

Gimar

When can you start? How about now? I was out in the stables and my boots need cleaning. Boy, was it thick today!

"Oh great", Gimar thought to himself. "I've killed the elf. He's completely frozen."

Gimar

Look, the door's over there . . .

The elf meekly turned and quickly dashed out the door. Closing it silently behind himself, of course.

Gimar crumpled the elf's resume and tossed it in the fire. Good help is hard to find. And there were more people out there. Well, this would be great for bar room stories . . .

The Biscuits	Gimar - Fighter 8th Level (PC)
Locale	Northbank
Date	17th day of Wealsun, 585 CY (Common Year)
Time	the afternoon drags on

This halfling was a different kettle of, well, something. After the last two, Gimar was a little suspicious. This halfling was just sitting there looking calmly back at him. Gimar gave him a stern look and returned his gaze to the resume.

Gimar	Says here, you've just retired from the Greyhawk Guard?
Halfling #2	Yep.
Gimar	You were the logistics & supply officer for your division.
Halfling #2	Yep.
Gimar	Were you any good?
Halfling #2	Yep.

Gimar paused and looked over at the halfling. The little guy was just calmly looking back at him.

Gimar	Can you say more than one word?
Halfling #2	Yep.

Gimar gave the halfling the eyeball.

Gimar	You being smart with me?
Halfling #2	Yep.
Gimar	Little cocky, aren't you.
Halfling #2	Yep. (smiling) I saw the last two you interviewed, and I've seen the ones still waiting. And I know you want someone you can trust to make sure your house is here when you come back. And that the larder will be well supplied.

The halfling smiled and settled back in his chair.

Gimar	Well, I can certainly trust you won't talk my ear off.
Halfling #2	Yep.
Gimar	So why do you want this job?
Halfling #2	I was in the guard forever. And Greyhawk gets everything. Demons going barhopping after hours. The nobility getting caught doing all sorts of nasty things and then whining about us getting them out of the trouble they caused. Wizards feeling they should be able to cast fireballs everywhere, just because they feel like it. I decided to move to the country and grow roses.
Gimar	But you were logistics and supply? Sounds like you wouldn't have to deal with all of that.
Halfling #2	Oh sure. It sounds like a dream. But think about it. I had to move everything around and make sure we had everything we needed. The patrols only had to deal with the problem in front of them. I had to deal with all of their problems. Every day, every night, forever. So I left.

Gimar considered.

Gimar	How's your Seed Cake recipe?
Halfling #2	(laughing) My mama's recipe has won the All-Shire bake-off since before I was born.

Gimar looked over at the confident little halfling.

Gimar	Are you going to drink my beer?
Halfling #2	Yep.

Gimar growled.

Halfling #2

(laughing some more) But I know who to talk to in Greyhawk to get the best sent along promptly so you'll have full kegs when you get back.

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