Mira had a need for a certain scroll, and through her “contacts” she learned the scroll was in the hands of a wandering Arcanist – a simple, harmless gnome. Smiling to herself that her prize was so easily attainable, she set off and found her quarry snoring soundly in his camp along a well-worn hunter’s path. Alone.
Mira lifted the scroll and went on her way. And that would have been the end of the story, such as it is. However, gnomes never forget. And they even more rarely forgive.
Three years later, when Mira had long forgotten the scroll she stole and later sold to some unknown fence, she was surprised to see the old gnome again. In truth, she didn’t even recognize him at first. He came at night. Her companions appeared confused by illusions. Indeed, though she would never admit it, she was also under the grip of a chaotic barrage of disturbing & confusing images. When the storm quited, the gnome was gone.
When Mira reached the next town, she was surprised again to see the same old gnome enter the tavern, leaning against his staff and waddling towards her.
“Ye don’t have it any longer, do ye lass?” he said as he struggled his way atop the bar stool beside her.
Bemused, Mira said, “What?” But the memory surfaced and she suppressed a grin at the gnome’s tenacity. Three years? THREE?
“Ye know dern well what I’m talkin’ ’bout, lass,” the gnome said. “Where’s my scroll?”
“Oh, that,” she said, attempting to hide her amusement. “Long gone… My apologies.”
The gnome breathed a heavy, time-consuming sigh. Apparently in no rush and not feeling threatened by Mira’s companions, who now surrounded him in a semi-circle, the gnome held up a finger and ordered a drink, shifted his bursting backpack and settled into the oversized barstool.
After waiting for his drink, taking a long draw and wiping his beard with his forearm, he turned towards the elf.
“Who’d ye sell it to?” he asked.
Normally, she’d never reveal any of the workings of her business or contacts. However, the gnome’s visit from the night before and his years-long “chase” worried her. What else was he capable of? Mira learned long ago to never underestimate a potential foe – nor an ally.
“Okay, gnome-” she started.
“Nizbin,” he said. “And ye are Mira of the Lorethir. Now that that’s over with – who has my scroll?”
“Nizbin,” she said, performing an awkward proper gnomish greeting. “I cannot say where the scroll is located at this moment-”
“I ain’t askin’ that,” Nizbin said.
Mira’s friends tensed at Nizbin’s change of tone.
“Right,” she said, smiling. “You are difficult to resist, master gnome.”
Nizbin may or may not have gotten his scroll back. Mira may or may not have lost a little reputation over the deal. But one thing is certain: that night at the tavern wasn’t the last time Mira and Nizbin were seen together.