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Dusty had just completed inspecting some work by Annouka, which were very well made pieces of clothing for the Tailoring Guild. He had given her 30 silvers for the items, and now had about 50 silvers in his depot left. Just enough to begin work on the building.

He journeyed back to Greenbriar, to a home he had just purchased from Mark and Achae. He thought of past frinds, long gone, and a few that had returned as he unlocked that door.

The door creaked as it opened, exposing a dimly lit room with a single bed. Dusty lit the single candle on the table and closed the door, locking it tight. He ventured to the bed and sat upon it.

Sitting the candle beside the bed, he then proceeded to undress and slipped on a tattered Green robe he kept just for sleeping. Sure, it was tattered, but it was comfortable. He exaled and drew back the simple covers, putting his hairy feet within before covering himself.

For a few moments he looked up at the ceiling, and imagined through the ceiling to the stars above. That sky never changed, and always looked down upon all the same way. It was a comforting thought.

Strangely, he found himself recalling the strange circumstances that brought him to Greenbriar, those first citizens who were 'exiles' from Vanima, and how the Hamlet was started. All the dangers and all the rewards that followed until now, towards the end of his days, he was feeling weaker, and not as 'agile' as his younger, more headdy days.

Greenbriar has grown, changed and matured in it's own right, yet....
somehow, he felt lost within it. Like a long forgotten Hero, who's time has been spent already, and now is akin to a stranger looking within.

It took a lot of money to finally buy this house, with which to settle down, but now that he is here, he wonders if he should have. So many other uses for that money, he thought. So much to do.

Dusty was born under a 'Wandering Star', as he remembers his mother telling him. Funny, tonight there was going to be another 'Wandering Star', but he was too tired to see it yet. Better to sleep rather than wait for something that may come again. His body ached at the thought, after training in the crypt earlier today. It was nice to see Taliss and Narkissa again though, he thought. Their hatchling will be a fine addition to their family, dusty smiled.

With these thoughts in mind, Dusty slowly closed his eyes, expecting to wake in the morning. Sleep caught hold of him as the candle flickered, quite forgotten, but safe at the same time.

A dream came. Dusty stood on a green plain, mountains in the distance, and before him, a white marble winding staircase rose from his feet, up through the clouds, unseen beyond that.

Strangely, the urge came upon Dusty to step upon that staircase. One foot followed the other as the staircase wound up and up. The Landscape broadened and turned in accord before him. He could see beyond the plain, beyond the mountains, the Sea. He realized he must be looking down at Gobiath, dotted with forests, cities and paths as he ascended that staircase.

Up, up, up, he continued, until his feet were numb with fatigued and for some reason his right arm hurt. He looked at his right hand, devoid of the ring-finger, when so long ago, he was kidnapped and it was taken from him. He tried to make his arm 'feel' again by rubbing it. Soon the pain subsided and he could continue his trek up this strange staircase.

Up, up, up he climbed. The clouds began to obscure his vision gradually, as they invaded his sight. The pain in his arm returned, and it hurt enough that he kneeled on the stairs, clutching it in pain, breathing shallow, rapid breaths. All he could do was sit there, rubbing his arm, saying "Owwie" for none to hear. A tear came to his eye. "Was this a dream?" he thought. He decided it must be, but they never 'hurt' before.

The pain soon subsided as he sat there breathing quietly for a moment. He tried to look at the remaining stairs, but the cloud obscured more than the next 2-3. Cautiously, he arose, and staggered up another stair. Then another. Then another.

After a few more stairs the clouds began to obscure even more, and all he could see was whiteness.

Then the Pain happened again. Immeasurable, jolting pain in his right Arm as well as some in his Right leg. He stumbled to the stair on his knees as he cried in agony.

Through tear streamed eyes, Dusty looked about for comfort, finding none. The clouds were almost 'brutal' in their 'indifference' to his plight. they even seemed to dim, as the sun was setting by now, Dusty thought. Their Ghostly whiteness was changing to Grey, darker grey and darker until nearly black.

The Pain became 'numbing, spreading across his body like a 'devouring' beast. He writhed on that stair, not near the top, but far from the bottom, as he struggled to keep himself calm. He breathed slowly now, trying to ease the pain.

Dusty thought how nice it would be to see the stars once more, to reach for them......once more.

The candle in his room, having been lit and forgotten long ago, now snuffed itself into darkness, a small, used piece of wax 'nub' who's time has been spent at the whim of it's maker.

The End

((Feel free to post 'Obituaries' here))

The last hours of day come to pass as the skies of Green briar quake with the orange and red illuminations of the setting sun.

It had been a few days since he had reunited with his old and closest friend and in his mind a thought had began to set in question of why he had not received a dove from Dusty pertaining to matters they had recently discussed. Taliss knew well his old friend very well and thought of his habit of diverging himself deep into his works and trades, so typically pictured him preoccupied with the common business transactions he was more than likely taking part in around the Briar.

Taliss is an easily amused individual and thought the walk toward Green briar he would often notice a critter scurry about the nearby western woods or look up to watch a bird overhead before hissing at it. It was not to long of a walk and it was one he had taken on more accounts than he could remember. Though so often traveled by him the road and the trees always rekindled the memories long past of when he was new to the isle and Dusty was the first to show him around. He had taught him of honest trade and how to cut wood, much of the essentials Taliss had used during the long duration of time spent on Gobaith. It was not long before he crossed the bridge into the briar and watched carefully the waters below to perhaps note should he return in the near future for a fast meal.

The houses and shrubbery of the town is always easily noticed upon approaching and he could already see a few of the old tongue speaking citizens walking about that had now settled around the briar. He had just come from Trolls Bane and had become a bit more curious when he didn’t see dusty around the town. He momentarily searched the workshop, depots, tavern, farm lands, all the places one could usually find him. A few knocks sounded out as Taliss attempted to search the last place in the briar he hadn’t, that being Dusty's home. Silence was all the responded as He looked about starred off waiting with weakening patients. Something began to set in him, down to his very essence that began to give him the notion something wasn't right and it grew stronger when he discovered the door was locked. With a hard kick the wooden door splintered at its hinges and crashed unto the floor ahead. In the dim and weakly illuminated little house silence was all the stirred from the dismounted door on the floor to the figure that rested calmly in his bed. Taliss already knew before he eased closer as tears begun to stream down the scaled warriors face. He closed his own eyes for a long moment as he kneeled aside his still friend.

With a burst of nerve and an empty expression he raises to his feet and covered his friend with the near by blanket. He took up his small friend in his arms and slowly emerged from the dim room. He made his way toward the center of the town and slowly laid down Dusty careful to keep him fully covered with the draping of his blanket. He quietly eased down beside his comrade, friend, mentor, and brother as he awaited for passerby’s of the towns citizens to soon approach.

A key sqeaked in its lock, as always, and darkness enclosed the room, as the last thread of light disappeared which was left of the path of golden shimmering that had led in there, from the hallway.

It was a perfect darkness, not the diffuse shadow of the great halls in the Brands.
And she was somehow glad, that this poor, injured traderguy had not come with her, down here.

The girl leaned against the door, and felt for the heavy purse, that day had finally brought upon her.
Fingers dug between the metal shapes, trying to ease this stinging pain in the hard coldness.
Sighing tiredly,she simply let the bag fall to the floor, the soft sound of scattering coins on the carpet whispered
against the silence.
Past weeks of permanent work had turned the room to a chaos of cloth, shreds of cloth, and clothes to be.

It was warm in here, the room conserved the warmth. It was dwarven work.
Slowly she slid of her own, ragged robes and threw them in direction of the bed, kept nothing on, but her boots which repairing had been the last act of work for her sore fingers today.
Carefully sneaking over to her main working place infront of the chimney, she smiled at the thought what the elderking might think if he watched her just this moment.

Soon a small flame rouse from the fireplace, and cast dancing shadows at the walls, hung with varieties of unfinished clothings.
The person began to feed flames with wasted remains of the finished delivery, trying to gather ideas, for the weeks and months to come.

From time to time, her eyes rested on the parchment, whichs final version hung pinned over the mouth of the chimney.
How often has had she been forcing herself to work on, by looking at it.

It was the order, the allmighty order she had wanted to place, for filling the room with the missing furniture, for covering the naked walls with some fittind decoration.
Not that she really admired the taste of the bearded ones.
But they would accept the furniture as payment, if there might ever be a drough..in her purse.

The work itself had transformed the room to a place worth livng in, breathing the life of its, yet lone, inhabitant.
Breathing life, could not be spoken of the state, the potted plants in the corners were in.
But the withered carcasses of the former, already little greenish, compagniongs would look nice,
infront of the burnt down Seahorse Inn, she imagined, grinning.

Slowly the chaos had turned to a halfway order, as she came to collecting the coins from the floor.
She smiled slightly as the face of Dusty appeared in her imagination, greeting her the first time, on the marketplace, the times as the Stormwalker showed her to bake Briarian rolls..the times of snoot stained shirts,
as she was allowed to be a girl once more,after leaving the mainlands.
Suddenly the light, tranquil mood turned to horror, as she stood again on the fields of Greenbriar, and the little boy,
a neighbour in the hedges had been gone, and she slashed at Dustys hand with her sickle.

She could not remember, if it had been a year ago or two.
Had it been before, or after her vote into the council?
Wondering if it had turned to day, outside, she could simply not remember when she saw the Sheriff, who had delivered this huge load of beverages to the Rabbits Loft, the last time.

Some closed bottles waited below the bed.

These days had moved on, and she gathered the coins from the black, worn carpet and stacked them infront of the fireplace.

Again, her eyes wandered up, to the ordering list, and she wondered, when she would get the things together to meet with her Headmaster again,
to discuss on the final, official, prices on the sale of the delivered goods, to get the building of the guildhouse prepared.

The coal, and the burnt shreds of cloth gleamed on and still smoldered a little as she stumbled over to her bed, and sat on its border.

He had paid her well, and she was glad to be in trade with him again,
one of the few left to trust.
Moaning she slipped off her boots, and started rubbing her feet, on which the curls had risen again.
Over the past, work-overloaded weeks had been no need to reshave.

She slipped below the ancient coverings, snug to fetal position and realized
she had not found the courage to defy him for the place of the Headmaster,
this time.