# Burr: Lost Utopia (Chapter 1: Eventful Homecoming)



## UnDfind (May 13, 2003)

Hear me!  For I sing of the Jewel of Riverside
The sparkling gem the greatest thief could not hide.
I sing of the seas, the ebb and flow of the tides
And of Gunier and the hero inside he does hide.
I sing of terror and love and places no hope abides
On that time long ago in the city of Riverside.

Oh listen!  Be you young, be you old
For the tale I sing brings warmth to the cold.
Heed my words!  Be you brave, be you bold
For of what I am singing is for you to behold.
Hear me! You who have never been told
For I am the last of the Muses of old

The cold of the evening, the windy embrace
Of the damp breeze, and winter’s moist lace.
The young man Gunier is making great haste
For the city of Riverside, he quickens his pace.
Seeks he fame?  Seeks he glory? Does evil he face?
Nay, he seeks love and his barmaid’s embrace.
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Tiera's Sun was beginning to set as Gunier came in sight of the rough wooden walls surrounding Riverside.  Graen's Sun would follow it soon enough, casting the long-shadowed plains into darkness as the two fiery balls strode around Burr in their unending dance.  The Jackal Moon was already overhead, starkly defined in the dimming sky.  "As bad a sign as any, Sib" Gunier told his mount as he stroked the mare's flowing mane.  Sib blew out her flared nostrils and stepped a bit uneasily, unsure of what to make of her master's sudden tension.  Gunier let her dance a bit before reining her in, and then started forward again.  Looking to the city once more, he let out a sigh.  "Home," he said.

First Street was bustling as Gunier flashed a piece of parchment to the gate guard, who nodded for him to enter after a brief sleepy-eyed salute.  Gunier grimaced and ran a gloved hand through his unkempt dark hair as he rode into the city.  The changing of the guard would not be for hours yet and he had no doubt the soldier would be sleeping at his post soon enough.  He shivered, pulling his long black coat a little closer to him as the wind picked up.  He did not remember it being so cold before he left.

The house he grew up in would have long since been given to another Guild family, so Gunier turned Sib towards one of the large wooden Inns lining First Street.  Dismounting, he untied his belongings and slung them over his shoulder.  With a frown Gunier once again took note of the absence of his Hilt, the only weapon he had thought to bring with him.  That would teach him something about traveling in a 'tame' land.  He just wished the lesson hadn't cost him so much.

The thought of money made him jingle the pouch at his belt.  Fifty-two copper pieces to his name.  He would have to find work on the way back to Guard, if he wished to eat.  The cost of an inn and a new weapon would leave him with little after a few days.  Not to mention the two weeks he planned to stay in the city.  “No matter,” he thought.  The Guild would put him up with food and a bed for free.  But for tonight he wanted to relax next to the warmth of an inn's common room, and the company of those who weren't of the Guild.

Looking up to the sign hanging out into the street above the door, the reality of finally being home washed over Gunier.  The two blacksmiths’ hammers crossing each other held just as much familiarity and warmth as an old friend.  The Inn of Two Hammers had been as much a home to him as his own house before he left.  It looked exactly as it had the day he had left.

Striding into the common room, the warm glow of a darkstone hearth filled him with a feeling of comfort, as did the sound of pipes playing a slow tune.  The sound emanated from a man sitting cross-legged on a table in front of the fireplace.  He was wearing the bright, pompous clothes of a traveling musician, but the sheathed rapier with an overly ornate handle gave him the look of a swashbuckler.  When the song ended in a slow fading melody, the man raised a cup of ale to the few people at the tables, who were clapping and giving drunken complements on the quality of his music.

Looking away from the musician, Gunier noted the cleanliness of the room.  Peg always did have an eye for dust, and her inn was the cleanest in town.  Gunier had a small smile on his lips when he chose a particularly anonymous spot near the far wall to sit.  Dropping his bags under the table, he looked around for one of the serving girls.  Maybe Milly would be working tonight; she would be a more than welcome sight.  In fact, one of the reasons he had come home was to see her.  

Nervousness floundered in Gunier's stomach as he thought about the last night he had spent in Riverside, before he began his journey to the city of Guard.  Milly and he had expressed true feelings for each other, and she had promised to wait for him.  While they had kept in touch via the Guild post, Gunier had little time to write during his last few months in the Academy and was unsure how Milly would have taken the long stretch of silence.  If all went well, Gunier would have Milly’s wedding promise before he had to return to Guard.  

Gunier wondered to himself if elves required the blessing of the bride’s father to wed as humans did.  It might be a stretch, but Gunier thought he should be able to make the trek to Tilea in the time span allotted to him.  He was due back at Guard in six weeks.

The serving girl who came out of the kitchen was not Milly, but Gunier couldn’t help but appreciate her anyway.  She had a slender neck, high cheekbones, and long flowing golden hair.  Two silver streaks were dyed in at her temples in the local fashion.  Gunier had seen a few women with hair like that on First Street.  He remembered that particular fashion had become popular just before he left two years ago.  

The fair skinned girl came up to his table, with a look of forced tolerance while a few men in the common room muttered less than polite praises to her beauty.  She stopped in front of Gunier, and looked at him questioningly.  "What will you have, good sir?"  Her voice was normal enough, but her accent made the words sound almost musical.  He had never heard an accent like that before.  

Snapping out of his reverie, Gunier though for a moment, finally saying, "A mug of Indell Ale, and a beef pie."  Gunier cocked his head a little to the left and gave her his most winning smile.  "And could you tell Peg that someone would like to see her?"  The girl seemed to be sizing him up, but then nodded and walked back to the kitchen.  Gunier noted how she walked with a straight back and a determined stride, in defiance of the continued compliments from the less sober men of the common room.

A few moments later, Gunier saw Peg's plump figure emerge from the kitchen carrying a mug and pitcher.  Peg stopped briefly as recognition lit her eyes, her face broke out in a grin and she continued to Gunier’s table.  She set the mug down and filled it from the pitcher.  She stood a few moments looking at Gunier, smiling broadly.  Her smile was genuine, but Gunier couldn’t help but notice the pain barely held in check behind her eyes.

"Finally back, eh little Mouse?"


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## UnDfind (May 13, 2003)

*OOC:*   Okay, I'm taking a few liberties here.  I've decided to present this campaign in more of a novel-like form.  I figure it'll probably work a little better this way, as the world of Burr isn't entirely your basic fantasy setting.  

This campaign was actually run a while ago, but I found my notes when I was sorting through some of my old stuff.  I figured I'd let all you guys have a look-see and see what you think.

Enjoy


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## UnDfind (May 13, 2003)

Gunier drew a deep breath, going a little red.  Mouse is what Peg had nicknamed him since he was little.  She had told him he was like a little mouse scurrying under foot.  Always needed shooing to leave, but too cute to harm.  He would have been laughed out of the academy if his classmates had ever heard that one.  "How are you, Mistress Peg?"

Peg put on a show of being taken aback.  "Mistress?  So the Guild has put propriety into you after all!  I didn't think it was possible for you to learn manners, Academy or not."  She had the warmth he remembered in her words, and he couldn't help but smile.  

The serving girl came out into the common room carrying a plate.  She set it down in front of Gunier, and looked at him expectantly.  He started to pull his money pouch from his belt, but Peg stopped him with a frown, saying with mock-severity, "Nonsense, Mar!  The mice always dine free of charge."  He grimaced a bit at that, but decided not to complain.  The serving girl looked at Peg, concern plain on her face before nodding and walking back towards the kitchen.

Gunier knew something had happened.  It was obvious that Peg was upset about it, but didn’t want to spoil Gunier’s return with her concerns.  Maybe the inn wasn’t doing well.  The Inn of Two Hammers had always been a decent establishment, making more than enough money to continue running.  Even in the Autumn months when business slowed there were always patrons here.  Things could have changed.  It had been two years since Gunier had been here.

Deciding to be forward and just ask instead of waiting for Peg to feel it was the right time, Gunier said, “What’s wrong Peg?”

Peg took a deep breath, losing much of her composure.  “It’s best if we talk about that in the morning.”  Pegs upper lip began to quiver.  She looked as though she might start crying. “Today should be a happy day.  You have finally come back home.”

Gunier suddenly understood with a frightening certainty that Peg’s sadness was not from any lack of business or monetary ill-fortune.  Peg was genuinely concerned about Gunier, and how he would take the news she had to offer.  Gunier desperately hoped it had nothing to do with Peg’s sadness, but he had to ask anyway.  Gunier looked to Peg and asked, "Where's Milly, Peg?"

Peg thought for a second and then sighed, her sunny demeanor vanished.  Her shoulders sagged, and her lips trembled as she said, "I had really hoped to save this news for the morning, Gunier."  
	Gunier only remembered Peg calling him by his name twice before.  The first was when she told him that his father had died in the city of Ruin to the south.  The second was when she told him that his mother was now stationed in Guard permanently, but she had wanted Gunier to stay in Riverside under the watchful eye of Peg.  From the look on her face he could tell that this news wasn't going to be any better.  

“Maybe she’s mad at me for not writing her the last few months,” Gunier thought.  “That wouldn't be so bad, I can understand that.  I don't know why Peg's making such a fuss about it, though.”  Gunier grimaced uneasily; he knew deep down that this was something more serious.

"She's dead, Gunier."  Peg's face was full of sadness and more than a little concern and she had said it with a flat certainty.

Gunier's composure fled as the words drifted uneasily through his head.  Dead?  She couldn't be.  Not Milly.  This had to be a joke.  A bad joke, but a joke none the less.  But the single tear running down Peg's face did not lie.  Dead...she's dead...Milly is dead.  Gunier remembered when his father died; he had not accepted it for months.  Even after the wake he did not believe it.  He remembered what seemed like days of nonstop crying in Peg's lap when the truth had finally hit him.  

Memories came flooding into Gunier’s head unbidden.  Memories of Milly: her strawberry hair and upswept elven ears, her deep love of life and her sparkling emerald eyes.  Gunier had to know how.  He had to know so he might understand why something so perfect was taken from him.  "How?"  Gunier's throat clenched as he asked this, and the words came out strained.

Peg stood up and walked behind Gunier to put both hands firmly on his shoulders.  "A Raver.  Two weeks ago, just north of Jolan."  Peg’s grip on his shoulders became tighter.

A Raver.  One possessed by a Dark Hilt.  A Raver had killed Milly.  Not for money, not for anger, but for the pleasure of seeing her die.  Tears crept out of Gunier's eyes just as anger filled them.  He started to stand up, but was pushed back down by Peg.  He tried to stand again, and was pushed down again.

"No, Gunier.  No.  I've lost Milly.  I won't loose you as well now that you've returned.  I will not."  Her voice sounded strained.  "You need rest.  I'll have Mar show you to your room."  She waited for Gunier to stop struggling to stand before darting off to the kitchen.

Gunier sat in brooding silence, tears rolling unabated down his cheeks.  He tried to think of revenge, hatred, anything to fuel his desire to go after the Raver right then and there.  He found that all he could do was remember Milly's face and cry.  “I am no man,” he thought. “ If I were, I'd be on Sib right now, hunting the Raver.”  Another voice in his head, still his, but this one full of contempt and sarcasm butted in; “what would you do?  Fight a Raver with your own two hands?  Where is your Hilt now?  Your precious magic?  What can you do to avenge Milly?  Nothing.  Worthless."  Anger seeped away into sadness and self-contempt, and he gripped the table edge hard to keep from screaming.  

Until he was smacked hard in the back the head with a mug.  Gunier didn't bother to pick his head up from between his arms on the table.  It was less than he deserved.

"What did you do to her, you filthy urchin?"  The voice was Mar's but it was filled with anger.  She lowered her voice this time, but if anything it was even angrier than before.  "She told me to give you a room for free.  She gave you food for free, you scoundrel.  What did you do to her?  She's gone to bed, telling me nothing is wrong, as if I could not see her tears or hear them in her voice."  It was amazing how, even angry she still sounded like she was singing as she spoke.  

Gunier felt something sharp against his side, a dagger.  He felt hot breath in his ear as the angry whisper came.  "She will not know if I kill you.  If I say you slipped out early.  No one will ever find a body downstream.  Tell me, and you may live.  Is it blackmail?  Tell me!"  

She was right.  The only ships came and went upstream from here.  If she paid a few silver pieces, she could find someone who would dump his body in and keep quiet.  It was less than he deserved.  He looked up at her and nodded, "It's less than I deserve."

Gunier didn't understand why there wasn't a knife plunging into his ribs.  Faintly he was relieved; he knew that he probably didn't deserve that.  At least that small part of him was still reasonable.  Still, he couldn't understand why Mar had dropped the knife, and now stared at him with a startled look on her face.  "I'm sorry," she said breathlessly.  She said she was sorry a few more times as she pulled him out of his chair, and started leading him to the stairs.  He wondered if she still wanted to kill him, and why he was leaning on her like he couldn't support his own weight.  Why wasn't he out hunting a Raver?

"I can't help her..." He muttered.  "My Hilt's gone.  I'm no coward!  My Hilt's gone, I can't help her."  He pushed himself away from Mar, and stood in the hallway on top of the stairs on legs that felt like thin reeds.  He did not remember drinking much, but yet he stumbled forward like he had drunk a barrel of ale by himself.  He ended up on his knees, and Mar helped him up once again.  This time she had a look of concern on her face.  

"Do you know Milly?"  Gunier asked her.  She slowly nodded her head yes.  "I can't help her.  I'm too late.  She's dead, you know.  I wonder if she'd have said yes?"  Mar looked at him oddly, guessing at the meaning of that.  

"I don't know,” she said.

Somehow, Gunier found himself in a room, on a bed, wearing only his shortpants, wondering how he got there and why he felt so tired.  There was a faint bitter taste in the back of his mouth as sleep took him.


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