I had lost my flagon in the sand as I trekked towards Gaudiguch. Hopefully they
would have more grog by the time I showed up. My throat was parched, my lips
were cracked, and by Roark's fuzzy toes I had damned well better find something
to drink soon or I'd be pissier than Ashtorath on a bad hair day.

The call had went out a month or so ago. "Crafters needed to fill the lost
cities with furniture! Come make a fortune and make your mark!". Since the
cities had returned, the need for furnishing the rooms and shops was great, and
I was just the person to help drain their coffers of gold. Klem Boulderholder
was my moniker, a dwarven artisan from Southgard. My family had long been in the
business of making various items for personal use, and the family cartel had
fallen to me at my father's death. A right good woodcarver he was, but a sod
with money. No sooner would he finish a commission than he'd spend the money on
some trinket he thought me mother wanted. Bah.

Taking that last corner by Dairuchi, I came upon a few viscanti roughs kicking
at a heap upon the ground. Upon a closer look, it appeared to be a pile of hair,
leathery skin, and cloth.

"Hey! You!" I yelled, rushing at the viscanti with a gleam in my eye. They
scattered with laughter as my stubby legs carried them at a steady lurch towards
them. As they ran off, I cleared away the hair from the face of what appeared to
be an elder dwarf, his face puffy and smeared with his own blood. He groaned and
peered up at me with bloodshot eyes. I couldn't help but gag at the stench of
rot-gut whiskey almost billowing from his body and his mouth.

"Did they steal my bag?"

I chuckled. "No, old man. That nasty denim thing is still strapped to you,
though I'd advise washing it before you put anything into it again."

He cursed loudly and rolled onto his back, fumbling with the straps for his
bag. I pushed his palsied hands away and did it myself. No sense in him hurting
himself I suppose.

He glared at me with those sunken, bloodshot eyes of his. "There's only one
problem with that, lad."

"What's that, greybeard?" My ears perked up.

"It's your problem now." he muttered, as he let out one more booze-laden breath
and died.

I couldn't help but blink in astonishment. His last dying act was to... tell me
to wear a cheap denim sack upon my back? Dirty old bugger, I oughta just leave
his rotting corpse here. Patting his pockets, I noticed he didn't have two
sovereigns to rub together. Poor, dirt, and smelling like cheap booze, this one
could have been my grandfather for all I knew, and here I am rifling through his
pockets. All I found was a ragged note, which read, "Don't forget to drink, it
helps with the boredom after a while.".. what the bloody Nil? The sack felt
empty, so I wrapped it around the drunken codger and buried him, humming a short
dirge while I piled stones for his cairn. No sense in people seeing me with a
dead body, am I right?

Afterwards, I stood up and drywashed my hands, looking off into the distance
towards the city and gauging how much farther I had to walk until I could wet my
whistle. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied movement from the cairn and I
jerked around to see what was trying to eat its way into the rocks for the
corpse.

"What..." I muttered as I watched the thrice damned denim bag inch its way
-out- from under the rocks and slowly worm its way towards me. You have GOT to
be joking. The fool had an animal in the bag and didn't say anything? I ran
towards the sack and snatched it up, unlacing the ropes and throwing it open to
peer inside at.... a box.

A single box was in the sack, and it appeared to be wrapped in some sort of
shiny silk. Typical packrat, this guy was. The thing even had a bow on top made
from green ribbon. I snatched it up and went to rip open the box, to no avail.
The damned thing was closed tighter than me aunt's vault. Upon the bow was a
silver tag bearing the name, "Cicero Xiim". Who the nil was this Cicero Xiim,
and why had the dwarf stolen his box? I decided to bring the sack and box with
me, in case I discovered a reward for the return of this odd package. If I
couldn't find the guy at least I could tear the box open at some point, it
seemed full of whatever was in it.

I came near Gaudiguch, cursing the stench from this accursed bag. It smelled
like sour mash and rotten grain, along with various bits of vomit. Even the
flies seemed to avoid me as I walked along the road. Entering the city, I passed
along several dracnari who couldn't help but smirk at me as I walked along.
After a time I came upon the city chancellor, Sslog Okorosh.

Not an overly large dracnari, Sslog was wearing some fancy splendours and
dangling jewelry leading me to believe that not only did this lizard have a
large ministry account to work with, but she might have dipped into it from time
to time for "compensation for duties". I had to suppress a chuckle as her nose
wrinkled in distaste when I approached.

"What is that gods-awful stench, dwarf? We don't hire drunks to build our
structures, or else we'd do it it ourselves."

"Bleh, something a dying friend made me carry along on my job." I didn't even
know the guy, but I didn't want to look like a freak.

She peered at me, and at the sack slung over me shoulder. "Get rid of that
thing, I'll not have the flies get into the shops. We work hard to keep this
city clean." She smirked as she lit her pipe, glancing over some paperwork and
obviously ignoring me. I'd have to get rid of this burden before I could get her
to pay attention to me. Damned uppity dracnari. I stuffed the bag in a nearby
trashcan, and walked away to a nearby pub to grab a bite before I headed back.

Called the Wakabi's Craw, this place was teeming with lizards of all sizes from
two inch vermin to five foot dracnari, with the occasional furrikin mixed in. I
pulled up a stool and called for a cold one before glancing around. There wasn't
much to see aside from mud-daub walls and dirty tables. With an abrupt -thud-, a
big stoneware mug dropped to the bar in front of me, and I lost no time scooping
it up and pulling a long draw from it. I glanced up to see the dracnari staring
at me with a disgusted glare.

"What?"

The lizard shook his head before turning away. "You know, bathing every once
and a while will cut down on the flies, dwarf."

Damned rude drac, I didn't stink. I had bathed not...wait. By the gods, I
smelled like an offal pit. My iron stomach did little to cut down on the queasy
feeling that ran through my stomach as I sniffed at myself. I smelled like that
thrice-damned bag! I glanced down and saw it bunched up at the bottom of my
barstool, resting comfortably as though it lounged like some feline.

I roared in fury. "Who the hell did this?"

A short human in the corner stuttered, "S-s-sir, it f-f-f-f-followed you in
here. We thought you dragged it behind you."

Had it?

Surely not, I'd have noticed. None of these fools had came in after me, so they
couldn't have brought it in with them. I stared at the bag as it twitched,
rubbing against my feet with a disturbing half-purr. Bloody hell.

I threw down a bent sovereign upon the bar and grabbed the bag, flinging it
over my shoulder. I'd be damned if I would be made a fool of by this sack of
filth. "Alright, Klem." I muttered, as I stalked outside the bar and glared
about with just a hint of resignation. "Maybe if I give this bag to this Cicero
gent, he'll take the bag and it'll let me be." The bag seemed to grow oddly
light as I worked my way through the twisted streets of Gaudiguch, glancing at
billboards until I came to the residential section. With a few questions to a
local tout, I came to the house of Cicero Xiim.

-Knock-

-Knock Knock Knock-

The door opened, and an elderly dracnari shambled out of the door. "Yes, young
man?"

"I have your bag, drac. Some old dwarf must have nicked it from you, and so
here it is."

He stared bleerily at the bag, and at my face. "That's not my bag, son. I'm
afraid I would remember such a pungent sack sitting in my house."

I pulled the box from the bag, shoving it close to his snout. "Are you Cicero
Xiim?"

"Why, yes!" He snatched the box from my hands, turning it over and over in his
hands before ripping it open with eager claws."A bubble pipe! I haven't had one
of these since I was a young whelp! Thank you, kind dwarf!"

Bubbles flew as he puffed on the silvered pipe, his laughter growing as did my
bewilderment. Why the hell did I have a box with a pipe in it, and what was the
connection to this old lizard? I felt around in the bag as he ducked back into
his hovel with his new toy. Another box? There had only been the one last time,
where did the second come from? I pulled the box out, a long skinny box with
pinstripes and a floppy pink bow. "Tryuis i'Xiaa," I read aloud. I'd be damned
if I would be heading to Magnagora just to give this guy his cursed box, so I
shoved the box back in the sack and walked off.

As I looked around the city, the bag seemed to drag at me, until I stopped in
front of the Wakabi's Craw again. I'd be laughed at if I went in there, so I
dropped to my haunches and pondered for a bit. Maybe I could bring this box to
Magnagora and Tryuis, drop the sack in the Necromentate, and be on my way?
They'd never notice the difference in the smell. I walked steadily out of the
east gate, the flies buzzing around me yet keeping an obvious distance. Taking
the Southern Highway, I passed Glomdoring and came up on the east side of the
Blasted Lands.

"Hey, you!"

Wha?

"Yes, you! The one with the cloud of flies!"

I looked and saw a bard sitting on a rock polishing her viola with a cloth.
Even covered in road dust and grime, she seemed to take excellent care of her
instrument. "Yes, ye damned screecher?"

"Your stench, it gagged me. Why by Isune's prismatic derriere are you
carrying such a fetid aroma around with you?"

I rolled my eyes and ventured away, though the bard seemed to follow close
behind.

"Are you cursed?"

I stopped for a second. "Yes, by yer bothersome self. What are you wanting from
me, crooner?"

"I'm looking for material to write my ballad, but I'm having trouble finding
heroes. Are you perhaps a hero who's been cursed to bear that awful stench until
you find your true love?"

I damned near picked up a rock to chuck at her head. "No, you lump! I'm trying
to bring this bag back to its owner, so I can get back to work and finally get
some money in me pocket."

She shook his head. "I don't think anyone will claim that piece of trash,
dwarf. You're better off just tossing it in a gravedigger pit."

That wasn't a bad idea, I thought. Bowing slightly, I walked down a path in the
cliffs and entered the Blasted Lands, watching my footing and making sure to
keep clear of gravedigger nests. I came across a big pile, probably my height
and as wide as a krokani. Hefting the sack, I tossed it into the middle of the
pile and watched it instantly get pulled down under the sand by a pair of
gnarled, slimy claws. With glee, I started to walk away before I heard a screech
of pain, as well as a wet ripping and tearing sound. It seemed the gravedigger
had gotten pissed off at the lack of prey in the....

-FWOOMP- went the sand pile, and the bag shot out like a cannon shot, flying a
good ten metres into the sky before landing with a thud at my feet. The remnants
of a gravedigger torso were tangled in the bag, and I couldn't help but shudder
as I pulled the aromatic bag from around the corpse, said bag now replete with a
fresh coating of ichor and hair. How the.. no. I don't want to know, but it was
obvious that my trying to get rid of the bag only seemed to make matters worse,
because now I smelled of dead gravedigger on top of the cheap booze, vomit, and
spoiled grain.

I walked into Magnagora, the ur'Marshals wrinkling their noses as I passed
through the Lich Gate. "Yes, yes. I know, I smell like a trash heap. Don't
remind me." I snarled as one started to try and point me towards a bath house.
With glares all about, I walked to near the Megalith of Doom and read a nearby
sign, finding directions to House i'Xiaa. The sooner I got rid of this bag, the
sooner I could get back to filling my pockets with good hard dracnari gold and
firegems. Coming to the front door, I banged the doorknocker and waited a
respectful distance from the door. I swear, the wind shifted to blow at my back
just as the butler showed up. "Yes, dw..." he gagged, bending over slightly from
convulsions as the smell hit him.

Bleh. "I'm looking for yer Tryuis. Be he around here somewhere?"

The butler regained his composure, peering at me from the crack in the door.
"No, -she- isn't here. She's out somewhere writing a ballad for the Cacophony,
and Lady Tryuis doesn't need to be disturbed. What is this about?"

I could have died. I knew just where Tryuis was, and I had almost hit her in
the head with a rock. "This is her sack, and I'm just returning it to her."

The door slammed shut, and the butler yelled, "That's not her bag, and I won't
have it in this house! Take it elsewhere, you drunken fool."

I spit at the door and walked away, heading back towards the east gates and
through them out into the blasted lands. The bar... Lady Tryuis was just where I
had left her, sawing away at her viola as she tried to find just the right
notes. "Yer Tryuis, right?"

She glanced up, surprised at my sudden appearance. "All my life. Did you change
your mind about being a hero?"

"Nope, but I have your bag."

She backed away slowly, eyeing the cloud of stench hovering over me. "I'd
prefer if you stay a safe distance away, dwarf. I'm not sure your.... delicate
fragrance.. will come out of my silks."

I pulled the box from the bag, tossing it to her feet softly. She blinked,
peering at both it and me with a skeptical look. "Am I to believe you brought me
a gift, little man? I don't even know you."

"Look, I don't know who it's from, and I certainly didn't make it. All I know
is this damnable bag had two boxes in it and one has your name on it."

She bent down and grabbed up the long package, pulling it open slowly as she
watched me out of the corner of her eye. Her gaze softened as she pulled out a
small obsidian seal of some kind. "A Music Rune? You bought me an artifact for
my instrument, and you barely know me?"

I started to disagree, but before I could she had swooped me up in her arms and
bearhugged me damned near half to death.

She laughed softly, ruffling my scant hair with her hands. "You know, the smell
isn't so bad. Maybe I had you pegged wrong, dwarf."

I pulled away. Damned humans never did know a thing about couth and self
discipline. As I walked away, she started writing some ditty about a generous
dwarf. I could almost gag.

I started to throw the bag over into a ravine, when I felt some extra weight in
it. I'll be an igasho's uncle, where did these things come from? I reached into
the bag and this time found a bulky squarish box, which rattled like so much
glass. "Alishiaxa Talnara" I mused, thinking about the last time I had been in
Serenwilde. Surely they wouldn't be too upset about a few trees cut down, right?

The guards stopped me well short of the border. "You know you're not
welcome here, dwarf. State your business or be gone."

"I've got a package for one of yer Hartstone, Alishiaxa."

The elves couldn't help wince as the wind changed direction. "Alishiaxa isn't
accepting any suitors right now, dwarf. Especially
such pungent ones. You'll have to come back some other time."

"I'm not..."

Spears were bared, and all I could do was stalk away in anger. I wasn't trying
to tumble the elfen wench, just give her this damned box. I walked a bit farther
down Alabaster and found a small path through the brambles in which to sneak
into the forest. Trees and vines hid my approach as I bumbled my way towards the
Hartstone grove, intent on dropped off this burden and being on my way. No
sooner had I stepped into their "sacred" grove then I was surrounded by
brandished cudgels and plenty of antlers. One stepped forward, a comely lass.
"State your business before we hang your stubby corpse in the trees, dwarf."

"I'm lookin' for Alishiaxa, I have a gift for her."

She smirked at me and glanced around at her compatriots. "You've found her, but
I don't recall asking you to bring me anything. Aren't you the one we kicked out
of our forest a year ago for cutting down hornbeams for a desk in Magnagora?"

"Now look 'ere, woman.."

She interrupted me. "No, -you- look. We've no reason not to slay you where you
stand and pike your head at the entryway to the forest to warn off intruders.
You'd better explain what the box is for and in a hurry, or else it's the cudgel
for you."

I explained what I could, though the elfen arrayed around me fingered their
cudgels and glared at me harshly. At the end Alishiaxa shook her head at me. "
Are you to expect me to believe you have a package with my name, you don't know
why, and you expect me to just open it and let you go?"

"I had hoped so, I don't want to be in yer damned forest any longer than I have
to be."

She sighed again. "Fine, fine. If something happens when I open this box, do
slay the dwarf and put his head in the guildhall?"

She took the the box from me and shook it, sending the contents to rattling.
With a grimace, she ripped the box open and in a shower of confetti, a set of
vials flew out and fell all over the ground in front of her. "What the nil?" She
asked, picking them up and sniffing them one at a time. Her eyes widened and she
stared coldly at me. "You gift me with poisons?"

Crap.

I ducked into the underbrush, splinters and shards of sharpened wood
exploding all around me and catching on my tunic. One lucky shot caught me in
the arm and I shrieked, finally finding it and pulling it out before tossing it
to the side. Luckily I found my way back to the road, screams of rage echoing
around from behind me as the elves hunted for me. I stumbled all the way to
Celest, intent on dumping this accursed bag in the Pool of Stars and getting
away before the archons decided I had overstayed my welcome.

At the gate, the guards stopped me. "State your intentions, sir." An overly
bored archon asked, jotting notes down on a piece of paper about my appearance
in case someone asked.

"Lookin' fer work in the city, artisan and the like." I said, furnishing my
cartel credentials. He took it and gave it a cursory glance before handing it
back.

"Very well. Don't cause any trouble, don't kill any animals you find here, and
be sure to keep out of mischief in general."

Trouble? Certainly not me.

I walked farther into the city and neared the Pool. My footsteps slowed as I
got this odd feeling that the bag over my shoulder was.... pulling me in another
direction entirely. As if the denim had become a large lodestone, the sack was
pulling in a general south direction. I fought it and worked my way to the foot
of the Pool of Stars. Meleris stood there, staring up at the stars and smiling
at random people who walked by. Upon his glancing upwards, I quickly dumped my
bag into the Pool and turned away, making sure nobody saw me disposing of my
trash. I turned on my heels and walked away, taking a route to the south to a
nearby hotel. Tossing a handful of coins onto the counter I asked for a room.

"We've got none to be had, sir. I'm sorry."

I scowled. "The sign outside says you have plenty of vacancies."

The person behind the counter sighed. "Look, I tried not to be rude but we try
to keep a certain sort of people in our hotel."

"So what, you don't accept dwarves in your hotel?"

"Nay, it's not that sir. It's... well..." she pointed down, at my feet. What do
you suppose was at my feet, now sopping wet and smelling of fresh vomit and
cheap booze? Oh yes.

I hoisted the bag over my shoulder and stalked out of the hotel, finding a dark
alleyway in which to collect my thoughts. Luckily I had a bottle of whiskey
stashed away to drown my sorrows as I dug through the bag. I slouched against
the wall and turned up the vial, emptying it easily and digging for another.

"Pardon me, sir. Are you a gnome sir?"

I looked over to see a small merian youth standing outside the alley, wearing a
set of rags I wouldn't put on my hound as a joke to me family. "No lad. I'm a
dwarf and a proud one at that. What can I do for you?"

He put on a sad expression as he looked carefully at me. "My father has lost
his job from being sick, and we're homeless. My mother says only the solstice
gnomes could help us now. Have you see one around?"

I shook my head and reached into my pocket for something to toss him. My elbow
happened to brush against the bag and I noticed something solid. Reaching into
the bag I found a box inside, seemingly wrapped in golden and emerald wrapping.
"Marcus Aquinas" I read, looking up to see the merian kid staring at me and
backing away slightly.

"How do you know my name?"

The damned bag had done it again.

"I guessed. I think this package is for you, lad."

He peered at me and backed away a little more. "My mother told me not to take
things from strangers, sir. I think I'd better head home now."

I trailed him all the way to the shanty town outside of New Celest, where his
family seemed to all huddle in a tent much too small for a group of furrikin,
much less a group of merians.

"Momma! Some dirty man in town knew my name and wanted to give me a
surprise!"

The weary looking mother hugged her son tightly. "What did he look like, love?"

"He was dirty, with a beard and a cloud of flies. He smelled like he threw up
all over himself a month ago, and someone else poured alcohol all over him." The
child shuddered, hugging to his mother with a fervent grip.

"Why. that sounds like old Ironbeard!" she chuckled, as she soothed her son in
her arms. "He gives gifts to people all around the Basin every solstice, even
little merian lads who don't clean their plates."

"But he smelled funny, mom!"

"Yes, they say he drinks like a fish. That's no reason to refuse a present from
him though. Good things come from unexpected places and odd faces."

I couldn't help but ponder the idea. Had the old dwarf been this Ironbeard
chap? I stared at the bag with not a little malice. This whole time I was
delivering these packages, it was nothing but random presents for people with
little or no need for them?

Suddenly I realized: these people needed gifts, surely as I needed a drink. The
older dracnari loved his bubble pipe as it reminded him of his childhood. The
bard loved her seal, and it helped her compose the song she longed after. The
elf... well, she probably needed the poisons, lords know she should have drank
one or three of them. But it wasn't the idea of getting something, it's the idea
that someone they didn't even know gave them a gift, something unexpected and
joyous.

I reached deep into the bag and pulled out the box. Stumbling around the
corner, I came to the merian family's tent and presented the son with his gift.
His eyes went wide as he gazed at the silk and bows, while the rest of the
family greeted me with a smile. As he unwrapped it, a shower of confetti burst
forth, covering him in bits of bright paper. He giggled at first, and then
stared at the pile of sovereigns in his hands, an unexpected boon.

"Thank you, sir!" he gushed, wrapping me in a quick hug. "This will surely get
my papa to a doctor and then he'll get better! We can find a better place to
live because of you!"

I'll be damned. I could have had my drink if I had only opened that package.

I disentangled myself from his grip and doffed my hat, walking away before any
more of the fishy folk could grab me up and hug me. I could feel the bag grow
heavy again as I rounded the corner, and a sudden realization came over me.

You know, the stench didn't seem so bad anymore.