Pavel's Plight – A Halfling's Heartfelt Thoughts of Home

[Pavel Vesely]

Pacing about within the inn, Pav kept his lyre on a nearby table, instead scratching almost anxiously at the coarse, itchy stubble upon his recently-shorn hands. He was still dwelling on the vision he'd had of home, a nervous sweat on his brow as he considered the potential implications and his present inability to send a message to check up on his family and Vera. Strangely quiet, he chewed at the inside of his cheek, he was almost afraid to seek help, still ruminating how he felt almost powerless to aid town with his lack of proper combat training, much less experience. Even trying to play the part of a decoy hadn't worked out for him. Then there were those rather zhooshy-looking spiders... Oh, Gods, the spiders...Taking a seat nearby, the brooding Halfling picked up his gourd, taking a few gulps of the water within before setting it down and propping his head up with a gentle, weary sigh.

[Pavel Vesely]

Resting for several moments as he stewed, Pav let his eyes fall shut in contemplation. He could feel his chipper façade crumbling away, and that wasn't the mind of a man that simply wanted to see others smile. "C'mon, Pavel," he mumbled to himself, "This ain't like you. Chin up, and think of the yarns you can share with ol' Vera later. Can't just mope about doin' nishta..." Quietly rallying himself, the Halfling slowly rose from his seat, recalling the rejected suggestion he gave that Dwarven enchanter from Providence... A lyre whose strings could soothe the soul. The man was right, that was a knack that came with practice, and he knew just who could use such strings... Faerie. Approaching his lyre, Pavel drew a deep breath as he tucked the instrument close to his chest, soon setting out for the Faerie Ring.