Sleeping Giants Game 7

Intro

Stratton's Admirer

You sit on the cold stone floor of this fortress, catching your breath from the close call with Calcryx. Your adrenaline is still pumping, and your little kobold hands are shaking. You can’t let your group down though, they need your soothing voice to wash over them while they recuperate. But first, you’ve got to calm your own nerves.

You reach into your leather armor and grab hold of that gift given to you all those months ago. Your breathing starts to calm immediately, and your heart slows. You pull it from your vest and crumple it in your hand, as a sort of stress relief toy. You look down, and for a few moments your mind begins to wander, as you recall the story of how you came in possession of this small, deep blue silken handkerchief.

It was about a year ago. The Cirque DeLirium was finishing up its tour through the Sterile Sands, and it was your final night in one of the cities along the way. Together, you and Benedicht the Half-Elf delivered a near-perfect performance of “Short and Tall”, the comedic duet that served as the headliner of the show. The final verse was met with thunderous applause and a standing ovation. All eyes were on you, and you still cherish that feeling to this day. When you close your eyes, you can still see the smiles in the crowd, and the roses being tossed onto the stage.

It was upwards of an hour before you were able to catch your breath after that. As usual, you attended the after-party where you met some adoring fans and signed dozens of autographs. Every drink was on the house, and all of your hilarious fart jokes were met with the genuine laughter they deserved.

Things were finally settling down and people were trickling out when she approached, seemingly from nowhere. It was rare enough to see a fellow gnome on this side of the mountains, let alone one who was as star-struck as she was attractive. She smiled sheepishly as she approached you, practically averting her gaze behind her eyeglasses. As you took the sight of her in, you realized she was dressed very differently than most others in the city. She wore loose-fitting, almost robe-like clothing, with a deep blue silken scarf resting decoratively on her shoulders.

“Mr. Pipsquanchy?” she said as she approached, stopping a few feet in front of you. “Your performance tonight was spectacular, I was in awe from the moment you set foot on stage.” She takes a deep breath, clearly attempting to calm her nerves in front of you. “I.. don’t do this very often, and I know you are leaving soon, but I was wondering if you would be available for coffee, or breakfast, or lunch, or… well, any kind of food or drink I suppose? I know a great café right down the street from here.” She looks at you wide-eyed and smiling, awaiting your response.

You pause for a few brief moments before responding, “Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?” She blushes visibly before telling you her name is Misha, but that she’d be more than happy for you to call her yours. You ultimately agree to a date the following day, and she looks thrilled. She has to physically stop herself from hugging you right then and there. The two of you make some more small talk, setting up the exact plans before she excuses herself and lets you enjoy the rest of your evening by yourself.