"Come on, give it up." 
[i]Nope[/i]
An exasperated sigh.
"You can't actually expect me to throw something like that." 
[i]Yes![/i] 
Another sigh. 
"Just...come here." The stubborn creature ambled to the sigher, tail wagging furiously as it dropped the fragment of an Order of the Companion chestpiece, more than likely belonging to one of the many paladins that fell during the mysterious plague that occurred in this area not a few years ago. His deep green irises ran over the scratches and cracks, silvery black hair ruffling slightly as he shifted forward, running his hand over the solid white coat of who he considered to be one of his closest friends (Gale was slightly miffed by Scratch's place in the pantheon of friends, but then again, the wizard did enjoy giving Scratch belly rubs, so maybe they had formed an understanding). 
"What a reminder." The half elf mumbled, tossing the chestpiece aside. What was it a reminder of, he wondered. The amount of suffering and death that this part of the Coast had seen over the years? Maybe the idea of a massive plague and people panicking in the streets hit too close to home; after all, it had only been six months since Baldur's Gate had withstood one of the most disastrous events in it's history, almost coming close to becoming the origin site of the final Grand Design (or at least, he hoped. Please by the Seldarine, no more Illithids). There were times even at home, sitting by their hearth in the quiet evenings, that memories surged back, threatening to drag him back to where he was only six months ago: trapped in that blasted pod, no memory of how he had gotten there, only knowing that his life as a monk in the Open Hand cloister had suddenly been upended. 

He chuckled, rising from his once prone position. Maybe that's how his family had felt when he left Baldur's gate at the ripe age of 20 to discover the world, leaving behind his parents and younger brother to pursue a "purer" way than that of being minor nobility in Baldur's Gate. His father was grieved by his decision especially, seeing as Father had expected him to succeed him in his position as Assistant Chancellor of trade, wanting his work and sacrifices as one of the first High Elves holding position within the Coast. He had argued with Father before he left, railing against materialism, social caste systems and alienation from the self. It was all so moronic now, to not have just had an honest conversation with his father, who now along with his mother and younger brother occupied graves in the city as a result of a Bhaal cultist murdering them in broad daylight not too long before they arrived in the city (a legal missive had come from the family's lawyer, who received the travelers in the city and confirmed every horrid detail). No doubt Orin had ordered the attack to spite him, just like she tried to spite all of them. A vindictive smirk crossed his lips, knowing that the abomination was gone from this life for good. 

He felt a gentle nudge at his leg, the half-elf looking down to see Scratch's tongue lolling out, eyes sparkling. 
"You're right; no use dwelling on the past. Besides, our lovely Shadow is going to be wondering why it took us so long to retrieve ingredients for dinner." Indeed, he had set out when the sun was at it's peak, but now it was beginning to creep down towards the horizon. Their patch of happiness was located in-between Baldur's gate and Elturiel (or at least, what's left of it), but there were several small villages that dotted the path and Soubar, a walled town that was the most thriving in the area and had the best shops for the concoctions that he and Shadowheart created in the kitchen and alchemy lab (while not as good as his love at alchemic creations, he was getting the hang of it). Soubar was only about an hour's walk from their home, but maybe it was the detour to the chapel of Bane that he sidetracked him (no, not maybe, definitely). He hadn't had the courage to investigate the chapel until today, he and Scratch poking around the abandoned building to find little of value except for a few manuscripts written by zealots of Bane that outlined the god's teachings on cruelty and murder along with the chestpiece that Scratch had found. 

"Nuvyen! Nuvyen!" The half-elf stood fully upright now, his broad frame (inherited from his mother's human side) striding forward out of the grounds of the chapel back into the town proper to greet the caller, who happened to be the shopkeeper he had been talking with earlier. 
"I've got the Orchids all ready for you just like you asked." 
"Wonderful. She'll absolutely love them, thank you." Along with the satchel of ingredients, Nuvyen had decided to purchase an arrangement of Night Orchids for their quite barren dinner table (all of their flora, fauna and crops were still not ready to be used thanks to just purchasing their land only three or so months ago). 
"Tell the lady I send my greetings."

On the walk back, Nuvyen couldn't help but marvel at the beauty that this area of the Coast featured, especially due to being called "The Fields of the Dead". Tree lined paths, flora bursting out of seemingly every nook and cranny...it was actually quite perfect, which made their home and plot of land even more of a gift to be grateful for. They had roamed for three months after the Netherbrain was defeated, fending off Sharran assassins (while nearly naked. Fun times. He liked to remind Shadowheart of how great she looked while stabbing one of the assassins in the throat), going north to Waterdeep, somehow befriending an imp named Bing Bong that refused to stop following them until one day it suddenly vanished; yet, those adventures paled in comparison to the day a missive from Wyll had found it's way to them, telling them to meet him outside Elturel. It so happened that on his way with his retinue (because he had a retinue now) to sign formal treaties and do other political nonsense (his words) with the new government of Elturgard, he had passed an abandoned home with land that, upon investigation, had belonged to a husband and wife that moved out of Elturel and had died with no children to claim it. Remembering Shadowheart's love for animals and Nuvyen's desire to settle down somewhere, the Grand Duke purchased the home for the couple, asking only that they send some of their finest bounty to the budding refugee settlements that needed starter plants and seeds. It was a grand gesture on Wyll, but of course, their friend was prone to grand gestures in all things(Nuvyen remembered in the delirious moments after the Netherbrain was defeated, Wyll was the first to speak, waving his arms grandiosely, proclaiming that their names should be etched on the annals of history forever...or something like that). 

Nuvyen could finally see their home, flanked by the aspiring gardens and plots of crops that they were tending to. 

Home. He grinned. 

"Go on, Scratch. I think someone else is going to want to see you." Their owlbear guardian should be around somewhere, which should mean that Shadowheart wouldn't be too far behind.