Plum Foot

A bronzed hulk of a man strode in next, lacking the fanciful clothing and armor adorning many of the room's occupants. He didn't just lack dress that was fanciful, he lacked much clothing, period. Strategic leather straps held a variety of stabbing, slashing, and bludgeoning instruments loosely in place while the voluminous black fur cloak was free to billow. His left shoulder was capped with the upper half of a monstrous panther's maw. The whole ensemble would have been quite impressive if it wasn't matted with grease, grime, and dust from the road.

The yet-unnamed hulk marched confidently across the hall in easy long steps, paused a moment before the sylvan clerk, and dropped his right hand on the plank counter with a thud that was entirely wrong. Instead of the dull sound of flesh on wood, the sharp crack of stone on wood snapped heads across the hall. The pervasive chatter ceased as eyes peered at the anomalous appendage. Upon closer scrutiny, the hand seemed to have a turquoise hue that faded to gray up the forearm and the balled fist itself did not move or twitch, no matter how the arm was flexed.

Welcome Stone Hand, thought Tristam. Welcome to Fynndel Wynd's House of Marvelous Mending. Other guests of note included: Pointy, a young chap whose nose had grown as long as a green bean, Petals, an indeterminate humanoid smothered in foliage from head to toe, and Rash, a short, stocky woman, possibly a dwarf, who seemed to have a serious facial itch or was extremely angry about a malady that wasn't readily visible.

The newest arrival waited patiently as the androgynous attendant's quill leaped into action. For a moment, the only sound in the hall was the barely audible rip of the pen across parchment, and then the casual conversations resumed. The clerk summoned an oversized smile and motioned to the empty bench across from Tristam.

Stone Hand double-tapped the counter with his solid stump, took three enormous steps, and then seemed to deflate as he eased himself onto the bench. His legs, swung one over the other, were quite long and reached well into the territory reserved for patients on the opposing row. His bare feet, inches from Tristam's own swollen foot, were unusually wide, hideously veiny, and the texture of a leather pouch left forgotten outside for too many seasons. Shifting his gaze upwards, Tristam saw that the rest of Stone Hand's frame was not dissimilar to his feet in overall width, vein protuberance, and texture. Salt and pepper stubble coated the chin and before Tristam realized it, he was locked eye to twinkling eye with the juggernaut.

There was a moment of uncertain hesitation and then the brute raised his bluish clubbed fist. Tristam involuntarily cringed but Stone Hand simply mimed hitting himself in the head several times, cracking a wicked smile.

Tristam sheepishly matched the smile as Stone Hand's craggy voice elaborated, "Jade scorp spawn. One of the little buggers pricked me when I was clearing the burrow."

"Ahhh," responded Tristam, "I would have guessed a Quartz Crawler."

With that additional disclosure, the glossy hand did seem more green than blue. It was still stone, maybe, but Tristam decided to change his name to Green Hand anyways.

From what he could remember, it must have been a very small broodling indeed. He had heard the sting from a dog-sized adult would work its way through even the hardiest fortune hunter in a few hours. The scorpions, which weren't really scorpions, infested the Deathdawn range. It was several days ride to Fynndel Wynn's, so Green Hand seemed lucky to have made it in that respect. Although, the fact he was out there at all, presumably on his own, seemed to indicate that he was seriously lacking in luck before his mishap.

The lairs could be lucrative but the risks were generally considered to outweigh the reward. The scorpions would aggressively attack anything too close to their nest. Once the venom did its work, they would then drag the petrified victim back to their lair. A larger burrow might boast dozens of solid Jade rodents, lizards, goats, and occasionally a solid green traveler. When he heard the stories, Tristam initially imagined them as green versions of the marble heroes adorning plazas or courtyards, but the ones he had seen were curled and crumpled horrors. Tristam liked to think if he were stung, he'd have the guts to strike and maintain a heroic pose worthy of some Royal's palace. Something like that would surely set a new record on the Jade curio market.

"You?" Green Hand inquired.

"Oh," Tristam responded, reluctantly abandoning his own auction, "Nothing serious, just took a snap from a pugglefish. Well, stepped on it really."

He pointed to his calf where the brown skin transitioned to a glossy reddish purple. Green Hand, distracted by a commotion at the entrance, commented absently, "Thorny buggers. Hard to see in the dark."

Tristam turned to see the fuss and both of them sat wordlessly as a lumpy halfling, cradling a turtle nearly as large as he was, battled the door open. Upon success, the diminutive fellow paused a moment to catch his breath, attempted to wipe his brow, nearly dropped the turtle, and finally pressed on towards the clerk after securing a more solid grip on the terrapin. When he finally reached the clerk, Tristam could see the turtle seemed to have swallowed the halfling's arm up to the elbow.

After christening him Turtle Snack, Tristam's thoughts returned to green abs on the auction block, "Pretty good haul? The burrow, I mean."

"Oh, a few curios. No jade men or anything, if that's what you're thinking. Since they cleared the dens on the trails, you don't really find those anymore. Had to climb pretty high to spot this roost. Did find this little beauty, though."

He awkwardly reached behind with his left good hand to pull out a pouch. The wad of rag he removed was carefully unfolded to reveal an exquisite jade bird. Tristam guessed it was a sparrow of some sort.

"That is a very nice find!" commented Tristam.

Green Hand continued, "Never seen a bird before. Jade scorps ain't the most nimble critters. Not sure he got the jump on this little fella. See the wings are spread. Turned quick, right in the sky. Would have been a hell of a drop. Ding on the bottom here. Sticky patch on the wing here is sap from a Moju tree. Only grow down in the valley. Scorp shuttled all the way down, spent who knows how long tracking it down, and dragged it all the way back up the damn mountain."

"Why do they do that?"

Green Hand shrugged. "Why do folks like you and me climb all the way up there to take 'em?"

Tristam did not have a response to that. After a moment of silence, he simply said, "It's gorgeous."

Green Hand nodded and clumsily replaced the bird, trying to simultaneously keep the pouch open while sliding the wad back in.

Behind him, a tall woman led an even taller half-troll down the main aisle. A shaft protruded from the half-troll's bandaged eye. The woman momentarily locked eyes with Tristam and shrugged, "Told him not to look down the front when the crossbow jams."

The look of shock must have been visible on Tristam's face as she waved dismissively, mouthed "he'll be fine", and yanked her large companion towards the clerk.

After finally securing his prize, Green Hand's attention moved towards a more thorough examination of his petrified appendage. "Expect I'll have to trade everything I got, including the flyer, to get this fixed. Truth be told, isn't the first time I've sat these benches nursing this affliction."

Green Hand grinned and then frowned.

"Wiped me out once before. Don't see how I'll ever have enough to get home now. Thinking I might have old Fynn lop it off instead."

Tristam's eyes widened at that. It seemed Green Hand was literally going to cut his losses. "Seriously?"

"Spent my whole life scrambling over rocks and stumbling through caves. Lost as many friends as I had. Was looking forward to heading home, seeing how my own broodlings had fared. Don't see how I'll be this close again."

The clerk called a name that Tristam didn't quite catch.

Green Hand retracted his legs and rose wearily to his full height once again.

The look of surprised annoyance Tristam saw on the faces of Pointy face, Turtle Snack, and Rash must have been reflected on his own.

Green hand beamed, "Fynn and I go back a ways."

He winked and strode towards the door.

After making uncomfortable eye contact with Rash, Tristam closed his eyes and pretended to fall asleep. As he mulled over a name for the half-troll and his friend, this turned into a real doze and he nearly missed Green Hand coming back through. He quickly straightened up from his slouch, winced at the pressure he inadvertently put on his foot, wiped the drool from his chin, and looked to see the results of Fynndel's handiwork. The hand was still there, but it was also still green!

Green Hand paused for a moment, "Undoing the curse would have cost everything, as I said. Did come to an arrangement, though, to make sure it spreads no further. My adventuring days are over but I have enough for home."

He rotated the green fist inches from his nose, transfixed. "Not so bad, I reckon, something to impress the singers and maidens, at least. And if the young lads care to give me any grief, it'll certainly pack a wallop."

He made a clubbing motion and smirked.

"Though I do need to be careful with it, seeing as it's now the property of the famous Fynndel Wynd, and I need to make arrangements for its safe return on my passing."

He glanced towards Tristam one last time, gave him a green salute, and let the door slam on his way out.