We all have free will. You must make your own decisions. But you say Pharasma told you to fight in her name? If you wish to do so, then I would be happy to help, in whatever way you need. You say your faith has lapsed--why not come to Vespers this evening? Spend some time amongst the trappings of the church, and perhaps you will feel more at ease with your decision, whatever it turns out to be.Dragomir nods his assent.
I'll be there Father
The rest of the words fade into comforting babble until Septimus comes into the room.
He rises awkwardly and after securing his sheet, does his best to help Father Grimburrow.
Thanks Septimus. Appreciate it. Gimme a bit to get dressed an' stop draggin' m' feet and I'll meet you down stairs.
Father Grimburrow accepts Dragomir's hand up gratefully, although he is still somewhat slow to rise. He glances at Septimus before continuing. I think we have said enough now--words can only accomplish so much before deeds must overtake them. I will see you at Vespers. Six o'clock.
With that, he shuffles out of the room; although he shuts the door, Dragomir can hear him as he walks downstairs with Septimus.
Now, young man, let's have a chat about basic etiquette, shall we? I'm sure you have half an hour to spare...
Ah...gentlemen...w-w-welcome to The Unfurling Scroll. How can I be of assistance today?
Theron realizes there is a chance Karrik may misunderstand the source of the wizards fears. There was also a good possibility that Alendru was going to express disbelief at the idea of a half-orc using a wizard's spells, and that could cause problems as well.
The inquisitor greets Alendru coldly, and chooses his words carefully in order to smooth things along. "Ah, Alendru. My friend here is looking to expand his collection of spells." Theron gestures to Karrik. "Since he was coming here, I thought it would be good come as well and make sure there have been no more... problems since my last visit."
Good sirs, nothing could be further from my...mind. Alendru smiles weakly at his attempt at humour...you're not sure what it is, but it isn't terribly funny. He turns to Karrik and swallows compulsively.
What can I help you with?
After Theron, Karrik and Vesmera left, Rose finally speaks up, "Well then, Walter. Shall we continue on?" Rose had remained silent through most of the exchange. She was jealous, jealous that Walter had made a friend outside their little group. Yes, the bond the group shared was that they were all hired on to help the Professor's daughter, but to her it was the closest she had felt to truly belong to something.
But to make a friend outside the group? Rose knew it was natural, sure the others had done the same. So she had kept silent and waited, not wanting to interfere. She knew she was being irrational in her thoughts, probably still rattled from earlier in the day. There were more important matters to be dealt with for now. Like heading to see this Jorfa.
But she was jealous.
-
Walter nodded and passed the dog, giving it a quick scratch on the head before locking step with Rose again. He hadn't meant to, but something seemed to have put her off in the last few minutes, and he felt guilty.
"Um, when we're there, can you help me find some... armor, or something, to protect myself with? Compared to everyone else's armor, I, um, don't think this coat is really any help," he said, picking at the coat and stretching it out. "That is, um, if you want to," he said, dismissing himself out of habit.
Good sirs, nothing could be further from my...mind. Alendru smiles weakly at his attempt at humour...you're not sure what it is, but it isn't terribly funny.
Theron, being as humorless as he is, doesn't even recognize that Alendru had tried to say a joke. Instead, he wonders why the mage had paused mid sentence. In any case, he steps back and lets Karrik conduct his business.
** spoiler omitted **
As Lem walks into the forge he is assailed by an almost palpable wave of heat. Inside, a handful of apprentices scurry back and forth. One stands idle next to the bellows while a dwarf--presumably this is Jorfa, the proprietor--swings her hammer rhythmically, beating a small sheet of steel into shape. She looks up as Lem enters.Be right with you, she says, and goes back to hammering.
Lem takes a moment to look around: most of the items for sale in the forge are farming implements or other equipment--plough blades sit next to hoes and shovels--but at the rear is a smaller but still significant collection of weapons and armour, most of it metal with only a few pieces of leather. Somewhat incongruously, there is a selection of jewellery in a display case off to one side, as though it's an afterthought.
It's a minute or so before the dwarf woman picks up the piece she is working on, examines it critically, and then lays down her hammer before putting it back in the forge as the apprentice begins working the bellows.
The dwarf ambles over toward Lem and, seeing a strange halfling carrying a painting in a forge, is understandably somewhat perplexed.
Is there something I can help you with? she asks.
** spoiler omitted **
Hello Miss Jorfa, I am Lem Longbarrow, wandering priest of Desna. I'm very sorry to interrupt you at your work, but if I could please have a moment of your time?
As you probably know, I came here for Professor Lorrimor's funeral. A few years ago, though, I heard the story of the Harrowstone fire. Recently, the Great Dreamer herself has revealed a vision of this woman to me.
Lem shows the painting to the dwarf, then continues.
This painting was retrieved from Warden Hawkran's house after the fire. Is this Mrs. Hawkran? Can you tell me anything about this woman? Please, it would be a great help.
Karrik nods his thanks at Theron's cautioning introduction to the oily magic shop keeper, "My needs are actually rather simple today, Master Alendru." His black eyes range the shop, taking in the odd assortment of arcane objects, "Just need some reagents for a potion or two." He pulls out a tightly folded strip of parchment with a brief list written in Septimus's hand. He checks the list a few times, looking around for the items. Quickly realizing that the shop-keeper would, in fact, be helpful in this, he asks the man to help him round up the reagents.
Walter feels somewhat at ease in the forge, having been there before, but to Rose it's a new experience. The heat from the forge itself warms the entire shop, despite the chimney built to extract the smoke and heat from the coals.
At the front of the shop are plenty of farming implements and other tools; the weapons and armour are all at the back. Jorfa waves her hammer in greeting as Walter comes in.
Welcome back, young master. Feel free to take another look. She gets back to hammering, although she does seem to make the occasional sideways glance at Rose.
MUNDANE ARMOUR
- studded leather*
- chain shirt*
- scale mail*
- breastplate*
- banded mail*
- half-plate
SHIELDS
- light steel shield*
- heavy steel shield*
- tower shield
LIGHT WEAPONS
- dagger*
- dwarven maulaxe†
- handaxe*
- light mace
- shortsword*
- sickle
ONE-HANDED WEAPONS
- battleaxe*
- dwarven waraxe†
- heavy mace
- longsword*
- morningstar
- rapier
- warhammer*
TWO-HANDED WEAPONS
- boar spear
- falchion
- greataxe*
- spear
RANGED WEAPONS
- light crossbow
- heavy crossbow
- shortbow*
- longbow*
AMMUNITION
- arrows
- blunt arrows
- flight arrows
- whistling arrows
- crossbow bolts
MAGICAL ITEMS
- +1 light steel shield
- +1 dwarven waraxe
- +1 longsword
"Um, when we're there, can you help me find some... armor, or something, to protect myself with? Compared to everyone else's armor, I, um, don't think this coat is really any help," he said, picking at the coat and stretching it out. "That is, um, if you want to," he said, dismissing himself out of habit.
Rose gives Walter a smile. "I'd be happy to help you find something, Walter."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the forge
"Let me see about my sword quickly, and I'll help you find some armor."
Rose goes back to see Jorfa, at first trying to keep her eyes averted, then remember Kendra's words. She turns to face Jorfa. "Um, excuse me Miss Jorfa. I was wondering if you could look at my sword. It had some unexpected usage, and I'm hoping it's not damaged. If you don't mind, that is." Rose offers her the sheathed weapon as she does.
Alendru diligently helps Karrik to find what he has in stock--and suggests he visit Jominda the apothecary for anything he doesn't.
If you would like to roleplay the visit to Jominda's, let me know. Otherwise we can just fast forward to your arrival at the forge, maybe when Rose's conversation about her sword is finished. (Gotta love being in control of time... : D )
Dragomir dresses swiftly and heads downstairs.
I'm as hungry as a whelping wolf... got anything to eat?
Hello Miss Jorfa, I am Lem Longbarrow, wandering priest of Desna. I'm very sorry to interrupt you at your work, but if I could please have a moment of your time?
Jorfa nods, but she still seems wary, as if she is not sure what to expect.
As you probably know, I came here for Professor Lorrimor's funeral. A few years ago, though, I heard the story of the Harrowstone fire. Recently, the Great Dreamer herself has revealed a vision of this woman to me.
Lem shows the painting to the dwarf, then continues.
Jorfa, the wary look increasingly replaced by incredulity, moves around to better see the painting. You do notice a flare of recognition in her eyes, but she waits for you to continue.
This painting was retrieved from Warden Hawkran's house after the fire. Is this Mrs. Hawkran? Can you tell me anything about this woman? Please, it would be a great help.
Jorfa sighs, and goes back to the forge, pulling her workpiece out with a pair of long-handled tongs. She looks it over as she speaks.
Yes, that is Warden Hawkran's wife--although I have to say I can't recall her name. She was pretty, in life--and devoted to her husband, may Pharasma be merciful upon his soul.
She places the steel on her anvil, and lifts her hammer for a few blows before picking the piece up again to look at it closely.
Was there something specific you were after?
Lem stands still, not quite knowing where to stand and not wanting to disrupt the smith's work. He continues doggedly, despite the delicate topic.
Well, yes, I'm trying to learn more about the Harrowstone fire and riots. I know that Mrs. Hawkran was in the prison at the time of the fire, and I don't understand why. Do you know her reasoning for being there?
The priest pauses and considers for a moment, then adds: There are some angry shades wandering the halls of Harrowstone--the restless souls of the worst prisoners that were confined in the prison before the fire. I believe Mrs. Hawkran's spirit may be trapped their as well, trying to help me drive out the evil from that place. Please, tell me everything you know about her. Why was she in the prison? Any small detail may help.
Rose goes back to see Jorfa, at first trying to keep her eyes averted, then remember Kendra's words. She turns to face Jorfa. "Um, excuse me Miss Jorfa. I was wondering if you could look at my sword. It had some unexpected usage, and I'm hoping it's not damaged. If you don't mind, that is." Rose offers her the sheathed weapon as she does.
Jorfa's look of curiosity at Rose's appearance seems guileless--merely that of a person confronted by something unfamiliar. She makes no mention of it though.
Of course, mistress. No problem at all. She calls one of her apprentices to take over her hammering, and accepts Rose's blade graciously.
She pulls Rose's blade from its scabbard and casts a critical eye along its edge. Varisian make, if I'm not mistaken, Jorfa says. I have relatives there. Whereabouts in Varisia do you hail from? She waits for Rose to answer while she continues to examine the blade.
Karrik nods his thanks to the shop keeper, giving him a look as he leaves. The man didn't SEEM crooked...
Dragomir dresses swiftly and heads downstairs.
I'm as hungry as a whelping wolf... got anything to eat?
Startled out of her contemplation of a piece of parchment, Kendra turns at Dragomir's entrance.
Dragomir! Are you well? You look better. Septimus and Father Grimburrow just stepped outside. Let me see what I can find you. She heads into the kitchen with Dragomir trailing behind her, and begins looking through the larder. There's bread in the pantry, help yourself.
After a couple of minutes Kendra reappears with a plate of ham and corned beef--and a mug of ale.
I really am going to have to get more supplies, she says as she sets the food down on the table in front of Dragomir. With ten of us in the house we're going to run out of food before I know it.
She watches Dragomir eat. So I heard about the stirges in Harrowstone. What else happened while you were there?
Lem stands still, not quite knowing where to stand and not wanting to disrupt the smith's work. He continues doggedly, despite the delicate topic.
Well, yes, I'm trying to learn more about the Harrowstone fire and riots. I know that Mrs. Hawkran was in the prison at the time of the fire, and I don't understand why. Do you know her reasoning for being there?
The priest pauses and considers for a moment, then adds: There are some angry shades wandering the halls of Harrowstone--the restless souls of the worst prisoners that were confined in the prison before the fire. I believe Mrs. Hawkran's spirit may be trapped their as well, trying to help me drive out the evil from that place. Please, tell me everything you know about her. Why was she in the prison? Any small detail may help.
Jorfa swings her hammer a few more times before taking another look at her piece of steel, and putting it back in the forge. She dusts her hands off and turns to face you again.
I keep mostly to myself, Master Longbarrow. I don't know why Mrs. Hawkran was in the prison--although since she lived on the grounds of the prison, with the warden, you can imagine that she might have noticed the noise of the riot, seeing as it happened in the evening.
As for telling you about the woman in general, we only knew each other in passing, and my memory of fifty years ago is not exactly perfect. But here's what I can tell you.
She always wore dresses--like she was just about to go to some important function. The one time I heard her speak about it she said it gave her confidence to feel like she belonged--Warden Hawkran and his wife were from out of town, and I'm sure you've already seen how this town treats newcomers.
She was also never without that choker you see in the painting.
She was a keen gardener; when she was at the market you would often hear her saying how she was sad that people couldn't come up to the little house she had on the prison grounds to see the garden. If you're here at the right time of year, you'll see hyacinths all over the town--most of them were transplanted from her garden, before the fire, but you've just missed them this year.
She also wanted a seat on the Council, but that was never going to happen. She annoyed some of the Council members at the time, but she died before any of that could be decided one way or another.
And that's about everything I can recall. Has that been any help?
She wanders off to the forge to retrieve her workpiece while she waits for you to answer.
The fact that she continues going back to her work has more to do with her dedication to that work than it does with her desire to avoid the conversation with you.
Walter quietly browsed the lighter armors while Rose spoke to Jorfa. He mainly perused ones that he thought were simple, or fit his frame, but occasionally he admired the bulkier, more knightly armors with interest in his eyes.
He'd wait to ask Rose what she thought would be best, but until then, he just waited.
So I heard about the stirges in Harrowstone. What else happened while you were there?
Nearest I ever came to crappin' my drawers 'n runnin' - you can't imagine it... you c'n hear the damned screamin' at times... the times you can't actually see them with yer own eyes.
Dragomir shudders slightly but then turns contemplative.
It changed me Missy, it has... an' while I don' know if'n it's a good change or not, I don't think that change wouldn't have happened at all if it wasn't so hard on me.
He wolfs down some food and drinks liberally from his ale jack.
Not sure how the others handled it - they seem to have come out of it better than I. Even the kid... Maybe I'm just not used to all that n' somehow he is?
Shaking his head in confusion he finishes, I'm just one of the plain an' common folks - farmer born and bred 'an such as I saw today? It would whiten the hair of many a strong man.
Kendra maintains a grim look as she listens to Dragomir's recollections.
I'm just one of the plain an' common folks - farmer born and bred 'an such as I saw today? It would whiten the hair of many a strong man.
It sounds that way, Kendra says. She pushes her chair back a little from the table. Are you planning to head back in tomorrow, or were you going to spend more time here first?
Lem stands still, not quite knowing where to stand and not wanting to disrupt the smith's work. He continues doggedly, despite the delicate topic.
Well, yes, I'm trying to learn more about the Harrowstone fire and riots. I know that Mrs. Hawkran was in the prison at the time of the fire, and I don't understand why. Do you know her reasoning for being there?
The priest pauses and considers for a moment, then adds: There are some angry shades wandering the halls of Harrowstone--the restless souls of the worst prisoners that were confined in the prison before the fire. I believe Mrs. Hawkran's spirit may be trapped their as well, trying to help me drive out the evil from that place. Please, tell me everything you know about her. Why was she in the prison? Any small detail may help.
Jorfa swings her hammer a few more times before taking another look at her piece of steel, and putting it back in the forge. She dusts her hands off and turns to face you again.
I keep mostly to myself, Master Longbarrow. I don't know why Mrs. Hawkran was in the prison--although since she lived on the grounds of the prison, with the warden, you can imagine that she might have noticed the noise of the riot, seeing as it happened in the evening.
As for telling you about the woman in general, we only knew each other in passing, and my memory of fifty years ago is not exactly perfect. But here's what I can tell you.
She always wore dresses--like she was just about to go to some important function. The one time I heard her speak about it she said it gave her confidence to feel like she belonged--Warden Hawkran and his wife were from out of town, and I'm sure you've already seen how this town treats newcomers.
She was also never without that choker you see in the painting.
She was a keen gardener; when she was at the market you would often hear her saying how she was sad that...
The priest nods as Jorfa speaks, listening attentively. He waits politely while she works at the forge, watching her motions until she has a moment of inactivity.
Yes, you have been a big help, thank you. One more thing, if I may--I don't mean to distress you, but is there something else you would like to tell me about Harrowstone, or the restless souls within? I don't want to pry, but perhaps I can help you.
Yes, you have been a big help, thank you. One more thing, if I may--I don't mean to distress you, but is there something else you would like to tell me about Harrowstone, or the restless souls within? I don't want to pry, but perhaps I can help you.
Jorfa smiles. Master Longbarrow, Harrowstone couldn't be further from my mind. Thank you for your thoughts, but all I need is the warmth of the forge, and the sound of hammer on steel. If you have any other questions, you'll know where to find me--unless you'd like to buy something? I don't have much the right size for a halfling like yourself, but if you have the coin, I've got the skills.
Kendra maintains a grim look as she listens to Dragomir's recollections.
I'm just one of the plain an' common folks - farmer born and bred 'an such as I saw today? It would whiten the hair of many a strong man.It sounds that way, Kendra says. She pushes her chair back a little from the table. Are you planning to head back in tomorrow, or were you going to spend more time here first?
Can't say fer sure. I'd like a day or two out of it but I'll see what the others say.
Yes, you have been a big help, thank you. One more thing, if I may--I don't mean to distress you, but is there something else you would like to tell me about Harrowstone, or the restless souls within? I don't want to pry, but perhaps I can help you.Jorfa smiles. Master Longbarrow, Harrowstone couldn't be further from my mind. Thank you for your thoughts, but all I need is the warmth of the forge, and the sound of hammer on steel. If you have any other questions, you'll know where to find me--unless you'd like to buy something? I don't have much the right size for a halfling like yourself, but if you have the coin, I've got the skills.
Lem looks at the armor, then chuckles at the thought of buying a halfling-sized suit of plate mail.
I will keep that in mind, but if I am engaged in physical combat, all I need is my voice--to talk the person down, or, failing that, shout for help. That being said, I might have something of interest to you, given your lack of...smaller weapons. Would you be interested in purchasing this? I assure you, the proceeds will go to the defense of the town.
Holds up small-sized masterwork light crossbow.
Sincerely, thank you for your help. Should I have any need for metalwork, I will come here straight away, and not solely because you are the only smith in town.
He smiles, bows, and runs off to return the painting.
Jorfa finishes her current round of hammering, then takes the crossbow and turns it over in her hands.
Jorfa turns the crossbow over in her hands. Hmm...not much call for crossbows this size, but since--as you've seen--I don't have anything like it, I'd be willing to offer you...a hundred and seventy?
She waits patiently for Lem's response.
Sounds fair to me. Thank you for the information, and the business!
Jorfa calls an apprentice to oversee her work while she disappears around a corner and through a door. She returns a minute or so later with a small velvet pouch, which she hands over.
There you are. Thank you for visiting.
Rose goes back to see Jorfa, at first trying to keep her eyes averted, then remember Kendra's words. She turns to face Jorfa. "Um, excuse me Miss Jorfa. I was wondering if you could look at my sword. It had some unexpected usage, and I'm hoping it's not damaged. If you don't mind, that is." Rose offers her the sheathed weapon as she does.Jorfa's look of curiosity at Rose's appearance seems guileless--merely that of a person confronted by something unfamiliar. She makes no mention of it though.
Of course, mistress. No problem at all. She calls one of her apprentices to take over her hammering, and accepts Rose's blade graciously.
She pulls Rose's blade from its scabbard and casts a critical eye along its edge. Varisian make, if I'm not mistaken, Jorfa says. I have relatives there. Whereabouts in Varisia do you hail from? She waits for Rose to answer while she continues to examine the blade.
"Between Biston and Abkhen." While true, Rose leaves much unsaid of the matter. "You have a good eye to tell that. I'm also interested in a different kind of weapon, something designed for, um, breaking bones as it were." The idea sounds morbid to Rose in a way, but she can't find a better way to describe it. "Something like that." She points to a morningstar. "Also my friend here is interested in some form of armor to helpl protect him."
"Between Biston and Abkhen." While true, Rose leaves much unsaid of the matter. "You have a good eye to tell that. I'm also interested in a different kind of weapon, something designed for, um, breaking bones as it were." The idea sounds morbid to Rose in a way, but she can't find a better way to describe it. "Something like that." She points to a morningstar. "Also my friend here is interested in some form of armor to helpl protect him."
[Jorfa] pulls Rose's blade from its scabbard and casts a critical eye along its edge. Varisian make, if I'm not mistaken, Jorfa says. I have relatives there. Whereabouts in Varisia do you hail from? She waits for Rose to answer while she continues to examine the blade.
Jorfa glances up from her contemplation of the blade as Rose mentions where she's from. I'm familiar with the area, she says--but like Rose, she seems to decide that's the end of the discussion.
Your blade is not badly damaged. Just a few minor burrs that need filing down. She calls and apprentice over, who takes the blade carefully and then goes over to a pedal-powered grinding wheel in a corner of the workshop.
As for your other requests, I'd be happy to help.
She shows you both to the back of the forge where all the weapons and armour are on display, and after a rather forthright examination of Rose's figure, she pulls a warhammer from the rack.
I think this would probably suit you best, she says. The weapon she hands Rose has a small, light hammer mounted on a 2½ foot steel shaft, with the grip wrapped in black-dyed leather. Take a few practice swings--a weapon like that can be particularly dangerous in the hands of a skilled fighter who can land a blow in just the right spot to cause the greatest amount of damage.
That one is twelve gold crowns. I have another that is more finely balanced, but it's much more expensive--more like three hundred crowns. If you're interested, though, I can bring it out to show you.
Jorfa turns to Walter and gives him the same forthright looking-over. As for you, young master, I hope you'll forgive my saying so, but it appears to me that you will be wanting something relatively light, yes?
She takes Walter right to the back of the forge where the lighter armour is displayed. I could probably alter this to suit you, she says, pointing at a suit of studded leather, and have it ready later this afternoon. Or this, she gestures to a chain shirt, and have it done in the morning. But anything else I'd probably have to make to fit, which would take me a while.
Simple weapons: 5gp per day.
Martial weapons: 7gp per day.
Exotic weapons: 9gp per day.
Scale mail: 8 gp per day (6 days).
Breastplate: 8 gp per day (25 days).
Bows (actually crafted by an apprentice): 6 gp per day (5 days for a shortbow, 13 days for a longbow).
Rose tries out the weapon Jorfa selected, giving it a few swings. It lacked the finesse of a blade, requiring more strength to swing than her own longsword. But she could not deny it would be more effective if more of the skeletal creatures were encountered. "It will take most of my remaining coins. I hope it will be worth it."
Rose turns to Jorfa, "This will indeed suffice. Thank you for your aid in selecting this." She gives her a genuine smile before turning back to Walter with Jorfa. "The chain is similar to what I wear as well. The protection is quite adequate while still giving you mobility."
Rose tries out the weapon Jorfa selected, giving it a few swings. It lacked the finesse of a blade, requiring more strength to swing than her own longsword. But she could not deny it would be more effective if more of the skeletal creatures were encountered. "It will take most of my remaining coins. I hope it will be worth it."
Rose turns to Jorfa, "This will indeed suffice. Thank you for your aid in selecting this." She gives her a genuine smile before turning back to Walter with Jorfa. "The chain is similar to what I wear as well. The protection is quite adequate while still giving you mobility."
Dragomir finishes eating then goes out to find the rest of the group.
Walter nodded, appreciative for her help. "No, you're fine-- um--- Something light would be best-- the chain-link shirt. Um, may I ask how much it is?"
Once told the price, he paled a little. Drawing his gold pouch from his side, he weighed out a hundred gold pieces on the counter before thanking her sincerely and promising to return in the morning.
When Theron arrives at the forge he first glances around to see what sorts of weapons are on display. It doesn't take long for him to find that, as expected, a forge run by a dwarf didn't place much emphasis on bows. However, it seemed that there were some fletching tools in one of the corners, so at least this didn't appear to be a waste of time.
"Miss Jorfa, it is good to make your acquaintance. My name is Theron. I'm sorry to bother you about something that, unless I'm mistaken, isn't your specialty, but do you do any work involving custom arrows?"
"Thank you. I don't mind work done by an apprentice as long as the arrows do their jobs. I'm actually interested in acquiring some flat headed arrows. You know, arrows that strike their target like a hammer rather than piercing it. Also... do you happen to have any exotic metals on hand that would be suitable for custom arrowheads? I'm not sure if it is within my means to afford them just yet, but I'm curious about what you have available."
Jorfa does indeed greet Theron when he comes in.
Arrows? You're right, they're not my specialty, but that's why I have apprentices...
She introduces you to one of her apprentices--a half-elf named Markas.
Markas takes you through the arrows on hand--which do indeed include blunt arrows, as well as flight arrows and whistling arrows, alongside the more mundane sort.
I can make others, Markas explains, but there's not much call for them here.
Markas listens patiently to Theron's request for arrows made from exotic materials.
We do have some alchemical silver--fifty of those would only be four and a half crowns, and I could have them ready by tomorrow. We'd have to order in adamantine or cold iron, though--the adamantine arrows would cost just over sixty crowns and the cold iron ones more like five crowns. I could probably have the cold iron ones done for you in around five days, or the adamantine arrows in say, ten days?
As the sun begins the last leg of its trek toward the western horizon, Dragomir makes his way to the Temple of Pharasma. When he arrives, he sees a small group of people out the front, slowly filing in past Father Grimburrow.
The old man greets him as he makes his own way through the doors, shaking his hand enthusiastically. Father Grimburrow asks Iona to take over while he shows Dragomir in personally--which she does, but with a scowl that sends a couple of the newly-arrived worshippers scurrying to their seats.
Father Grimburrow leads Dragomir to a pew near the front, and then asks him to wait while he goes to get something.
He disappears for a few minutes--time that Dragomir takes to look around the cathedral. Just being in the temple stirs up long-dormant memories of his time in Kavapesta as a youth--vaulted ceilings, ornate scrollwork on the pews, carvings everywhere...
Whether it's his size or the fact that he's not a native Ravengrian, Dragomir finds he has the entire pew to himself. He fidgets for a while, perhaps thinking that this wasn't the best idea after all, when Father Grimburrow finally returns.
He hands Dragomir a book. It's bound in black leather, a silvered image of a skane embossed on the cover. It's a copy of The Bones Land in a Spiral--and Father Grimburrow tells Dragomir that it's a gift.
It's probably the most expensive book Dragomir has ever held in his hands.
###
The service is simple and relatively short, with little of the ostentation and affectation that characterises Dragomir's memories of other priests from his childhood.
Father Grimburrow relates a parable telling of Pharasma's threefold nature: the gentle midwife who welcomes new life, the erratic prophet who inspires fear and devotion in equal measure, and the sombre and unflinching reaper who comes for everyone in the end.
Dragomir can't help but wonder which of them he is hitching his wagon to.
Which is when Father Grimburrow concludes his sermon, explaining that these three seemingly disparate personalities are merely facets of the same being--and that to truly understand Pharasma, one has to love them all equally. Doing so, he explains, is a lot easier when you first understand the disparate parts of yourself.
He looks at Dragomir as he says it.
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At the end, Father Grimburrow stands outside the temple, shakes everyone's hand as they leave, and wishes them all well. He asks Dragomir to remain behind after everyone else has left, and asks him how he feels.
When Dragomir is finished, Father Grimburrow grips Dragomir's forearm in the traditional warrior's handshake.
May she guide your hand, Dragomir, he says, before he turns around and heads back into the temple, closing the doors behind him.
Dragomir, moved beyond words and clasping the precious book to his chest with his left hand has nothing to say. When grasping the old priests arm in farewell, he is gentle but firm, giving the old man respect but being mindful of his age before moving, alone, through the early night back to the Lorrimor house.