Belir, Thozar and Torith look for Sara Morninghawk.
Morninghawk’s Fine Steel, commonly known in town as “Clamor” (see area G on Trunau map), is the obvious place to look. It is late morning.
Clamor is a squat, cramped building in the western corner of lower Trunau. The clang of metal on metal rings out of the building most hours of the day, and the heat from the forge fills the stifling smithy.
Thozar approaches the smithy, receipt for the Hopeknife in hand. "Who wishes to do most of the talking? I am not very good at getting people to like me, so I would rather support someone better. Even my relationship with the Meesons took many moons to forge."
Torith is still finding it strange to be around other people, let along other Dwarves.
"I'm not too good with people, i'm used to being on my own in a mine with no-one to talk to but the rocks. Maybe if we 'talk shop', as the humans say, we can find out what we need without this lass having to like our dour dwarven personalities." he says with a slight laugh.
...I've been doing it wrong all these years...
Now this is a Dwarf that knows how to make an entrance...
A bald, orcish woman comes out from the back, sweaty and sooty.
"Hail, mighty dwarves! What may we do for you here at Morninghawk’s Fine Steel?"
"Good day miss. We're, errr... here to see your wares. I also have a strong interest in ores and mining. Where do you get your iron from?"
Torith tries his best to act like like the humans do in situations like this, but he isn't very good at what the humans call 'small talk'.
I can taste the awkwardness. One goes in for the long build up, the other cuts to the chase. Both at the same time. Ain't no diplomacy like the Dwarven kind! With the cat out of the bag, Thozar begins to stroke his beard and waits to see how things develop. He hobbles over to a bench and takes a seat while his grooming picks up pace. Mmmmm... the connection with the earth is strong here. I can feel it pulsing below us. Probably why her steel turns out so well for a non-dwarf.
She doesn't seem to mind dwarf directness, and looks at the slip of paper.
"Looks like one of my receipts. Here... I keep a detailed registry of customers and their orders, let me see if I can match it."
"Yep, here it is. Rodrik commissioned a new blade about a week ago. I did the preliminary work on the knife, then handed it off to one of my apprentices. I assumed she finished the blade."
"I guess it doesn’t matter so much anymore," she says, "but I wonder where it went — it must be around here somewhere."
After a few minutes searching for the knife, Sara comes up empty-handed.
"I’ll bet that clumsy oaf Urnsul put it somewhere before she up and quit the other day; it’s hard to get good help. I’ll let you know if I find the blade."
"Thank you miss. Oh, I guess we are busy right now so i'll try come back and talk iron another time."
Torith nods at the woman in thanks and then turns and leaves before he makes more of a fool of himself.
"Just let the more sociable Dwarf talk next time Torith..." he reprimands himself under his breath.
He waits just outside the building for the others to join him.
Or possibly that it was stolen and used for murder. Perhaps even this Urnsul has a hand in the crime. Staring intently at the floor while soaking in the atmosphere of the smithy and comfort of the earth, Thozar asks, "Where may we find this Urnsul?"
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"Why would Rodrick commission a new blade. Didn't he have one his own?" Belir glares the woman down, not that he hates her in any way but she is a direct competitor to his own work. He admires her workmanship but Sara is more about sending out the product before inspecting every inch and speaking with the metal. You see metal has a way about it. A way to shape it, speak with it and unlock the inner workings of the metal.
"I don't know where Urnsul is. And I don't pry into my customers lives. If someone wants a hopeknife, we make it for them."
Sara explains that Urnsul was a new apprentice she took on several weeks ago, but the woman quit this morning and just left. Urnsul was a recent arrival to Trunau, and Sara took pity on her when the young half-orc explained her tragic story as a struggling refugee in need of work.
You sense she is being honest with what she has said, but get a nagging feeling that perhaps there is something else.
Belir is giving her one hell of a staredown. I pray he gets a hunch of some sort on this smith. Thozar waits to see what Belir does next. When Belir begins to speak with her again, he chimes in with an affirmative statement to help put pressure on her to tell the truth.
Torith remains outside waiting for his allies while thinking how he could approach the next conversation with a little more tact.
He absentmindedly starts to lightly shift the dirt around him into swirling patterns.
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But how can you shape the metal when you don't know the customers desires, wants, needs?
Belir smiles a gape toothed grin. "I get it lass. I do. Don't mean ta push. It has just been a stressful morning with Rodrick and all. Jest looking fer any clue we can. Anything at all will help. So please, if you remember anything let us know. Don't hold back."
"OK. Sorry I cannot find the blade."
"Lads, there isn't anything left to be done here. We will have to find more on our own and hope the others were more successful. We can ask others about Urnsul" Or just people who ask their employees basic life questions... Thozar completes his braid and walks out of the smith's shop. "Thanks for your time!"
Where should we go next...?
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Belir turns around and storms off, or at least that is what it looks like to anyone but a Dwarf as he comes off gruff and mean. Though in reality he is focused and intent on one soul purpose. He means to find out what happened.
"Aye. Thanks Sara."
Once outside he turns. "Let's go find the others. Maybe they had bit more of the dwarven luck than us."
OK - everyone back to the main thread.