Toramin frowned slightly at the suggestions.
Dwarven Plate is good for those who are not Stone-Lords. Champion is powerful for other paladins, but would do nothing for me. Either he knows something that I do not that is of significance to matter at hand, or he is not well versed in skills of my order.
"Those would be worthy suggestions for other paladins, but the gods have seen fit to grant me other gifts. Could you imbue my armor with the Crusading enchantment?"
Ianna held her insight close and continues to listen and watch Malan intently. Wisdom, she had often found, was in part listening where others spoke; watching where others acted.
Malan nods. "Gems are accepted. I can sell those off easily in a few days, and a few of my works require gems anyhow." He puts his hands behind his back and leans down, inspecting the gems. Dalton believes he is very good at appraising them.
"Yes, I can provide almost anything you can afford. Some special orders may take time though." He slightly raises a brow. "Human raised, are you? Nothing wrong with that. Elves will teach you more about magic than humans, but your merchant knowledge shows your heritage." He gives Dalton a long look. "I learned smithing from the dwarves, but enchanting I learned in an apprenticeship in an elven city. Why the curiosity?"
Malan gives a small smile to Toramin and nods. "Ah, a paladin. Yes that enchantment is very popular with paladins, particularly on the heavier armors. I have that available now in full plate, or if you come back in a few hours I could get a set of stone plate enchanted with it."
Unimpressed with the smith's assortment of metal skins, Bjorkus stays relatively quiet and lets the others do the talking.
"I do like the idea of stone-plate. Stone is trustworthy, unlike the sea. But could you simply enchant my current armor? Do you know of any enchantments that will help keep our enemies focused on me? I'm better suited to being repeatedly stabbed than Master Dalton or my sweet sister."
"Wear that much armor and the sea is never trustworthy. Unless you're wearing some of my special armor for it." He nods. "I can enchant your current armor, although the more it's already been enchanted the more expensive it will be." He ponders the idea as he looks around. "Something to draw aggro?..Ah yes." He takes off a set of studded leather and holds it up. Each metal stud is made in the design of a tiny sneering face. "With a command word, each of the faces come alive with a tirade of insults at everybody nearby. It magically compels them to attack the wearer for over half a minute." He looks again at Toramin's full plate. "I could either create a heavy set with the same property or I could enchant your current set for..." He narrows his eyes as he scrutinizes the armor. "7500 gold. Either process would take about ten days." He looks over at some of his shields. "Could I interest you in an animated shield while we're at it?"
Bjorkus's disinterest does not go unnoticed. "Not everybody prefers armor, but any decent warrior needs a good weapon. I can top whatever you're using now."
"That would be impressive. His sword is fit for kings, though it could always be further imbued."
"Were I a wealthier man you could interest me in a great many things. Animated shields, insulting armor, greater protection -- Alas I only have the gold for a smaller enchantment. You do not look like a man prone to charity or barter."
Bjorkus snorts and shakes his shaggy bovine head. ”I don’t know what you could do to improve on it, Tyrantbreaker’s already a damned fine weapon. Besides I’m short on coin right now. I’m saving to make improvements on my ship.”
~~~
"Mhmm." Malan muses. "May I see this weapon? I would like to know what makes it so impressive."
Bjorkus undoes the clasp holding it in place and pulls Tyrantbreaker from its harness on his broad back. The bull does a test swing through the air for effect before catching the weapon by the blade and offering it to Malan hilt first.
Malan takes the blade and raises an eyebrow in appreciation as he starts examining it. He mumbles a detect magic spell and looks it over, then holds it up to the light. The whole time his face slowly gets grimmer. Then he looks back at Bjorkus with narrowed eyes, his gaze flicking to Dalton. "You failed to mention your lawbreaking friend was Ares." He hands the weapon back, hilt first, and crosses his arms. "Why are you really here?"
Bjorkus shrugs. ”It doesn’t really matter who I am. The truth is we’re here to see you.”
The bull does a ‘give me back my sword’ gesture and nods to Dalton. ”That is, he’s here to see you.”
Malan turns with a suspicious gaze to Dalton.
Bjorkus straps Tyrantbreaker back into place.
A bull in a bellshop indeed! Dalton was upset, though Bjorkus really didn't know any better. And it was a slim chance the man would've known him anyway. Though him connecting the dots due the weapon speaks to his breadth of profession...
"It seems you are well-versed in your field, better so than I, likely. My name is Dalton Barrowwheel. Though it will not ring the bell Ares the Liberator might, it was your name that was chimed to me."
He glanced at Bjorkus's sword a moment, then returned his eyes to Malan. "We're at a bit of an impasse what to do with that sword, but that was not the purpose for our visit. You're right: I'm human-raised - by my mother. My father never entered the picture. There are many questions unanswered about him I think you may hold the key to unlocking. I have it on good account you knew of him. He would be an elf, not a half-breed, quite skilled in the arcane arts. I have it on good account his talent was such he likely rivaled you. Perhaps surpassed, though doubtfully with armorsmithing, for that detail was omitted when your name was presented."
It was a delicate balance for Dalton to not reveal too much but to exact the particulars. "Though I could be wrong, I would imagine my father performed some unsavory acts in his past, likely resulting in his disappearance. I come to you seeking information about him not as a vigilante or as a vengeful victim, but rather a curious child. So I bid you, please think: Can you recall of a skilled mage with whom you crossed paths in the past that fits the description I gave?"
Malan exhales sharply. "I would recognize that weapon anywhere, even reshaped as it is." He cuts off Dalton rudely for a moment as he looks at Bjorkus. "Would you consider selling it? I'll give you more than a fair price and a magical weapon to take its place."
He listens as Dalton goes on, staring at him quietly the whole time. At the end he lets the silence stretch for a few moments as he continues staring. "An elf with incredible arcane abilities and a questionable past who had a bastard with a human. If you knew elven history you'd know that hardly narrows down the pool. I'll have to know more than that." He folds his arms. "And why should I help you anyways?"
"I don't think so", Bjorkus rumbles. "Akropash cost me enough. This weapon's a reminder of that cost and what it bought me as much as it is a prize."
Malan frowns. "Fine. My offer stands."
Ah, fishing for a price. He might know something.
"Let us worry about if there is something to bargain for first rather than the price of an item that may not be present."
Dalton actually did not mind the armorer showing interest in the sword. Gifts come in pairs, it seems.
He thought back to his encounter with Seimah in Akropash. "Dark hair, violet eyes. He may have mentioned a Wendellia to you, but probably not." The wizard cocked his head aside a moment. "He wouldn't be too dissimilar to you in age, I think. In Elves' time, of course."
Malan scowls. "Damned merchants. It's not about money, it's about giving information on somebody who may not want to be found." He listens to the description of Dalton's father and grows silent. He looks down and rubs his temple. "Get out. He looks up with fury in his eyes. "Out! Get out! Now!"
Bjorkus considers the smith's angry response.
Dalton sighed. "Of course this is not about money. It is about reconnecting a broken family. I will leave though; it is your establishment, after all."
He looked the man over one more time, not as to size-up, but simply in observation. "He is one of the last of the high blood. There are few that know of him or his location, given your protection of him. But though you two may have an understanding, consider the other lives he has affected. Or in my case, wrought."
The transmuter took a few slow paces towards the door. "I do not know what hatchet lies between you two, but I merely wished to give myself and my dying mother some closure. If you change your mind and wish to let us have some resolution, we would be grateful. You may find us at the inn." He looked to the floor. "Supposing she raised me right, I imagine that might mean more to you than some gold coins. Good day, Master Malan."
As peacefully as the wizard came, he left.
Dalton had not expected the man to part with his information, and it was exceedingly good to know money did not part the man's lips. He puts up a good show, but there is something beyond coin as loyalty or leverage there. In a sense though, the game of indirection that had to be played was quite frustrating. Every damned person always has an issue with everyone else. People are the worst. Maybe the druids are onto something...
Toramin looks a little bemused by the entire exchange -- mostly because he had been considering armor purchases -- and hadn't heard what had made Malan so angry.
"Would you still like our custom?" Toramin inquires as he prepares to follow Dalton.
Bjorkus departs with Dalton once the mage's said his piece.
"I don't know why he's protecting your father's location. It seemed to me he hated him", the bull explains once they're out of earshot. "You think he'll come through?"
Malan scoffs as Dalton as he almost forcibly ushers the party out, back into the interior of the blazing tree. He hurries them down the ramp and into the main shop, blatantly ignoring Toramin. His brows are furrowed sharply as he slams the door behind them and waves a glowing hand over it. He turns to the party. "Out, and don't ever come back."
Dalton nods to Toramin. "I do. Depending on what the deal is between him and my father, your connections could be useful. Or your weapon if he tries to kill me."
"I'm not sure, Bjorkus. But I will get the information out of him one way or another." There was steel in Dalton's voice, quite uncharacteristic for him. The mage went introspective a moment. "I'm not certain it was him he hated, but perhaps the memory being resurfaced. My father disappeared from his woman and son without a trace, and he's been in hiding so tight not even potent Seimah could give us a better set of clues. It could be some scuffle with this Malan that forced him away like that."
They walked a bit. "Then again, it could also be an agreement between them to separate. Perhaps this remote place was Malan's lot in the separation."
Toramin was in the dark about Malan's sudden anger. Which was a shame he had been eager to pay the man to enchant his armor and impressed that he felt he could do so in an afternoon for the basic enchantments.
Ianna was equally surprised by the turn of events, and saddened that she could not provide an help to Dalton.
"My intuition is that if Malan feels passionate about your father in any way, he will pick at it like a scab. It might be to your benefit to spend a few days in the city. Show yourself. Walk around. Malan may come to you. I'm going to seek out the dwarven temple to pray and offer thanksgiving for our safe journey."
Ianna heads off to the temple.
"I'll go with you", Bjorkus offers. "I need to share my good works with Trudd."
Laughing loudly at Ianna's remarks, Dalton had to hold his belly. "You are a sharp one, but then again, I shouldn't be surprised. Your whole family seems to have bright blood." Calming down a bit, Dalton explained himself. "That is my bet too. If the scab doesn't itch enough on its own, I will be sure to help it along after a short while."
"We will part ways for a short while then. I need to seek the services of some townsfolk. Rooms are on me again tonight. The innkeep will give you your keys this evening."
Ianna and Bjorkus, after getting directions from a local gillman, find the dwarven temple without too much hassle. It's a moderately sized building that's actually not a part of any tree, although there are very well kept gardens surrounding the building. The inside has wooden pews and the windows are open giving a light breeze. There are small shrines to all the main dwarven deities, including the chosen ones of Ianna and Bjorkus.
Dalton's search is also fruitful. He finds a gnome illusionist in the street performing tricks who says he'll do about anything for the right price. He also finds an old ratfolk scribe in a small, semi-underground shop.
Ianna smiles brightly at Bjorkus. "I would be glad for the company and the escort, Bjorkus. My family doesn't like when I go too far afield by myself."
She blushes prettily at Dalton's compliment. "Dalton, you are such a charmer. How is it that you are still a bachelor? I know several men and women whom I think you would make you a lovely match."
Bjorkus snorts and answers with a nod. "A pretty young thing like you shouldn't be out on the street alone anyway. You've seen how dangerous the world is."
***
Without fanfare, Bjorkus begins the holy body weight exercises of Trudd.
Dalton ducks his head as he enters the ratfolk's shop. "Good afternoon! I was wondering how long it would take you to create a gross or so of parchments with a few sentences beneath a likeness. The likeness needn't be great, but I would provide a quality work for you to model your sketch from. Oh, and it goes without saying the payment in jewels or coins."
Watching a few of the Gnome's tricks, he nodded to himself. This will do.
"That was some fine prestidigitation there. Illusion is not my school of study, but I confess I may be in need of it in the near future. How much would it cost to create an image of a person to last for a few hours? I would need you to conjure such an image at at least a moderate distance. Oh, and sounds with the same parameters would also be a boon. The sight and sound needn't be together."
There are about half a dozen people in and around the building, four of them dwarves but one is a halfling and another is an ifrit.
Toramin splits off from his friends and pulls out a sketch book. He begins to sketch out a map of the city, using Malan's smithy and the Twisted Otter as touch points.
The ratfolk looks a little taken aback by the sudden large order. "Uhhm, a gross you say? I would say two days for four gold, or half the time for double the price and I'll call in my nephew to help."
~~~
The gnome grins at a giggling wayang before turning to Dalton. "Need something that fancy? For a few hours...I'd say about 80 gold. What's the trick?"
~~~
Some time later, a winded Bjorkus huffs as he looks around for a priest of some kind. "So who's in charge around here?" the big sweaty bull asks.
A middle aged dwarven woman in cleric vestments steps forward. "I am the head priest here. Do you require anything?"
Though sworn to Bolka, knew the prayers and rites of all the dwarven gods. The dwarven people were insular and often worshiped their gods as a pantheon. One of her duties as a leader was to offer spiritual succor to all the faithful in more ways than sharing the love of her goddess.
Today she felt the need to propitiate four of the gods: Torag, Grundinnar, Folgrit, and -- of course -- Bolka.
She first approaches Torag's altar. She did not often pray to the Father of Creation. She too closely associated him with her own father, who was ever a disappointment to her. Her father had her love, but did not have her respect; and, she knew her distance from Torag mirrored her distance from his priest. Nevertheless, she loves her brother more than her father disappoints her, and who could love her brother more than her brother's god?
"Yaratılış Baba, ben senin oğlunun, kardeşim göz kulak olduğunu yalvarıyorum. Sen uzak bir baba, ama onu seviyor sadece baba vardır. Ona rehberlik. Onu koruyun. Onu daha iyi bir adam sürekli forge üzerine remade olmak istiyor için yapın."
Turning from Torag's altar she approaches the altar of the god of friendship.
"Benim kardeşinin arkadaşlarını gönderdiğiniz için teşekkür ederiz. Hem de benim için kalplerini açmak için teşekkür ederiz. Dostluk hiç büyük bir hediye. Biz kendimizden farklı insanlarla dostluk ile iyileştirilmiştir. Gerçekten bu şehir sizin tarafınızdan tercih edilmelidir. Pek çok farklı insanlar barış ve uyum içinde birlikte burada yaşıyor. Hepimizi korusun ve bize birbirimize bağışla yardımcı olur."
Next she turned to Folgrit's shrine.
"Tetikte Anne, bu yolda bizlere korumak için teşekkür ederiz. Kollarında bize kuşatmak ve tüm kötülüklerden bizi saklayınız. Benim annem ve büyükanne göğüsler geri güvenle bizi dua ediyorum."
Finally, and with the greatest reverence she approaches Bolka's altar.
"Altın Hediye ben tüm, size sunuyoruz. Bana gemi yapmak ve senin sevgin tüm insanlar arasında akar, böylece beni dökmek. Bana rehberlik, ben dua ediyorum. Değil sadece sevmek kolaydır olanlar değil, aynı zamanda kimin güzelliği ilk gizli olarak görünüyor o sevgi bana öğret. Sahte gurur beni koruyun. Bizim zenginlik, sağlık ve etkisi: Biz verilen çok alır. Kolayca biz aşkı unutmak yapmak için. Kolayca biz güzellik indirim yapmak. Ben en iyi hizmet ve iyi için en büyük değişiklik yapabilirsiniz bana nasıl ortaya koyuyor. Sen kalbimde yaşamak. Senin duaların dudaklarımı ödemesiz. Benim aracılığımla çalışın, ben bu dünyayı dokunma ve daha mükemmellik ile kutsamak için, size yalvarıyorum."
Her last prayer is her most fervent and she wets the alter with her tears of longing and joy.
Toramin doesn't hesitate to ask questions and make new acquaintances as he moves around the city. He spends the entire day on it.
"I need a hand worshippin' Trudd", Bjorkus explains between deep breaths, tapping the holy symbol tangling between his bulging furry pectorals. "A priest in Dagin Kalp told me how to start: Say my prayers, build my strength, enjoy life like a bull should, and help four people at no benefit to myself. I did all that, even gave a ship full of slaves coin to start over in Akropash on the way here. What's the next step in honorin' The Mighty."
"Thank you for the prices. I am not certain yet if I will need your services, but I will return tomorrow if I do."
"I need to get a rise out of someone. The idea is to have an image appear in their building of a person they aren't fond of. The sounds would be there to drive the image along. I'm unsure if I actually will need to do this yet, but I wanted to see if it was within your ability. If it is, I may return tomorrow."
*******
Dalton let the clock do the work for him, browsing the general wares of the rustic town. No heavy industry, it seems. Making notes of the major production categories of the area, he then stopped-off at a leatherworker's shop, working back through the contacts of the tanner(s) to find the hunter(s). The busy wizard then went to inquire of those hunters of their knowledge about the topology, hazards, and denizens of the dense foliage to the South.
During the afternoon, the wizard returned to the inn, acquiring his keys and requesting the extras be distributed to the party. Before bed that evening, he made sure to cast an alarm.
Soon, Malan.
The scribe nods and gives Dalton a fond farewell.
~~~
The gnome chuckles. "Oh that's an easy one. The only hard part is that I won't know the person's personality, so if you want them to talk they'll probably seem like they're acting funny. Definitely easy to make that illusion though."
~~~
As Dalton finds some hunters and inquires of wild hazards, he gets a chorus of laughter. "This is Gesthil, we don't have a week to catch you up. It'd be easier to list what won't kill you. Just hire somebody if you need to, it's a lot simpler."