Looks to Daelric. Somewhat pleased to be remembered at all. He quickly makes a the sign of Kols as is proper when two meet.
Fair enough. By Torags Beard I see the years have agreed with you. A Stone Lord you are now.
He smiles and offers Daelric a flagon. Join us and tell me how you have been. He gestures to Marla. This is Marla Gun'dur a Chronicler for our people. He looks over to Shimon. This is Shimon Rockdigger a right fine miner with a nose for earth few can match. He gestures to Kal'Tos and Curly Stubs. Not sure who these two are but they are welcome too. With the loss of my clan its nice to have a full table again.
He listens to Curly and thinks about what he said. Pretty sure he said its to heavy to hold off the ground.
And now I must be the gracious clan lord what a joke clan of one.
To the two newcomers. I am Magnus and welcome to my table be seated eat and drink your fill and know you are with kin and kind.
Curly nods gracefully to Magnus.
I, as'e'sed.
Rin pulls his chair over to Magnus' table and holds out his arm.
Pleseur t'meet y'teu! Min'diff ah fil mi tnk'rd? Ah din nah th'mn, buht ah'tend all fewnruhls t'pae mah r'specs, f'we're all buht bruv'rs ere.
Maven marvels at the motley collection of Dwarves all gathered in one hall. Though she tries to catch wind of any tales Marla may share, she soon finds that so many conversations go on that the room is virtaully a buzz of accents, laughter, and sloshing ale. She scans the table for unattended mugs and picks up an empty one, repeating her orison to fill the mug with water.
May not be ale, but at least I can toast when it's called for. Wish Magrias was ere, he always fit into all these gatherin's better than I.
"Evening. I'm Talon Darkslayer, I didn't catch your name?"
Hyrin, somewhat overwhelmed by all the going-ons, almost didn't catch the introduction. Yet when it reached her, she could not help but display a slight, friendly smile. "My name is Hyrin Hammerskôr, here from Ustlav, via Lastwall."
She put down her drink, and turned towards Talon. "It is a sad occasion that brings us together, but hopefully, there will be brighter days to come."
Nods at Stubs speech.
True we are all kin made from the same stone. And drink your fill my brother. And tell us about yourself.
He watches the shadows of the room. He is too close to enjoying himself for the first time in 50 years something must go wrong soon.
He notices Maven looking around and listening to Marla.
Pull up a chair miss I never turned anyone away. Perhaps if we get a good enough audience Marla will tells tales of kinsmen long forgotten that they might live again in our minds and hearts.
Dolgrin stares blankly at the dwarf with the thick accent, blinking a couple of times as he tries to translate his words. When one is offered, he says, "Well can 'e nay even pivot it in place? If'ns not the smith that made that blade either meant it for a giant or didn't know what they were doin'!"
As Magnus signals to Maven to sit, Dolgrin introduces her, "Sirs, this be Sistar Maven Brewbane, a fellow servant o' Torag n' the forge."
Heh I do not think that was ment for dwarven hands but if he ken use it to smash our enemies let him have at it. Though perhaps someone can make him a better sheath.
He offers his hand to the newcomer. Magnus servant of Kols pleased to meet you brother. Pull up a chair and grab some mead.
Hyrin, somewhat overwhelmed by all the going-ons, almost didn't catch the introduction. Yet when it reached her, she could not help but display a slight, friendly smile. "My name is Hyrin Hammerskôr, here from Ustlav, via Lastwall."
She put down her drink, and turned towards Talon. "It is a sad occasion that brings us together, but hopefully, there will be brighter days to come."
"Well met." Talon returns the smile and nods, " Ay, times have been hard of late. There are probably enough sad stories among this lot to have us all crying in our beer. Better to celebrate a life well led than to dwell on our troubles eh? At least for one night." He leans in and confides, "Truth is, I'm a bit out of my depth with this bunch. They're all a bit larger than life don't you think?"
Daelric looks at Magnus and also makes the sign of Kols, then at the one with the thick accent confused still and back at Magnus again, "As always my friend, you continue to amaze me. You can even translate this man?" He accepts the offered flagon but before drinking the contents he looks up at Magnus again, "Whats in it? My head still hurts a little from a little while ago, I think I had a little too much to drink."
As Daelric is introduced to everybody around the table he nods to each, he then looks at Marla, "A chronicler, eh? That is an honourable profession, it is nice to see one who works with truths, even more so when it is someone who has the important job of recording our history." Then he looks to Shimon and a large smile plays across his face, "Greetings, it is nice to see a fellow miner here. Where do you work, if I may ask? I am looking around for somewhere to work during my time off and any place you know of would be truly appreciated." With that he pulls out his pick, it is a little scratched and the wooden handle is so worn you cannot see the grain, "I have had this girl since I was but a lad, the only thing I have left from my home and family. She has been crying to get back to work, but I haven't been able to do so in a couple of months now." He then places the pick back on his back.
Daelric then looks back at Magnus, "When was the last time you were at the temple, it feels like years ago. They finally gave up on getting me to try and do spells, I don't have that sort of knack, not like you do. But I seemed to have a connection with the stone, I feel it ... beating sometimes." With that he places an empty hand onto his stone symbol around his neck and closes his eyes, almost in prayer. He then opens his eyes again, "So they decided to train me just in the physical arts, which as you know my years of mining have given me a great advantage, as I have the strength required for it. What have you been doing then, my friend?"
At the mention of giants, Daelric's mouth tenses slightly, "That blade would be nothing more than a dagger to a giant, even so it is impressive you can drag it, let alone wield it. But if it is too heavy to lift, why do you use it?"
Seeing Maven invited to the table, Daelric makes a little room for her to sit down. Once she is comfortable he turns to her, "I don't suppose I could ask for another of your refreshing drinks, please?"
Laughs rich and deep. Tis just a light mead my friend you know I can't dri k like some of you kin and have no wish to have my wits fuddled this early.
At the question about the temple he looks down. It has been years. I learned to pass Kols judgement on oath breakers and his mothers as well. But I have been hunting something.....
He shakes his head as if to clear it. I know you heard the stories about me claiming to be haunted by shadows. Well I wasn't lying then and I'm not now. They have taken them all. My whole clan I'm the last. And I know not what to do. I have searched high and low; stone and sky for an answer to my curse. I have found none. How I wish I had never taken up Gladdringgar. For all the honor it brought me I dove to deep and have been haunted ever since.
He shakes his head consumed momentarily by sorrow. His pain to great to speak.
"I think, so far," Vigar looks over to Daelric, "this has been a fine funeral for him."
Baring his crooked, stained, chipped, and missing teeth in a grin that crawls from ear to ear, Dwunderbran's momentary display of solemnity and respect melt away in an instant. Coughing out a rough laughter, he offers a praise for the son of the recently deceased: "Ah like tha cut of ye, boy-o! Yer sire be soundin' like 'e were a dwarf truer 'an a crochety eulogy'll do justice, aye? Ye've no worries fer me ta be sparin', sure 'nuff—I'll nay wet meself er tha stones o' yer hall. Ah would nae dare compete again' such a paragon by drainin' tha gold from me bladder where company be rememberin' 'im in all 'is glorious pissery! When tha rememberin' be done, ah'll find ye fer a wag o' me tongue, but ah'll leave ye be fer now afore tha misers behind ye 'ave me tossed offa tha nearest span." Offering a sly a wink, Dwunderbran turns on his heels to amble down from the dais.
Descending the broad and subtle cut of the steps leading away from the precipice of Vigar's table, Dwunderbran turns his sights to his former seat. Disappointment grips his features as he notes that his seat—and most of the seats in the immediate vicinity—have been claimed during his brief jaunt away from the spot. His eyes look longingly to the Ironbloom lass and the rapidly draining keg next to her, whose contents have been the best brew the wild haired dwarf has tasted in well over a decade. Sighing in resignation, he instead turns his gaze to the nearest refreshments table. Ignoring the protests of a nearby server, Dwunderbran scoops up a trio of tankards off of the table and wraps his arms around one of the numerous pony kegs arrayed thereon. A bold, simple brand across the head of the keg reads: Grundan & Sons Battle Stout. The server makes to interject, but a nearby guard dissuades the boy with a raised left hand and a quick shake of her head that wordlessly says "not worth the effort, lad."
Waddling steps carry Dwunderbran over to the crowded table he had occupied several moments prior, though the only open seat available rests several spots down from his former. Slamming the keg and tankards down in front of him, the dwarf casually flings one leg after another over the stone bench running the length of the table. Not missing a beat, he begins filling a tankard of Battle Stout from the small keg as he raises brows and eyes to regard his new neighbors, only catching the tail-end of Talon's conversation.
"...Truth is, I'm a bit out of my depth with this bunch. They're all a bit larger than life don't you think?"
Grinning across the table at Hyrin, Dwunderbran winks and chuckles before stealing an answer to a question not posed to him in the first place. "They be a wee bit on tha runty side by me reckonin'. 'Cept fer tha' Ironbloom lass an' her wonderbrew, ye grab me? Done lost me seat bandyin' barks wi' tha dead sire's boy-o, 'aven't I? O', but I done fergot me manners—Dwunderbran Vulgarbeard's wha' me ma' and da' were savvy enough ta name me." He begins filling his spare tankards and sliding them to his new, hopeful acquaintances—Hyrin and Talon.
Daelric blushes a bit and nods at Magnus, then he takes a small sip of the golden liquid and then places his flagon onto the table and runs his fingers around the rim. Once Magnus shares his problems with everyone Daelrics eyes grow full of sorrow, "I know the feeling to lose those important to you my friend, if you would like I could assist you in your quest to find a way to remove the curse? I remember you telling me about this curse, I never doubted you my friend, Kols followers do not lie. If you would have my help, then I can even make an oath with you, with Kols as our witness, that I will assist you in any way I can?"
He looks up and for the first time in what must he near a century there is hope in his eyes. Yes brother I will take your help. The priests never accused me of lying they th iught me mad with grief I must say that. But yes perhaps we can find away. And mayne Marla here may know something listed in the old records.
He smiles. And looks around him. Might not be any of my family left but we are dwarves we are all from the same stone. I can beat this thing and rebuild my life, my family, my clan.
He looks to Daelric and nods. For this you are hearth kin to me always will you be welcome in my halls and whatever I have is yours Daelric.
Daelric smiles, "I do not own much, but the same can be said to you my friend, if I have something you need, be it possession or assistance, you only have to ask. After the celebrations have ended, we shall go the the High Priest and make the Oath. I have lost one family and gained another." Daelric looks over to Marla with a glint of curiosity, "Does any of this sound familiar to you, m'lady?"
The same here. It feels good to have a brother again. And together we can rebuild the clan and our names feared by the enemies of our people. A toast to you and Kols may we find what we seek and may he bless our endeavor.
He raises his flagon for the toast then belts back a hefty swallow of mead.
Maven nods, refilling Daelric's cup. "Fortunes are good with Torag as this spell's easy to cast. Just hope no one needs a tub dumped on 'em afore the night's done, aye?"
Dolgrin listens to the conversation between Daelric and Magnus intently, his hands clutching a new tankard in front of him. He then says, "Magnus, lad, I'm terribly sorry fer yer loss. I know that not many would go outta there way to 'elp a dwindlin' clan, but I feel different. With everythin' goin' ta sh*t above 'n below, I think it's more important than ever ta hang on ta every last dwarf we can," he throws a thumb back in Dwunderbran's direction to emphasize his point. "So, if thar be anythin' I can do fer ye with what connections I 'ave in the Father's Temple, I shall do me best."
Apologies if it comes off like I'm stealing someone's thunder; isn't my intent—just wanted to 'infiltrate' a different section of the table. Also, apologies for inflicting Dwunderbran's company on the two of you, hah!
"...Truth is, I'm a bit out of my depth with this bunch. They're all a bit larger than life don't you think?"Grinning across the table at Hyrin, Dwunderbran winks and chuckles before stealing an answer to a question not posed to him in the first place. "They be a wee bit on tha runty side by me reckonin'. 'Cept fer tha' Ironbloom lass an' her wonderbrew, ye grab me? Done lost me seat bandyin' barks wi' tha dead sire's boy-o, 'aven't I? O', but I done fergot me manners—Dwunderbran Vulgarbeard's wha' me ma' and da' were savvy enough ta name me." He begins filling his spare tankards and sliding them to his new, hopeful acquaintances—Hyrin and Talon.
At the last possible moment Talon notices Dwunderbrans landslide advance and scrabbles over to make room on the bench. Grabbing the proffered tankard to keep it from smashing into his chest he snorts with laughter, "Speaking of dwarves larger than life! Well met. The names Talon Darkslayer. I'm a Ranger by trade, same as my da'. Though I'm a Guide while he was a Deep Walker. This is Hyrin Hammerskôr, from Ustlav, via Lastwall."
Inclines his head as if bowing to Dolgrin. Thank you. Though I fear this maybe worse than just my clan. See.... Well I could tell the tale if the table wishes to hear. Otherwise I won't bore you with it.
He looks around for a consensus.
Magnus stands emboldened by the finding of new friends and family. He roars forth in a deep bass. He sings from the heart he forgot he had.
Pour another cup, mine appears to be dry
Don’t say there’s no more or a dwarf might cry
All sing along now and sway side to side
No single voice is too ugly to hide
Cheer all ye up, no reason to look grim
There’s no need for dwarven waistlines to be slim
Never mind the weak-stomached one’s snore
Full round bellies make grave spirits soar!
And all call:
O, ho, finish in one
Down, down
Until it’s all gone!
Hoorah!
He sits back down to to let another continue the song.
Marla looks around at the others, and shrinks slightly. Tell them a story, girl. You can think of something. You know the best of their ancestors' deeds. She nods and starts to speak. "In the Year of the Kimberlite Goblet, the Great Thaim of Garmulk was sent from his Hold on a Debt of Honour to redeem his family for the crime of cowardice. An alliance with a Human King had been broken and his kingdom was destroyed by Hobgoblin armies while the Thaim's people shut up their hold and left their ally to face the threat alone. The Thaim went forth into the world to die in battle, but he discovered a prophecy that said the King's heir survived and his Kingdom could be rebuilt. He and companions he met along the way fought many great battles, slaying a powerful Demon, binding an Ifrit Prince, even traveling to the Boneyard itself to retrieve a great artifact, and in the end, he and his companions faced a wicked and powerful Drow Wizard, whose machinations had set all of this in motion. When the Thaim and his noble allies finally stood in triumph over the evil Enchantress, he laid down his magic axe, his armor, his rings and all his many treasures, and walked back to his home barefoot and stripped of all glory. He returned to his people and announced that honour was restored and he was buried at the end of his days in a tomb with no name, but the name of his Clan went on to many generations of great prosperity and honour." she recites.
Ye know all their family stories too, girl.
Marla looks around tentatively for the reaction to her tale.
She looks up at Magnus when he mentions the curse. "I can certainly look. Who knows what might turn up in the old Chronicles?" she says with a smile. She grips the antique axe even harder.
Isoldda appears to have been captivated by the tale. She leans in chin on her upturned palms, eyes batting at Rockjaw. She jumps back with a "Torag's b&+#$!~s!" when the heavily armored dwarf yells 'by thundar!' After he finishes her eyes go wide "Woowww. I wish I had flails instead of eyeballs, that would be AWESOME!" she says, swinging her arms around in a vague imitation of what she imagines they would look like. "So, skull-shield, what about you?"
"Aye, stories on stories to tell. People think we just go down to scrap wit' th' darkies, but that ain't the case. Our main mission is to clear the way to old holds. I mean, they belong to us anyway, and it does wonders for morale for the civilians to know they can get in and grab that what wasn't plundered while the darkies had the hold. Usually not safe to go livin' there again though, cuz sometimes the knife-eared bastards strike back."
Edrukk continues his tale, "So anyway, takin' a hold back is tough work. We do a lot o' fightin' in tunnels, so we lit'rally pour violence forth and move in lockstep forward to push the enemy back. But cross into a hold, now yer not in a tunnel no more. Enemy's got all kinds of angles or return fire for arrows, guns, spells and what-have-ya. Plus, they're spread out now so ya can't concentrate firepower as well," Edrukk elaborates, using his hands to talk a lot and demonstrating angles of fire.
"So we punch through the main gates and down the main tunnel to the hold's center where they've holed up, and we're covered on top and all sides by our shields so they can't even see us. They're peltin' us with all they can muster, and we got guys in the middle riggin' up big barrels of black powder surrounded by piles of grapeshot and scrap metal. So there we are, ol' Edrukk being a shield bearer for what seems like days. The drow figure out that they don't have enough ammo to outlast us, and decide to get in close and try to break our shield wall. Everything outside gets silent just as we are finishin' up our surprise. Then th' commander give the order to break ranks and punch it to the tunnel. Th' knife-ears thought we were gonna stay in there all day, so they got quite the surprise when we all busted out and ran to the tunnel like we'd seen ghosts. Some followed us, most just started shootin' at us while they had the shot. They didn't pay enough attention to what we left behind though, and when we got to the tunnel we walled up our shields again, and th' commander made a tiny part in the shield wall just long enough to shoot the alchemist fire flask on top of the pile. The whole thing went up, bullets and scrap metal ever'where, drow screamin', sounded like the rain of blows from a hunn'rd 'r so picks on our shield wall. Opened up the wall, shot a few that had taken cover, and the hold was ours. Too bad they took it back a fortnight hence."
Thank you Marla. My halls are open for you to shelter in anytime you have need.
He thinks about the story and ponders it for a bit.
It was a good tale and an important one to remind us of the price of honor lost.
"No, no. Not been to Varisia myself. The Thasilonians were certainly an interesting group though, their decline into savagery and dark magics, their runes amongst them. I did some research, but I've mostly kept busy in Garund, and occasionally southern Avistan." he replis amiably to Grunyar's question. "I had always intended to get to them eventually of course, but that is both easier, and more dangerous now with history walking right out of it's pages." he offers with an amused smile.
Angrin's introduction earns him a pause just a little bit too long and a brief condescending look before he responds. "Quint Chiselbone, of Absalom. Student in history, and dabbler in magic." he glances towards Grunyar to see if the nervous fellow will introduce himself.
Daelric places the mead flagon down onto the table and drinks out of the tankard that Maven has just filled. He then listens intently to Marla's story, "Honour is the most important thing and it sounds like The Thaim regained his honour after breaking an Oath. I thank-you for telling us such an amazing tale."
Daelric then turns to talk to Magnus, when he bursts into song. Something stirs inside Daelric, he knows this song ... his father and the workers used to sing it. With that he stands up slowly, hand on heart, head down as if remembering a great pain and joins in.
"By Brodon’s beard, another two glasses
Didn’t those bosoms just grow on them lasses?
Sweet lady friend mine, won’t you join me?
My lap is empty and the brandy’s for free.
Sorry love, didn’t mean to be rude
No telling the stories when a dwarf’s in the mood
But truth be told I’d not ever chose you
Over a pint of my sweet sacred brew
And all call:
O, ho, finish in one
Down, down
Until it’s all gone!
Hoorah!"
Although Daelric's singing is not bad, it is not good either. But you can hear the sadness in his voice as he sings. Once he has finished his verse he slowly sits down again and picks up his tankard again. Then turns to Magnus with a teary smile, "Please tell us the tale, it could help us to help you."
A singing gets closer and closer to Daelric, until it is right in his ear and a hand appears on his shoulder as the singer shouts "Hoorah!" which makes Daelric jumps slightly. He looks up to see the woman who had been serving everyone, the one that that Vulgerbeard fellow seemed to like, "Umm, thank-you m'lady. I wouldn't say I am that handsome, but I do take great care and pride in my beard, as should all Dwarven men. Maybe it is the style that you are finding appealing?" It is hard to see behind the red beard and mustache, but upon a closer inspection you can see that Daelric is blushing. "Aye, I can't hold my drink and that is supposed to be a sign of a weak Dwarf, or so my brother always said. As for my voice ... it took me several years to remove the accent of Janderhoff, the problem with it was that sometimes the priests would struggle to understand me. So they gavce me lessons on how to speak properly, 2 hours every day until I got it right, took nearly 5 years!" With that Daelric bursts into laughter, a deep rumbling laughter, but not too loud as to distract others from their conversations or make them turn to look. There is a lot of joy in the laughter, obviously there were some fun times during the speech lessons.
Daelric looks around the room and spots Vulgerbeard, then looks back at Isoldda, "I thank-you for the compliments and the drink earlier. You seem able to hold your drink and it would seem you have gained an admirer, that Vulgerbeard fellow is looking at you again. He looks love-struck, as long as he doesn't try to fight me for your affections, it will be all good. You also look like you could hold yourself in a brawl, I wonder who would win between the two of you? Of course I hope it won't come to that."
Rin smiles with a huge grin at Magnus' offer to himself, grabbing the largest Tankard he can find and downing the Mead in one single and overly long gulp.
T'is ah'fin dr'nk ye av'ere. Wear'd'ya geh'dis frarm?
At the mention of Giants, Curly looks to Daelric, slightly puzzled, but replies none the less.
Lahdy, ah didnae mehnshern aneh Gi'nts, bt ah'kin asuuure ye da'this b'moor ten ah'daggargh t'wun'o thos mn'strosties. 'F'ye wahn'a hir'a st'ry, ah'kin tel'ya wh'ah wil'd sutcha lahrge w'puhn, nd'ah'kin usit jus'fyn.
"Absalom, eh?" Angrin arches a brow at the condescending look, but shrugs, ignoring it for the time being as the song begins. Though he does not recognize the tune, he gets caught up in it, nodding along.
A small smile forms on his face, and he leaves the two educated types to go talk with the loud mouthed dwarf who'd just been up to speak with Vigar, just in time to hear his introduction. "What manners be those?" He grins broadly, though, clearly more than willing to forgive and forget if their host was. "Angrin Thronebearer, o' Varrok's Deep." He said politely, though he kept a fairly safe distance from the stinking man. How'd he survive for so long? Surely with a stench like that, he'd be able to be tracked by anyone with half a nose! Maybe the surface was simply less hostile? Odd thought, that, for sure. "From where d'ye hail, then?" He runs his fingers over his beard, a habitual gesture, then winces a little at the gnarled feel of it, reminded of the reason he was here.
"I have built up my strength and constitution over the years as a miner, you need to be able to work long and hard to make sure you get the quota done. I am sure Shimon is just as strong too." Daelric's eyes subtly glance over to Dolgrin, Maven and Magnus, as if looking for help in this situation.
Dolgrin chuckles under his breath, and strokes his beard. "Done broke up one fight, lad, yer on yer own 'ere."
Looking over to Magnus and Maven, he says, "Lad, Sistar, might wanna make some room, thar may be a commotion 'eaded our way soon!" He then scoots his chair slightly away from Daelric.
At the last possible moment Talon notices Dwunderbrans landslide advance and scrabbles over to make room on the bench. Grabbing the proffered tankard to keep it from smashing into his chest he snorts with laughter, "Speaking of dwarves larger than life! Well met. The names Talon Darkslayer. I'm a Ranger by trade, same as my da'. Though I'm a Guide while he was a Deep Walker. This is Hyrin Hammerskôr, from Ustalav, via Lastwall."
At the mention of Ustalav, Dwunderbran's features become a bit grave. "Ye've mah condolences then, missy." he begins, speaking across the table to Hyrin, "Tha Goats made fer Caliphas fer ta drop'n anchor afore thin's got ter dark, aye?" Dwunderbran's gaze falls to his drink, a melancholy shake of his head arriving subsequently to keep the look company. "Ah reckon ships cannae be makin' port thur anymore."
Dwunderbran swivels around in his seat to glare up at Angrin, a stern look of reproach evident on his face. "As fer me manners what upset yer nancy sensitivities, ah'll have ye know..." Dwunderbran's firm look evaporates into the face of joviality as the willpower to keep the joke dissipates. "I'm jes' chiselin' yer stones, lad! Ole Dwunderbran's pleased fer ta meet ye an' right fiercely, ye grab me? Ye may be hornswaggled ta fathom it but it were these very tunnels me ma' did squirt me outta. Highhelm be me home right an' true, though Kerse be kinder ta me if ye'd believe it. Served aboard tha Wormdrink fer scantly short o' a score o' years alongside me scallywaggin' skullduggers: The Swollen Goats. An' what o' tha Deep, aye? Cannae say ah ever parked me bluster-blower there afore."
Daelric nods and smiles, although he does shoot a quick glare at Dolgrin. "Kols is the son of Torag; The Father of Creation, he is also known as the Oath-Keeper. He is said to splits his time between following his father and keeping his brother Grundinnar; The Peacemaker out of danger. He has to keep his brother out of danger as his sister Bolka; The Golden Gift, seems to attract fights over her. So the sister has the two brothers to watch out for her and keep the peace. Kols punishes those who shirk their obligations or break oaths." Daelric looks to Magnus and nods, "This is who Magnus here and I follow. We ensure that people keep their oaths. I also try to break up fights that could disrupt the peace, as this could then break more oaths in the process as well as put innocent bystanders in harms way." Daelric seems a little more at ease while speaking of Kols, but still feels a little nervous in the current situation. "I really hope that Vulgerbeard doesn't come over here and start a fight, I just want to enjoy the ceremony and stay out of trouble. Kols, Grundinnar, give me the strength to get through the night, I beg of you."
"I have built up my strength and constitution over the years as a miner, you need to be able to work long and hard to make sure you get the quota done. I am sure Shimon is just as strong too." Daelric's eyes subtly glance over to Dolgrin, Maven and Magnus, as if looking for help in this situation.
Aye, ah'kin rays'a'glas t'tha lahdy. Ih'tuhk'mi'ah looooooohng tym't'crahft thi'sere blaide. Ah'du luv'mah metahl!
I wonder who else crafts here. It would be interesting to know how many times others have folded the steel within their weapons. I wouldn't mind getting my hands on some rare materials, that's for sure. The dreams of having my own Adamantine Fortress! Ah, that would be grand!
Daelric looks at Randovaan still puzzled and trying to work out what he is saying, "No, I still can't understand you. Maybe it is something I will get used to over time ... if we spend that much time together?"
Rin nods.
Aye, tha b' aboot r'ght!
This lad just needs to listen harder I'd say. The other guy can understand me, so it can't be that hard to hear! In time, in time.
Daelric it is not just you who cannot understand him. I think he has consumed more stout than he can handle
Dr'nk? Hahaha! Ah'hav'n hahd muchta dr'nk. Ye'jus'noh lis'ning!
All this talk on Kols and Torag. What about Trudd? ALL HEIL TRUDD!
Rin grasps his tankard firmly, raising it into the air, almost as if he's silently saluting something.
Angrin grins beneath his beard, eyes twinkling. "Oh, aye? Ne'er heard o' 'em. Some sort o' sailin' crew? Kerse, kinder t' ye than yer own people? Shameful, that's what it is."
The trapsmith's expression fades, though, at the mention of his home. "Not too good. The bloody drow are more an' more aggressive, an' they jus' attacked a few weeks back. Got hit pretty hard 'fore we forced 'em back." He rubs his beard with a pained expression, not commenting on his suspicions that somehow, he himself had been involved. "Harder'n usual, e'en. Then we heard o' the master o' coin's death, too. Hasn't been a good month, fer us. On the other hand, we're still holdin' out, so that's good."
"Aye, I'm 'avin' the same trouble understandin' 'im. Lad, get yer beard outta yer mouth 'n speak more clearly, if'n ye can..."
Daelric looks to Kal'Tos and Dolgrin, then sighs in relief, "It is good to know that I am not the only one." He turns to face Magnus, "Looks like we will be asking you to translate for the drunken man I am afraid my friend."
Daelric see's Isoldda's eyes grow wide during the "tale" and then she grips into his arm with her hand, it hurts a little bit he says nothing. Then she releases him quickly and then look around and grabs the steins, but he see's the tears in her eyes before she can hide her face. "What is wrong, no need to cry or hide. Here take a seat, let us just hope that Vulgerbeard doesn't come over and start a fight, there is no need for violence that can be avoided." Daelric then holds up a leg of some unidentifiable meat and passes it to her. "Here, eat this, it will help. So what is it you do exactly, I heard you say that you brewed that potent drink, but what do you do other than that?" "So first she tries to tease me and then at the mention of Bolka she gets scared, I hope I didn't offend her." With that Daelric turns to look over at Vulgarbeard, "Good, he has new company to distract him, as long as nothing draws his attention over here we will be fine." Daelric the looks back at Isoldda and places his hand on her fore-arm gently and gives it a small reassuring squeeze and then lets go again, "It looks like the night will be long and I seem to be making a lot of new friends and meeting up with old ones too. So many women too, in the temple there were no women, it is quite a refreshing change although a little scary."
Ah, der's n'thin rongh wi'how'ah speek, an'ah'kin hol mi'licker.
Looking over to Angrin, Rin opens the thick stubble on his face to reveal what is commonly known as a mouth.
Ah didnae katch'ye naimm. Aye'tho, tho's bluddee Drough! 'lways callzing 'sruption rownd'ere!
The other alternative is that his hold was all a little too closely related and a little to far from other dwarves.