Manny is at his stool when Rull enters the inn. Hey there! Ready to knock some heads together?
That sounds like an excellent idea! Plus it counts as part of the extra money we get for fighting in the ring. I'm sure we can get somethign from the armorer.
Sure thing. Manny turns to the others. Any of you getting in the ring? I betcha we could get something realllly eye catching for Sorval. Manny smirks.
Only against the monsters... Not quite understanding the inference. Anyways; I've got to go and see the Sheriff. and heads off to do so.
Why call yourself Torgue?
The shop of one Amos Pertness reveals a new world of equipment of dwarven make in the smith-infested part of town. The shop is a busy place, full of travelers and traders, and the artisan seems to control a small army of journeymen and apprentices helping him run his business.
One such apprentice immediately moves to greet. He is a decidedly ugly dwarven young man with a burn scar on his face.
"What can we do ye for?
Indeed. We're looking for something that can show off his muscles. Manny waves to Ruul. The bouts are largely for show although wounds happen. Something for her as well. Manny nods to Sorval.
** spoiler omitted **
** spoiler omitted **
Zeltor smiles, leaning on his own desk, pondering the questions - "Very well, you shall have your answers, but afterwards we will return to the subject at hand, and I expect to see everyone working hard"
"We did face a criminal last night, who reprsented a danger for the town, and yes he has been killed while trying to escape. I would not call him a "monster though"
"It did not breathe fire at all" - he smiles - "But truthfully it seemed able to take flight on his own, and indeed it did when trying to escape our capture"
"As for saving somebody - yes. Worren had been abducted by this criminal. We were able to find and release him. He is now recovering with his family at the Brewery"
Looking around at all the children, he finishes - "Everyone happy? May we resume the class?"
The apprentice pauses, pursing his lips and trying not to think too hard about the implications of "less is better".
"Price range, iffen ye please, sirs."
You assume it's safe to spend up to 30 gold with the expectation of getting reimbursed.
The main guardhouse is a simple but sturdy two-story affair maid of finely-hewed stone. The two guards in charge of the door allow her in without any questions. The catfolk is made to suspect they were expecting her for some reason.
However, beyond that, there aren't very many directions for a few moments. A dwarven maiden who can't be more than thirty years old (a young teenager, by dwarf standards), eventually saunters over to the front desk in the waiting room from another chamber, where she proceeds to sit down and get comfortable before regarding Sorval with an "oh, how long have you been there?" sort of expression.
"You have business here with Forthan, right?" she asks in flawless common.
"Yes, sir...," they respond with a variety of tonalations.
While some faces are impressed, others seem disappointed. Doubtless, some of the children liked their version of the story better. The rest of the day flies by.
By the time Zeltor is about to leave, however, a fight breaks out in the schoolyard.
Zaeltor moves to check what the ruckus is all about - "What is going on here!?"
Make an intimidation or Diplo check with a +2. There's a small schoolchild mob.
"Nails? the boy asks unhelpfully, obviously confused. Still, he takes the two to the weapon section, first. There are some shuriken there, but the design is certainly different than Ruul is used to.
Cowed by their teacher's presence despite his natural lack of charisma, the mob parts to reveal two older dwarven boys beating eachother bloody, so drunk with adrenaline and bloodlust that they don't even seem to know the monk is approaching. One is obviously winning at this point, having jumped on the other with fists running automatically.
A decent order by any standard, the boy removes the 20 display pieces.
"I will pu' an order in for tha' rest, sir."
Zeltor does his best to separate the boys - "That is enough children! What has happened?!"
Manny counts the coins for the shuriken.
Somethin in leather, some decorative spikes. Hmm..Perhaps a kilt as well. Manny glances at Ruul How you handle armor?
I reckon a kilt then. Perhaps..hmm..what was it? Some of those shoulder pads and leather straps that cross your chest. Manny makes a 'X' shape over his chest. Also a robe or cape. Come in covered up and then throw it away to show off your muscles.
"We dunnae make things shoddily 'ere," The youth seems appalled at the thought."Bu' kilts we 'ave, n' spikes can be added ta anything...,"
Yarp
Once he has a decent idea of what is wanted, the boy comes back with the leather equivalent of an entertainer's outfit, sans bells and whistles. It really seems more... well, like something a male streetwalker might wear, but that was the impression the lad recieved, and it is very wel made, with some elasticity to it that would allow alterations to be made to convert it into actual armor at a later date.
"Oh, that guy... Why would you want to find him, if you don't mind my asking? Magnetizing though he may personally be, that fuzzy has about as much a sense of humor as a rock, and a temper besides. Com-plete-ly ignored me on his way in here."
She sighs, getting to her feet and beckoning Sorval to follow as she led her to the sheriff's office.
She raps on the door.
"DAD! You've got company!"
With that, she pushes the door open and toddles back to her perch.
Forthan looks up from a scroll, the bags under his dwarven eyes exaggerated by sleep deprication.
"Ah. I was wondering when you'd stop by. Sorval, was it? Come in, sit down. I would offer you tea, but all of the dishes are dirty at the moment."
He places his hands together on the table.
"I assume this has to do with the man who did a job here and ran off with one of my deputies?"
There's a bit of an edge to his voice, but you doubt your brother committed any crimes in doing whatever he did.
"He left me a message to give one fuzzy-eared little girl. You should work on informing him you're older than he thinks. Took a minute to recognize you at the recipient."
Manny hands over the gold. Here ya go Ruul, looks perfect and if you ever need to extra protection we can have more leather stitched on.
"HE CALLED MY DAD A NECROMANCER!"yells the boy who was formerly winning, full of adrenaline and rage.
"'Ell 'e is, n' all us know it -gurgle-," responds the bloodied other lad. He coughs so hard he nearly throws up. "Wut else 'oud 'e be doin' ou' there in tha Deadsleep...?"
A nearby group of other dwarves watching intensely murmur their assent and laugh a little.
"'ah mean, 'e's no' even a proper Grey Worshipper..,"
"He's a SCIENTIST, and NOTHING MORE!" responds the youth, trying very, very hard to escape Zeltor's grasp.
Nothing comes to mind, we got that possible herb searching outside the city but we'd be going campin for a while so that can wait till after the match.
Works for me. Manny heads back to the tavern with Ruul.
"That is enough children - both of you" - he keeps the boys separated - "I want both you and your parent's names. And you will both receive extra homework - maybe you need something else to focus your attention, besides a fight during recess"
"Before all of that however, I will speak with each one of you in separate - starting with you" - he nods towards the boy that was "losing" the fight, taking him along.
After they have found a private place, he addresses him - "Now... I want to know exactly what caused all that ruckus out there. Explain it to me thoroughly"
The Three Ears is much cleaner than it was last night, though Lorranith looks like she could use seven shots of kahve, at the very least. Meals actually contain salami today, along with some potatoes. Low-prep time sort of dishes, but they fill you up.
Tea is passed around, but not too much of interest happens unless the two work to make conversation.
The youth eyes his teacher dubiously, but starts to talk, spitting out the side of his mouth in the aftermath of the fight, and not out of disrespect.
"There was thi' thing tha' came ou' o' tha cemetery, las' year to tha day, see. I 'as jes' discussin' tha with my friends, an' Casat overhear' n' started wailin' cuz 'e were castin' a bad ligh' on 'is pa. Bu' his ol' man lives ou' there in the cemetery and 'e ain't no Pharasmin. N' fact, the' say tha' ye can 'ear the scratchin' of tha coffins below since 'e showed up 10 years ago..."
"Varsi. One of my best guardswomen. Somehow suckered her into his quest, he did. Something about infiltrating a- ah... wait, the message."
The sheriff cleared his throat a minute and tried to mimic Sorval's brother's bossy and noble cadence. "Don't worry about me, and don't under any circumstances make any attempts to follow, for my safety and your own. I should return before midwinter. Should I fail, consider me lost and do what you can to ingratiate yourself with our adoptive parents. The grudge may die with me."
Hey stinky pants, what is the word on the street?