Gwyn mumbles something about star-cream pie and rolls over before falling back to sleep after Garret hands her the share of the dragon's gold that she had earned.
Odd'n, Glass Bottle 1g 9s 2c and 445g 1s 4c
Bronan, 447g 6c
Tanwen, Club 4g 8s, Climbers kit 76g 8s and 365g 6s 6c
Garret, 447gp 1sp 2cp and holding Potion currently
Bronan heads over to the patch and starts collecting kindling.
edit: here is a perception to notice the bush-
Ps- for his turn at watch through the night,
Pps- ill roll the asperger checks for those oddn hates when i am home tomorrow to account for the 'new dawn'. Goodluck to bronan, garret, tanwen, and.. whatever else..
ppps- can i ask you, tlgm, if this feather will blink forevermore at true midnight?
Odd'n can see that the dry bush is good for firewood, but that the flowering plant is barbed. Bronan tells Odd'n to be very careful when trying to pull up the bush, the thorns are poisonous.
Odd'n can see that the dry bush is good for firewood, but that the flowering plant is barbed. Bronan tells Odd'n to be very careful when trying to pull up the bush, the thorns are poisonous.
Odd'n approaches the brambles, comfortable with plants from his years in the bush. Cracking his knuckles he nimbly reaches for the main stem of the plant, his fingers lightly grazing the thorns without them breaking his skin.
Asperger rerolls
Bronan +5 to your current asperger score
Garret +0 to your current asperger score
Tanwen +3 to your current asperger score
umaveti (minoj) +0 to your current asperger roll
I wait until it is my turn at watch and I am sure everyone else is alseep before relieving Umaveti of his scrolls and storing them on my person.
Prepared spells for the day
Once I have completed preparing my spells for the day I will cut the holy symbol off my armor and cast mending repairing the rent. Then I will cast Arcane mark and put my rune on the chest in place of where the holy symbol was.
As the fire begins to die, Garret successfully steals the scrolls from Umaveti's pack.
Bronan spends much of his watch stargazing, but Caltrop stays alert.
A dark sky daunts not the strangely haughty nagaji librarian. The escorts are awakened by the sound of his hasty collection of his things, pots and pans clanking against tools of survival and trade loudly. He also kicks dirt into the smolders, extinguishing them for good. "Come now sleeping children! Onward!" Umaveti proceeds to simply walk down the road without awaiting their preparation or response.
Gwyn gathers up everything, eats and drinks to fill her rumbling belly, and helps clean up the camp site all while half-asleep, though she does glare at Umaveti occasionally.
Bronan yawns as he pats down Sky. In short order he is ready to go.
Rising from his bed, Odd'n stretches his arms before packing up his things into his pack. Searching the sky, Odd'n mumbles to himself as he tries to predict the days weather.
Being the last watch and already up, I pack away my spellbook that I was studying and rise to follow Umaveti. Smiling to myself.
Odd'n is able to predict that it will be a clear day with little wind, and it will be blisteringly hot (~90-100 F) from dawn til dusk.
The trek down the road of sand and dust means a beating hot sun and neither breeze nor shade to console them. The sight of Fwey in the distance comes as an immense comfort to those of the group who weren't born and bred in the desert. As the town comes into view, the group's ecstasy turns to disappointment. Fwey is little more than two larger stone buildings--also built from ruins like the ones in Krisol's municipal square. To the south and west of these buildings are a small amalgum of huts and lean-to's, likely nothing more than places to sleep. The "town" is very quiet as the troupe approaches.
The silence is broken when a man outfitted like the watchmen in Krisol approaches Umaveti, one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other raised in a "halt" fashion. "Hold up there!" he says, "Who are you and what is your business here?"
Umaveti, reaches back and pulls a scroll out of the top of his pack, and holds it out for the guard to see as he approaches, "I am Umaveti, Krisol Librarian, I have a message from his honor, Mayor Minoj." The guard reaches for the letter, but Umaveti whisks it away saying, "It's not for you, the message is for his sister-in-law, I was simply showing you that it bears his personal seal."
After a disappointed smirk the guard looks at the seal and nods. He looks past Umaveti and asks, "And who are they?"
Umaveti points you all out individually, saying, "May I introduce Bronan Krass, Garret Powers, Tanwen of Pyralis, Odd'n Lhrar, and Gwyndolin Maulsen. They work for the mayor, I vouch for them personally."
The guard waits a moment before accepting their credentials, and asking, "So, did you run into the bandits on the way here?"
"Indeed we did," the nagaji affirms, "but my companions can tell you more about it."
Odd'n, untrusting of the town guards, steps away from the group to peruse the 'town', leaving the others to address the mans questions.
Odd, calling two buildings a town.. this is more an outpost than anything.. why would the mayors son be in a run down place like this..? Odd'n asks himself as he walks by the ruins and on towards the tents. Himself looking like a street urchin, tattered rags and worn boots both, he approaches looking for someone to talk too that doesn't appear to carry the same authority as the guard.
"Yeah, some guy calling himself 'the wish'. Luckily Garret here out-witted him. But it was a close thing." Bronan waves an open hand in the nobleman's direction.
I nod my head in acknowledgement to Bronan's comment. "I wished to remove their blight from the road as well, but my party members did not agree with my assessment."
Heading straight past the main buildings, Odd'n finds himself in the living area, filled with a great number of men: only a few of whom have families as far as he can tell. A younger gentleman chewing on a straw, sitting on a stool in front of what Odd'n assumes is his hut can be seen whittling away at a piece of wood. The gentleman looks up and says with nothing but joy and surprise in his voice, "Oy, look at you! Don't see the likes of you every day!" He stands, stows his knife, extends his hand and says, "Name's Rory, what's yours?"
"The Wish, eh?" the guard grins, "Is that who we're on about? Helluva gambler and drinker, but I never took him for a hoodlum, times must be tougher in Krisol than I thought. Anyway, welcome to Fwey, I know it doesn't look like much, but it's hard to get anything built in this sand, and when the wind kicks up," he motions with his arms to convey the ferocity of the sandstorms in the area, "forget about it."
"Facinating," Umaveti snarks, "but where might we find Nani?"
With a sigh, the guard throws a thumb over his left shoulder saying, "Last time I saw her she was in City Hall here." The inflection used in the phrase "City Hall" could readily be interpreted as sarcasm.
Umaveti bows curtly and heads inside.
uhm.. Odd'n.. uhm..why do you want to know..? What do you mean.. likes of me.. you.. you were there werent you?!?!?!"
Odd'n takes the mans hand as he begins speaking, but as the thoughts race through his head he begins tightening his grip.
he knows how i escaped.. he knows.. my past.. the pits.. he.. he.. why.. why is he interested..
As Odd'n's grip tightens so does Rory's. Odd'n is surprised to find that this otherwise unimpressive-looking young man has a steel grip. It's at this point that Odd'n sees that the muscles that aren't covered by his loose sandy tunic and cloth breeches are all equally sculpted.
"That's quite a grip you've got there, brother. But then I expected as much from a man raised by orcs. It is orcs isn't it?" He said pointing at his own teeth. "You meet a good spread of people and creatures working on this island. I'm pretty sure Skullscar, our old half-orc foreman, told me about the tooth-sharpening tradition his clan had." After an awkward amount of time, Rory adds, "Anyway, you can let go whenever you like, brother."
Gwen follows Umaveti inside, something about how she moves speaks of shame and more than a little anger as she heads inside.
Somewhat taken aback by this mans knowledge about HIS past, Odd'n quickly releases his grip and whips his hand back to himself. Pulling his hand to his chest, Odd'n beings massaging out the tingling that resulted from the mans iron grip.
".. you.. you could call it raised. I might call it survived..."
Trying to maintain a stern face in the presence of this man is a short battle. Odd'n, after so many years alone and different from those around him, can't help but feel a little warmth towards this man whom he can finally relate too. His face softens, before a sad smile splits his features. "Yes.. yes.. YES!", his voice lightening and rising as he continues, a small chuckle escaping his hulking form. "Yes, orcs it is.. or was! And I can't honestly say life after the orcs was any better than before! Humans can be equally vicious, especially when I.. we.. look as we do. Surely you've found the same.. no?"
Looking past the man, Odd'n searches for a seat he may take. "I.. I haven't met anyone like me before.. like you. Uhm, is there anywhere we can talk..? I'd like to hear how you came here.. maybe it can explain how I have!" Pausing a moment, Odd'n adds- "And this Skullscar.. I.. I don't know much of who raised me.. but maybe he does.."
As Gwyn nears the building, she sees that what appeared to be a receiving area was honestly more outdoors than indoors, the north wall of the old ruin seems to have been knocked through some very long time ago. The sand has since spilled in, so much so in fact, that whomever renovated the rest of the building didn't bother with this room. Instead they placed statues on the walls which had been leveled to about the height of Gwyn's shoulders before giving way to the desert. A feeble attempt to make this room appear to be a porch-area.
Rory sees Odd'n looking for a place to sit, and reaches into his hut for a box-crate and sets it down under him while he listens to the burly man speak. His face turns quizzical at the phrase, "like me."
When Odd'n finishes Rory holds a hand up and says, "Maybe you misunderstand, I wasn't raised by orcs, I just worked under a half-orc who talked about the clans a good bit. But I'm no stranger to the viciousness of humans. I was on my way to becoming a theologian, but I was dismissed outright by the church of Abadar, well the university anyway, because of my background. What can the son of a foot-soldier learn about theology?" He grunts, "And what's worse, I'd already been disowned for leaving my family! So, I hopped on a ship westward to find work, and I ended up here."
He takes a sip from his waterskin, and offers Odd'n some before saying, "Listen to me, like I've got it bad, you were brought on by orcs! I can't imagine what that must've been like. If you'd like to talk to Skullscar, I'm sure he'd be more than happy to tell you what he knows. He still lives here even though he's retired, nowhere else to go I suppose." He gestures vaguely toward the center of the heap of huts.
"Abadar? What is he.. she..? I.. I follow Milani.. not that the church accepted me.. but.. uhm, I follow her!" Odd'n says with a smile, his interest rising the more he talks to this human who seems to accept him for what he is-- a bit of an oddity. "It would be.. interesting.. to talk to this Skullscar if he is around. I.. I don't particularly care to delve to deeply into my past, the parts that I remember anyway, but maybe he has a few words about what I went through as a child that might help me understand.. why! Why they raised me.. why my teeth are like this.. why.. why..." Odd'n stops, letting his voice trail off as a frown forms upon his face, his eyes downcast and dark.
Looking up, back to Rory, Odd'n tries to force a smile to his lips. "But.. maybe the past I the past and its best left there? This Skullscar might know something about why I am here though.. or why my companions and I were sent here. Something about some mayors son. Do you think this Skullscar might know something?" Odd'n shivers at the thought of the flaming ifrit who sent them on this trek. "The mayor.. he was.. made of fire.. I don't know.. have you seen anyone like that?"
Bronan grabs Sky's bridle and leads her in search of a stable. He's not optimistic to find one, but hopes there is at least a hitch post and trough for her. He takes a glance at the hole in the wall serving as an entrance to first building as he passes. "Did something happen here recently? It looks like a warzone." he asks a nearby villager.
"Abadar is a deity with many names, my parents worshipped him as the Judge of the Gods, they were very concerned with law and order. So imagine my surprise when I leave to serve him...anyway. Yes there are many who worship Milani, especially on this island. I've heard it said that in a language that I don't know Krisol means 'melting pot' or 'crucible.' Me, I'd have called it 'left-overs' or 'trash heap,' every kind of everything ends up here, but only after it couldn't make it somewhere else, so it makes sense that she'd have quite a following in these parts." He takes a breath, and takes back to his whittling, without pausing too long before talking about Odd'n's other concerns.
"Skullscar is like us: cast out, spat on. He was sold by his own parents into slavery. Luckily, before he was beaten too badly, his shipment ended up here and the slavers were caught and hanged. Sadly enough, he still ended up doing slaves' work for slaves' wages, but at least he's content. That also means that he may not be very much use to you aside from naming the clan that sharpens teeth. He might even be able to tell you their logic for doing it, but I wouldn't hold my breath: he doesn't like to talk about it much either."
Rory continues on about the mayor, "Who the ifrits? Yeah they're the natives on this island, to be perfectly honest Minoj and his family are not the ones you need to be worrying about. They ran from the clan, Minoj's great grandfather and great grandmother (a few generations ago) are the ones who 'sold' Krisol to the Chelish (after they'd been laying siege to it for a couple seasons), a few generations later his family is the one who liberated it from them, and now he runs it." Rory takes another drink from his skin. "All this would be well and good, but the Ifrits are famously chaotic, they're a wild people, so the idea of running a city, engaging in politics is downright heretical to them. That's why there are enormous walls on the edges of Krisol, and frankly that's why we haven't made much of Fwey...the more organized it looks, the bigger of a target it is for the natives." At 'natives' he gestures behind him at the vast desert.
"Well, we might be here for a bit.. perhaps we can share an ale later.. if any can be found here that is!" Standing up to leave, Odd'n balances on one leg to pull of his boot and draw a few gold coins from it ( ) before handing them over to Rory. "Thanks.. for talking. Even my companions.. I'm not sure about the half of them.. but you seem an honest man. Farewell, for now!"
With that, Odd'n begins plodding on to find Skullscar. I think Rory pointed this way..
The passing miner Bronan inquired upon snapped a cold response to the young hunter, "What's it to you!" After seeing the look of shock and surprise in Bronan's eyes for such a reply the man's expression changes, he takes a deep breath, and apologizes, "Sorry mate, rough day." Looking over Bronan's shoulder at the entrance, he says, "Oh that? Nah, it always looks like that. We considered cleaning it out once, but with the sandstorms around here, it'd be a bit moot," he says, holding up his hands in a display of futility.
Rory stands dumb for moment holding the five gold, a days' wages for him and his coworkers, he quickly stows it and smiles saying, "Sounds like a plan! The common building," Rory gestures toward the western of the two main buildings, "has a tavern and an inn, so if you lot are planning on staying or buying beer that's where it'll be."
Odd'n stumbles about the haphazard and disorganized blob of canvas huts. He sees children playing with wooden swords, and men laughing, and men arguing, and women laughing at the men arguing . Finally he happens upon a hut that's more patch than canvas, outside which sits an elderly, but be-muscled half-orc clad only in a loin cloth washing his own feet with what appears to be a horse-brush. It becomes apparent to Odd'n that this is Skullscar when he lays eyes on the elder's namesake divot in the right side of his skull. It seems the eye on that side is glossed over, and as Odd'n is approaching from that side, the half-orc doesn't see him, and continues on washing.
"Uhm... sir? A friend, Rory, said you may be able to answer a few questions of mine..." Odd'n lets his words trail off as he offers a smile, gesturing towards his irregular teeth.
"I didn't mean anything by it." Bronan replies. He pats his horse on the back. "Tell you what, I've come into something of a windfall recently. Once I've tended to old Sky here, I'll buy you and whoever else is about a round at whatever passes for a tavern hereabouts."
"So what now?" Gwyn asks Umaveti. For once in her life, she manages to keep her hands to herself. She gets the feeling that falling into certain habits would have a pretty steep penalty here.
"Hm?!" The old man turns his good eye toward the warrior and nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees Odd'n's teeth. Skull's foot gets stuck in his pail when he jumps up and away from Odd'n holding his brush up like a weapon and saying, "Not again! They've found me!" followed by undiscernible ramblings.
"That sounds right decent of you lad. After the day I've had, that's a welcome occasion. But let's not go parading around buying drinks for everyone," he says with a slap on Bronan's shoulder that was harder than the young Agathion-born had expected, "Not everyone is as nice as me, you might get taken advantage of, or worse..." his eyes dart back and forth, "Let's just say not everyone is here because they choose to be, best keep your purse close." After they walk a bit further, he says, "This building here is the Common, there's a tavern, inn and a shop of sorts, all run by the same bloke, Lars. When it comes time to drink, this'll be where it's done. Also you can tie up, uh Sky was it? You can tie up your horse around the west side of the building there...it's more a pen than a stable if you ask me, but Lars'll feed and water her for a song compared to what you'd get in Krisol."
As Gwyn follows Umaveti inside, she soon looses track of him until she hears echoes of a heated argument.
"...take him back?! He's only been here two days, Minoj needs to know he can just throw his child around like a sack of potatoes, he needs structure! Change is natural for an Ifrit, sure, but it requires more planning than this!" A crackling voice spits.
"Listen to yourself! Natural? What's natural for an ifrit is living off the land and killing innocent passersby for following any set of rules! Your whole family is unnatural, and that's a good thing! Minoj sees that and is trying to make a difference." Umaveti's familiar hiss calms a bit before saying, "This is obviously making enemies, and you know they'd use Minah to get leverage over Minoj if they could. The business is done now, and the threat is over."
"Over!" The crackling voice which Gwyn can now see belongs to an ifrit woman who looks almost exactly like Urja, the lady they first met in Krisol. "This will never be over! Not until every last one of the wild ifrits is dead, and that'll never happen!" Nani looks directly at Gwyn, then stands up straight and adjusts the sash of her dress, before addressing her,"Excuse me, I'm sorry you had to hear that. Life out here can be...taxing."
Seeing the old half-orc respond in such a manner brings a broad grin to his face, ".. usually it's me afraid of the orc, not the other way around!" Odd'n lets out a mirthful laugh as he takes a step back from the man with his arms wide and hands open-- an almost graceful maneuver until he opens his mouth and begins speaking again. "Sir.. uhm, Sir Skullscar.. I'm not them, my parents.. er.. adoptive parents.. but uhm, please. Rory said you might be able to tell me about a few things.. about myself and.. uhm, maybe this town?"
Gwyn simply nods in understanding. She was falling into her old self again, the one she was before coming to the church. Stay silent, stay hidden, stay alive.
Something is amiss here, but what? I wasn't aware of anything like this outside the city, but that's not saying much, now is it?
A plan forms in her head as she thinks about what was said. What she needed was information, and she didn't know who to trust, and how far she could trust them.
Before the woman could get too far, Gwyn calls out softly to her.
"Excuse me, but can you tell me what's going on here? I was lead to believe that Minoj's son was in danger. Is that not the case?"
Still talking to the watchman I ask "so the 'wish' isn't normally the leader of a bunch of highway robbers? What does he usually do, and would there be any sort of reward for removing him?" looking around me as everyone walks off I note the state of the town.
"Thanks for the advice. I'm Bronan by the way. Not here by choice you say? Are they held here against their will?" Bronan busies himself brushing down the horse.
"Rory? You mean, you are not with the Wolftooth?" The elderly half-orc falls forward into Odd'n's large, leather-clad chest like a child into a bed after a long day.
Releasing him from such an awkward sign of affection, Skullscar says,"Forgive me, thought they finally caught up with me. So, you want to know about your 'parents'?" He asks, sitting down. He sighs before saying, "The Wolftooth clan, uses no brand or shackle to mark those humans they choose as war-slaves, instead they sharpen the teeth so that all can see they are Wolftooth, and they can bite in battle." Skullscar's broken Taldane is more evident with longer sentences; he continues, "As for Fwey, we are a mining town, we are paid to take the gold from the depths of the Wyrm for Krisol," he chuckles an old tired chuckle, "I mean they are." He gestures toward the other huts.
Nani turns back to Umaveti, "Minah is in the Common," she says pointing west, "this is obviously a poor time to argue."
Umaveti thanks her politely and leaves, nodding to Gwyn on his way out.
After Gwyn asks her question, Nani replies very politely, "Danger? Well no, not presently. Oh, you mean why Minoj hired you? Yes the bandits on the road have been getting more brazen, but other than that, there isn't anything pressing. I'm sorry, what was your name?"
The guard, grateful for something to do it seems, answers Garret long-windedly, "No, don't get me wrong, he's always been a thug, heh, most of our card games have been through iron bars, but a leader? Nah he's always been harmless until recently. As for a reward for removing him? I don't think there's anything official, but I guarantee you Mayor Minoj as well as the city council and probably the Merchants' guild would all take very kindly to the disbanding of those thieves; that is practically the only road between here and Krisol after all."
The miner shakes Bronan's hand, "Your welcome, and the name's Galdor." Releasing his hand, Galdor continues in a hushed tone, "Against their will? That makes it sound more sinister than it is, this mine is used as a penal work camp for minor criminals. Some, like me, come down because they don't need much and like to work with their hands and backs, others because they have no other choice, but these come because they chose wrong. As you can see the former two wouldn't take kindly to finding out their coworkers are here as punishment for pilfering, gambling, public drunkenness and the like."
After a few moments pass, a large man with a full and flowing beard appears at the south end of the stables, "G'day there, Galdor! Who's your friend?"
"Morning Lars! This is Bronan, he's with the envoy," the miner answers.
"Ah, and who's this beauty?" He says to Bronan, but while looking up at Sky's head and patting her strong neck.
Thanks for making breakfast, please wash the dishes, I take horse that needs feed outside Lars' calloused and scarred hands are not quite so dexterous with sign language as she's used to, but Mikaiela understands the request. Lars walks to the stables, leaving the young lady to her duties.
"What? They..? You do not count yourself amongst them?" Odd'n asks, confused that this old half-orc-- clearly a worker of some kind-- choses to identify himself separately from the others that call this town home.
"And, I am sorry to.. dig.. but uhm.. you seem to know about this.. tradition..", he gestures to his teeth to finish the sentence. "Why.. why would they do this? Why do they take 'war-slaves'? My family.. er.. orc family.. they didn't treat me well.. but neither did they treat me as a slave. I've been a slave. What they did was.. something else."
"I say 'they' because I don't dig no more, not because I don't count myself amoung them," he says with a lazy smile on his face.
At Odd'n's other question he furrows his brow and says, [b]"War-slave is the Taldane word for it, the orc word ussoc has different meaning. You are taken from outside and bred for battle, still lesser than orc warriors, but not so low as a slave. Had you stayed with them, they would probably even have used you to seed warriors like me."
"Just call me Gwyn," the young rogue says with a smile. Her expression sobers almost as soon as she tells Nani that though.
"Can you tell me what you meant by wild ifrits? I didn't know there was such a thing."
Mikaiela nodded and fixed her glasses before getting to work. While she hated the idea of muting herself for a few minutes, she was nonetheless dutiful...if only because causing too much trouble in a place like this wasn't the greatest idea.
Also, she wanted the money. She had a tendency to be very detail-oriented, and while this sometimes infuriated employers, she always was heads and above a lot of others in skill, which she took extreme pride in, and earned her quite a bit of extra. It was simply unthinkable for her to give any less, for she was saddled with several physical curses that simply abhorred her, and she wanted to always prove herself.
The whole "open kitchen" thing was new to her though. Making food and other things while in plain sight of patrons that she could not rightfully interact with in any normal way? A scary enough prospect itself; not to mention the fact that she was certain (albeit perhaps incorrectly so) that men were leering at her in ways that made it clear that her breads likely weren't the only thing rising.
Of course, most of this was probably just a battle in her head.
When she finished the dishes, she dried her hands off, and turned to check on the bread she was making. It involved a newer recipe she had, a sort of corn bread that was more cake than bread when it came to texture. Of course, it tasted like corn bread still, and was likely just as delicious, but she had to be sure. Pulling the two finished loaves out of the over, she placed them onto display trays and set them out to cool off and to look pretty.
Anyone in the Tavern would likely smell the freshly baked bread. That was usually the result, she found, and it often drew people. Therefore, she sliced at least a few pieces off one of the loaves. Hopefully the late, post-breakfast, pre-lunch arrivals (namely, hungry adventurers) would buy (and perhaps recruit her services to boot).
She was wearing an appropriate outfit for cooking, one she spent lots of money on back at an Artisan's Store when just starting her career. Black pantaloons and a black buttoned-up blouse (that could be unbuttoned when manipulative tactics needed to be had), coupled with a black toque, black boots, black gloves, and a white apron.
After all, her usual raggedy and torn fur-based items wouldn't fly in a workplace like this. Too messy and revealing for that.
She'd then wait patiently, having finished everything she needed to do for now, idly watching the rest of the Tavern to see whom would come for food. When breakfast ends, lunch starts, she always said.
The lines made on her face when she smiled at Gwyn's comment was the first hint at Nani's age that Gwyn could see, it made her seem middle-aged. "Generally speaking all ifrits are 'wild' by nature. Living off the land, nomads, only seeking civilization to trade or what have you. My family is quite an anomaly where that is concerned."
Before long, a young man comes in, quite clearly sniffing around, trying to find the source of the delectable aroma he sensed from his table. Laying eyes on the bread at the counter, and the looker in glasses behind it, he straightens his tunic, runs his fingers through his hair, and sucks in his gut before approaching. He bows grandly, beaming with excitement as if to say, Good morning, beautiful! He then turns his attention to the bread; he points at it, then back at her as if to say, Did you make this? This man was a regular and already knew the answer, but he wanted desperately to make...er...conversation.
"This is Sky. You could say she's an orphan of the road. Her previous owner met with something of an unsavory end." Bronan finishes brushing her and pats the beast as well. "There we go, I'll leave her in your care Lars until my companions are ready to head out." Turning back to Galdor, he continues chit chatting. "So what do you mine here anyway?"
"Taken.." Odd'n mutters to himself quietly, "I always thought my parents abandoned me in the woods, that they didn't care to keep me! Maybe.. maybe things aren't how I've imagined all my life." Looking back to Skullscar, Odd'n reflects back the mans smile. "Well, I can't say I much cared for the task me and my companions were set out on by that frightful man of flame that calls himself mayor, but I sure am glad I met you!"
Odd'n extends his hand and offers Skullscar a firm, fierce shake! "COME, Let us find Rory once more! I'd like to hear both your thoughts on this town, these people, and the ifrit who finds himself in charge. The first few mugs are on me!" Turning and damn near dragging Skullscar along with him, Odd'n quickly adds- "Say, have you ever heard of a man who calls himself "The Wish", or his putrid flunky 'Belshoi'?" Odd'n, lost in his ramblings, doesn't give the man any more time to answer before pulling his backpack of his shoulder and fishing out the cactus & 'feather-in-a-bottle'; "How about this feather? It is a gift, a prize, from nature. It used to glow a little more.. but it seems to have lost its lustre. It did blink once late last night however! And this cactus, I can get some poppys tears from it! Would you want some? I am.. refraining.. from it myself for now.. bad memories and whatnot.."
Seeing the man addressing her, and assuming he indeed was, Mikaiela smiled and nodded, if to at least acknowledge him.
She then responded to him with a decidedly Common Sign Language, even if the man knew none.
{... ... ...; ... ... ... ... ... ...!}
{Yes I did; the bread is my own recipe!}
A very proud gleam was in her eyes as she nudged her glasses up the bridge of her nose with two fingers (index and middle). Shortly following this action, she cut a slice from the still warm loaf she was working with, and placed it onto a plate, sliding the plate towards the man. The plate was soon accompanied by a written note that she hastily scrawled upon.
Bread: This special bread is 6 copper for a loaf. Each loaf mnaeks makes 8 slices. Slices are 1 copper each. Costly ingrediants, sorry~!
Mikaiela then adopted a neutral expression (perhaps with some curiosity in it) as she waited for the payment, should the man actually be requesting food (as everything she's done so far has been on assumption, for she cannot hear, only see).
She knew well that a standard bread loaf was two copper, but felt her special recipe could go for a bit more. She still made sure to make the loaf a good value though (compared to individual slices).