Kerst Grath's page

"Miss Kelver," the half-orc looks up in surprise. "I ... I'm afraid I can't help you this evening. I'm going on duty shortly. I'm sure you could prevail upon anyone else and find them happy to be of service, however. 'Scuse me, Banny." He gets quickly to his feet, nods to the dwarf, and heads back through the crowd.

"Folk like folk what're like themselves. Your da inclines towards Rodry some, could be, but that don't mean your way ain't true or right. Takes all types of ore, aye?"

"Aye," he replies without any sense of conviction, still pushing broken pieces of pastry around the pan half-heartedly.

"Ahhh, 's a Hopeknife day. Even your da has to uncrank that winch of his once in a while. Just tell 'im it was morale-buildin' for the militia," she says with a pie-stained grin. "An' if that fails, you tell him was all my fault an' my idea."

"Not sure that wouldn't make it worse," Kerst replies, with his mournful half-smile. "'Be a leader, son! Not a follower!'" He lowers his voice in an approximation of his gruff father. "'Why aren't you more like your brother? He makes things happen; you watch things happen.'" He takes a bite of pie and chews ruminatively.

She does offer the remains of a rhubarb pie to Kerst, at least.

Kerst sighs and sits down heavily next to Banny as the women gather what pies can be salvaged for further use and distance themselves from the imperturbable dwarf and her broken remnants of pastry, cream, and fruit. "Dad's always getting onto us not to cause trouble with the civilians. Probably in for another dressing down in the Longhouse tonight." He pokes at the rhubarb disconsolately.

Kerst tries nervously to intercede with the matrons. "We meant no disrespect.... It's a celebration! Pie-eating competitions are a time-honored dwarven tradition!" His gaze wanders hopefully to Banny.

There is a brief kerfuffle when Banny and her followers arrive at the pie table, a minor stand-off that ends with the competitive eaters victorious; the matrons withdraw to the far end of the tables, frowning in disapproval.

"First to finish their pie's the winner, but we gotta have someone call the count...! Kurst?" she calls, dragging her hair back out of her face and tying it up with a quick twist of the bandanna she wears.

"So it's like a footrace?" Kerst asks. "Whoever finishes first, rather than how many you can eat in a given time? How will we tell who's done first? There's no flag to grab."

A couple of his fellow Patrolmen groan at the half-orc's caution, when there are pies to eat.

"You goin' to try for any of the games? I'm eyein' the ball toss myself. Or might just see if I can get old Frum to a drinkin' contest with me. No 'ffense, but you non-dwarves just can't hold your liquor."

"You and Frum in a drinking contest?" Kerst asks with raised eyebrows. "You ought to charge admission. Either of you could drink anyone I know under the table, but competing against each other? It could go on all night."

Kerst Grath makes his way down from the stage and over to Banny, clapping her on the shoulder. "Thanks, Banny. I don't know what the mix-up was with the school children."