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Resolutions

Robin begins the droning incantation of his spell. It will take several precious seconds to complete. Hopefully the three dwarves will be too occupied to notice before the spell's effect seeps into their minds. Of particular import are the louder acts of a wizard and a dragon: the former brings about a small elemental to hold up the damaged axel with the welcomed aid of the gold dragon whose strong claws are of great utility here.

The nine greyhide goblins are first very startled by a wizard offering to help. That a gold dragon joins in to help just about *drops their eyes* out of their sockets.

A harsh bark from the easily identified boss - she's the one yelling the loudest at the others - gets them back to work hauling the smithery on wheels from the gate and to the side of the paved street where it will be in no one's way.

"Grattituud," the she-goblin offers to Elektra in broken accent of Common. She's dressed to hammer metal, and looks about as comely as an iron ingot, but she tries to make a friendly face in respect of the wizard and the dragon helping.The other eight mirror her in gratitude and dirtyness although none manage much in Common beyond crude "Grattituud, Grattituut."

In contrast to the beneficience that comes from the two brave volunteers, the three beard-jaws give the suddenly arriving distraction that is Chira a collective glare that positively seethes with bile, and then follow it with a string of harsh words most certainly not suited for such a civil and peaceful area. It is enough that even the three sweepers by the stairs pause their work and look in the direction of the quarrelsome voices. 

Compounding these words, the dwarves add several angry hand motions that, to put it politely, suggest Chira's health is in severe danger if she remains where she is, distracting these three. The message in total thus boils down to:

Get Lost. Or Else.

Resolutions

Robin begins the droning incantation of his spell. It will take several precious seconds to complete. Hopefully the three dwarves will be too occupied to notice before the spell's effect seeps into their minds. Of particular import are the louder acts of a wizard and a dragon: the former brings about a small elemental to hold up the damaged axel with the welcomed aid of the gold dragon whose strong claws are of great utility here.

The nine greyhide goblins are first very startled by a wizard offering to help. That a gold dragon joins in to help just about *drops their eyes* out of their sockets.

A harsh bark from the easily identified boss - she's the one yelling the loudest at the others - gets them back to work hauling the smithery on wheels from the gate and to the side of the paved street where it will be in no one's way.

"Grattituud," the she-goblin offers to Elektra in broken accent of Common. She's dressed to hammer metal, and looks about as comely as an iron ingot, but she tries to make a friendly face in respect of the wizard and the dragon helping.The other eight mirror her in gratitude and dirtyness although none manage much in Common beyond crude "Grattituud, Grattituut."

In contrast to the beneficience that comes from the two brave volunteers, the three beard-jaws give the suddenly arriving distraction that is Chira a collective glare that positively seethes with bile, and then follow it with a string of harsh words most certainly not suited for such a civil and peaceful area. It is enough that even the three sweepers by the stairs pause their work and look in the direction of the quarrelsome voices. 

Compounding these words, the dwarves add several angry hand motions that, to put it politely, suggest Chira's health is in sever danger if she remains where she is, distracting these three. The message in total thus boils down to:

Get Lost. Or Else.