“Miss Mery Keryndon and Coltan Bluetemper, it’s so wonderful to finally put faces to names Ispin’s mentioned many times in his myriad stories. You both look just as he’d described you!”
Becklin listens carefully to your stories. As Artanis explains, her face slips deeper and deeper into a serious and contemplative furrow. She appears to consider your words, deep in thought, to the point that her squire even ventures a “Milady?”. Finally, she looks at you and says, “To be honest, I’ve only ever heard rumors of strange armies in the east—a couple of those rumors peppered with the words ‘draconic’ and ‘lizard-like’. Interestingly enough, the knights you speak of never passed through Vogler, so I’ll have to send off to my superiors with their effects. As for that money—well, that wasn’t provided by their families, and I am of sufficient authority to bestow it upon you as a reward for your bravery and victory over those that would murder knights of the crown.”
Darrett takes your proffered suits of armor, but Becklin stops him from taking two of the least damaged suits. “Good Brother Bluetemper of Reorx, if you can repair those suits, consider them yours,” she says, whilst giving an eye and a nod towards Artanis. “I imagine it will take a good couple of weeks at the smithy, but if you’ll wait here, I’ll be right back with a letter of introduction to Fezzlidst Smelt’ammer—he’s a tan-skinned, burley, rotund dwarf who runs a smith down in east side of town. He’s red in the face and drunk often, but with my letter, he should give you free reign of his smithy and forge, and whatever tools you need . . . but mind you, it won’t be free, he’ll probably charge you about a gold piece per day to let you use his shop—and another per day if you want him to help you—assuming you don’t want to do it all on your own. I would ask, however, that you remove the insigina of the knights of solamnia from yours—but feel free to leave the insignia of Artanis’s order, or change it to Artanis’s order if that order isn’t it.”
With that she leaves you to go write that letter in her study.
Modri finds himself in excellent company! Several men playing cards in the corner rousingly invite him over to join them. Before you can order a drink, one of them stops you and shakes his head. “Ferrner like yous is gettin’ the weak sauce, n’ ye don’ wannonuhdat weaksauce. Lemmie geddit.” He motions to the barman with several fingers, indicating a new round for everyone at the table—including you. The barman nods to him, and brings out large, quart-sized mugs full of bright, beautiful, frothy beer! It’s slight shade of pinkish to the normally golden IPA, but your new gambling buddy explains that this stuff is brewed with a local ingredient that gives it a slightly sweet taste . . . and about 18 proof—9% alcohol! “One o’ deez gonna knock yuh on yerass!” he laughs—clearly having already finished one. Another new buddy of yours deals you some cards.
Froswin is very eager to show you her wares, Hunni. “I ain’never seen no gully dwarf roun’ these parts! Ooh, ooh! This one, here, if’n you set it on a slope, here, like this” she puts it on her arm and angles it down and you watch at it suddenly begins walking down. “It moves on it’s own!”
When Decimus tries to suss out the magic behind it, he realizes, upon closer inspection, that it’s merely a rather well carved piece of ingenious, if actually quite simple, gravity-driven machinery. You can see inside the toy, a couple of pendulums and levers that swing freely inside causing the six legs of the toy to pick up and move, catch on the surface, sending the opposite leg in motion. Kender though Froswin is, this is far more typical of highly skilled gnomish work.
Merituuli, a few carts are selling fresh-caught fish and it calls to you! You’re torn between getting a large salmon on a stick, and watching more of these little toys walk around.
“Ooh! Friend . . . um . . . blue man! These are a mere silver piece a piece! Hee hee hee!”