The inquisitive light that came into Samir's eyes at the smith's revelation couldn't be missed as he straightened with a smile. "The academy? Nos'Argo? how fortuitous! I am a Nos'Argo alum myself, late of the School of Artifice. Personal matters have drawn me away from Madurst and the Academy lately, but not from the lessons learned there. I daresay that the knowledge and skills I obtained there have been the difference between life and death on more than one occasion, or at the very least a serious bit of maiming." He pauses as the other two speak of ghosts and children, his smile becoming nostalgic. "It certainly sounds like the sort of thing that children would be drawn to, I certainly remember similar misadventures of my own growing up along the Canal."
Joren listens to the blacksmith's revelation about the boys and the abandoned house past the cemetery, but continues to assist the man in silence, not wishing to interrupt the conversation Samir is having with him.
We have been seeing too much in the last few weeks which would have seemed like tall tales and insanity before they in fact happened for me to be dismissing the idea of ghosts as just the lad's imagination as I once would have. Perhaps we should be investigating this house...
Malachi grins, “One more roll, and I will gladly buy a round of drinks.” He waves down a server and orders a pitcher with three mugs. He looks over at Brighton with concern. “Kruller’s Hill? Will we pass that on the way to Madurst? I don’t fancy running into a mountain cat on the road.”
When the serving girl returns with their pitcher, Malachi has her blow on the dice for luck and he winks at her as he tosses his third roll.
"Bah, you don't say," says the dwarf. "Wonder if I taught any of your classes! But then, that was 20 years ago that I left so unless you was studying in your diapers, you don't look old enough to have been there at the time. What do they have you learnin these days? Got any of your work to show me?"
"Hmmm, you pass by the base of the hill if you take the main road, but you'd have to make an off-road detour and go past the old cemetery to get up there," Brighton says. "Not somewhere you'd end up by mistake." He shakes his cup and tilts it up to look at the dice inside. Transparently, he frowns at the result. Stev chuckles and picks up his tankard to take a swig, knocking his own dice off the table. He drinks heartily before bending under the table to retrieve his dice. Then he loads his cup, shakes, and takes a peek.
"Ah, no, you are not incorrect." Samir allowed himself a smile at the man's comment. "Twenty years ago I was still learning the ins and outs of using silverware." He seems almost embarrassed as he unclasps the leather case from his back and sets it out, nimble fingers quickly undoing the clasps that hold it shut. "I have been on the road for some time now, in what can be generously said to be not the greatest of conditions to work in, so I have little with me other than odds and ends." He slides the broken bowgun from the case, careful not to damage it any further than it already was, giving it a sad look. "This is something that I have been working on refining for a while now, but it was unfortunately damaged in an incident with... well, pirates of a sort. Hasty modifications led to an abundance of force on the mechanisms that they were not ready to take. I have yet to have the opportunity to obtain the parts and the time to refit it into working order." Samir's fingers trail over the well polished wooden stock for a second, a small sigh escaping from him.
Working the bellows, Joren smiles privately to himself as he watches and listens to his artificer friend converse and talk shop with the dwarven smith.
After dealing in so much death and darkness and betrayal, it is strangely soothing... the simple beauty of two who share an interest making a connection...
During a lull in the conversation, he muses: "Not that my opinion is signifying much on this, but Samir is the most brilliant person I know. I remember we were fighting for our lives, deep underground, against..." Against the Gloazworm Queen... "against this... horrific monstrosity and he was generating a Fog Cloud at the perfect time for me to use my blind fighting style we Khiriians learn for our battles in the Veil... helping us cover our retreat..."
Joren trails off, knowing Samir had done more brilliant things than that, but it's the battle example that springs naturally to the warrior's mind. Besides, he might not be wanting me to bring up the time he simulated the sound of a fountain, goading a guard at Talmouth Council Hall to an early bio break. Or when he was deducing the function of the Red/Blue/Yellow-glowing medallions of the Razmus cultists since then I'd be having to explain about...
Instead, Joren clears his throat. "Hearing this about the house by the cemetery the young lad is claiming to be haunted... I might otherwise be dismissing such fears of the supernatural out of hand. But we have been seeing... too much strangeness the last few months. Samir, I am thinking when we are done here, we should be finding the others at the tavern and, before we are departing town, investigating this place all together to be safe."
At least we can be feeling confident that we will be all together dealing with any problem and won't be wandering by any such places one or two at a time as the young lads no doubt did... (Joren nods self-assuredly to himself, little knowing what might be happening back at the tavern.)
The Dwarven smith pauses in his hammering and tosses his hammer over to Joren. "Keep flattening that thing out, will you?" Then he walks over to Samir, looking at the contraption with intrigue.
"You say this was an on-the-go improvisation?" He looks over the damaged bowgun in Samir's hands with a scrutinizing eye. "Pretty clever, I must say. I see what you were going for, I think. But that you even got it to fire at all with the parts you used is the greater feat, I'd say. No offense to the parts. It's just clear none of them were custom made for this purpose. With the right pieces though..."
He trails off as he hears Joren's story. He looks down at the bowgun in his hands, and then over at Joren's well-maintained but clearly battle-worn attire. "You folk aren't just ordinary travelers, are you? Fighting pirates at sea, and monsters underground..." He scratches his chin. "Tell you what, I think this thing with the haunted house is probably nonsense, but kids will be kids, and they'll be poking around there regardless. I'd be lying if I said it wouldn't bring me at least a little piece of mind to have some folks familiar with 'strangeness' as you put it going to check things out. You do that, and I'll tell you what. I'll see if I can repurpose some of my trinkets there into proper pieces for that contraption of yours. If you're heading by Madurst, I've got a friend there who can make you custom moulds of any pieces you bring him so it should be easier to maintain and modify your weapon wherever you go, so long as you can find a working forge. If you want more information about the house's history though, I'm no the guy to ask. I moved in after the whole debacle. But if you ask around town, I'm sure you'll get some history. Mayor Shamp would certainly know. You can usually find him in the corner of the tavern listening in on the latest scuttlebutt."
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The inquisitive light that came into Samir's eyes at the smith's revelation couldn't be missed as he straightened with a smile. "The academy? Nos'Argo? how fortuitous! I am a Nos'Argo alum myself, late of the School of Artifice. Personal matters have drawn me away from Madurst and the Academy lately, but not from the lessons learned there. I daresay that the knowledge and skills I obtained there have been the difference between life and death on more than one occasion, or at the very least a serious bit of maiming." He pauses as the other two speak of ghosts and children, his smile becoming nostalgic. "It certainly sounds like the sort of thing that children would be drawn to, I certainly remember similar misadventures of my own growing up along the Canal."
Joren listens to the blacksmith's revelation about the boys and the abandoned house past the cemetery, but continues to assist the man in silence, not wishing to interrupt the conversation Samir is having with him.
We have been seeing too much in the last few weeks which would have seemed like tall tales and insanity before they in fact happened for me to be dismissing the idea of ghosts as just the lad's imagination as I once would have. Perhaps we should be investigating this house...
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons | Lyra(Warlock2/Bard4): VitusW's Silverwood Forest
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(Sorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(Monk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(Cleric3/Sorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Malachi grins, “One more roll, and I will gladly buy a round of drinks.” He waves down a server and orders a pitcher with three mugs. He looks over at Brighton with concern. “Kruller’s Hill? Will we pass that on the way to Madurst? I don’t fancy running into a mountain cat on the road.”
When the serving girl returns with their pitcher, Malachi has her blow on the dice for luck and he winks at her as he tosses his third roll.
"Bah, you don't say," says the dwarf. "Wonder if I taught any of your classes! But then, that was 20 years ago that I left so unless you was studying in your diapers, you don't look old enough to have been there at the time. What do they have you learnin these days? Got any of your work to show me?"
"Hmmm, you pass by the base of the hill if you take the main road, but you'd have to make an off-road detour and go past the old cemetery to get up there," Brighton says. "Not somewhere you'd end up by mistake." He shakes his cup and tilts it up to look at the dice inside. Transparently, he frowns at the result. Stev chuckles and picks up his tankard to take a swig, knocking his own dice off the table. He drinks heartily before bending under the table to retrieve his dice. Then he loads his cup, shakes, and takes a peek.
"Ah, no, you are not incorrect." Samir allowed himself a smile at the man's comment. "Twenty years ago I was still learning the ins and outs of using silverware." He seems almost embarrassed as he unclasps the leather case from his back and sets it out, nimble fingers quickly undoing the clasps that hold it shut. "I have been on the road for some time now, in what can be generously said to be not the greatest of conditions to work in, so I have little with me other than odds and ends." He slides the broken bowgun from the case, careful not to damage it any further than it already was, giving it a sad look. "This is something that I have been working on refining for a while now, but it was unfortunately damaged in an incident with... well, pirates of a sort. Hasty modifications led to an abundance of force on the mechanisms that they were not ready to take. I have yet to have the opportunity to obtain the parts and the time to refit it into working order." Samir's fingers trail over the well polished wooden stock for a second, a small sigh escaping from him.
Working the bellows, Joren smiles privately to himself as he watches and listens to his artificer friend converse and talk shop with the dwarven smith.
After dealing in so much death and darkness and betrayal, it is strangely soothing... the simple beauty of two who share an interest making a connection...
During a lull in the conversation, he muses: "Not that my opinion is signifying much on this, but Samir is the most brilliant person I know. I remember we were fighting for our lives, deep underground, against..." Against the Gloazworm Queen... "against this... horrific monstrosity and he was generating a Fog Cloud at the perfect time for me to use my blind fighting style we Khiriians learn for our battles in the Veil... helping us cover our retreat..."
Joren trails off, knowing Samir had done more brilliant things than that, but it's the battle example that springs naturally to the warrior's mind. Besides, he might not be wanting me to bring up the time he simulated the sound of a fountain, goading a guard at Talmouth Council Hall to an early bio break. Or when he was deducing the function of the Red/Blue/Yellow-glowing medallions of the Razmus cultists since then I'd be having to explain about...
Instead, Joren clears his throat. "Hearing this about the house by the cemetery the young lad is claiming to be haunted... I might otherwise be dismissing such fears of the supernatural out of hand. But we have been seeing... too much strangeness the last few months. Samir, I am thinking when we are done here, we should be finding the others at the tavern and, before we are departing town, investigating this place all together to be safe."
At least we can be feeling confident that we will be all together dealing with any problem and won't be wandering by any such places one or two at a time as the young lads no doubt did... (Joren nods self-assuredly to himself, little knowing what might be happening back at the tavern.)
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons | Lyra(Warlock2/Bard4): VitusW's Silverwood Forest
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(Sorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(Monk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(Cleric3/Sorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
The Dwarven smith pauses in his hammering and tosses his hammer over to Joren. "Keep flattening that thing out, will you?" Then he walks over to Samir, looking at the contraption with intrigue.
"You say this was an on-the-go improvisation?" He looks over the damaged bowgun in Samir's hands with a scrutinizing eye. "Pretty clever, I must say. I see what you were going for, I think. But that you even got it to fire at all with the parts you used is the greater feat, I'd say. No offense to the parts. It's just clear none of them were custom made for this purpose. With the right pieces though..."
He trails off as he hears Joren's story. He looks down at the bowgun in his hands, and then over at Joren's well-maintained but clearly battle-worn attire. "You folk aren't just ordinary travelers, are you? Fighting pirates at sea, and monsters underground..." He scratches his chin. "Tell you what, I think this thing with the haunted house is probably nonsense, but kids will be kids, and they'll be poking around there regardless. I'd be lying if I said it wouldn't bring me at least a little piece of mind to have some folks familiar with 'strangeness' as you put it going to check things out. You do that, and I'll tell you what. I'll see if I can repurpose some of my trinkets there into proper pieces for that contraption of yours. If you're heading by Madurst, I've got a friend there who can make you custom moulds of any pieces you bring him so it should be easier to maintain and modify your weapon wherever you go, so long as you can find a working forge. If you want more information about the house's history though, I'm no the guy to ask. I moved in after the whole debacle. But if you ask around town, I'm sure you'll get some history. Mayor Shamp would certainly know. You can usually find him in the corner of the tavern listening in on the latest scuttlebutt."