Jex hides a grin as he realises he is on to a winner. He makes a show of puffing up his chest with pride. "They came at considerable risk to my life and great personal effort. I had to defeat an army of bugbears and a hobgoblin warchief whilst avoiding the chaos of a larger battle before rescuing them from a burning tent before any damage could come to them."

He arranges them with the cushions and silks, trying to make a show of how some of the finer items fit nicely together as a set. 

" I of course recognised their value immediately and fought to save them from damage."

Dorothy nods along with the story, but Jex can tell that she doesn't really care. She's much more interested in the goods themselves.

"I'll give you five hundred lassë for the lot," she offers, gesturing to the torc and helmet along with the silks.

Jex crinkles his nose and laughs. 

"A nice try, but you are going to have to talk me through your valuation there so that I can correct your misconceptions. Either you took me for a novice or we have some different ideas about the value of these fine pieces. and I should take them elsewhere"

"Oh, aye?" Dorothy remarks with a raised eyebrow, taking a step back and folding her arms. "And what did you have in mind?"

Jex's eye twitches in a half wink, and there is a glint in his eye as his brain begins racing through previous deals, finding words for his mouth to latch onto before he can catch up with it.

"Well these silks are very fine, treasured possessions  of a wealthy leader, bent on showing his status. You can see in the needlework that he only hired the best craftsmen to decorate his personal accommodation. Here, touch this stitching." He holds out a cushion for her to hold. "Feel the embroidery, this is genuine quality. I put these at at least 250 lasse." He stacks the cushion back up on the pile strategically trying to make the stack topple as though it was much larger. "Now the helmet. See the makers mark here? Tell me you don't recognise it eh?" He points to the smiths mark on the underside of the helmet. "Now we know we are talking high quality work there, and that this could fetch a very good price if you were to resell, or to look expensive if you keep it for decoration, it's delicate and fine work that is very impressive. Worth at least another 200." He leaves her to look over it a second before continuing. "Now the finest piece for last, and I know you like this peace, it caught your eye immediately and you know it's value far exceeds the other items, perhaps even put together. I'd be giving you a huge bargain if I said 300. that makes 750 my very fair and generous suggestion to you." He holds his arms in an open shrug, showing his generosity in the offer. Truth be told he had no idea if he was still underselling himself, but he had seen how she looked at the torc and the silks he was confident in the value of so knew it to be worth much more.

Dorothy grumbles and balks, but Jex can tell he has her over a barrel.

"Throw in the candles, the gems and the staff, and we call it a round thousand?" She asks.

Jex laughs. "Haha, nice try, we can call it a thousand if you can give me some information. I'm looking for some beasts to pull my wagon, I'm not looking for horses though, I want something rarer, so I need a specialist breeder. I also need someone who might like to buy these cosmetics. Can you help?" He holds out his hand to shake on the deal.

Dorothy cracks a broad grin, and takes Jex warmly by the hand. Her little gnomish fingers are like twigs wrapped in paper against his palm.

"Oh, I can put you in touch with some folks. You want to speak to Druindar. He's in town now as it happens, prob'bly up to his eyes in mead and enjoyin' the festival. He supplies me with all manner o' household goods, from Torgovann and beyond. If anyone in Hyarantar will take that of your hands, it's him. As for a breeder, Lord Keltin has a keen interest in ridin' and falconry. I'd speak to him."

Jex nods his thanks, places the goods on the table and takes his bag of gold. Business here concluded he heads to the festival to ask around for Druindar. Maybe I can get him to do business drunk, he'll see twice as many barrels as there are...

Jex's queries point him towards the familiar common room of the Silver Tower, where a copper-haired wood elf with a finely groomed moustache is standing atop a table, swinging a tankard through the air as he leads the tavern's patrons in song. The building shakes with the stamping of feet, and the revelry is clearly in full swing.

Entering with a forced smile Jex joins in the stamping, clapping and cheering. He makes eye contact with several people and grins broadly, joining in with the song. He knows he will have to wait for more of a lull before he can talk to anybody. Besides, appearing like a fellow drunk reveller can only help. 

 Valaith's spirits improve greatly upon entering Hyrantar mid-festival, she slaps Seid upon the back hard and nearly sends the much smaller man tumbling. "You've seen nothing yet, Wizard! The Lady, she's the real sight. Gave me this, she did!" She slaps the still shining mithral breastplate proudly. "And the mead, you must try some of the mead! It is delicious and refreshing! This is just what I needed after Sheercleft." She wanders about with the group, with a massive mug of mead continually filled to the brim and sampling any and all new foods she can find that she's never had. Pretty soon Val is starting to become inebriated and feeling safer than she had in weeks, laughing freely and smiling. She continually drags Vark with her to taste new foods and sample new drinks. "Vark! Come! Try this sweet bread!"

Keeping focus on the task at hand was difficult in such a place. Brundir found himself constantly straying to watch a fantastic show of visual magic, or pausing to listen to musicians nearby. Such a grand festival, all for the changing of a season or a time of year? Sheercleft celebrated when the mines struck a large vein, when the governor declared a celebration, or when someone was born or came of age (though much smaller events for these cases), but never for something so regular. It was strange, refreshing, and all together wonderful to see.

For the smalll bit he could practice and focus, Brundir did his best to use his very rudimentary breadth of the Elvish language. Most times he was regarded with mildly hesitant, though understanding, stares followed by warm smiles. Apparently the idea of a dwarf embracing Elvish was a novel concept for many, but it seemed to bridge many social gaps and endear himself to those around him. When words failed him, short phrases in Breannian and hand gestures sufficed just as well. Before long, he was happily traipsing around the festivities with a full mug of mead, several tarts, and a wonderful pie stuff with vegetables, eggs, and cheeses.

Peldirion's show of arcane entertainment caught Brundir's eye immediately, and his size, if not also the etched markings on his breastplate, gave him access to a foremost view. At the show's conclusion, the dwarf waved to the elf and rushed over to speak with him. By reflex now, he immediately began with, "Suil, an' annon allen. I hope I didn't butcher that too much. Been readin' in th' few days since Sheercleft. Ma says I need to speak like more'n just mountain-folk. I don' take well to books an' readin', I much rather talk an' do. Anyway, we've got a lot to go over when ye're ready. Suppose we need a proper meetin' with the Lady too."

Peldirion is just coming down from the steps outside the great hall when Bründir approaches him. The elf looks puzzled for a moment, until his eyes sharpen in recognition.

"Ah, Master Bründir!" The wizard replies jovially. "How nice to see you. You are enjoying the festival, I hope? Lady Lelfaer should be returning to the hall shortly. What exactly can I do for you?"

Brundir takes a long breath to collect his thoughts and decide where the long story begins and how to keep it short. "Well, I've got a lot an' not a lot fer ye. See, we first we foun' basilisks, ye know that, but also some dragon-y lady like th' one we foun' way back with th' bandits, remember? So, we make fer Sheercleft, an' th'whole place's crawlin' with goblins! We beat'em back down, throw'em down a hole, or kick'em outta town, then come'n find there's a thing like a prison or tomb under Sheercleft. I don' know exactly what happened then, but Vark knows wherever he is. I do know there was a big ol' demon an' a bunch of people tryin' to free somethin' that got out while we were there." 

Peldirion seems familiar with everything up to the battle for Sheercleft. However, once Bründir starts telling the tale of what they found beneath, the wizard looks somewhat taken aback.

"a dem- wait, Bründir, slow down. What exactly did you find down there? Where is Vark, and who else knows about this?"

Thurston is more than happy to accept one tankard of mead as soon as they start to walk among the festivities. 

He looks at Jex when he talks about going selling the things, more to give him a hand in case the clever human needed it, but his friend reassures him that he didn't needed it so he dives happyly into the festival. 

He goes towards the tower to see the display and talks to Peldirion

"Mae Roghvannen" he says trying to pronounce the words in elvish. " It's good to see you Master Peldirion! It's good to be here again! Do you think we could talk to the Lord and the Lady before this excellent mead takes over my Trûmburd?" 

He tries to use the dwarvish word for head, but for the expressions of both Brundir and the elf he has to said something entirely different.

Vark approaches Peldirion sheepishly after the arcane display. He lurks a few feet away and waits for the dwarf to finish talking before making his presence known. "Ah I'm r-right here. The show was amazing by the way... uhm anyway I... yes everything Bründir said is true. There is some kind of p-prison under Sheercleft. Ancient and maagical and... well we're not sure what it holds.The goblins were hired by a group of wizards, the Mab-mabignogi. They had planned this all along, to let the miners uncover the prison, and they were doing this ritual to open it or... well we don't know. And... there was someone else.. uhm I was uh... possessed? By a lich? Maybe? I found a magic gem at the bandit camp and... have you ever heard of Matthew? He knew about the prison... and he made me do something to it. He's gone now but... well we were hoping you could help us... figure all of this out. I know someone who surely knows more about this but... I'm not sure... I need to find him." the words spill out of the boy and by the time he's finished he needs to catch his breath.

Peldirion's eyes grow wider and wider as Vark's story rapidly unfolds.

"Yes, yes... I can see now that you must speak with Lord and Lady Fairfax as soon as possible. Did you say Matthew, Vark? Well, it's a human name, certainly. From the eastern end of the continent. Breannian, I would expect. Unfortunately it's also relatively common. What kind of gem was this? I can't say I'm familiar with an arcane order of that name, but I will certainly look into it. Please, all of you, come with me."

The wizard leads all who will follow into the great hall, and up to the empty dais from which Keltin and Lelfaer hold court. He assures them that the Lord and Lady will arrive shortly and hurries back off outside. A few minutes later Peldirion returns with both. Each of the elves is resplendent in their festival finery. A matching pair in silver, gold and green.

"The Acharnost grace our hall once more!" Lord Keltin declares as they enter, striding up the length of the hall. "Ordinarily I would call that a good omen, on a day such as today, but Peldirion tells me that you come bearing ill tidings?"

He takes a seat besides his wife, and waits for her to speak.

"Please," Lelfaer begins. "I would hear what you found beneath the mountain."

Meanwhile, as the round of singing comes to an end in the Silver Tower, the ruddy faced wood elf clambers down from his perch and leans up against the bar while he's poured another wine.

Seid remains quiet until the audience with Lord and Lady Fairfax, at which point he confidently strides to the front with a gracious bow. "Lord and Lady Fairfax, may I begin with extending my utter gratitude as your quick reception of the Acharnost during such an occasion and I prey your indulgence as this tale might be quiet the long in telling. I shall begin with introducing myself, I am Seid Gwydion of the Noble House Gwydion of Breanne. Although given the most recent events in the town of Sheercleft, I am likely to find myself bereft of title and familial recognition. You see, I am recently formerly of a secret society of mages known to themselves as the Mabinogi who were the architects of the events which led to the invasion of Sheercleft." He sighs and begins telling the tale in full, providing all the information he can recall of his learning of the secrets of the Mabinogi, including the founding of Sheercleft and the liberation. He provides the drawings and rubbings he took from the prison beneath the mountains. "I feel like there is much more at stake here than just the fate of one small mining town; a crusade that has been in the works for centuries that is wide spanning and likely has reaches into most places we dare not consider."