Dwarven funeral rites are serious business. There was no way they'd leave the body of one of their own in the abattoir house, and the funeral pyre just wasn't the dwarven way. So Team Dwarf (minus Ghere) decided to transport the body to the one spot they knew a dwarf could be found - Erudin's smithy in the Docks.

The smithy was quiet for the evening. There is but a thin trail of smoke rising, as the furnace cooled. Knocking on the door produced much cussing from the inside, before the door swung open to reveal a short and broad dwarf, dressed mostly in a blacksmith's apron and scars.  His forearms in particular seemed to be one huge mass of burnt and healed skin wrapped around huge timbers. He squinted at the visitors, grunted something and bid them inside.



The smithy is warm and welcoming. The smell of ale, salted meat and pickled vegetables mingled with fire and molten metal. Shadows danced merrily on the ceiling, the furnace open and illuminating the whole room. Erudin's company for the evening was two young dwarvish women of considerable beauty. At least, for dwarvish standards. The two have obviously been living in human lands for quite a while, judging from their cleanly shaven faces, lack of weight, and revealing clothing. Erudin didn't seem to be bothered about that - there were few dwarves in Phlan, and even fewer female ones.



A blanket was quickly prepared to wrap the remains of the dwarf into before anyone spoke.

Rurik inclined his head respectfully -- Dwarves weren't much on bowing, leaving that sort of silliness to the Elves -- to the two Dwarven females, and then to the male Dwarf, whom he assumed to be Erudin Strongarm.

"I am Rurik, son of Harbek, of the Ironhand family, of the Fireforge clan, from Hug Moldur," he said in a proud, firm voice, by way of introduction.

Rurik paused to allow Brak to also introduce himself.

The Dwarven warrior well knew that there were certain formalities to be observed before the threesome addressed the reason that they were here in the smithy . . .

OOC:

Edited to delete references to Librand, per his PM.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:20, Thu 05 Nov 2015.

"Brak, clan Rocktoe, sworn to Marthammor Duin the Watchful Eye," Brak states and wipes a long streak of snot on his sleeve and gives an awkward sort of bow. He then hangs back allowing Rurik to take the lead.

The blacksmith grunted. "I am Erudin, of the Hard-hand family, from Harthill Deep. Moradin's beard, you really picked a time to come in with this." He grunted again. The two female dwarves were apparently not worthy of introduction. They were probably outcasts, and didn't protest in the slightest. "I'll be sure to send the remains of our stone-brother back north for burial. I do have a foggy idea who it is - the fellow was a gifted carver, but fond of strong drink. Seems his drunken circumambulations cost him, eh? Well, let's celebrate this occasion. Girls." He glanced at the two, and they hastened to serve each dwarf with a dose of strong spirits. The dead dwarf's cup was placed on top of his body.

"Poor sucker. May you have all the gold in Moradin's halls." Erudin toasted the other dwarves, downed the fiery, dwarf-strength liquor, then tossed the dead dwarf's cup into the forge fires where it flashed into bright flames for a second.

Rurik nodded to Erudin in recognition of the Dwarven smith's introduction, and of the drinks that he had the two female Dwarves bring to the males.

He shrugged at Erudin's suppositions as to what had happened to the dead Dwarf. "Mayhaps," he agreed, "although we found him several blocks inside the slums. If he was in his cups and wandering about, I suppose that he could have been ambushed and taken to the house where we found his body."

"Skoal!" Rurik answered Erudin's toast, "may your beard grow ever longer and your hammer-arm ever stronger."

Tossing back the fiery liquor, he nodded appreciatively and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "Hammer and Forge, now that's a proper drink!" he exclaimed. "The best I've had since I've been here in Phlan. Most everything else is watered-down Human and Elven piss-water. There are some Half-Orcs in our company, I suppose, but I'd just as soon drink paint-thinner as the swill that they favor."

Rurik fell silent for a moment, then asked the smith, "We came to you when we found this one, for you were the only Stone-Brother whom we knew about in this place. Are there any others of our folk hereabouts?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:57, Thu 05 Nov 2015.

Erudin roared with laughter. "Now that's a proper toast! Ronja!" He swatted one of the females on the ass. She looked vaguely uncomfortable, but refilled the cups nonetheless. "May your hammer always strike true! May your pouch always be fat with gold! Bottoms up!" He downed the liquor and smacked his lips appreciatively.

"Yes, there are few who can appreciate the gentle taste of this brandy. And bottles that it won't melt are hard to find, too!" He laughed as he slammed his stone cup down on the table.

"Eh, times are lean in Phlan for us. The galleys from up north the Stojanow are regular, the trade in the docks is up, but the city is just not for us. All the water around it, you see. And the pissing matches in the council. And the monsters roaming the rest of the city. Once things stabilize some more, I bet more will choose to settle here. But not for now. Me and the two outcast wenches here are about the whole of Phlan's permanent population. Ronja and Tronja ran away from arranged marriages and hid from their father for a dozen years before I found them, am I right girls?" Erudin looked sternly at the two. Their discomfort increased visibly, but they dared not protest. He spat on the floor. "Rescued them from those thrice damned human slave traffickers just in time. Look what they did to them. Eh." He spat again.

Brak scowls,"It'll be stable soon enough."

His eyes narrowed at Roja and Tronja's discomfort. Was it Erudin's treatment, memories of the slavers or the shame of being outcast that weighed on them so heavily?

"Lucky Erudin won your freedom, eh lass?" he commented as Roja re-filled his cup.

Rurik cocked his head to one side for a moment and considered. There's something not quite right respecting these two females, but I'll be damned if I can figure it out. Mayhaps it's just being clanless outcasts in the presence of three proper Stone-Brothers. They must have been very dissatisfied with the marriages that had been arranged for them, to have chosen to become outcasts. Or mayhaps 'tis a matter of the way the Humans gussied them up -- trying to make them look less Dwarven, I suppose. In any event, they are under Erudin's roof and under his protection. 'Tis not proper for me to pry o'ermuch.

The Dwarven warrior silently held out his cup for the female named Ronja to re-fill, and listened to what Erudin had to say about the situation in Phlan.

"Aye, the water can be a problem," he agreed with the smith, "but so long as our folk keep their feet on solid ground -- at least most of the time -- they should be able to settle here."

"And Brak speaks true that this place will be stabilized, sooner or later. Our company has been hired to deal with the monsters that seem to be roaming freely beyond the wall. It may take some time, but we will get it done."

"Speaking of that, we will have some spoils of battle from time to time. We will retain anything that suits us, of course, but there will be some items that we would rather convert to coin. Do you deal in such items?"

"And secondly, as we go about our business, we will naturally gain more coin. I cannot speak for Brak, of course, but I may eventually be in the market for better armor and weapons. Speaking of that, do you silver-coat weapons?"

Ronja grunted at Brak's question. "Yeah, real lucky he bought us." She winked at the bearded, heavily scarred blacksmith. In return, he looked slightly embarassed as well.

"Aeh, well, I give them a roof over the head, meal on the table and work to do. Until they decide to make amends to their fathers..." Erudin muttered. The expresion on the girls' faces made it plain they harbored no intention of doing that. That made him slam his fist down on the table, making the earthenware on it jump and clatter. "Goddamn the youth of today! But what can I do? It seems the best for all involved is keeping them here, disguised and away from their fathers. Such a deep mess they made of it, even Moradin's wife couldn't think of a way to fix it."

The sudden gloom on his face and the way the girls retreated made Erudin's character qualities all too obvious. But his anger melted in another cup of brandy, and he embraced the young dwarven girls fondly, making them even more embarassed if at all possible.

"Aye, I'll be all too happy to take extra loot off your hands. The city guard *snort* always needs more equipments, and I make a pretty coin from that."

"Silver coating? Nothing simpler than that. It might take me a few days to procure the alchemical silver for it, but there's no techni-cul problem with it."

Rurik smiled at the interplay between Erudin and the two younger Dwarven females. He nodded when the smith affirmed that he would purchase their spoils of battle (for resale to the city Guard -- transactions from which Erudin admittedly made a "pretty coin"), and when Erudin also confirmed that silver-coating weapons would be no problem.

"We'll most likely have some battle-spoils for ye some time tomorrow," Rurik replied, "after we have had a bit more time to look over what we took from those that slew him -- along with a goodly number of Humans and a few Elves." When Rurik mentioned "him", he nodded towards the blanket-covered body of the Dwarf that lay atop the table-top that Brak and he had used to carry the corpse in from the slums.

"Half-Orc and Kobold bastards were making stew using the blood and body-parts of the dead," Rurik growled angrily, shaking his head as he once again saw the scene inside the house in his mind's eye, with the many bloody corpses hanging head-down from meat-hooks along the interior walls.

"A quick death in battle was almost too good for that lot. Ye'll be pleased to hear that we did for them, one and all."

Rurik grimaced, and glanced again at blanket-covered body. "With our Stone-Brother having no family or clan hereabouts to make his foes pay the blood-price for his death, Brak and I acted in their place and stead. A Human magicker and a Halfling scout rounded out our strike-team, and they both acquitted themselves admirably during the battle. Mayhaps we could bring them by and introduce them if they find themselves in need of your wares, Master-Smith Erudin?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:53, Sat 07 Nov 2015.

"Abad's shrunken testicles. Now I won't be able to eat stew for a while." Erudin made a face, imagining dwarf-flavoured food. Then he shook his head and sipped some more brandy. "Damned monsters. Dying in a fight is one thing, but being cooked up afterwards... hat's no way to treat a dead dwarf."

"Yeah, be sure to tell them to introduce themselves. I'll do them a five percent discount. Ten if I like them a lot. In a few years, that is." He slapped Ronja's ass again. She murmurs a half-hearted complaint and goes to fetch more bread and meat for the table.