[Eberron] The Forgotten Forge


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Rawhide: The goblin ducks away as you lunge at him, cursing you under his breath. As you continue to chew the leg, you can feel his small, beady eyes staring daggers at you.

Gannon: Jobling shrugs. "You're welcome to try and find it yourself. I can do just fine here, and that's without your money." He turns back to the shifter woman. "Now, the sealing wax..."

Plonk: The man's looking carefully and intently at a pile of junk. When he notices you approaching, he grins. As you speak to him, he removes a pipe from a belt pouch and slowly packs it with tobacco, lighting it just before he begins to speak. "I'm not sure that I'm a gentleman, but I can certainly tell you why I'm here. Occasionally, you can find unusual and useful items floating through Smallweed's. Particularly if you're intending on spending time down in this neck of the woods. And you?" A tangle of tobacco smoke wraps around his head.
 

Rawhide quickly grows bored of the chair leg, as well as the general location. He drops the chewed chair leg where he stands and begins sniffing around the area. He is not really looking for anything in particular, but moreso just looking for anything that strikes his ever-fleeting fancy. "WHAT NOW, BOSS?", the shifter yells...
 

Flawed remains silent during most of the events on the market, but when Gannon is rejected, it asks
"So that man does not want easily earned money?"
Flawed certainly is no expert in markets, and the concept of haggling is not one it encountered often. And goblins, shouldn't they be quite interested in easy money? At least, that is how Flawed understands the things.
 


Plonk: "Where are you headed? I know some people that are familiar with these tunnels and warrens."

Rawhide: The wares you see are, for the most part, junk, although if someone would call it junk, you could surely find it here.
 

"It's deep beneath Dorasharn Tower, know ye anyone? Cheap but good and reliable, and preferably with no gob blood," says Plonk.
 

Plonk: "Deep below Dorasharn? Actually, I think I'd be able to get you where you're going -- I'm pretty familiar with those tunnels. 60 silver plus a share of anything that we might find along the way, and I'm your man." He pauses, then grins. "And no goblin blood to speak of here."
 

"60 silver..." Plonk says. "50 and you've got a deal. What do we look like? Aristocracy? The warforged hardly has enough to replace his rusting parts! By the way, name's Plonk. Clo... I mean, adventurer by trade."
 
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