Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Ashy" data-source="post: 1860610" data-attributes="member: 312">When it comes time to pay the healer, Rawhide digs around in his rag-like clothing, finally scraping up the sum total of 52 gold.  This is places in the healer's hands, saying.  "Me know this ain't a'nuff, but its all mes gots.  Rawhide did dis and Rawhide's gotta fix dis."His sorrowful face speaks volumes.Back at the Victory, the shifter secludes himself to the trash pile in the back and sits alone for a long time.  Finally, he begins rooting around in the garbage pile in a rush as if looking for something specific.  Finally, it seems that the shifter finds what he is looking for and then spends the next several hours hunkered over the objects, hard at work.When he is done, he enters the inn and finds Plonk, approaching him with his head down and nearly prostrate, as would a chastised dog.  Whether or not the gnome pays him any heed, the shifter slips his crafted prize gently onto the table and then runs away as quickly as he can.  He returns to his garbage pile and remains there for the night.In his wake, upon the table are the two darkmetal gears that Rawhide took from the slain warforged.  They have been fitted together and stuck there by some dark, sticky concoction that smells vaguely of grease and glue.  Festooned all along the edges of the gears, in a surprisingly beautiful pattern, is a mosaic of smooth pebbles of various hues, multicolored glass, bone bits (that appear to have had all the sharp bits gnawed down), and pieces of scavenged metal.  A piece of ragged and frayed string winds through the holes in both cogs and is tied, as if to make the whole ensemble a necklace.  Upon each cog a single word has been scratched, over and over again and the words, which reveal the shiny metal beneath, gleam even in the dim light of the inn.  They read:"Me Sorree"</blockquote>

Verification