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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Whizbang Dustyboots" data-source="post: 3411541" data-attributes="member: 11760">"We'll come find ya'll later, Da." Hazel lifts a hand in a parting wave, leaving Reed's foot flailing about in the air. The boy wriggles his other ankle out of her grasp and manages three "steps" on his hands before flopping down in the mud. He grins slyly and raises an arm to his sister."Help me up!"Hazel makes a show of leaning over to examine the offered hand."Hmmm, you're on your own, mister. Didn't we just dump you in a washtub this morning?""Back to normal now!" Reed jumps to his feet and wipes his muddy hands across the front of his tunic. "I was too clean anyway.""Mm-hmm. Wouldn't want any pretty lasses gettin' the idea you were the dancin' type."In unison, Hazel and Reed scrunch up their noses and stick out their tongues: "Dancing, yuck!""Let's go, wee beastie. If we head over to the tavern, we'll pass the dwarves." She nods her head toward the smithy. "Might even see more exciting weapons."Hazel catches her brother by the collar before he can dash off into the crowd."I said see, not touch. You stay by my side like a familiar or I'll turn you over to Da for the night, and ya know he won't be happy if he has to miss a dance with Mama because he's busy tanning your hide."A slightly more subdued Reed shadows his sister toward the tavern -- subdued meaning his bouncing, bobbing and weaving through the crowd is confined to a five-foot radius. Just past the smithy, Reed's bouncing orbit stops. Hazel half-turns her head, knowing a quiet a Reed is a dangerous one, and thus isn't knocked completely off-balance when his weight thumps into her back and his arms lock around her neck. A moment's juggling -- oof, he's getting too heavy for this -- and a small foot digging her axe into the side of her leg later, Reed is secure in his new perch."You're lucky I haven't got my pack on under my cloak today." Hazel dodges to avoid stepping on a wandering toddler whose mother is trailing after her. "This had better not be some secret plan to smear mud all over me."Fingers swipe across her cheek in response."I don't get a matching one for the other side?"Reed obliges with a swipe across the other cheek."Now that we're both fashionably attired, what say we find a seat," she says as pushes through the crowd outside The Cat & The Fiddle, Reed's feet swinging against her hips and occasionally delivering an accidental kick to folks too slow to clear a path, "And say howdy to some friends.""I shall ask the bishop to grant us an audience," Emmerson is saying as the Sawyers approach. "We'll need to discuss matters with great care for it.""Of course, of course," Bufer says with a sly wink. "'Great Care' is my third-from-middle ... oh look, it's Hazel!"Waving them over, Bufer kicks out the chair opposite his, in what he probably thinks of as a gallant manner."Afternoon, lass!" he says brightly, raising his mug as they near the table. "Good to see you again! I hate to be the one to break this to ye, but you appear to have a mud demon of some sort growin' outta ye.""It's a terrible, terrible affliction, Bufer," Hazel nods solemnly. "Thankfully I have the cure for it right here."She sets to tickling behind Reed's knees with single-minded intensity. Her brother squirms and squeals, trying to protect himself without losing his perch, but finally drops to his feet.Hazel takes the chair Bufer offered, leaving the neighboring one for her brother, who promptly flops into it and tries to balance it on two legs. Hazel keeps an arm ready to catch the chair in case it tips too far.She nods affably to Emmerson, but her eyes are scrutinizing Bufer."You look well, that's good. That you're better, I mean. I'm sorry about," she shifts her eyes toward Reed before continuing, "Um, that thing."Bufer blinks in surprise, then shakes his head at Hazel."Seems to me I should be the one apologizing to you, lass. Heda told me what you done for me. Couldn't have been easy carryin' 60 stone all the way back to town on yer back. I'm grateful. Thank you." He bites off the rest of what he was going to say, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about the presence of Reed and Emmerson. It'll have to keep until later, he thinks, fiddling with the object in his pocket.Instead, he turns his head and scans the crowd for Heda, trying to see if she's still playing for the stranger who makes her uncomfortable."So Tiberius never showed after all, huh?""Tiberius," Tock snorts, walking up. "I told you not to waste your time with Lothianite crap. I'm surprised at you, gnome. I thought you at least had that much sense. But I guess you had your reasons," Tock says, shooting a glance at Hazel. "I hope you guys enjoy the competition. I don't think I'll win, I'm no Fiddler, but I wrote a song especially for you all. How's the High and Mighty treating you, Grant?""Kindly do not address my god that way," Emmerson says, glaring back at the bard."I try to address him as rarely as possible, and never kindly.""Except when you're in front of the constable. Then your bowing and scraping knows no limits.""Of course, dear dead one, it's fun to lie to idiots.""Not as much as watching hypocrites contort.""Oh, dear, the Lothianite is upset. Please, please, don't die on me. Or, you know, burn me at the stake. If there's one thing Lothian hates, it's someone with a brain and an independent will.""Hardly. Lothian hates cowards. And it is true, I have died," Emmerson says, his hand touching his neck reflexively. "And that was because I preferred to risk -- and give -- my life rather than let evil triumph. I would have done the same for anyone in Maidensbridge. I'm sorry you cannot comprehend what that means. If you have business with this table, state it. If not, go somewhere else. Kindly or not.""You endangered the gnome's life, and your church persecutes anyone it can. Lick your bishop's boot, boy, and bring further shame to your fine family. Enjoy the song. It's dedicated to you three." Tock turns, and spots Renraw at the bar with Katadid. He stalks off to greet them. "Ren!""Tock, wait!" Bufer calls after the bard, but Tock either doesn't hear him above the din, or chooses not to. With a sigh, Bufer turns and fixes Emmerson with a look. "Hardly the reaction of an aspiring priest, there, lad. Tock was just stirrin' up the pot, same as he always does. If you get your nose all out of joint every time someone questions your faith, you're gonna have a tough row to hoe. 'You get more converts with honey than a mace to the head,' Master Barennackle always says."</blockquote>

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