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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Whizbang Dustyboots" data-source="post: 3420810" data-attributes="member: 11760">Having given up on tracking down Mother Bridger amidst the revelers, Ragglus settles for a wash bucket and cloth, courtesy of some old, toothless man on cleaning duty out and about Kramer's General Store. He was Kramer's new father-in-law, Ragglus thought. He had taken pity on the young fighter, but Ragglus colorfully suggested a particular orifice where said pity could be stuffed. The old man, in no hurry to finish his duties, shrugged and set off on other chores. Ragglus, left alone, pressed the damp cloth to his face. The water was cool, but soothing all the same.Finishing off as best he could, Ragglus catches sight of some dwarves lingering outside the smithy across the way. One didn't have to be an expert on dwarves to know that any gathered around Therurt's place of business, relaxing even, had to be of the Clan Glangirn. Clan relations being what they are, Rags would wager the smith wouldn't abide any Clan Farrin dwarves loitering about his shop.Maidensbridge was no stranger to Glangirn versus Farrin drunken brawls; they were among the very finest that Ragglus could remember. The square wagon wheels start to turn in his unfortunately sober brain, thinking back to those rock-munching brothers who'd jumped him. Erilon and Dalarn ... Farrin.For the first time in hours, Ragglus starts to smile."Therurt," Ragglus begins, walking up to the dwarf near his smithy. He speaks low, but loud enough for anyone to hear, especially the other Glangirn dwarves close by. "You seen Constable Bridger? A mate of mine jus told me 'bout how them Farrins, Elorin n' Dalarn, they've been mouthin' off, saying Glangirns is less gifted in the pants than other dwarves, if you take my meanin'."Ragglus turns around to see the other dwarves staring at him, frowning. He leans in a bit closer to Therurt as if to keep his speech private and not bother the eavesdropping dwarves, but continues speaking at the same volume."A fight's brewing, mark my words. The constable ought to be warned."Nothing about Ragglus' manner appears at all convincing to Therurt or the other Glangirn dwarves, but from the murmured comments and dark looks toward the bar, it doesn't seem like most of them care whether the story is true or not.Argus Glangirn stands up and, in an exaggerated loud voice, stretches, slinging his banjo over his back."Well, I'm off to unload some of this here green beer. I won't be here to keep an eye on you boys while I'm gone, but I know I can trust you all to not throw the first punch, should those Farrin lads start flapping their gums ..."As he wanders off, the Glangirn dwarves grin, finish their beers, and head for the bar en masse."Guess i'll keep lookin' for the constable then," Ragglus says, strolling away with a spring in his step.* * *As soon as he's certain the Farrin dwarves are backing down, Tock turns back around to Renraw and his cousin, only to find they're gone, as is pretty much everyone but Emus."Oh, for crying out loud." He looks down to Emus. "Good to know some folk don't run at the first hint of scuffles. Tell Ella your next ale's on me, Emus."Tock walks to the door and calls out."Oh, you cowardly sheep, get back in here! I'm going to go on in a bit! There's no fight, there's nothing to run from!"He sees Renraw sprawled in a mud puddle, having fallen in his haste to escape the Wizard of Green Mountain. The bard bursts out laughing."Laugh now, Chandler," Renraw snarls, attempting to wipe the mud from his face with a muddy sleeve. He carefully pulls himself to his feet and totters over to Tock, whispering urgently in the bard's ear about Khenemet-Apep and what he guesses he wants to speak to the younger wizard about.In the midst of the whispered conversation, Stotch strolls over."For a man of letters, you seem awfully prone to fits of violence and clumsiness," he smirks. "Perhaps you should take a moment and compose yourself. A jug of cider, and a breath of air will cure any troubled soul, yes?"By now the Wizard of Green Mountain has apparently given Bufer the slip and appears in the doorway, his eyes blazing, clapping a hand on one of Renraw's bony shoulders."Wow! Sir," Tock blurts out, ignoring the panic on his friend's face, "It is truly an honor to even be in your presence. I would be humbled if you were to stay for the performance."The dark-skinned wizard glances at him and then turns his attention back on Renraw."Enough. I have business with Mister Kem and it is business I must conduct with him alone. Now."By now a small crowd has formed around the muddy wizard and the much more dignified wizard. Kat is leaning over trying to catch his breath and waving the crumpled remains of a letter in one hand toward the pair."Questions," he wheezes toward Khenemet-Apep. "Shadow mages! Mirrors ... key to ... K-Kemite ... locations?"Khenement-Apep steers Renraw around the edge of the crowd, away from both the bar and crowd in the town square.Tock and Stotch are left behind, watching them go, listening to Katadid mumbling questions to himself."Huh," Tock says finally. "I wonder what he wants. Hey there, new guy. I'm Tock Chandler. Here for the festival or for the music? It's not for the atmosphere, I assume."</blockquote>

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