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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Whizbang Dustyboots" data-source="post: 3469113" data-attributes="member: 11760">Not for the first time this day, Bufer wishes Tosh were here.It seems as though more than half the town has packed itself into The Cat & The Fiddle as Bufer scans the crowd for one of his fellow gnomes. After several minutes of being jostled back and forth by man and dwarf alike, he catches a glimpse of a pair of Bergins, standing by the stairs, their pockets unaccountably stuffed with eggs they've presumably pilfered from the tavern's larder."Hey, Bufer," the younger of the two says with a mischievious grin as he approaches. "You hear about the song Argus Glangirn's gonna play tonight? We was just about to head back up to the roof an' find a good throwin' spot, before the riot starts.""You're what?" Bufer asks in Gnomish, then shakes his head sharply. "No, never mind. Listen, I need to get a message back home to Master Barennackle right quick, but I'm told there may be kobolds on the road who're spoilin' for a fight. You lads know anyone brave, clever or stupid enough who'd be willin' to take it for me?"* * *"But," Ragglus begins, looking from Emmerson and down to Bufer, "But ..."But neither of them was paying attention anymore. Emmerson walked off to speak to Tock briefly, and Bufer was away hopping up and down trying to see if he could find some Bergins.Ragglus had lied in the presence of Argus Glangirn earlier, and whether or not the head of the Glangirn dwarves had believed him, he doubted he was going to be taken seriously now. But Maidensbridge is in danger, and while he could take or leave most Bridgers, it was still his town, and he wasn't about to let it fall to any blasted kobolds.He spies his target just inside the door. With a sigh, Ragglus marches forward to meet him. Boldly favored are the fortunate, he thinks he remembers hearing once. Playing it over in his mind, it suddenly occured to him that it didn't sound exactly right. He cursed himself inwardly, hoping he hadn't muttered it in shared company on a previous occasion and sounded stupid.Lost in thought, the ex-paladin barely stops himself in time from stepping right into the lead dwarf, staring up at him questioningly, hand hovering over his axe handle. Ragglus looks past him to Argus Glangirn, locks eyes, and musters up the most respectful tone he can."I need to speak with y'all 'bout a matter of great importance, sir," he says, bowing. A few patrons nearby catch the display and start to snicker, but quickly stifle when they happen to catch Ragglus' glare. "It concerns your clan and Maidensbridge, perhaps all of Midwood. Please, sir, won't take but a moment.""Are you soft in the head, boy?" Argus Glangirn snarls, eyes shooting daggers -- or more precisely, hatchets -- at Ragglus. "This is just some no-beard scheme to throw me off my game at the contest, ain't it?"Holding his banjo to his chest protectively, he jerks his head at a figure behind Rags."Get him out of here, boys. I don't want to lay eyes on this here 'gentleman' until my song is done sung, ya hear?"* * *Emmerson spots Boots Farrin quaffing stout ale, laughing merrily with his clansmen. Taking a deep breath, he approaches."Boots Farrin, gead of the Farrin Clan, may your beard grow ever longer, this servant of the barony and Lothian requests a minute of your attention.""So, boy," Boots Farrin drawls, fishing around in his lip with one fat finger for his used-up plug of chewing tobacco. "I reckon you're friends with that Graymullet yellowbelly, ain't ya? Not even enough pride in his heritage to keep the mountain's name for himself and now he has a pretty little boy with his chin all covered in peach fuzz trying to shoo us out so we won't hear Argus talking trash about his betters. I reckon that's about it, ain't it?"Emmerson hears a cough by his left shoulder and turning his head, spots Dalarn and Erilon Farrin behind him listening and clearly spoiling for a fight."Why don't you just go sit your pretty little behind on down, boy, and let us just enjoy us some tunes?"Oddly enough, the two dwarves by his side make Emmerson relax."I am clean-shaven because I made a vow to Lothian. When my vow has been fulfilled, I'll grow a beard that would put Richard Grant, the brewer of Middleborough, to shame," Emmerson smiles. "I do not mean for any of you to miss the festival. I just wanted to tell you to alert your warriors. There are rumors of an attack floating on the breeze. By your leave, sir."Emmerson bows and departs.* * *"Lindy, love, we mustn't miss the musical competition. Hazel tells me one of her young friends is entering this year." Jack Sawyer might be a touch more watchful than usual, his back a bit stiffer, but he gives no overt sign of the news his daughter has brought. "Let's head over to the tavern, shall we?"Rosalind herds Reed along with her, calling back to Aspen and her beau."Come on, you two. There'll be time enough for dancing later." More quietly, to Hazel, she adds, "Make sure your sister doesn't linger too long with the boy, please. But don't scare him off, either."Jack and Rosalind head back into town with Reed running, jumping and tumbling alongside, a steady stream of patter accompanying him.Young Matwin Cooper steals a kiss from Aspen once her father's back is turned. He casts a half-guilty, half-defiant look toward Hazel, who shrugs and jerks her head toward town."Why don't y'all hit the Cat, OK? Just keep yourr hands to yourself, the two of you. Mostly."She winks at the boy and gestures the pair ahead of her. With one last look at the mountain, Hazel steers her sister back towards the bar. Aspen keeps loitering on the edge of the woods instead of allowing herself to be guided.As they approach the tavern, Hazel hears the first sounds of Heda Littlelark warming up. From the sound of it, the gnome is atop a table, clomping with heavy boots that will allow her to accompany this year's song with a bit of percussion.The bar is packed and the air hot inside as they push their way inside.* * *Tock and Stotch approach Ella at the bar."Ella, darlin', come here," Tock says quietly. "We don't want a panic, so don't say nothin', but all this commotion's got to do with a kobold attack tonight. Don't let on, but whatever you do, don't let folks outta this tavern. If you gotta, say that I stepped out to prepare for a huge amazing song that'll be the stuff of legends, but do not let them out of this tavern. We're going for help.""We think it's imminent," Stotch nods. "Let no one leave. We are riding for help now."As Stotch emphasizes this last point, a dark-clad gnome male slips past him to the door. He runs in place a moment, getting his traction and then shoots off, the sound of his footfalls loud and wet, even over the din of the crowd."They call him 'Swifty,'" Bufer volunteers to a reveller.</blockquote>

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