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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Trench" data-source="post: 4218873" data-attributes="member: 40464">Baeril UnderhillThe newly deputized members of the Tenth make their way through the Guildsman District, cutting up toward the main road of Iron Street, which serves as a dividing line between many of the different districts. The four pass by a group of dirty workers carrying tools as they leave work, the violence doing nothing to stem the need for constant labor in the district. As they walk down Iron Street, they see some evidence of Midtown's influence at the edges. A woman sells a variety of hats from a cart for instance.Much to the dismay of the others, Fairbriar is on the way to the Frickard's shop, and the gnome doesn't part company with the other three until the unfortunately named Ugly Child Lane. There, Baeril walks up toward Fairbriar on his wagon's quest.    After making a detour to his rented apartment, Baeril winds his way down Fairbriar Street, carrying a broom and a dustpan, Half-Penny flying on ahead to the burglarized wagon. A few minutes later, he catches up to her, and knocks on the door."Hello, sir, is anyone home? I hope the watchman was able to help you. I'm here to help clean up your wagon. We need to get it back in salable condition, yes?"    There's a commotion from inside as the wagon door opens and the merchant looks out. The inside looks hastily cleaned, but still a mess."Ah... You want to clean it?" A grin crosses his face, "To buy it?"    "You don't eat a loaf of bread before it's baked, as my Oma used to say. I can take a better look at this wagon while I help clean it." Baeril stands on tip-toes, looking in. "My goodness, someone certainly made a mess of this place. You say it wasn't you though, isn't that right? That wouldn't make sense, since you're trying to sell it. Why do you think someone did this to the wagon?"The gnome squirms his way in and begins cleaning, heading for the areas of the biggest mess."You've been selling to the faen for a while now, but now you want to get rid of your home? Does the food not agree with you here? I hear some folk say that the faen sweet tooth is too much for humans, but the quickling restaurants serve less sweet dishes. I particularly like hunter's schnitzel or a nice goulash. They make a good potato soup, too, with more flavor than the dwarf version. Did something happen recently to make you want to leave Ptolus? I can't imagine leaving any time soon, myself; so much to see and experience!"The merchant weathers the gnome's question with an open mouth, when he suddenly gets to the task of cleaning the wagon some more.The roofed wagon itself was built to be pulled by two horses, with two shuttered side windows and the rear door. Past the debris, Baeril can see beds for two, a pantry, a closet with shelving, a water barrel and a chest."Ah. Just time to go, I suppose. I've made my money, and after a while... this city grates on you...As for who did it, well I really don't know. Some miscreants most likely."        Baeril sweeps each spot on the floor clean, scooping up debris and eying its contents as he goes."Really? Quicklings use wagons themselves, and it would be silly for a quickling or a loresong to wreck a fine cart -- you could fit a family of eight in here! If they were going to vandalize it, they would just break the wagon spokes or deface it. But, the miscreants came in here and tossed everything around. It reminds me of the time that my Oma thought my Opa was going behind her back with a shepherd girl. Ach, you should have seen how she tossed all his things around, emptied out drawers, emptied out shelves, emptied out cabinets, everything was all over the floor, just like this."He pauses to close the door to the wagon before continuing."My Opa was very clever. He was a master of ... how do you say it? He was a master of sleight-of-hand. With no magic, he could pull a dozen coins out of a child's nose. Oh, it was so funny! I'm no good at it myself, but he told me the secret: You make them look the wrong direction at the right moment. The hand that reaches into the nose for the coin is empty, but the hand that you're not paying attention to, the one holding the nose -- ah, you see!"If I were going to hide something from humans and dwarves, I wouldn't leave it where they might stumble over it, in Midtown or Oldtown or the Guildsman District. And you couldn't go to Rivergate or the Noble's Quarter, because you stand out there too much. Funny story how I know that, I should tell you some time. They both have very nice watchmen."If it was me, I would put it where no one would be looking for it, like in a neighborhood full of faen, but then put it into such a conspicuous place, like a human-sized wagon, so that people would overlook it as a hiding place. It's the hand under the nose, ja?"But it looks like someone thought there was something hidden here, and it happens at the same time as you want to leave town suddenly. And I can't blame you, because people are getting hurt. I got hurt myself this morning, just after I left you: I was thrown through a pastry shop window, can you imagine? That poor shop owner!"Baeril straightens up, shaking his dustpan to settle the debris in it."My Opa, if he were here, he'd take a coin out of your nose, stick it in your pocket and you'd never look for it in his hand. That's probably what you need to do to keep the miscreants from coming back."The gnome smiles at the merchant and stops talking suddenly, waiting.    The merchant looks utterly confused by the gnome's long rambling tale."What? What do you think I have? What am I supposed to-"At that moment, a sweet roll that Baeril could have sworn was once in his pocket goes flying across the room and hits the merchant's forehead with a puff of powdered sugar."ARGH! I am sick of this wagon!"    Baeril's eyes light up in delight."How much did you say for this wagon?" There is not a trace of disappointment in his voice.    The merchant wipes powdered sugar off his face and looks at the gnome in shock."Ah. Fif- Seventy-five?""Done."</blockquote>

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