"Civilization"

Bolgrim rode behind Hruneavaar a few paces, one hand upon the reigns the other balancing a hammer of massive heft upon his shoulder. He snorted and spat upon the road in response to Hruneavaar's exclamations, "aye, ye'd have noticed the wall, statuary and buildings sooner if ye'd keep yer blasted nose outta that damned book for ten seconds" . He likewise dismounted, though he had a much easier time. With a slap to Borghildr's ass the ram was off to join Mirvana at the garbage heap.

"What sort of magical tome ye be pourin' over anyhow" Bolgrim inquired as he knelt to pick up the smallish book, he opened the book and began reading. Bolgrim squinted at the book as he read aloud, "....The nubile elf blushed deeply at the caress of her lengthy pointed ears, "your chivalry is matched by your girth, sir knight" she exclaimed as she took a knee, succulent lips findin..." Bolgrim turned bright red and slammed the book shut and threw it on the ground. "Ye durned old fool! I thought ye were studyin' yer spells not readin...that!"

Hrunaevaar quickly pats himself down upon hearing his younger companions exclamation. Peeking back around the the corner of the Shady Corners, he spies his tome in the hands, and then at the feet of Bolgrim. "BWAHAHAHA! What's tha mat'a Bolgrim? What didja find in those pages?" Hrunaevaar, choking back the last of his guffaws, walks nearer his fellow dwarf. Dropping a plump hand on his shoulder, "When you reach my age, you need'nt be seeking a softer beard anymore. The courting takes far to long, why, our beards would be draggin an' grey by tha time we wed!" Witha grunt, he scoops up the tome from the dust, then taps it against the breastplate of Bolgrim. "Let's be keepin this between us, aye?"
 
Looking around, he continues, "Well, here be a building, lets find tha door. Tha goats seem happeh enough where they be."
 

Bolgrim just shook his head at the older dwarf, "Oy, what would Mirvana think knowin' yer doin a kilt stand on'er back? Just ridin' along whilst holdin' the hammer high?" The Dwarf huffed out a sigh, "The oldest trick in the book that, the self liftin' kilt" Bolgrim turned his back towards his companion and made for the front of the tavern, "aye, I hope this is the alehouse, I be needin' a drink after that". Bolgrim and his massive hammer proceeded to enter The Shady Corner, unaware of what they might find.

Glimmer flits wildly about the inside of her mail station.  Out of the corner of her eye, two wild goats appear at the garbage heap.  Glimmer falls directly over in a faint, then rights herself.  "WINGS OF THE FAE!  IT'S A CRIME!"  The fae grabs her bow and quiver, then flits out to the goats.
 
"Hello goaty friends!  Whatcha eatin?  That's terrible sloshy mess!  How's about some daffodils!"  Glimmer gets the attention of the goats by flitting up and down and yelling "Shooey Shooey Shoooooooooooo!" and scattering them back to the front of the tavern.
 
The wild eyed fae begins throwing daffodils everywhere at the goats and seems to be asking them where Mr. Gruff is.  She plops down on the ground between the goats and pets them both sporadically as they munch the daffodils, giggling uncontrollably. 

Mirvana the all white female goat, whom is still laiden with her kit, takes to the daffodills and the fae tossing them about. She happily chomps them as they hit the ground, and follows the flitty fae around as best she can. When the fae setteles, she bumps her with her horns and nuzzle, seeking more.
 
"Why do ye be thinking I wear long robes! I woulnt be wantin to pester poor Mirvana..." It is at this point when Hrunaevaar notices a shrill voice coming from where they left thier steeds. Seeing the flowers flying through the air and the creature flitting around them at, he gathers his robes and quickly trots back over to the beasts.
 
"What are ye aboot? What are ye?" Hrunaevaar slides to a halt, gravel and dust continuing forth. He plants his staff into the ground, its dark green gem glinting in the sunlight, and his gold jewlery in his beard shining as it swings from his movement. He picks up a flower, smells it once, and then takes a bite. "What are ye feedin my Mirvana Fae?",says the troubled dwarf, chewing the petals slowly.

As of late, Scumbelle had been minding her own business, a very strange behavior for a goblin to do, minding her own business and doing her own round abouts around Jastery, looking for any new 'homes' she could find. She hadn't been having the best of luck, so the night before, she returned to her dank, heaping, smelly home that consisted of all of Jastery's garbage, right behind the Tavern.
 
Scumbelle had only had one time where she was rudely awakened, by another goblin in fact, with screechy, annoying metalic noises and loud bangs, this time however, she heard clomping and munching. Attempting to not be too phased by the noise, she rustled in the garbage heap, hoping that whatever was intruding on her luscious and stinky residence would leave by terror of moving garbage. Though it wasn't by her movement, the intruders appeared to have left and she went back to her beauty sleep.

"What am I a who?  I'm NOT A BOOT!  I'm a Fae.  A Glimmer to be precisely precise!  Who are you cousin?  I like your shinies!  You have a pretty beard, I must say."  Glimmer flits upward, standing in front of the dwarf while telling the goats to stay.
 
"Me Taklinn would like ta meet ya, aye he would.  Ello' cousin, I be Glimmer!  Fancy a drink do ye?"  Glimmer pulls a flask of dwarven make from her pouch.  The lid is a giant cork embellished with jewels and a small silver Fae kneeling at the top.  She pushes the flask at the new dwarf, then stuffs a handful of cookies at him with her other hand.

Hrunaevaar eyes the fae suspiciously, "What are ye on about? Cousin? Ye be the strangest Grandhelm I e'er seen. Who is this Tal'lin? A'nd I always fancy a drink." He takes the offered flask, but not before inspecting the over embellished cork. "I 'ave the feel'n you spent alot o' coin on thus." He takes a grateful swig of the liquid inside. A wave of apparent pleasure washes over him, "OOOooohoho, Glimmer, lass, you have fine taste." He takes one of the cookies, and it quickly vanishes under his dark mustache. "I forget meself, I am Hrunaevaar Grandhelm. My younger companion and I seek tha Citadel, and the Chosen of Our Blessed Immortal, Jerond o' tha Fireforge Clan"
 
Mirvana, no longer being fed tasty flowers, wandered back into the trash heap. Delving deeper into the pile, she climbs atop a large container with her goaty grace. Mirvana dips her head in the dumpster to find, rather, smell, goblin. She straitens her front legs, and bends her back legs, ready to leap forward. The fur on her neck raises, and she lets out a concerned bleat.

Scumbelle felt something stand a top her, like when a cat decideds to crawl up in someones lap, but in this case, much heavier. Her crusted over eyes slowly opened as she had stopped moving and she whispered softly with extreme iritation. "Ancestral monkey queen..." 
 
The pile under the goat seemed to shift and almost shrink in size before a large amount of rustling and trash shot up into the air along with a lot of loud monkey screeches. Scumbelle, in her monkey form, would pick up parchment and very harmless trash items and start throwing at the goat, not in anyway meaning to harm, but just a giant, get the pit out of my home, welcoming.

Borghildr, the grey and white ram carrying far less than the other, ignored the. Fae for a few moments as he'd found a parchment loaded with greasy residue and seemed to be quite enjoying it. As the morsel was finally ingested he trotted over the Mirvana and the fae, bleating with curiosity before joining her in the feast of daffodils, grunting happily.
 
Meanwhile, standing just inside the door of the tavern, Bolgrim heard the manic fae. Bolgrim spotted the bar of the tavern and a look of great conflict settled on his features. With shake of his head he turned on his heel and walked back outside to join Hruneavaar with the Fea. "Greetin's there!" He shouted, clanking a bit as he descended each step of the tavern. "The name's Bolgrim, we been sent ta"..and just then a monkey erupted out of the garbage heap. Bolgrim blinked at the wretched screeching thing before glancing back to glimmer, "ye gotch'er'selves one pit of a racoon problem there, ne'er seen one quite like that'n a'fore". The Dwarf's grip on his hammer tightened.

"Silly dwarfie.  I didn't pay nye a copper for it.  Me husband gives me what's me wants when me wants it.  He's Taklinn o' the Forgesplitter clan.  The finest dwarfie I ever did see.  I married him with a good and proper trick too!"  Glimmer turns to see the ram ramble back over to the trash heap just as the monkey erupts from it.
 
"Why I outta!  Scumbelle, calm it down!  Tis' just a ram!"  Glimmer turns on the dwarf then.  "GRANDHELM!  YE BEST GIT YER RAM SHEEP GOAT THINGIE OUTTA SCUMBELLE'S HOUSE! We don't be takin' kindly ta strangers thinkin they owns the places.  And Bolgrim, I wouldn't be thinkin ta make another move on that hammer, else I has to fix you up between the eyes for bashin a townsfolk."
 
Glimmer turns to the monkey goblin, throws some cookies to her and says "That outta fix em up good and proper Scumbelle!  You can go on back...home...now!"

After the goat trotted away, fully covered in peelings, leaves, and anything else she could have thrown at the creature, she huffed out a few quick and agitated breathes before picking off any bits of lettuce and healthy icky things before noticing the cookies the winged, shiny lady gave her. "Oo-oo?" She tilted her head and scooched over to them, picking up one in her padded and furry hands, sniffing it thorougly before giving it a little nibble. Her eyes lit up as she started to devour the rest that laid around her, making happy monkey noises.

"DO YE OFFER ME INSULT?" Hrunaevaar stamps the bottoms of his staff on the ground. "Me darlin Mirvana be the finest of goaty lasses! Much soght after in all tha great halls and peaks! And ye pokin fun at tha way we speak! Id like ta have words with tha't 'usband o' yours. Tricked indeed. I canne imagine what manner of fae spell you have on him! I'll 'ave to set to work on him strait away I will, freeing my brother dwarf from tha wiles of tha Fae!"
 
Hrunaevaar, panting from his rant, begins to scrutinize the flask. "Thar must be some spell on thus thing. Somethin to keep a brother dwarf down." Hrunaevaar lets his staff rest on his shoulder in the crook of his arm, and pulls out yet another tome and flips through its pages. "No, no, no, no, where was tha't, ah here it is!" The dwarf begins to mumble in a deep voice, before gazing upon the flask fiercely. He does this several times, before getting frustrated and tossing the flask back. "T'aint nuthin I kin find, I'll just havta try and talk sense to him."

Glimmer catches the flask and turns 3 different shades of pink.  A high pitched squeel emits from her as she yells 'Taklinn Forgespliiter ye best be getting out here whilst the gettin's good!  Grandhelm's about to get himself stuck!"  She turns towards the tavern and stomps her foot angrily, beating her wings making dust rise.

From the woods between the tavern and the outhouse the dwarf says "Many're tryin, and few are succeedin' ta tell me what they think I'm fer knowin'.  Ye'd be best ta' leave me bride be, or I'll not step in to intercede an' let her put a few beard pins in yer fool neck.  Ye say yer lookin' fer one o' me kin, speak plainly and be quick about it.  If'n yer intentions be good, I may be able ta' set up a meetin' fer ye, and if they ain't, well I've not gone through me exercises this morn."  Taklinn says, as he pulls his shield from his back and his hand goes to his axe head.

Bolgrim watched the exchange between Hruneavaar and Glimmer with a wry smirk 'pon his bearded features, his hammer falling to rest on his shoulder once more at Glimmer's behest,"Sorry, didn't realize it was a pet, my appologies."
 
Bolgrim offered Taklinn a nod of greeting as he strode up," no need to worry kin, we're answerin' the call ye sent out bout the citadel, figgered ye could use a couple'o'stout lads to bolster tha ranks" He glanced to Hruneavaar and shook his head, "Shut yer gob ye old fool, we're guests here!" he smacked Hruneavaar across the chest with his free hand before turning back to Taklinn, "Ye are the Taklinn that sent the letter, are ye not?"

The boistrous duo had caught the attention of another presence, long before they had set foot in front of the tavern- they had bumbled past her dwelling on their way into town. Binx perched against the far corner of the tavern, hood and mask obscuring the majority of her face. Her long cloak hid her body and any weapons that might be on her. There was a mostly inaudable snicker from the still woman.
Not only was she amused at the implications of a traveling dwarf defended the honor of a goat in the way he would a loving woman, but he had also managed to piss off what was quite possibly the fae most capable of defending herself in Jastrey.

"Aye lad there be letters sent out to many o' the Clanholds announcing that a new Clanhold 'as been formed here.  Who are ye and from where do ye come?"  he says with reservation, still eyeing the two newcomers, ready to draw and defend himself if need be.

"You've been had, brother dwarf. But, who be I to judge love?" Hrunaevaar taps a dust covered book that was stuffed into his belt. "I've read about stranger things."  The raven bearded dwarf puts his spelltome away, and takes his staff back in hand, and waves his free hand in the air. "I am sorry, I didnt mean any offense to yer lady. After all, how could I hold anythin against such a fine woman with equisite taste and dedication to 'er 'usband?" Hrunaevaar places a hand on Bolgrim's shoulder, "What my younger counterpart says be true. I am Hrunaevaar Grandhelm, and hail from the great libraries of Clan Grandhelm, where all of the great knowledge and epics of dwarf-kind are held."
 
With a clicking of his tongue, Hrunaevaar summons Mirvana to his side. "We brought a cask of my clan's finest ale as tribute, all are welcome to it"

Upon hearing the dwarf's name, Taklinn straightens his beard a bit and casts a perceptive gaze over the dwarf, seemingly measuring him.  His hand rests easily on his axe and his eyes glaze over a bit and he mumbles indecipherably to himself. Finally he blinks, ands says.  "So what ye say seems ta' be true.  Ye seem the decent sort, but know that the Citadel will remain in control of Taklinn Forgesplitter an' Keg Ironspur.  It be ours by right of conquest, an' no Grandhelm still has sway o'er what business resides there any longer.  Yer name brings with it a certain reputation, an' while it ain't sandstone, it aint much better.  I've no quarrels with ye, but know that I'm not trustin' ye fully yet lad."

"Ah, where're me manners, I'm Bolgrim Gobl'nsmasha of Thorneholme depths" Bolgrim extended his hand to shake Taklinn's if he'd offer it. "Ye ain't got ter worry bout ol'runes 'ere, He's assigned ter documentin' the return of great Espideril and the journey of his chosen, I'm assigned ter makin' sure he didn't get 'imself killed on the road here" He nodded to Taklinn, "O'course we come with the greatest respect ter you and Sir Keg, we're jus here ter help"

"Aye, I am not 'ere on Clan business. I would not expect to just show up an' take back a mine we willing left as a clan. Why, I'd think our clan leaders would be proud to see them re-taken an' used once more!" Hrunaevaar chuckles, but his face soon sobers, "How'ever, I would expect a fellow dwarf to show 'is guests a touch more 'ospitality, misunderstandings aside." He nods to the door of the Shady Corner, catchin a gimpse of the dark cloaked figure perched on the far corner. He narrows his gold rimmed eyes at it, before they go wide. "H'ow in the Pit is a Hoot allowed to breathe the same air as a dwarf?"

"Even the King o' the Dwarves used the hoots to retake the Shadelands.  An' that insurrection was aided by one of  the Nivarians, our resident warlock."  Taklinn chokes out the words, nearly spitting when the word "Warlock" came out of his mouth.  "Strange that one o' our greatest victories came with the help of a hated enemy, but I ain't one ta' question the King.  His methods ain't ta me likin' but th' results sure'n canno' be denied."
 
"Enough O' this banter though, ye must be tired from the road.  Lets away an' I will get ye both a drink in th' tavern.  I'll try ta see ta' ye meetin some of the lads and lasses, an' let ye have a talk with Jerond afore long."  he says as he begins walking to the door to the Shady corners.
 
 

Hrunaevaar grumbles, and follows Taklinn into the Shady Corners. "I fear I have had my beard in a book for far to long. I 'ope the barkeep is good, there is much to think on."

Binx observed Taklinn's reaction carefully when the dark-bearded dwarf revealed his name. She knew the names Grandhelm as well as Grimhelm, and remembered neither fondly. Having her conscious self sucked into an axe was not a fond memory and it made her wary of both names. This newcomer was no exception.

When he made a remark about the only "hoot" present, she lifted her head. Pushing herself away from the wooden corner of the tavern, she strode toward the small group. As she moved the breeze tugged the heavy black cloak back from her shoulders, revealing the rest of the small woman clad in black leather armor with a dagger in her garter and a sword on her hip. She didn't so much as look up from under her hood as she passed the dwarves while they headed into the tavern.

"The pit has nothing to do with how I...breathe."

There was a small pause before the last softly muttered word, as if it held some significance. It did, but damned if she'd be telling them that. She passed by them, nodding to Glimmer.

Bolgrim gave a deep laugh at the mention of the king, "aye, but how hard was it ter find a hoot willin' to stoop to such betrayal? oh thats right, the whole race is comprised of bloody backstabbers" he spat on the ground again, "filthy honorless things the hoots are" He glanced up towards the female Uordeq that spoke as she passed them, watching her in a cold silence with hardened eyes.

As she went about her way Bolgrim spoke once more, "Will take some gettin' used too, least there aren't any goblins about, nothin makes my blood boil quite as much as a stinkin', filthy, grubby fingered, shite covered greenskin" he almost growled as he spoke, his face tinting red at just the thought, "aye, we should drink, nows the time ter be merry for later theres work ter do!" And into the tavern he went.

Hrunaevaar snorted at Bolgrim's comments. "At least I wont be alone in my disdain." Glancing back at the door, he noticed the urodeq had allowed her cloak to expose her weapons. Sitting at a table so's his back was to a wall he continued, "But, there Bolgrim, it does appear that tha dekis have fallen on hard times. Why, she would not look out of place in Rica!"  Hrunaevaar chortled merrily at his own jest, and then snapped a tankard full of ale into creation.

As she approaches the tavern to enter for a well deserved drink, Freyja passes the Uordeq and thinks nothing of her presence. She's more concerned with the booming voices from within. Freyja then makes her purchase and  proceeds further into the tavern towards her kinsmen.  
...What's this... 
When closing in on the group Freyja was excited (as best she could show) that there were two new furry faces in the Corner.  She found she recognized the whiskers of one of the newcomers, but not the face. 
Collecting herself, she ignored them both to greet Taklinn, extending her arm for a proper shake. Freyja then takes a sip from her mug. "Flux and fire!", "I don't think I'll ever be getting used to this weak ale". "Now, tell me Taklinn, who be yur' friends?" 

Nasher looks up from his perch at his favorite table as what seems to be a parage of dwarves enters the tavern. "Just whats Nasher needs. More Beards! BAH!" the goblin said to himself, maybe a bit too loud. He took a long drink from a tall, brown bottle before pushing it onto the floor.

Taklinn heads behind the bar and lifts an ornate decanter, carrying it to the table.  On his way he stares daggers through the goblin, growling a bit under his breath.  As he returns to the table he grabs Feyja's mug and drains the contents in one big gulp.  "These lads 'ave heard of Espidrel's awakening and have come seekin' counsel with Jerond."  He sets her mug down and mumbles under his breath before pouring a thick dark mug of ale in her tankard, filling a large drinking horn of his own, and offering the newcomers a mug for themselves.

Bolgrim produced a simple tankard from his belt and placed it on the tabletop for filling before glancing to the female with the familiar beard, "oi, the names Bolgrim, ye know tha rest". Bolgrim gave a nod as Taklinn spoke, "aye, is as he says. I'm here to lend my hammer to the cause, If somethin can move an Immortal to waking and make'im claim a chosen then must be somethin on a grand scale. I'm fer fightin' in the name of The Mason in the Mountain, truth is I'm fer fightin' in most cases" he gave a deep laugh but it was cut short by the nasally voice of the goblin across the room who spoke just loud enough to cause Bolgrim's face to turn red and a unique shade of purple.

Bolgrim eyed the goblin with utter disdain, scanning him from foot to head. "What...Nasher...needs is a hammer across his skull and a ditch to rot in I'd say". Bolgrim's right hand clenched heavily upon the haft of his massive hammer, "and he'd do best to shut his filthy goblin mouth a'fore a Dwarf like me sees fit ter oblige"

"Aye, now this is a drink!", Freyja wipes away the foam from her lip and puts her mug down, if only for the moment. "Come seeking Jerond huh, that be a face I'd not mind seeing". She said this in a way that seemed like she had not seen him in a while. Turning then to the newcomers she took another gulp of the stout and starting talking again. "You there, you seem familiar do I know ye'?", she spoke in a relaxed tone towards the chatting dwarf. 

Hrunaevaar chuckles, "Aye, but he be a denzien of tha town, and the wee winged lass outside said we can't be bonk'n townsfolk." Hrunaevaar grabs his staff, and casually lays it across the table pointed at the goblin, " 'owever, she didnt say nothin about pinnin' 'im to the wall, and ropin' his trap shut." The old dwarves glasses glinted with a mean flash, as he tilted his brow at the goblin.
 
This was short lived, however, as a female dwarf walked into the bar and begin speaking with Taklinn. His mean glare was immediately replaced by a fushed face and a hood quickly pulled over his eyes, just low enough so'es he could watch the room and keep his face hidden. "Hrunaevaar Grandhelm, M'am." He set his tankard closer to Taklinn, so he could fill it, and pulled out a book from his robe. Holding the book in one hand, he sticks his pipe in his mouth, snaps over it to summon up a bit of fireweed, and lights it with a small conjured flame.

Bolgrim let Hruneavaar's words wash his ire away, aye, we're guests in this town, guess it's best not to vrush the patrons of their tavern". Bolgrim grumbled for a moment after speaking, only snapped from his violent inner thoughts by the lass that'd been speaking to him.

"Nay, s'not likely. I'd remember a lass like you if we'd met, thats fer sure. I hail from Thorneholm Depths, though I've been in the shadelands smashin hoots fer a good while now, t'werent home but a couple of mests before Espideril woke and I was enlisted to be old Bashful here's bodyguard" he gave a deep laugh as he sent an elbow into Hruneavaar's ribcage. "Whats wrong old bones, ye ne're seen apretty lass afore?" Bolgrim gave a wide grin stealthily leaning over his blustered companions shoulder to read his book, "The elven lass closed her eyes and gasped with ecstasy, the blushing flesh of her bosom heaving with every thru.." Bolgrim lost it in a fit of riotous laughter.

"Shut ye trap ya blighter, I 'ave half a mind ta put ye back in the goblin ditch we w'ere in before!" Hrunaevaar glanced at Bolgrim's drink, and a wicked grin spread across his face. "But, unfortunately, the day was long, and I only 'ave enough juice ta do thus." He reaches over, and touches the worn tankard. "I think tha goblin stole yer drink!!" The tankard vanishes, and reappears that the table of the goblin. Hrunaevaar chuckles to himself, and goes back to reading his book.

Nasher had, for the most part, ignored the beards and their mindless babbling. He looked around for his bottle of alcohol, forgetting that he had already long since finished it and had left the empty bottle on the floor. "It'd be really nice if Nasher had mores to drinkses," the goblin muttered to himself. Suddenly, a tankard of ale magically poofed into existance beside him. A smile grew wide across his face as he reached for the glass. "A gift! A gift from Nok Nok! And it's to Nasher!" the goblin screeched in disbelief. He quickly drained the cup, being sure to lick out every last drop in a very rude and quite disturbing display.

Bolgrim's eyes narrowed at Hruneavaar, his face turning purple with rage, as his tankard simply vanished from the table. Bolgrim's fist sought Hruneavaar's arm with the desire to deliver a devastating charlie horse. "Ye damned old fool, that's me granpappy's tankard!" He frothed and spat as he spoke, "ye're a blitherin idjit despite all yer book learnin'! S'no wonder the only woman s' ever let te touch'er is yer samned old goat!"

Bolgrim slammed a tightly clenched fist atop thec table, rattling the other mugs butnot enough to spill a single drop of brew."what ye've done is a disrespect ter me, te our host, and to every Dwarf everywhere. Givin' Dwarven brew ter a goblin!" By this point Bolgrim was foaming, quite literally. He pushed himseld away from the table and marched over to the Goblin. He stared down ay the green skinned abomination with pure hatred in his eyes, "ye'll be givin me back mah tankard now, Goblin" was all he said, watching the disgusting display before him. "Ye jus hand it over an I won't have ter show ye what yer innards look like, ye hear?"

"YOUR Cupses? Nasher was GIFTED this cupses from Nok Nok his self! Nasher not giving a holy relic to a beardses!" the goblin screeched back, hugging the cup like it was a teddy bear. He scooted himself off the opposite side of the table, leaving only his nose and squinting eyes visible as he clutched his holy prize.

"Nay, t'was my daft companion playin' a little joke at my expense. Ye listen an ye listen good, I been smashin yer kin since I was a wee lad. This whole ordeal ain't yer fault, however strange them words feel on me lips, so lets end this with you still breathin'" Bolgrims words seemed civil, though the look on his face was one worn by violent men who've done violent things and found them quite to their liking.

"Thats obviously not true because it was a gift from Nok Nok to Nasher! Nok Nok no play jokeses on Nasher!" the goblin screeched back, clutching the cup even tighter. He continued to stare at the dwarf from the safety of the other side of the table, refusing to surrender the cup.

Sensing his companion's ire, Hrunaevaar quietly mutters "Now ye see me, now ye don't!" The large dwarf vanishes in a cloud of pipe smoke, and reappears seated in a chair with his staff in hand a few tables over, still close enough to watch the show. "T'aint my fault ye didnt finish yer drink quick enough." The dwarf reaches for his own, in order to toast to Bolgrim's misfortune. His hand swipes empty air. Hrunaevaar's expression goes from a mischievous grin to mild annoyance, as it occurred to him that he forgot his drink at the other table.

Freyja chuckles at the acts taking place. She takes another gulp from her mug slapping it to the table while giving an awkward sort of smile, as if she was implying that the two dwarves were showing off in someway. "Best to leave tha' pests alone in this town", she says loud enough that the eavesdropping goblin can hear. "That beast there isn't even worth ya' time." Freyja gives the gobo a death stare and continues drinking. 

Bolgrim continued to stare down at the cowering Goblin, his eyes never leaving the wretched thing as he spoke, "Nay, wouldn't take but a matter of minutes to wipe the goblin gunk offa my hammer, I got the time ter spare". Bolgrim's upper lip curled into a dastardly sneer, the veins on his neck beginning to stand out as his ire was raised. "Now give me back my tankard, ye greasy, shite smellin, sticky fingered, green skinned abomination!" Both fists slammed against the table top as he bellowed, "Leave the pests alone ye say. Apathy is a steep and treacherous slope, Kin"

The goblin looked down at his cup and then back at the dwarf. "But, but, but!" the goblin began to argue. But then his survival instinct kicked in as he began to dart away, dropping the cup on the floor on his way toward the door. "Forgives Nasher Nok Nok!" the goblin shrieked as he scurried away to quick to be caught. -Escape-

 "It's not apathy I be show'n." She did not like what he was implying at all. 
"Be my guest if'n you wanna smash that gobo." Freyja really did not care. She often wondered why the greenskins in town had not been slain. "It's not my place in this town to start problems." She finishes her drink and leaves it there to be filled again. 

Bolgrim gave a broad grin as the Goblin dropped the cup and obliged his retreat by stepping to the side to let him pass. Withdrawing a small handkerchief from his kilt pocket Bolgrim carefully lifted the tainted tankard from the table and made his way back to the table of Dwaves across the room, "A wee bit'o'intimidation goes a long way too" Bolgrim gave a deep laugh before proceeding to wipe away the goblin spittle from his ordinary yet prized tankard, "Goblin done dirtied up granpappy's tankard, oy, coulda been worse though" Bolgrim shot Hruneavaar a dirty look.
 
It wasn't long before Bolgrim spied Hruneavaar's tankard still mostly full 'pon the table, "Don't mind I do!" Bolgrim lifted and drained the mug in what amounted to two large gulps, "ooh, now that is a fine brew! Where'd ye get that fancy decanter'o'yers Taklinn?"
 
Bolgrim glanced to the female and offered her a nod, "Aye, not lookin' for trouble with the citizens anyhow, and that Fae outside had a couple toes o'er the line dividin' friendly and frightenin'. I'd rather stay on'er good side. I figger if ye let'em in the tavern then I shouldn't be smashin'em on sight, 'course if he ever tries somethin' more typical o'a goblin I may have to introduce him to the heavy end'o'my hammer"

A rumbling chuckle comes from Hrunaevaar. "See, ye got ye silly cup." Grabbing his staff and using it to help him stand, the elder dwarf walks back towards his irritable guardian. "We be needin a place to stay Bolgrim, and I aint fer stayin on tha ground again, especially with a goblin and a hoot runnin about."

Taklinn drains his drinking horn and belches loudly, sticking his beard in his mouth and sucking the remnants of foam from it before saying "Retrieved tha' decanter from the Astral.  'Tis a great item ta have on such occasions.  As a service ta town, we keep it here in tha tavern, as many o the fine perople in town helped me ta retrieve it."  With a few whispered words to the decanter, Taklinn refills the offered mugs of Freyja and the two newcomers.  The liquid pouring forth thicker than the last, and as slow as warmed syrup. 
 
"Ta' properly disinfect yer mug, I figgered a bit of the Earthbreaker would do tha' trick, and take any of tha' bad taste from yer mouth."  he says as he fills his horn.  He raises his horn and toasts to the gathering "Ta' the return O the Great Mason, those who've passed ta the soulforge, kin, and new friends!  May our beards grow long and gray, and the bones of our enemies pile high about us!"

Bolgrim's mouth began to water at the sight of the frothy bliss pouring into his mostly clean tankard, thoughts of goblin spittle fleeing his brain as he lifted the tankard and echoed the toast. He turned the mug up and drank slower this time around, letting the delicate yet robust flavors of their race's finest brew play over his refined palate. As the tankard offered it's last drop he lowered it to the table with his eyes closed, an appreciative sigh being uttered before he went about the business of draining his beard of the few droplets it had caught, "Ambrosia iffin I ever tasted it, brother" he gave a laugh as he opened his eyes, "I do hope ye can make good use of our services in the Citadel, also hope'n it comes with a fair bit of smashin' seein as it's what I do best"

Hrunaevaar lift his mug to his dark beard. The tavern echos with the sound of the thick liqour being sucked down by the stout dwarf. Refusing to stop to breath even for a second, the dwarf pushes spent air through his nose, a sound not un-like a pig on slop. Finishing, the dwarf sets the tankard down. "oooOOooo...This makes the stuff on Mirnerva seem like yest'erday bathwater. I thank ye Taklinn. Do ye know where we kin stay t'll we are fetched to the grand halls of the Citadel?"

Taklinn finishes his horn of holy water, and belches appreciatively.  He then steadies himself a bit and responds to the newcomer "Aye lad, I would suggest the Warrior's Hall.  Tis where I stay when in town.  Decent accomodations an' a forge and anvil, an' a practice room fer ye ta keep the slag off yer muscles."

Hrunaevaar pats his ample belly, "Oh, I dunno about that. There may be to much slag on these muscles to be gettin rid of!" He opens a larch pouch on his belt, and returns his book to the small collection within. "Be there other wizards here? I understand that I am a rariety amung my kin, but, I do like ta read the work of my mage brothers."

"Aye there be a few mages about town.  There be a few Empyreans about town that practice the Art.  Ye can find em easy enough, and their is a Library in tha Tower thats in town as well, though beware, there be fae livin' in there as well.  An' there is an Angori sorcerer in town name o' Morzoth, he is me apprentice and' makes tha best weapons in town.  Don't go near the Crimson Quarter, ye'll notice the Angori Tribe's homes when ye see it.  They dont take kindly ta' visitors, they can be pretty territorial."  he says at length as he puts the Decanter back in its place behind the bar, and begins cleaning up his mess and gathering his things.
 
"Well got me a bit of business ta deal with, I look ta see ye lads from time ta time, but I have duties ta attend to.  Enjoy yer stay an' keep yer noses clean while ye be in town."  he says as he approaches the door.