Taklinn walks down to the lake with a bounce in his step. Upon reaching the edge of the woods he calls out "Oi" Doran! Where ye be lad, its been awhile since last I seen ye!"
"By Githal, I thought ye had runned off without sayin yer farewells. Missed ye a good bit O' fightin a while back, but we persevered with the help of quite a few newcomers in town. I'm always up fer a challenge; strong as an ox and nimble as a cat I be!" he says loudly as he picks his way down the hill to his friend. Nearly halfway down he stumbles on some loose rocks and falls bumping and rolling the rest of the way down the hill. "Well a drunken cat at least" he mumbles as he gets up and continues over to the dwarf on the log.
"I'm not the type to be saying fairwells lad, and do remember it. But, in all liklihood, if'n I be leaving here before saying fairwell to ye, it's likely beacuse I've said my last fairwell and joined the service of Lemesin's holy protectors themselves."
Doran reaches down beside him and picks up a few small stones from the shoreline. Deftly, he tosses one of the smaller pebbles across the water watching as it skips across the surface a few times and then finally sinking into the pool of water. "It's a good thing I wasn't thinking about any competitions regarding the deftness of feet, seems you'd be at a grave disadvantage when it comes to that. How about a game of stones? I'll have to admit, its a rather relaxing change of pace from all the fighting. I'll have to thank your good Dr. Griffon for teaching me how to do it properly."
"Bah I'm fleet enough of feet, I just didn't see yer trap on the hill. I'm forgettin' that ye are better with stones than anyone else around here." Taklinn looks about the ground and picks up a few smooth stones out of the stones around him. He then takes a practice throw, and the stone skips several times across the water (Strengh 1). Laughing loudly he then rears back and throws even harder, or so he thinks. The stone does not even go half as far as his last throw. "Bah I guess the enchantment on me belt has finally give out on me. I will need to get one of them finger wagglin' nancies to re enchant it fer me"
He continues looking about for more stones and asks "So have ye given any more thought into the amount of rockets we'll be needin to get the job done up in the hills?"
"Yer still a young one, aren't you? Never once have I cut into stone with a rocket, and never once do I be intending to. I be using the tools that have been passed down from beard to stubble for longer than there have been mountains to dig into. Yer rockets may be good for making large holes, but they don't be doin' much for making a sturdy mine shaft and getting the good stuff out of the ground."
Doran tugs on his beard before lobbing another rock into the lake, riled up from talking about mining with rockets the pebble sinks below the surface of the water without skipping a single time.
"I've seen the little ones add small bombs with success," Doran continues, "and it's allowed them to go deeper, all while using the tried and true traditions of the rock cutters; but still leaves room for improvement. Rocks tumble, cave-ins are more prevalent, and its far more dangerous work. Its the Uordeq way, quick and dirty, get it done, get it moved, and let the slaves take on all the risk. Think nothing of the explosives, Taklinn, get yer pick, get yer flask, and get yer cart and I'll show you how to get around those dragotaurs that yer so worried about."
Doran can be seen sitting on a stump not far from the edge of the lake with his sword in a scabbard at his side. His armor lies next to him on a pair of long logs, drying in the abnormally warm autum sun as he stairs off across the water.
"Down here, Master Forgesplitter," Doran replies, "O'er by the lake with a rock in one hand and a flask in the other. Care to join me? I wouldn't one much mind the company, and perhaps a little test of strenght and agility while we're at it?"