Dreygor strides into the tavern with Gecel and Alec in tow. He sits down, orders a round of ales and some fine stew. "They seem to have fixed the place up after that demon ordeal. Good thing, just hope another one doesn't happen by. Anyways,Gecel, If its alright with you I would like to use your forge in the hall to make a few things. I have been meaning to make me a breastplate and some guantlets, but just havn't had the time or forge to do so. I would be willing to pay a fee, although I am afraid my pouch is a little lite at the moment."
Dreygor take a bite of stew then a good swill of ale.
"Well then, I guess it wouldn't hurt to use it to make my armor then. I should repay the townsfolk with my services in return. I am a skilled blacksmith myself and could help keep the town supplied with whatever they need."
Satisfied he would not be taking something for nothing Dreygor goes back to eating his stew.
Looking up from yet another drained tankard, Gecel says,"What?! I canna hear ya lad! Speak up if'n yer talk'n ta me!" gecel rattles his mug at Alec. "I swear on Imphalios' hammer, there has never been a quieter dwarf." Gecel huffs, lifting another drink to his lips.
For every minute you are angry you lose sixty seconds of happiness.
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Gecel drinks his mug and looks for another. He seems quite happy. At the mention of the forge his ears perk up and he looks to the generous human.
"T'az been a while since anyone has been tak'n me out drink'n lad." Gecel smiles. "As for tha forge as much as I'd like ta take yer money fer it's use, Tis not mine ta sell." Gecel grabs another mug from the table. "That forge belongs ta town." Gecel says cheerfully as he drinks deeply once more, rocking back in his chair.
For every minute you are angry you lose sixty seconds of happiness.
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson