Dwarven Caravan Guard
Templeton met with Rotgut at the Helm at High Sun over lunch.
Templeton grabs a beer and food from the bar and heads over the join the dwarf. The dwarf looks up at Templeton’s arrival and grins with his mouth and beard full of food and foam. Clearly, this dwarf is accustomed to his own rules of propriety and cleanliness. The dwarf speaks, “Well, well. If it weren’t for your thin bones and failure to carry some hair on your chin, I’d have said you were one of me own. Heh heh. You are a short one for your kind, eh?”
Templeton responds pleasantly, acknowledging the backhanded compliment with wit and good humor. “And if it weren’t for your complete lack of manners and your beard covered in chicken bits and rancid froth, I’d could have mistaken you for my someone I’d like to have lunch with.”
The dwarf’s brows furrow for a moment, working hard on that one, and then he busts out with a gusty laugh, chicken grease and beer spray just barely missing Templeton. “Hah hah. Good one, laddie… I think. Well, join me anyway, eh?”
After some back and forth pleasantries, where are you from? why are you in this some town? and other get to know yous, though Templeton is hesitant to have the dwarfs greasy fingers on the book, Templeton pulls out the dwarven tome.
“Look here, Rotgut, I’ve recently come across this tome and I can’t quite tell the value of what I have. Would you mind telling what this book is about?”
Rotgut’s eyes go wide at the site of the book and he immediately raises his hand for a serving wench, “Bring me a towel to wipe myself – actually bring me three! Hah hah!”
Surprisingly, he cleans himself up quite well and doesn’t touch the book until he’s sure he won’t damage it. He then gingerly opens it up and begins to read under his breath, the low rhythmic sounds of dwarvish coursing over the table.
After twenty focused minutes, Rotgut looks up. “Lad, I’m not sure where you got this, but it surely doesn’t belong to you – or to any non-dwarf for that matter – what do you intend with this? This here is a volume of a larger set that details the genealogical history of Dwarf clans in Mirabar.”
Templeton Daltrey’s smiles and affable tone turns very serious and he replies, “No my dear Rotgut, it does not belong to me. It belongs to a dwarven sage from Mirabar named Brulthendar whose caravan was attacked in the Dessarim Valley. I worry very much over her safety. I intend to find the rest of the volumes and return them to her. I believe they have been stolen. I am trying to track down the rest of them. Can you tell me how many more volumes are in the set?"
In a very serious tone and with a bit of a menacing eye, “Look to me, laddie. If I hear that you’ve done elsewise with this or related tomes, I’ll have to have a fisted conversation with you. I don’t think ye’d like that particular conversation.”
Then Rotgut’s tone lightens considerably. “Well, with that being clear, I have no idea how many volumes in the set. It’s just clear this ain’t the only one. I wish ye the best and will keep an eye out for this Brulthendar meself.”
Templeton smiles and say, “Rotgut, I am smart enough to know that crossing the dwarven people is always a very bad idea. Don’t worry my intentions in this matter are all about getting these wonderful books back to their rightful owner. I very much appreciate your help. Lunch is on me.”