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[My Name is Immaterial]

"We're not exactly in a position to negotiate for a larger reward. Maybe IF we can find this wizard and IF we kill them, then when we come back, we can haggle. And Windzards? Really?" She rolls her eyes.

Portia, who had previously not given any attention to the elf, turns to him and makes a rude finger gesture, before turning back to Arno. "How do you not know what 'Hobbit' is? It's a racial slur."

[Dwarmin]

"Oh? Like 'Talljobs'? "Dandelion Eaters'? 'Knife Ears'?" Arno says obliviously. "It's not like I need to learn slurs against myself! Who would I use them on?"

[sjm9876]

Despite herself, Coral chuckled slightly. They may not be the most noble pair, but the halflings were amusing, at least.

"So you're off to kill the wizard, eh? Seems to me, you might need a little magic to kill magic."

She taps herself on the chest, hand momentarily covering the badge that holds her cloak in place - a bear with a fish in its mouth.

"Coral Seaguard, at your service and Melora's. And don't worry. You may split my share between yourselves."

[Dwarmin]

"Hey, we're all for hearing the job before we take it. I won't make that mistake again..." He said, remembering the job that ended with him and Portia line dancing for a married couple of Red Dragons. Better the entertainment than the entree, he had remarked at the time.

"Let's not talk shares, till we're sure we'll be working together. And, we're sure there's no dancing involved...

Anyway, I'm Arno Greenbottle, the Famous Hero! You've probably heard of me. It's a pleasure to meet you Cora." He said charmingly, sweeping off his hat.

[sjm9876]

"I have heard many tales of your exploits."

She maintains a perfectly straight face, despite never having heard mention of the name, and turns to the other halfling.

"And this must be your partner?"

Whilst Coral was far from adept at holding a conversation, the training she had received had at least extended as far as proper introductions - such acts being of importance both to most soldiers and to Dwarves as a whole.

[My Name is Immaterial]

"Oh? Like 'Talljobs'? "Dandelion Eaters'? 'Knife Ears'?" Arno says obliviously. "It's not like I need to learn slurs against myself! Who would I use them on?"

"It's a good point."

"And this must be your partner?"

"Yes. Portia." She extends a hand.

[Dwarmin]

"...She's my big sister. Porty is sort of like my sidekick." Arno interjects usefully.

[My Name is Immaterial]

"Some days it feels like I'm Mother... No, Arno, don't eat that mushroom... No, Arno, don't poke the sleeping bear... No, Arno, don't climb up the statue and give the king's grandfather a mustache..."

[Dwarmin]

"The Kings grandfather was looking a bit grim. All I did was lighten up his mood. I don't know why the Royal Guards had to take it so personally..."

[Pencil_Art]

"Sorry about that. Halfling then. We always did call them hobbits in our stories."

[Dwarmin]

"Hey sister, I think we're mythical beings to this guy. He probably wants me to take out my ridiculously long smoking pipe, eat seven lunches a day, and wax poetic about my 'lovey ol' hole in the ground onst bagsharp row.'~You know, I don't farm carrots or mushrooms, and I never have.

My family is made of glass blowers~hence the name. We've got fourteen fully staffed glassworks in each corner of Sandiron-along our own sister guilds of metalsmiths and engravers, about 2000 employees all put. We run stock and trade all the way to Port Swine! All those fancy windows the Imperials like in them pretty castles come from little people like us.

Naturally, me and my sister aren't exactly in line to inherit anything, being of get of a mothers brothers sons brothers son sisters brothers daughters sons first wife, so...we became heroes. I mean, just cool it on the stereotypes, Elf.

Do you have a name, anyway?

Wait, let me guess! "Dandelionfluff?" "Autumnsred"? "Blackleaf?" See how easy it is?"

[Pencil_Art]

"Hyphien, sir, and miss. Sorry for any inconvenience caused. Though my last name is something along those lines."

Bows to halflings.

 

[flabort]

"...and war and evil and doom! The wizard Whitetree I tell you, with his circles and dark spells and winds! Oh, Fair Duskstone, I beseach thee give up the wizard Whitetree to those gathered here!"

Some of the other adventure seekers listening to the old dwarf gasp and start moving about; looking at the stage, you can see that he has stopped stomping and marching and is now asleep on his feet, the wine pouch clenched between his teeth and hanging there. A band of heavy-set looking individuals gets up from the 'table' where they were waiting and rushes along the north road immediately, leaving behind a half-eaten meal and one nice-looking axe. It's quickly snatched up by someone else, and in the sudden hustle and bustle it's hard to keep track of anything else.

"A location, he gave us a location!"
"A name! It was a name!"
"To 'fair Duskstone'! She'll tell us where he is!"
"But it was a location! We must find it!"

[Pencil_Art]

"Duskstone? I can't say I have been there before. It might be somewhere in Bluewood, however. We should consult some accurate maps."

[My Name is Immaterial]

"Sounded like a person to me, Hyp."