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Unread 14th of June, 2006, 06:20
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Black Plauge
PhD in Physics [Epic GM]

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Join Date: Sep 2002
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Location: Old Town, ME
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"Should we wait for the half-orc to come out again, Joachim?"

"The seed has been planted and watered now. Too much water and it will drown."

"Huh?"

*Sigh* "Leave the half-orc alone. If you go after him too much you'll end up turning the populace against us, not him. For now we need to let people think over what I said in there and to allow them to take it home to their family and friends. Besides, if you wait out here Mistress Mollar will call the guard on you."

"Ye'sir."

****

Despite his timidity, Blarth's shopping trip for the rest of the afternoon happens without incident. It would seem that Mistress Mollar had frightened off the men who had been harrassing Blarth for good.

As the his day begins to wind down, Blarth, his confidence and manner restored by the incident free afternoon, decides that he might be able to find some one in this town who might help him learn how to use his brother's armor. After a few inquiries with some local smiths, Blarth finds himself at the door of what the last smith he'd talked to had called an "academy." Supposedly they taught people how to fight here for money. Blarth didn't quite see what would be so profitable about teaching people how to do something that their fathers would teach them, but he supposed that human fathers might not be so devoted to their children as orc fathers.

Letting himself inside, Blarth makes his inquiries and emerges after several minutes. He'd have to come back tomorrow and bring the armor with him (along with the necessary fee) but they'd show him how to put it on and wear it properly.

Satisfied, Blarth heads back to The Traveller's Wineskin.

***

Slipping out a side door of the academy, a small figure pokes his head out of the alley and follows the motions of the half-orc as he heads away. Darting from hiding place to hiding place, the little figure stays just close enough to his target to keep track of him, but not so close as to alert the orc to his presense. Heirloom armor, even if it was made by orcs, was bound to be worth a great deal. Maybe this was the tip he needed to get back into the graces of Bajinok. Surely a forgiener with expensive armor would make up for setting the scroll case afire. It had, after all, been an accident.
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