#580, "Ysaloerye talks with Tahren"|
In a small run-down smithy, amidst The Ruins of Ostalagiah, a white-haired dwarfess materializes from the ethers infront of the swarth blacksmith, giving him a sly wink with her good eye.
"Immortal Ysaloerye". Tahren the Noldarian Smith of Battle inclines his head respectfully.
Ysaloerye clucks her tongue and drops a large cask of ale on top of an ancient anvil. "Thror's Beard! Don't start fargin thee'in an' thou'in meh now ya dopey sod! We've know yin anothur too long fer dat."
The dwarfess deftly taps the cask and fills two tankards of ale, offering one to the smith. After taking several large swigs of her ale, she begins to pace, unconsciously picking the renmants of yesterday's feast from her beard.
Tahren sips his own ale and watches her from below his snow-white eyebrows. "Is this a social call then?"
The Biddy snorts through her ruined nose. "No fargin t'aint a social call, although their aint no reason not tae be socialble." She drains her tankard and refills it.
"Ah be needin yer 'elp wid summint" intones the dwarfess, "fer as sure as tha ####e on an orc's arse, ah ain't pleased wid how many huts be lyin empty."
"By tha Shinin' Stars of Kastellyn! It aint fer want o' stout hearts wantin tae join tha fight! Yer can recognize em as well as meh when yer see em."
The Noldarian Smith nods in agreement, and the Battle Lord grins her snaggle-toothed smile. "So here's ma plan....."
She leans close and the rest of the conversation is unheard.