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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Mar 2, 2023 0:37:19 GMT -5
The late afternoon sun glows gold across the street, sparkling across shards of glass that litter the loose cobbles and stone. Painted on the shattered mural, a mosaic of a scene of Ginma constructed of exquisitely placed tiles that was a sacred place for people who worshipped him (if there were any of those people left), was a looming red sun. The shade of coagulated crimson, Del knew, was blood.
Spatters of it mingle on the ground with the sand and glass, as if it had been dribbed in places by careless hands. Del had no especial love for the gods-- even less so after learning what Cyran had told her-- but she had followed her instinct here to Zeinav, perhaps out of some desire to honour her master, a worshipper of the god of flame.
This, to Del was a very clear message. The god of life, nature and hunt, shattered and consumed by a red sun cresting the horizon.
Something about it made her feel ill. It was forboding, clearly, but more so than even its painting, it felt baleful. She had heard about these... Scorched Ones, in passing, but she knew little about them. Organizations such as this were not her wheelhouse. Nor were the gods.
And yet, she felt compelled.
Del sighs, slowly lowering to a knee. The cowl of her hood is lifted around her hair-- the city was still not safe, not after her last encounter here months ago, maybe not ever. She knows others are bound to be looking into this, the guard, likely, but Del does not trust them-- was the fact the guard had been unable to catch anyone responsible for these incidents because they had been infiltrated themselves? That would make sense.
The blood is also worrying. There is... a lot of it, to make something of this size, and evidently this was far from the only such message left by the group. Enough that, if she was correct, that several someones or somethings had perished in order to make it.
She remains on one knee, looking at the sand around the mural. Some chips in the stone, as if something heavy had been struck the ground, but she can glean little else. Del puts a hand to her mouth, thoughtfully tapping her jaw with her index finger, lost in thought.
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Mar 2, 2023 19:16:48 GMT -5
"Is this where it is?" Astrid's voice carries through the alleys of the stone buildings well. Zeinav city is an acoustic disaster. Her footfalls land with small clanks, part of a chorus of other heavy footfalls, though much more graceful in their step. The guards point her, a literal child but a seasoned adventurer no less, into the area where buildings and a mural of Ginma have been defaced and splattered with blood. When she sees the scene, Astrid stops and just kind of stares at it. "Oh, ew," she finally says. The hellhound at her side sneezes at the potent scent. Clapping her hands together, Astrid steps forward. The sound echoes off the building all around. Cantio would not think this is a good place to perform, and it's not because of the blood and vandalism. "Welp, I'll see what I can find, I s'pose." With that, Astrid walks into the area and looks around with a discerning eye that doesn't know where to start. So seeing someone else here picking through some of the debris, she decides to just call across the blood puddle. "Hey lady, are ya lookin' fer clues about who did this?" she calls without hesitation. Stranger danger isn't a concept she ever really learned or cared about. Well, except in the case of Morrigan Moonweaver, but they set themselves up for failure from the start.
Bringing pets: Spicy Pawsage (hell hound, reflavored dreadsnout) Charles (pet pocket) Quest Name: Painting on the wall Participants: Two or more Location: Zeinav City Post Requirements: 4 post per person, 200 words per post Reward: +1 Renown Description: A series of vandalisms have taken place across the city, notably targeting important businesses and politicians homes. Different foreboding messages have been written in blood across the fronts of these buildings, as well as many of their windows and doors having been smashed in. We believe the Scorched Ones are responsible, but as of yet have no proof to implicate them, and have yet to identify the source of the blood used in the attacks. Venture to one of these locations, investigate the scene and find any clues to who may be behind this. (Clues can lead to the Scorched Ones as they are responsible)
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Mar 4, 2023 1:57:20 GMT -5
Del hears voices nearby, faintly, but does not lift her head, so absorbed in her study and her own thoughts that she believes those voices belong to simple passers-by. In the next street over, perhaps. The loud clap that resonates behind her, closer than the earlier voices, does not register. If anyone was looking, it was likely a gawker or some one sent to watch.
She is quickly disabused of this, however, when someone calls out to her.
At least, she thinks they're calling out to her. Del switches knees, the motion allowing her body to turn in her kneeling position toward the voice and it's owner.
...The last thing Del expects is to be eye level (albeit at a distance) with a remarkably short child. Much less a dwarf. That makes her smile, feeling a light warmth flooding her chest; reminded immediately of her instructor and mentor, Haruyama, an elderly dwarf of the Crescent Isles. She is dressed in an odd combination of armor and cloth, adorned with a pair of goggles and horns as part of her crown, and accompanied by a very large dog indeed. And... was that a hammer?
"I am," Del rises to incline her head respectfully. Looking around, she doesn't see anyone who could potentially be her guardian... Del surmises quickly that Astrid was accompanied by none. "My name is Delaela Asiliari, but you can call me Del, if you like. What brings you here of all places?" She gestures to the grim scene behind her and turns her eyes on Astrid, curous. "I like your armor, especially your gauntlets; may I ask who made them?" She adds, genuinely curious.
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Mar 5, 2023 13:34:54 GMT -5
The woman rises and introduces herself, and what few reservations Astrid possessed regarding the stranger fade away. She seems nice. “Miss Del? Nice ta meet ya,” she says, walking over, trekking right through the blood puddle and extending a hand to shake. “I’m Astrid Stormstone. This is Spicy Pawsage.” Expecting his head to be near her waist, Astrid reaches over with her other hand to pat the hound on the head only to find that he’s not at her side and has gotten distracted sniffing and licking at the blood on the ground. Ew.
“Oh… okay then. That’s Spicy Pawsage over there. Don’t worry, he’s not as scary as he looks.” Even if he is currently enjoying the taste of mystery blood half-dried up in the middle of the desert. Don’t think about it too much.
At the mention of her armor, Astrid’s expression turns into a proud grin. “Ah, thanks! It’s a bit mismatched, but it works fer me while I work on me own set. The gauntlets were a gift from someone, me greaves got spat up by an ooze, and me cuirass” – Astrid knocks her knuckles against the breastplate, her grin growing even wider. – “I found in an ancient tomb with me da.”
She takes a step back and looks the woman up and down with a discerning eye. Either she’s trying to make friendly conversation or genuinely appreciates armor despite not really possessing any herself. Either of these things is fine, perfect even. Not enough friendly folks, and even fewer friendly folks also appreciate good smithing.
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Mar 5, 2023 19:51:40 GMT -5
"A pleasure to meet you as well, Astrid Stormstone," Del's smile grows as she takes the gauntleted hand to shake. Her eyes lift to find this 'Spicy Pawsage'-- an absolutely adorable name, especially for what looks very much to be a hell hound of some kind-- some ways behind, lapping up some of the drying blood on the ground. A quiet chuckle leaves her. "I will take your word for that." To Astrid's credit, the hound wasn't trying to hunt or kill anything, so she was more than willing to believe he was more-or-less harmless. Likely unless young Astrid here directed him to be otherwise.
But something else catches her attention, a small distraction from the heavy task at hand. "While you work on your own? Are you a smith?" Her expression brightens-- it was rare to meet another smith, much less one so young. She moves aside the thin cloak she wears to keep the sun off, revealing a belt of tools at her side, including her smiths hammer. "Well, you're in good company there. Mismatched it might be, but it's clearly good quality; you've taken very good care of it." She does find herself blinking, though. Spat up by an ooze?
Hearing the word 'da' though makes Del relax a little. At least this was someone who had parents, and not another child who was far older than their years that had no where to go and no one to look after them. She grins back. "You've had some very impressive adventures, Miss Astrid. Is that what brings you to investigate this?" Del gestures to the mural behind her, grimacing faintly at it. It felt ominous, that sun in the centre.
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Mar 5, 2023 21:21:19 GMT -5
“Aye, I’m a smith!” Astrid proudly proclaims. When Del reveals her smithing tools, Astrid’s eyes light up with pure, childish glee. “An’ yer a smith too!!” She manages to pull in her excitement just a bit, but she takes the compliment in stride. “I appreciate that, Miss Del. Means a lot that ya think so and noticed. The set I'm makin' is just a bit of a personal project, nothin' too fancy.” She gets the feeling they'll have a lot to talk about.
“Impressive adventures? I mean I ain’t told ya ‘bout none of ‘em yet,” Astrid says, letting out a little laugh. “Maybe I could sometime. I’ve certainly had…” She starts counting on her fingers and Del watches them go up and up and up in number until Astrid loses count. “Well, I’ve been around. That’s what brought me here. Heard there was some trouble, an’ well, given they defaced a mural of Ginma… I figure it’s gotta have somethin’ ta do with the religious unrest after the whole… revelations ‘bout the gods an’ alla that.”
Astrid tries to seem disaffected by the realization that the gods are dead and gone, but in reality, she’s been quite heavily affected. But here is not the time nor place to get into her own personal beliefs. They’re here to find some vandals.
“Right, so there’s a lotta blood, an’ the guards said they ain’t had a buncha people disappearin’, but some livestock’s gone missin’. They figured it was just a pack of jackals.”
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Mar 6, 2023 1:33:49 GMT -5
"I am!" She laughs cheerfully as Astrid recognizes the tools at her hip. The young dwarf was a ray of sunshine, enthusiastic and bright-- Del wondered about the little red horns at the top of her head, but they didn't damper her opinion of Astrid in the least. Someone so young and so excited about their experiences in the world was a breath of fresh air. Another chuckle bubbles up as she watches Astrid count on her fingers all the adventures she's had. "I would love to hear about your adventures, and your project. I'm more of an every day material and weaponsmith than an armorer, but I enjoy the process regardless."
With her attention redrawn to the scene they find themselves standing in, Del grimaces a bit. With the news of the gods and the rebuttal from the Crown creating rifts and tension, Del could only guess at the intentions of those who had done this.
"Mm. A pack of jackals and no carcasses to confirm it?" Del arches a skeptical brow, her tone dry as the desert they stood in. "I'd love to see that magic trick." clearly the wood elf did not hold a high opinion of the guard, especially in this area. And that further raised suspicion about the guard themselves; either they were just incompetent or they were complicit.
"I'd say that's a very accurate assessment. You seem like you certainly have your ear to the ground," Del praises, turning her head to look at the short girl with a wry smile. She wondered just how much Astrid knew about all of this. She hoped not much, but... there was a feeling that there was a lot the young girl knew. "So, if it's animal, then there has to be an influx of corpses somewhere. It's hot, something is bound to start smelling, unless they sold the meat off to a butcher." Del puts her chin to her hand in thought, casting her amber eyes around them. "There's a fair bit of blood... maybe there's a trail..."
There was nothing on the ground itself; she'd looked, extensively. But perhaps she wasn't thinking big enough. Or high enough. "Think they could have gotten here via the roofs?" Del asks, interested in Astrid's opinion as she gestures upward.
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Mar 6, 2023 16:05:56 GMT -5
Oh, yeah, another time and place, the two of them could sit and talk for hours about smithing, Astrid just knows it. Wait, focus. There's blood everywhere. Astrid looks around. "I think yer right about stinky carcasses..." she says, bringing a finger to her chin thoughtfully. "Either there's some vultures havin' a feast or... maybe some folks in town who got some cheap meat." Looking toward the rooftops, she hums as the cogs turn in her brain.
"It'd be easy enough ta come from above, but they had ta carry the blood somehow, right? It's a lotta liquid, so it'd be really heavy." So how would they do that? Trying to lug all that to the rooftops would mean they need a way to get up there, and they'd have to be able to carry everything. Maybe it makes more sense that they carted everything in under the cover of night?
"I feel like if they really wanted ta make a show of it, they'd have splashed a buncha folks worshippin' here, ya know?" Astrid says. "But they just snuck in an' smeared a buncha blood all over the place." Something crunches under her foot as she takes a step forward, and she squats down and picks up a broken piece of clay. "Well... this don't match the tile round here, do it?" she says, showing it to Del, unbothered by the amount of blood on her fingers (but also probably forgetting that Blue Raspberry isn't here to mop it up).
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Mar 6, 2023 21:46:32 GMT -5
The idea of the culprits doing this less for the spectacle and more to send a message resonates with Del's current thoughts already-- especially after Astrid offers that comparison up, about choosing this method over splashing worshippers. "They would have a lot more heat on them if they tried something as brazen as that, or took people instead of animals. Good thinking." Del gives the young girl a smile. "So you're thinking they transported it in somehow?"Her brows lift as Astrid holds up something that had been under her boot. She comes over to where Astrid stands, nimbly moving over the blood so as not to pick it up on the soles of her shoes to track through the area. Del shakes her head, agreeing, "It certainly doesn't. Hmm."
She looks at the clay piece, trying to think of how the vessel it held once looked from this tiny portion as an idea slowly starts to form. "Do you know if there's a clayworks or pottery district in the area? This looks raw, unglazed. I wonder if they used anything like it to carry the blood... and," Her eyes widen a little as she looks to Astrid, "They have kilns. I don't know if they'd be used to, ah, dispose of any left over carcasses, but its a possibility."
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Mar 6, 2023 21:55:02 GMT -5
There's a triumphant smile on Astrid's face as Del picks up what she's putting down. "Sounds like we're goin' ta our favorite part of town. Ta the crafting district!!" With a finger raised to point onward, Astrid tromps out of the blood-covered square, calling Spicy Pawsage along and leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the dusty streets. The guards don't look one bit impressed with this display, but she doesn't care. "We're on the trail!" she declares, continuing her tromp.
The most difficult part of this whole endeavor will be finding the particular potter in a city full of craftsmen and masons who use clay. Still, they can at least info gather to find someone who's been shipping out particularly bland and easy-to-smash urns. A bit of coin never hurts in helping people loosen their lips - that's a lesson Astrid's learned from Zarius. The only difference is Zarius always seems to have coin to throw around while Astrid always needs as much money as she can get for things like food. So much food.
"So, I'm thinkin' a few coins, the right line of questionin', and maybe a good knock on the head fer the right folks will get us what we want. Besides, what kinda potter don't like Ginma? He like... represents the stone ya work with!"
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Mar 7, 2023 22:54:01 GMT -5
"Onward!" Del replies, Astrid's enthusiasm entirely contagious. Though the severity and the seriousness of the situation never quite leaves her, hovering below the pleasant surface of basking in Astrid's sunshine-like demeanor. As they pass the guards, who crinkle their noses up at the sight of blood, Del fixes them with a stern, warning look; Astrid did not seem to mind, but Del was not willing to take chances. This child seemed to have at least one parent, by her own admission, so she had to bear in mind that when Astrid returned home, it would be in one piece, and not accosted by guards.
"I have some coin I can use to grease some palms if need be," Del nods slowly, a brow slowly lifting. Adventurous, a smith in her own right, and apparently very well informed on how bribing worked. ...An interesting childhood she seemed to have so far. She seemed very cavalier overall about the concept. "Though when it comes to groups like this, people are usually hard to sell... fear is a pretty powerful motivator. Or anger." She hums thoughtfully on that, following the trail of thoughts. "Maybe that's why. Angry at the gods, the Crown, trying to get attention for their cause. The disillusioned tend to make for excellent recruits." The question was, what kind of cause was that anyway?
As they get near the crafting district, there's tendrils of white smoke from the various forges, glass works and kilns that trail up into the sky. Lots of places to start. She looks to Astrid, interested to see her thought process. "I'm normally the kind of person that gets information by watching people for a long period of time. Kind of a stealthy approach. I don't think that will serve us here, as we don't exactly have days or weeks to spare. Who do you think we should approach and how?"
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Mar 8, 2023 20:08:13 GMT -5
While Astrid may not be a stonemason, she still appreciates a good crafting district when she sees one. Smoke, rhythmic clanging, hollow knocks, and hissing fill her ears, and for a moment, it seems like she's forgotten about the mission. Then, suddenly, she's back in it.
"Yeah, I dunno if ya can tell by the way I clink an' clank, but I don't do stealth all that well," she jokes. Her eyes look around the area then she sees the good ol' hammer and anvil sign universal to most smiths and beelines for the forge. The metal drums and steam snares are music to her ears as she walks inside as if she were a customer. A tiny bell rings overhead as she enters. Inside, horseshoes, belt buckles, and various tools and chisels line the shelves. There's a counter near the back wall and an open door leads to the forge out back. With the dinging of the bell, the clanging of hammer on anvil comes to a stop, and sweaty, bearded man looks inside.
"Ah, customers," he breathes. "Good day. Lookin' for anything in particular?"
"Hi," Astrid says cheerfully, heading right up to the counter and looking at the man with the sweetest of expressions. "I'm lookin' fer me first smithin' hammer! Yer a smith! Can ya help me?"
Taken aback, the man can't help but let out a chuckle. "Prospective smith, are ya? I suppose I could show you a good hammer, maybe even sell you one if you have the coin."
"Sure do!" Astrid says with a big grin. "I'm goin' round talkin' ta all the crafters ta get a real feel fer the life!"
"It's hard work, I can tell you that," the smith chuckles, pulling a hammer out of his belt and setting it on the counter. Astrid picks it up while he continues, glancing past her at Del behind her. "Not every hammer's right for every smith. You've gotta find one that suits you, that moves at your speed, that lets you feel the metal bending beneath your will."
"That's a real nice way of puttin' it, mister," Astrid says. There's always a bit of poetry in the words of those who love their craft. "Are ya an early bird or a night owl? Gets pretty hot out here, don't it?"
"Eh, the sun's hot, the forge is hot. Heat is heat," the man says with a shrug. "I get up with the sun and go to bed with the sun. A few folks like to work late into the night. Some of 'em have others run the storefront for them while they sleep the day away. I suppose it helps for the folks who come shopping once the sun starts to go down."
"Ooh... That feels a bit more my speed..." Astrid says innocently as if she's not fishing for information at all. She sets his hammer down and starts looking on the rack for a basic hammer that feels good to her. Sure she's got plenty of quality tools at home, but she loves hammers, as evidenced by the heft battle hammer hung from her belt. "Do ya know anyone I could talk ta about maybe tryin' out a night shift sometime?" One of the hammers feels nice enough in her hand and she carries it back to the counter. "How about this one?"
While Astrid peruses, the smith rubs his beard. "Not many smiths work late. Clanging annoys people trying to sleep. Could try some of the brickmakers or potters. Kilns get hot, and they're wusses. Especially that punk Rowling." When she brings the hammer over, he looks at it. "Found one you like?"
"Aye, I think this one feels right!"
"Well then, that'll be four silver pieces, little miss," he says with an amused smile.
Astrid pays the man and picks the hammer up again. "Thanks a lot, Mister! Ya really put poetry inta smithin'."
"Good luck with your training, kid. If you ever need a lesson, feel free to drop by."
"I will! Thanks! That's an amazin' offer!!"
With that, Astrid exits the shop and packs the hammer into her pack and grins up at Del. "Ta da." No one ever suspects the kids.
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Mar 12, 2023 2:33:54 GMT -5
"It might have been on my mind," Del quips, smiling as she follows behind the intrepid young dwarf. There are a fair few shops here that catch her eye, but admittedly, Del is looking for exterior clues; people that look unnerved or blood splattered, signs of broken pottery. The streets are not exactly well kept, but there's nothing that particularly stands out... except that, before long, Del finds that Astrid has led her to a smithy.
She blinks, but follows her inside. The majority of her arms and her hair are covered by her thin frock, used to keep the sun off, which hides her thick arms while Astrid charms the absolute hell out of the smith. Her first hammer...? That seemed unlikely, she was working on a project wasn't-- oh. It's such a convincing lie that it takes Del a second to realize what Astrid is doing. If she were on the other side of the counter, she would have fallen for it too. Instead, Del takes the role of a bemused guardian, watching their young charge ask questions about the crafting life as though indulging them and their interests. Her tone is expertly conversational. Again, Del finds herself wondering who in the world this child's parent was that had taught her these things.
Her brows go up at the mention of a name; Rowling. Not familiar to her, but then, Del wasn't from the area. She inclines her head to the smith as Astrid pays the man for the hammer, and they slip outside. Once the door is completely closed, she lets out the soft chuckle she was holding back, applauding lightly so as not to be overheard by anyone nearby. "Brilliant work. You just about had me convinced. Where did you learn to be so smooth?" She lifts her gaze towards where the smith had indicated the kilns were. "I suppose that means we're looking for a punk named Rowling. Shall we go snooping?"
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Mar 13, 2023 0:24:24 GMT -5
"Oh, I even had you fooled?" Astrid asks with an entertained smirk. She dramatically flares out her cape and does a slight bow. "Thank ya, thank ya, fer comin' ta me performance. I call it 'no one suspects the kid.'"
Astrid, of course, did not learn these techniques from her parental figure. The bard could barely hold a conversation sometimes, but Astrid's been so used to trying to force her way into conversations with people that definitely did not want her around that she's learned the best way to get in with someone is to show a genuine interest. Smithing, luckily, is a genuine interest for her, and to be the fair to the man inside, he really did speak about it poetically. People like that are perfect because they're engrossed in their craft and get frustrated by the ones who don't fit their idea of the status quo. It tends to work out.
"This Rowlin' fella sounds like the right kinda person fer alla this," she says with a nod. "Bet we could see if anyone else has an opinion 'bout 'em before we go bargin' into their shop lookin' around fer proof without any real clues. Think ya could pull some of that outta someone?"
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Mar 15, 2023 22:45:41 GMT -5
"They sure don't," Del laughs lightly; no one suspected the kid, indeed. Which, again, made her wonder just who this child was and how they had gotten the skills they had accumulated in what was probably (being an elf, Del was never really sure) her short life thus far.
She lifts a brow as Astrid gracefully hands the lead over to her for a moment. Well. This style of, ah, subterfuge was not her usual means of operating, but, if there was one thing Del could do, it was adapt. "Sure. I'll give it a go. You still have that little pottery shard you found on you?"[/color] She holds out a hand for it.
Once Astrid bequeaths her the shard, Del straightens her shoulders and puts a stern frown on her face. Reaching up, she adjusts the band of cloth around her hair, pushing her curls back while revealing the salt-and-pepper roots at her temple, playing up her age a little. Clearly doing some minor character work in her mind, it takes a few seconds of silent fuming before Del is off, marching briskly into the woodworking section of the crafting district like a woman on a mission.
"Excuse me," Del says, walking up to a man and a woman both sawing away at a large tree trunk to make lumber. They lift their gazes to her, a little bewildered.
"Can we help you...?" the young woman, a half orc with blue eyes and teal skin prompts carefully, not really wanting to get involved in whatever nonsense was about to happen.
"I should hope so," Del huffs, holding out the shard of pottery in her hand. The two lean over to look at it. "I've been all over Zeinav today and no one has been of any help. I received a piece of pottery that was purchased here a couple of days ago, and it just shattered."
The two carpenters exchange a glance. "Well, did you drop it?" the male fellblood asks, a little obviously. The woman next to him bites the inside of her cheek to stifle a laugh.
"Wh-- of course I didn't!" Del scoffs, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "This was a gift from my grandbaby. One moment it was an intact vase sitting on my mantle, holding some lovely flowers. The next thing I knew, it sprung a leak, and then it broke into a thousand pieces!" She exhales a rough breath and lifts a hand to smear down the front of her face, collecting herself. "I know you two are not responsible, but I cannot seem to find the one who sold it to my grandchild. Everyone in the market was tight lipped, and the kilns are no better. Is there a direction you can point me in, if you would be so kind?" Del softens her expression a little. Now, she was just an older woman fighting on behalf of the honour of her sweet, darling grandbaby. "I would like the person who created this so-called vase to be held to account for their shoddy workmanship. To think someone would just... fleece a child like that..." Del trails off, clutching at the knot of the scarf around her neck.
The two carpenters, meanwhile, share another knowing look. "Rowling."
"No doubt," The woman rolls her eyes, exasperated.
"Oh?" Del looks up, interest piqued. "How can you be certain?"
"Because all his stuff is bad, ma'am. He over-fires the kiln to get things heat treated faster, but he doesn't glaze and he never lets the piece dry before he fires it."
"Gracious," Del looks aghast, "And that's... bad?"
"Very bad." The man says firmly. "Too high of heat creates thermal shock, basically it burns the clay. If it's not dried out before hand, the wet spots expand in the kiln as it creates steam, causing cracks like the one your vase had."
"I see." Del nods slowly. This was very similar to how forging steel worked in a forge, actually, but she does not clue them into this. "Well... I thank you. For explaining to eloquently. You know, for carpenters, you know a fair but about pottery, no?" she mentions, a little bemused.
"Let's just say you're not the first to have a problem with his product," the pair both sigh, looking at one another again. "We've learned a lot these past couple of weeks; word gets out. I think he might have a couple of friends protecting him from all the people requesting refunds, but it's happening so frequently I kind of suspect its on purpose."
"Whatever for?"
The half-orc woman arches her eyebrows. "Like fleecing your grandchild, ma'am. Quantity over quality is the fastest way to get cash."
Or, the fastest way to make products for people who would need a bulk amount for carting around blood. Del gives the two a small smile, a little apologetic. "Agh. This city. I see. Thank you for your time. I will make sure to go straight to this... Rowling character and give him a piece of my mind."
"Best of luck, ma'am! Please don't mention us when you do!"
Del waves something of an affirmative over her shoulder as she leaves, her pace still brisk and full of purpose, a doting grandmother on a mission. Once they safely round the corner, Del exhales and drops the angry expression for one of quiet triumph. "That was pretty damning, I think." She looks to Astrid with a small smile.
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