Carefully lifting the four cups brimming with ale, Saeth made her way back toward the table, where the dwarf, his friend, and the unfortunate youth were already talking. A pity, the boy had ended up in the seat across from her, too far to kick if he opened his mouth. Distributing the mugs, she waited for a pause in the conversation, then announced to nobody in particular, “I’m Saeth Tegau of Callarii, free sword and free spirit.” She failed to notice how pompous it sounded, certain of its poeticism. She looked at the priest. “If you could scoot in a bit, that I could slide back to my seat?”
Maruc stands allowing Saeth to sit herself as she wishes. “It would be my pleasure to move for you, Miss.”
“A free sword and a free spirit?” The dwarf said gladly taking the cup and upending it “If y’ask me wielding a weapon with anything but a serious heart and stern sureness of spirit is an insult to the craftsman! You elves with your pretty dancing…” he pauses to let out a warrior’s burp “…with your pretty dancing wouldn’t last a lick in a battle with a real dwarven warmaster! Heh!” He leans forward and leans a hand on his knee. See what the elf woman would say to that!
Skirting neatly over the dwarf’s obviously agressive nature toward the elf, Maruc, ever the peacemaker it seems, would have his work cut out for himself mediating between these two if Saeth chose to rise to his comments. He effected a broad grin and chuckled, “The infamous Dwarven diplomacy at its finest! I congratulate you both, Seath for her elven calm and superior repose, and Feldard for his robust stoisism. Indeed I am humbled by so mighty -a-gathering. Its a pleasure to meet you Mistress Saeth Tegau of Callarii. A fortunate man would I be to have such excellent travelling companions.”
“Certainly, any true dwarven warmaster would cut down elves like felling saplings. Fortunately…” Suddenly, seeing the priest looking about drove his words home.
“Thank you most kindly for the ale, however my vows from my cloister do no allow me the consumption of alcohol. If it will not cause offence I will gift this ale to a passer by?”
“You don’t drink ale? Being a holy man must be thirsty business! Can I grab you a glass of port, then?” In her surprise at the man’s odd habit, Saeth completely forgot to finish noting that dwarven warmasters were somewhat rarer than treeclimbing moose.
Maruc turns to look around for some deserving person to take his ale, he notices a Thyatian man approaching the table. The group’s conversation stops when they hear a loud tipsy voice directed at them.
“Hey you there! Want some work? I need strong bodies. Theosius is my name. You look brave. Do you want to earn money?”