Grab Yer Torch An' Pitchforks (Grubby & Milton)

Been lookin' all over the place fer a spot like this, didn't think I'd find it but I been wrong before. Gotta be one'a these places in every city, every town, every settlement, it just makes fuggen sense, ya hear? Ya get everyone in a town like this ya got people that got problems. Those people're gonna want them problems solved. An' everyone gets the bright idea of what adventurers like me look at fer a livin':

The goddamn bounty board.

Ya gets yer grievance on a piece a paper an' ya just stick it on the board there, some jagoff that likes to stab shit'll be all over it like me here. Best way to get talent. An' if they ain't survive it ya don't gotta pay, win fuggen win I tell ya. Smart motherfucker what come up with that shit. Feels weird bein' on the other side'a things but I'll get over it. Place is bustlin' like a halflin' bar, lotta motherfuckers here. I got good odds'a findin' someone that wanna put swords in monsters, I tell ya. But I got a damn problem. I can't fuggen read. Can't write neither, so I can't use the bounty board but that shit ain't stop me, nosir. Gonna be the town crier fer a bit an' see who's interested in doin' justice or whatever the shit. Hey it ain't pretty but it's the right thing to do, understand?

I climb my green ass on top'a one a those tables they got layin' 'round the place an' I give my job, nice an' loud like.

I turn some heads so I know it's workin'. Gonna get this shit over with in no time.
"Lookin' fer any brave motherfucker what ain't afraid'a goddamn nothin'! I gots a job fer ya! Come pick me out fer the details, gonna go huntin' fer assholes!" I get a lotta dirty looks. Not like I give a shit, I ain't care about most people an' what they think. What I wants is the ones that are gonna come up to me all curious like. Don't need no pussy commoners gettin' in on this shit anyhow, I needs someone that knows a thing're two about puttin' beasts in the damn ground.

Among the many dagger-filled stares and demands to get off the table and get lost from the crowd, one certain young man caught wind of the crowd's mumblings and peeked his head in to see what the discussion was about. It seemed this shorter green creature that Milton couldn't identify from his info logs was requesting the help of a mercenary of sorts. The creature's odd use of profanity and scattered speaking pattern made determining its message a touch harder, but the message was received nonetheless. He had spent some time down on the surface of Permanence and was looking for more experience to train Phobetor and his weapons after such a long absence from combat. Perhaps the perfect opportunity presented itself...

As Grubby likely scanned the crowd for any eager participants, Milton would shuffle his way to the front of the crowd and get the green man's attention by waving his hand over the heads of the others.

"Fuggen candy assed Nancy's all'a ya! If I wanted to shout at a field'a damn pansies I'd keep a damn garden!" I make sure to flip'em the bird 'fore I get down off the table there. Figures I'd get boo'd off the stage, ain't like I'm not a fuggen goblin or nothin'. Fuggen bigots an' dickless cowards all of'em. The fuck kinda guild hall is this? Ya got motherfuckers playin' cards an' carryin' on, ya got a bounty board, not a ball between the hundred I fuggen swear. Whatever, I don't give a shit. Plenty'a bloodthristy motherfuckers what need some coin in the Slums, should'a started there first. I spit on the ground as I eyeball them yellow-bellied freaks when one'a the longshanks comes up to me. Figured it be a longshanks, too. I can say a lot about them breeders but what I can't say is they ain't got guts.

"Yer damn right I is, pinky," I says, "But I ain't takin' just anybody. Ya gotta be a bona fide badass, ya understand? So's 'fore I tells ya what I got I'm gonna ask ya some things." Now I been lookin' fer volunteers but I ain't need no greenhorns gettin' in my way an' gettin' themselves killed. Plenty a blood on these hands already, I ain't lookin' to get'em soaked again. I give the human a stern glare, this ain't no place fer the weak'a spirit. Ain't got time fer shrimp dicks.
"What experience you got killin' monsters an' shit? Cuz that's what we're doin' here pal." Now most people gonna say none to which I'm gonna say fuck you an' have a nice day, but on the off chance I get someone that says Oh yeah, I fuggen ate me a Gibberin' Mouther fer breakfast then I know I'm in business.

Pinky? Nancy's? This one's accent and vernacular was certainly a test of Milton's language comprehension. At least Milton could be fortunate for having the Babel Field active so that this creature was at least understandable. Seeing the figure's stern gaze upon him, Milton returned with a serious stare as well, sparks of curiosity and focus flashing behind his strangely slate-expression stare. So this one wanted to know his combat experiences with monsters? Well, there was certainly a story to tell for that, but best to keep the mention of a Persona under wraps unless he was somehow aware or looking for the wielder of an Ego like Milton.

"Well, outside of combat training in a small military unit in the blade and a repeater pistol, I've managed to kill a large worm beast with sharp teeth known as an Avatar of the Forest. It was strong enough to topple groves and snap a humanoid's body in half by biting off his torso. Will that satisfy the conditions?"

"Ain't no soldierin' prepare ya fer this shit, boy. This the real deal here, ain't no swords yer gonna have to clash with, ya gotta look at the Devil hisself an' put a knife 'tween his damn peepers." Soldiers is good but they ain't what I'm lookin' fer. Any motherfucker what's bored an' don't make enough pay can pick up a spear an' be a soldier, takes a real man to go up against this kinda shit. I seen combat vets piss their shorts comin' up on a Watcher, that ain't good enough. Don't fuggen need no soldiers. Adventurers is what I need. But the guy said he got some sand in his ass crack, that's good shit. I can use that. This gon' be different but it mean he ain't gonna run like a bitch or do somethin' to get the two'a us killed.

"Ya mean a Grick? Yeah... yeah thems some tough customers... I gots one last question for ya. How many damn arms ya think is too many?" Now I already made up my mind, might as well drag this asshole along fer the ride. If he can handle a Alpha Grick sounds like he can handle this shit. Guy's speakin' my language. I just wanna see what he says about it. I know a good bit of adventurers out there an' not all of'em get to see the really fucked up shit. The Aboleths. The flesh golems. The flumphs. ...say what the fuck you want, them jellyfish motherfuckers creep me the hell out. Make my damn skin crawl. I take my pipe out an' start packin' some tobacco in it but I don't take my eyes off the humie. Figure we're gonna take a walk soon an' I ain't smoked any since I walked in here. Gotta take every opportunity, understand?

"I agree. My training wasn't meant to be a considerable selling point."
This unnamed being seemed very familiar with the way of combat, like a hardened war veteran grumbling to a private. Was this person on Permanence and encountered trouble fighting? Where else could combatable monsters be in the given instance? Well, whatever monsters this grumbling requester was facing, Milton could make short work of them with the help of Phobetor. Perhaps with further training, he and his new Ego could grow strong enough to properly protect themselves.

"I don't recognize this creature you identify as a Grick. Your vernacular is a touch unusual, so understand if I would request further elaboration or a repetition of instructions. As for arms, I would place my experience of too many arms at 8 being the limit. I know a gentlemen from my home world that developed extra limbs due to his experimentation with spiders, so any more than 8 would be an amount that unsettles me due to my inexperience with them. Now then, what types of foes are you facing? Mechanical? Organic? Hybrid?"

Look at this greenhorn motherfucker, killin' Gricks 'fore he even knows what they're fuggen called. Takes guts to do that, skill an' a 'lil bit a luck. Those things ain't a fuggen joke. Almost got ate by one back in the Underdark, slimy sumbitch wrapped its mouth around my legs but lucky me I had my dagger on me at the time. Cut its damn jaw right off, smell took weeks to fuggen go away, stank like a damn wet dwarf.
"Ain't nothin' wrong with the way I talk longshanks, yer the one that's talkin' funny. Usin' all them big words an' shit, yer a goddamn soldier, keep it stupid fer the rest'a us," I tells'im. Ain't the first time I seen one'a them smart sword luggers but it's fuggen weird every time. What happened to the good ol' days when all ya had to do to fight a war was lift a buncha logs an' stab some people? Now ya gotta read books too. I tell ya, ain't no place fer the disadvantaged no more.
"C'mon jagoff, gonna walk an' have a smoke while we talk about this shit."

So's we get to walkin', I finish packin' my tobacco into my pipe and strike me a tinder twig. I tell ya, this shit's fuggen candy right here. Cuz it'll rot yer teeth an' it ain't good fer ya, keh heh. But I ain't gonna quit anytime soon, I'm too goddamn old to change. I take a puff an' blow me a ring to float off in the sky.
"*pheeeeew...* ...I ain't know what this thing is but it's got more arms'n the feathers on the ass end of a chicken. Weird doll lookin' arms, faces too, just covered'n fuggen limbs like someone kept chuckin' dollhouses at a goddamn demon an' saw what stuck. But that ain't even the half of it," I says, puckerin' my lips over my pipe again to inhale me some'a that sweet ashy feel good.
"*tzzzzz... pheeeeeew...* ...some motherfucker what climbed outta the fuggen arm orgy there, looked like he was made'a doodads an' shit. My guessin' is chain devil what got rammed headfirst through a pocket watch. Scare-E-est motherfucker you ever did see I tells ya. Ain't up to not a bit a damn good. Got zombies too, ya know what a zombie is? I mean I bet ya do but ya sure as shit ain't know what a Grick is so I gotta check." Now everythin' I'm sayin' meant to scare this greenhorn off cuz like I say, this shit ain't fer the faint a heart. If ya ain't got stones ya shouldn't go bowlin', son. Better to shoo away anyone that ain't got no spine now 'fore I gotta find it for'em in the pile'a bodies I done seen down there.

Milton wanted to raise his finger to correct the recruiting veteran that he wasn't a soldier but found himself unable to get a word in that would likely mean anything to him. Was his choice of words too complicated to understand or did this goblin creature simply prefer instructions and comments that were more direct? Either way, talking with simpler vernacular wouldn't be too terrible when it came to instructions or simple descriptions. With the adjustment in mind, Milton would walk alongside the smoking and cursing rogue, covering his nose and mouth with his scarf so as to not inhale the less than pleasant smoke from his pipe.

"I won't require a nickname such as Longshanks or "Jagooff". My name is Milton. Could I get yours in return, sir rogue?

This description of your foe is rather unusual. I've done some exploring of Permanence but haven't come across any monstrosity that fits this description. So it has a large quantity of arms, doll-like body parts, and a figure made of... doodads? From the description of chains and a pocket watch, I assume you mean he had a large amount of metal attached to him. As for the reference to these 'zombies', I have a rough idea of what you mean. You are referring to corpses that become animated through a variety of mediums, correct? My planet did have zombies caused by necromancers using a source of Stream to infuse bodies with energy, but it's practically a lost art when wartime passes, so they aren't as prevalent an issue.

May I ask where you have been exploring?"

"*UUUoooOOUURrrggh hurk hurk...!* ...shit, fuggen chokin' on mah smoke there... Anyone tell ya ya got a mouth like a half-elf? All fuggen proper'n shit," I tells'im, hackin' up a damn lung while I'm at it. It ain't stop me though, I'll quit when my ass is boxed up an' buried, I'm too damn old to change.
"Fuggen Milton, ya fuggen serious? Even got a half-elf's name there, sounds like a fuggen banker... gonna call ya Mitch, Milton ain't no damn soldier's name. Now Mitch sound like a guy what'll split some skulls open an' what fletches bows an' shit." Goddamn Milton. Couldn't think of a more wimpy name if I tried but I ain't got no imagination. Can't be hangin' 'round a guy called Milton, that ain't no tough guy. Give'em a damn man's name s'what I'm gonna do. But on to the more important shit right now.

Kinda like this guy, this guy actually knows what's what. Gettin' him to come with me was a goddamn good idea there, good shit, good shit. Even if he ain't never seen a Grick before, motherfucker prolly ain't been to the Underdark. Lucky bastard.
"The fuck you know what a rogue an' a necromancer is but you ain't seen no Grick before? Shit, talkin' 'bout runnin' 'fore ya can crawl. Good to see ya know yer stuff there, yer gonna need to. Yeah I'm a rogue, name's Grubby, sometimes I go by that ugly asshole over there. Been doin' this a long while but I ain't see nothin' like this before kiddo. Fuggen zombies yeah an' I think we be dealin' with a one'a them corpse raisin' fucksticks but yeah that motherfucker look like he fell in a trash heap an' the trash heap fell in a smelter an' he got up an' walked out. Sounds like a fuggen necromancer to me I tell ya fuggen that."

Clockwork motherfucker, bet this is some gnome's fault somewheres. 'Lil magical rainbow shit waffles. Ain't gonna question Mitch's explanation 'bout the zombies there, he prolly know 'bout'em better'n I do. I'm just the guy what puts iron in their heads.
"Not gonna tell ya whereabouts, jagoff, not here I'm not. I ain't want no motherfuckers taggin' along fer this wagon ride. This ain't a posse I'm puttin' together just a couple'a adventurers what needs to do what's gotta get doin'. Figure I ain't want no one else to go down there an' do the job 'fore we do first anyways in case they got bad intentions with what they find down there." Now I ain't scared'a fuggen nothin' but necromancers gimme the shakes they do. That shit ain't natural an' the last thing I fuggen want is more of'em walkin' 'round with the dark magic some nobody jagoff gets his mitts on if'n he beats us to it. Gotta handle this shit with care.

"Half-elf? Do I talk like this half-elf you speak of?"
Okay, now this was getting a tad frustrating. Did this Grubby not realize that Milton didn't even know half of what his old world contained? Milton didn't bother throwing out terms such as "Nanab fruit" or "Loga cub", instead consulting with CWIS for a more common example to use in its place. Nevertheless, Grubby seemed satisfied with Milton's offer to join on his adventure. Though having his name deemed unacceptable and being given a new name to refer to him... it was a familiar yet unwelcome action Milton was all too familiar with.

"Hey, what's wrong with my name?! Milton is a perfectly masculine name for a warrior. But fine, if Mitch is any better in that insufferable mentality of yours, then it's your decision. I'm not cut from the same cloth as you, likely not even in the same universe. But yes, gathering supplies for health recovery would be wise. I did struggle with that fighting the Ava- Grick. Should I attempt to find other capable fighters, or is a man named Milton nowhere near qualified enough to find proper adventurers?"

Guy's as clueless as a shit detective I tells ya. Ain't even know what a half-elf is, poor bastard. Maybe lucky bastard dependin' on how ya look at it, I never met a half-elf I didn't wanna string up by his fancy fuggen cravat and leave him danglin' by his ankles above a bucket a broken glass. Fuck you I know what a cravat is, it's one'a them frou frou neck traps what the easy marks wear. I wish I meant nobles but I really fuggen didn't. But he says he's good with a killin' iron an' I guess that's enough, fuggen Azmodeus knows I need all the help I can get, he gonna be slingin' a lotta shit my way. More motherfuckers what with swords just means less arms that pocketwatch lookin' jagoff has to fight us with, if'n they're good with it. Thinkin' I'll come up with a fightin' plan when I get down there but I'm gonna go fer choppin' off some'a them limbs, level the damn playin' field a 'lil.
"Yeah ya use all them big ass words like ya think yer better'n me like an elf but like ya don't know yer doin' it like a pink skin" I tells'im. I'm just bein' honest, humans're the most social race I know of an' they just talk an' talk an' talk an' ain't know what they're sayin'. Not like us gobs. We just talk an' talk an' talk an' it's a buncha different ways to say eat a dick.

Then he gets all pissy on me, guess I said somethin' he don't like. Fuggim, I do that a lot anyway. If ya ain't got thick skin what're ya doin' swingin' a sword around? Ya might trip an' hurt yer feelin's.
"Don't get yer panties in a bunch, Milton. It's that kinda talk what leads me to say the things I do, fer a tough guy ya sure can't take no damn tongue whippin' from an old timer. Yer a goddamn man, the fuck you care what anyone think a ya?" Damn youngsters all got a bone to pick, protectin' that fuggen nonexistent pride what they got. Buncha thrashin' babes if ya ask me, throwin' hissie fits an' bawlin' their eyes out at the 'lilest damn thing. If yer such a fuggen big man ya'd think ya'd be confident in yerself enough that ain't no one tell you what that means but there goes that new generation, gettin' all touchy feely over a couple'a mean words. Teet suckin' cheeseheads all of'em.

But I ain't pay the boy no mind, that's what he fuggen wants. Life ain't fuggen apologize she just keep grindin' her heel in yer groin, better learn to like it. Fer a soldier ya'd think he'd not only got thicker skin but he'd be used to gettin' a good fuggen from Life too.
"S'pose I could find me s'more but I ain't know nobody what can swing a killin' iron, 'least nobody I can get ahold an' won't get themselves killed," I says as I scratch my chin an' puff on my pipe there. If I could get me some good hands I wouldn't be scoutin' out the bounty board, this shit's the last resort here. Just throw yer damn problems to strangers an' hope someone likes money an' stabbin' shit. I tap my cracked nail on my pipe there as I think. Where the fuggam I gonna find more motherfuckers if not at the bounty board? City guard ain't helpin' me they'd never listen to a damn word I said. Too poor fer mercs. Can't pull no favors from the Thieve's Guild yet 'less I wanna pay fer it with my thumbs. Guess it's whoever I can rile up an' if it's a soldier named Milton with skin made'a paper then that's what I got, long as he can watch my back everythin'lll be alright.

"Then again 'spose I can't. I really ain't got that many choices left, was about to say fuggit an' go down there by meself an' hope fer the best. What's gotta be done's gotta be done whether or not I ain't got nobody to help me. Not about to stand around an' just wait fer some lich shitdick to raise an army a creepy crawlies whiles I sit here with my thumb up my ass. Whadya say, pal?" I ain't be mean or nothin' when I say it, I wanna let'im know there ain't no hard feelin's. If'n I can get another adventurer what can lend me a hand well I appreciate that, yessir. Ain't gonna look no horse in the mouth on that one. I extend my wrinkled old hand toward'im with a serious face. This gonna be some serious shit lemme tell ya. Gonna need his oath he's gonna have my back, I'll give'im the same damn courtesy.

So these half-elves Grubby mentioned commonly use an expansive lexicon and looked down on the Grubby's race for use of a simpler, more direct conversation style? Hopefully Grubby didn't get the idea he was speaking like this in purpose; an expansive speaking dictionary and gentlemanly etiquette were about as hard coded into his synapses as his name, so it often just slipped out without Milton's awareness. Even so, he certainly harmed his image as a hardened warrior in front of Grubby by speaking up against being called Mitch. He' figured he would have to talk himself out of it, but maybe that would only harm it further...

"Listen, Grub. Not everyone sees me as a capable soldier of flesh and blood. But I've been built to take damage just as much as I can dish it out. I'll have you know I have the power of ego that can dispatch of these foes with ease. Are you familiar with the concept of a Persona? With it, I will prove my combat prowess with or without your approval.

I agree. If these monsters are as powerful as they are bizarre, then Junction is in danger if they can reach civilian areas. If you'll have me, I'd be eager to fight alongside you. But before that, I have to shop for a few items and stop by the lab. Do we have a designated meeting time and area?"

He ain't shake my hand. Do fuggen people not do that down here? Do I fuggen smell bad? I mean yeah that's askin' a dumbass question but that ain't the fuggen point, a goddamn man shakes on his word fer the sake a fuggen Pelor.  Whatever, just another sign a the times I 'spose, good to see the young sumbitch got some fight in'em, even better to see he's willin' to give me a sword fer all the right reasons. Ya see it a lot these days, those that go adventurin' always seekin' glory 'n fame 'n riches, a good fight, anythin' but cuz it's the right thing to do. Well I'm old fashioned like that. I believe if somethin's worth doin' ya might as well do it yerself, ain't no one gonna step forward an' do it for ya. An' if that means steppin' toe to toe with one'a them bolt-castin' mummy lovin' pointdexters then that's what that means, come the Outer Planes or the Nine Hells. I ain't offer'im no gold, I ain't expectin' to make any. Call me a selfish motherfucker but if this gets me my hands on the magical bullshit what Hilderbrandt needs to get us home then it does, but if it don't I ain't gonna shed no tears. But I ain't understand a damn word what he's sayin', 'splains the smartness. Motherfucker gotta be a Eldritch Knight or some shit. Built up an' trained to take abuse he says. Well he better back up them brave words with some merit else he gonna be joinin' the corpses down there. This ain't no hobgoblin cave raid, this shit's the real deal I'm tellin' ya. He's fuggen cockier'n a henhouse though, greener'n my fuggen wrinkly ass.

"'Spose I believe ya," I nod at the kid, pullin' my hand back, "Better put that trainin' to good use son, else yer gonna look a 'lil less like flesh'n blood an' a 'lil more skull 'n bones down there. I ain't know no Purse Owna yer talkin' 'bout but they better be good in a fuggen fight if'n yer gettin' all that gear money."
"The fuggare you on about?"
The fuck you gotta do with purses? I thought you was a guardian spirit or some shit.
You keep usin' all them big words yer gonna make me learn somethin'.
Why's my soul gotta be an uppity punkass shit fer brains?
Yeah yer right I can fuggen see it now. Snivellin' prick.

Back in what's not in my brain out there I stop fer a sec an' sideglance the crowd like I'm hearin' fer someone, but it ain't too long. I take a puff off my pipe an' blow a ring out so it ain't look like I gone nuttier'n a fuggen almond patch.


Why's all this shit gotta be hard? The fuck can't I just go down there with another guy what likes to put metal in walkin' talkin' assholes, scalp me some evil an' call it a damn day? The shit does all this confusin' shit gotta happen to me? Anyways I gots me a crew, I got a plan, an' I'm 'bout ready to put holes in motherfuckers just like the good ol' days. But 'fore ya get to the good bits ya gotta get through the plannin'. Get all yer ducks in a row, make sure ya got enough torches, that whole deal. He's gotta do it, I gotta do it too. Can't be fuggen dumbasses 'bout this shit, guardian Purse Ownas're not. Fuggen lab though. Yep, yessir called it right at Eldritch Knight.
"Gonna be meetin' at my shop up there in the bazaar, the one by that place what sells the crab cakes an' rockin' chairs. Real easy to spot, looks like a fuggen landfill an' it's got a dancin' balloon man out front of it." I pause fer a sec to another hit off the pipe but I stop meself 'fore my lips touch it, "Fuggen serious kid tell yer friends. I ain't sell a goddamn thing since I opened that sumbitch, 'bout to start suckin' dick to keep oil in the lanterns."

Fuggen piece'a shit store, suckin' up all my damn time an' not givin' me a fuggen copper to show fer it. Guessin' this what it's gotta be like to be a bad farmer. I blame the fuggen newfangled bullshit I see runnin' about, ain't no one appreciate the simple classics. Or how the thugs these days're just fuggen lazy an' mug people 'stead'a burglin'. Fuggen lazy buncha knuckle draggers.
"Gonna meet when it's about noon next, ain't wanna go down there at fuggen night that's just askin' fer trouble to bend ya over'n call ya Nancy. If ya wanna bring people I ain't gonna stop ya but I gotta right to put a knife in any dumb motherfucker what's gonna get everyone killed an' they best carry their damn weight."

Realizing that Grubby was indicating to Milton that the agreement would be met with a handshake before the terms of their meeting time and place were established, Milton shot his hand forward to try shaking his hand only for the goblin to pull his hand back as he continued speaking. Secondly, this Grubby was not only familiar with Personas, but he seemed to stop talking and return to the conversation a minute later. Did he have one? That had yet to be seen, but at least Milton wouldn't give the smoking old man a heart attack from seeing what could be misinterpreted as the angel of death minus the scythe hovering over him.

Then the talk shifted to the place of business, a shop up on the bazaar that was described as a landfill. Though Milton would assume the shop wasn't as bad as to describe it as a landfill, perhaps Grubby was truly telling it to Milton exactly as it was. Nevertheless, a shop is a shop, and the various products would make for a wonderful trip to see what wares he could get from them. With the time and location established, Milton nodded happily and held his hand out in turn.

"Wonderful! Noon at your shop it shall be! I'll probably need to stop by your shop sometime, browse your wares. I'm sure you have some hidden gems in the pile that would certainly be worth the money. You better pull your weight in battle if you're as confident in your combat prowess as you claim! Hehe, you'll certainly be surprised by what my Persona is capable of, being the god of nightmares and all. Here, now is the time to shake hands once everything's all said and done. I'll certainly spread news of your shop to everyone at the lab. Deal?"

Okay now he wants the fuggen handshake. Fuggen longshanks is weird I tells ya. It's like they spend their entire lives not knowin' what they be doin', 'least most of'em, but I guess that's what ya get when ya got a shitpot fulla'em. Made a whole fuggen culture 'round the blind leadin' the blind I tells ya. I ain't blame'im fer it. Most folk'd think ol' Milton'd be a 'lil slow but he just doin' the human thing, I seen it a million times. Ain't the first time I got mah handshake snubbed, ain't the first time no pinky ever realized he didn't do it neither an' try again. Friendly to a fault they is, at least the good ones. The bad ones do the same thing only they're racist pricks scared'a their own shadows cuz they're a diff'rnt color. Tell ya what we gobs don't care about, the color of another gob. We all in this together, sonny. 'Cept gnomes. Gnomes can go fuggen die. Dumbass feywild honey drinkin' motherfuckers. Don't know how ya manage to one up the drow in the worst fuggen people department without the torture an' spider worship but they fuggen did it. So's I put my hand back out fer the handshake. Ain't gonna blame'im cuz he's a pink skin, if I did that I'd have a line a dead people leadin' a trail straight to me I fuggen swear to Azmodeus.

"It's all mostly bullshit," I says, givin' his hand a firm squeeze like a man does, "But it's shit ya better got than don't. Been doin' this a while kiddo, 'fore you was a glint in yer daddy's eye. I can handle myself a killin' iron, give out holes free a charge. Just gotta promise me you'll follow my lead there. If'n I says go yer up on yer feet, if'n I says run yer ass better be three steps gone, ya understand? I guarantee this shit ain't be what yer used to, Hells I'm used to it an' I'm keepin' on my fuggen toes ya understand?" I let go a his hand an' turn it to my pipe, workin' it around in my mouth a 'lil. Seems like we got an arrangement here, found me an adventurer even if he's still wearin' short pants. But he got heart an' ya can't teach that or train it, ya gotta be born with it. Just gotta make sure that heart'll lead'im smart an' not get'im killed 'fore he even get his feet wet. ...nah, he's a soldier, he'll be fine enough whether I gotta lead'im or not. Up to him what he's fightin' fer, ain't none a my business 'less he lets that heart a his lead'im to bein' fuggen stupid in the name a good or the name a bad. Then I'm gonna have to get my back crackin' an' put boots to asses.

"Just don't be relyin' on that damn spirit too much, that ain't what it's fer. Ya can handle yerself ya can handle yerself, spirit's there to guide ya not walk the path fer ya, ain't matter what the fuck it's fer. ...do me a fuggen favor'n be careful who ya recommend what I'm sellin' to people 'fore ya look yerself, aright? I run me a toolshop fer very special people, ya understand? Ain't nothin' I do against the law but it's gonna be a pain in my touchas if I got the guard sniffin' 'round where they ain't got no business." It ain't illegal to sell flashbombs, lockpicks, an' twisted bits a metal in the same store, I know what I'm doin'. I just rather not have to explain that to a buncha limp dick guards an' get hassled when this shit's used fer what it's gonna get used fer. Locksmiths gotta have locks, flashbombs a fuggen novelty toy, everythin' else is just lovin'ly crafted trash if ya catch my stinkin' drift. But I 'preciate the sentiment, ya just gotta be careful where ya open yer mouth when yer a rogue. If that cat catches yer tongue yer gonna get some major scratches I tells ya.

I turn my back to the kid, we got the plan, we's understood. Ain't nothin' more fer two men to discuss if ya ask me.
"Gonna be at my store til a quarter past the hour then I'm headed on with or without ya, ya wanna help you make sure ya set yer pocketwatch to witchin' hour. About now I got a hankerin' fer some'a them there crab cakes what taste like boots, can't get enough a them 'lil bastards." I tells'im. Hot damn those things are good even if they taste like moldy hikin' shoes. Fills ya up an' keeps ya goin' all day. Figure I might as well get somethin' to chow down on while I'm sharpenin' me knife an' poundin' out lockpicks, there's work gotta be done.