Ayreg sat in the silverforge the day after his latest dream. He had just finished an inscription on a silver locket, and wrapped it carefully up in paper inside a small box and marked it ready for delivery. Since the smithy had hired those gnomes, Ayreg has been developing a rather singular headache, and one that continued to build day by day in the forge.
One of the gnomes bounced into the silversmith. It truly looked laughable. Striped pantaloons, a puffy shirt, and a ridiculous eye-patch that Ayreg knew for a fact the gnome didn't need. "'Arrr, matey! The cap'n wants to know if ye' got that broach order finished!"
"He's not a captain, Thistle, and you're not a pirate. Now take off that silly hat and take this to him." Ayreg turned, tossing a somewhat larger box toward Thistle, the Gnomish pirate-turned-whipping boy.
"Avast, laddie, ye' just wished ye' had an ostrich-feathered hat like this!" he grabbed at the box in the air, and bounded back into the smithy-proper. Ayreg grumbled to himself, noting that the hat had a wide enough brim for him to wear it. Gnomes really had no business in civilized society.
Sharp-topped hardy in hand, Ayreg tapped the edge of the hardy against the stock he had been working on, and it snapped off, falling to the edge of the tiny anvil. He sniffed, tongs putting the the useless piece of the silver bar into a small bowl of oil to quench its heat before he tossed it out. Shaping the piece of silver, he knew this one was going to eventually become some kind of necklace, he just wasn't sure exactly what yet.
Another gnome bounced in, "`Ey, I-Reg" it started, making Jodiah grind his teeth as the gnome mispronounced his name. Probably on purpose, "Cap'n says the broach is 'sposed to have a dragon on the center, mate."
"Tell him it does," he started, focused intently on the piece of silver that would soon be the centerpiece of a fine necklace, "and if he ever left the forge from time to time to actually see a dragon, he'd know this."
"But the cap'n--"
"--Will not save you if you continue to bother me. Get out."
Dohick the Gnome fled the silverforge then, leaving Ayreg in blissfull peace. For now. Somewhere else in the forge, though, Ayreg heard the three little blighters start to sing again.
"We pillage, we plunder, we're really bad eggs; drink up, me hearties, yo-ho....!"
"I really hate those gnomes" he grumbled.
One of the gnomes bounced into the silversmith. It truly looked laughable. Striped pantaloons, a puffy shirt, and a ridiculous eye-patch that Ayreg knew for a fact the gnome didn't need. "'Arrr, matey! The cap'n wants to know if ye' got that broach order finished!"
"He's not a captain, Thistle, and you're not a pirate. Now take off that silly hat and take this to him." Ayreg turned, tossing a somewhat larger box toward Thistle, the Gnomish pirate-turned-whipping boy.
"Avast, laddie, ye' just wished ye' had an ostrich-feathered hat like this!" he grabbed at the box in the air, and bounded back into the smithy-proper. Ayreg grumbled to himself, noting that the hat had a wide enough brim for him to wear it. Gnomes really had no business in civilized society.
Sharp-topped hardy in hand, Ayreg tapped the edge of the hardy against the stock he had been working on, and it snapped off, falling to the edge of the tiny anvil. He sniffed, tongs putting the the useless piece of the silver bar into a small bowl of oil to quench its heat before he tossed it out. Shaping the piece of silver, he knew this one was going to eventually become some kind of necklace, he just wasn't sure exactly what yet.
Another gnome bounced in, "`Ey, I-Reg" it started, making Jodiah grind his teeth as the gnome mispronounced his name. Probably on purpose, "Cap'n says the broach is 'sposed to have a dragon on the center, mate."
"Tell him it does," he started, focused intently on the piece of silver that would soon be the centerpiece of a fine necklace, "and if he ever left the forge from time to time to actually see a dragon, he'd know this."
"But the cap'n--"
"--Will not save you if you continue to bother me. Get out."
Dohick the Gnome fled the silverforge then, leaving Ayreg in blissfull peace. For now. Somewhere else in the forge, though, Ayreg heard the three little blighters start to sing again.
"We pillage, we plunder, we're really bad eggs; drink up, me hearties, yo-ho....!"
"I really hate those gnomes" he grumbled.