Darkening Shadows
Duthash Gyth Basque VY 237 (May 29)
OCC: This thread picks up after Once Home
The clothes Laren wore seemed clumsy. They were relaxed enough to offer a healthy amount of movement but the cloak, the pants over his pants, and the shirt over his shirt made him feel like he was wearing blankets. Gurden could see it on his face.
"Dunna ye be thinking that ye can be goin' without this extra fluff. By the time I be done with ye, you'll be a spitting image of Oddy...smell o' him too." Gibble had informed Laren that a clothing shop down near the docks, Hefters Finery, owned by Gurden Hammerhill-a tailoring loving dwarf-was the place to go. While Gurden wasn't in the "family" he could be trusted to not ask questions and not answer them either- The Hawk Ring made sure of that.
Gurden, like many of his dwarven race, was a thick and sturdy fellow. His black beard, while not unkempt, seemed a bit wild as was the horseshoe of hair that stretched from ear to ear. He wore simple functional clothes and a tailors' measure around his neck. At least three of his fingers had thimbles on them and Laren could swear at times he saw four and sometimes even five. Gurden was a tailor for laborers, fishermen, and laymen and he dressed the part.
Laren noted that the disguise clothes he was wearing over his own weren't new by any stretch. They had rips, patches, and stains of food and mud that created a rainbow of crusty filth. The smell of the clothes, while not completely overpowering, stunk of rotten fish that had been left to bake in the sun. If, in fact, anyone that wished him harm could recognize Laren through the disguise they might have difficulty getting past the stench fog that was surrounding him.
"I have to admit...this be some o' me good work!" Gurden said with a wide smile and a juicy sneeze.
Duthash Gyth Basque VY 237 (May 29)
OCC: This thread picks up after Once Home
The clothes Laren wore seemed clumsy. They were relaxed enough to offer a healthy amount of movement but the cloak, the pants over his pants, and the shirt over his shirt made him feel like he was wearing blankets. Gurden could see it on his face.
"Dunna ye be thinking that ye can be goin' without this extra fluff. By the time I be done with ye, you'll be a spitting image of Oddy...smell o' him too." Gibble had informed Laren that a clothing shop down near the docks, Hefters Finery, owned by Gurden Hammerhill-a tailoring loving dwarf-was the place to go. While Gurden wasn't in the "family" he could be trusted to not ask questions and not answer them either- The Hawk Ring made sure of that.
Gurden, like many of his dwarven race, was a thick and sturdy fellow. His black beard, while not unkempt, seemed a bit wild as was the horseshoe of hair that stretched from ear to ear. He wore simple functional clothes and a tailors' measure around his neck. At least three of his fingers had thimbles on them and Laren could swear at times he saw four and sometimes even five. Gurden was a tailor for laborers, fishermen, and laymen and he dressed the part.
Laren noted that the disguise clothes he was wearing over his own weren't new by any stretch. They had rips, patches, and stains of food and mud that created a rainbow of crusty filth. The smell of the clothes, while not completely overpowering, stunk of rotten fish that had been left to bake in the sun. If, in fact, anyone that wished him harm could recognize Laren through the disguise they might have difficulty getting past the stench fog that was surrounding him.
"I have to admit...this be some o' me good work!" Gurden said with a wide smile and a juicy sneeze.