The company laughed, wow'd and ouched the entire evening as Keystone told his story. Both the dwarf and Tim gave the monk a questionable look when he told them about a spirit inhabiting his head, one that never quite left their eyes the rest of the evening. To the rest of his story, everyone at the table kept nodding and acknowledging the evil tendencies of Thay wizards and the horrors of fighting the undead. The mention of Glith or fighting a large animated suit didn't appear to be something the dwarf would be surprised at, but Keystone could clearly see Tim's horror at the mention of the fight. The young man beamed newfound respect for the monk, as if Keystone had just slain a dragon in front of his eyes. The raven haired woman, who Keystone came to know as Saran, smiled at the story Keystone told and kept filling his plate until he declined. It was clear that the monk's story brought some welcome amusement to the house of Rocksteady.

As Keystone finished up, the dwarf reached over and patted him on the back with force enough to break the back of an average man, bellowing laughter and respect. "A few more years and we'll be hearin' bard tales of ye slaying dragons across the Realms!" He receded to his seat with Keystone's offered bottle of ale in his hands, inspecting it with the keen eyes of an experienced brewer. "Aye, this'll do."
Saran took the herbs Keystone offered, sniffed them and looked a bit confused as she looked back at the monk, smiling. "I don't know how your people use these herbs, so I'd need some time with you to learn the ways of your cooks, Keystone. Perhaps you could show me when you have time?" she teased with clear interest. Tim blushed with a fiery red as he finished, Avar only laughed harder than he had before. "Lass, ye'll be the death o' me one o' these days with yer appetite!" he said, turning to Keystone as the man continued.

Taking the brass knuckles and inspecting them, Avar grunted and bumbled something to himself. "Good work, these. Nothing me and me kin couldn't make, but good work!" He set the knuckles back on the table, shoving them towards Keystone as his forehead crinkled in deep thought. "A set 'o new knuckles should not take me much longer than a day, and ye'll get true dwarven quality! 'Course, won't be free, and yer scroll won't do. I have no use for it. If the Red Wizards saw it in yer hands and I'd show up to sell it, they'd be mighty suspicious, and I don't want trouble with the red robes if I can avoid it. Ye go sell it yerself and bring back the gold so we can talk."

The last thing the dwarf held in his hands was the sword and as he did, Keystone felt Kaylee's angry flare in his head as he did. The dwarf dropped the blade like it was scalding hot. With a loud clang the sword fell on the floor next to the table. Avar looked at his hands in confusion and a bit of horror, then back to Keystone with an angry look:
"What ye tryin to do boy, handing me such foul magic? Were I not a dwarf I'd have no hands right now, or worse!" he spouted in anger, looking back at the sword on the floor. "That be steel, but steel I ain't touching again. If ye want yer waffle maker, ye go an' get me some proper steel from a merchant I know." With a heavy grunt, the dwarf sat back down on his seat, grasped his empty mug from Keystone and filled it up with the ale the monk provided. When it was gone a gulp later, the dwarf looked at Keystone again, his anger dissipating slightly:
"Consider THAT payment fer painin' me so much." The mood in the room rapidly shifted, as both Saran and Tim now gazed upon the monk with confusion and fear, respectively.

In his mind, Keystone felt Kaylee's anger ebbing away as the dwarf dropped the blade, soon replaced with a sense of apology.
[i]You can't destroy the sword with me still here, Keystone. I would die. I don't want to die[/i], she pleaded with the voice of a child. [i]I need a new home before I can get rid of that awful prison.[/i].

Saran's confusion was briefly replaced with a suspicious glance, gone a moment later as the woman picked up the empty plates and vanished into the kitchen. Keystone's instincts told him Tim was slowly reaching for a dagger on his felt, the boy's face full of fear.