Admittedly the kobold wished he had brought his cat with him from his cart, yet Thel'dek was wary of bringing his little ball of fur into such a loud busy place right as they arrived to Swampmuck. Snowball would be safe in the cart as it was locked tight with plenty of toys for his most treasured pet that he loved second to gold.

In his loose cloak he walked towards the sound of shouting, consciously aware of the stares he was getting while he made his way towards the center of the chaos going on in the race to get ready for the burgeoning Spring Faire. He wasn't unfamiliar with the hushed words between people as he passed by, he was a kobold after all and new in town.

He ignored it though and overheard someone that said "...1000 gold..." which nearly gave Thel'dek a heart attack 'Gold...So much...Gold' in an instant he was running to the individual who threw out such an offer of gold for something, finally reaching the bold character who was a dwarf.

Thel'dek was hesitant to speak yet after a few moments of listening his attention drifted to thoughts of what he would do with such a large amount of gold. Thel'dek didn't hesitate however to sign the parchment albeit it did bother him when he had to use his blood to sign it.

"Sir," the kobold waved his hand trying to get the dwarf to look at him, while also stepping back slightly out of natural fear "We keep wands after using them?" Thel'dek spoke better Common than most of his kind yet the inflection and pattern in which he spoke seemed off to most.

In a quiet corner of Swampmuck, two men respectfully made their way around the graves that made up the town cemetery. One of them was a tall and impressively burly human with a black curly mustache and short black hair. His name was Bartholomew Strongheart and the man he was walking with was his adopted aasimar uncle, Gabriel Strongheart. Gabriel was average in height by the standard of his race, but standing next to Bartholomew and no one else made him look shorter than he truly was. He was clean shaven and had long white hair. And though he was reaching the time of his life that people knew as the middle age, he showed few notable signs of it.

Bartholomew and Gabriel eventually came to a stop on front of a grave surrounded by small offerings and bowed their heads respectfully to it before laying down offerings of their own. The name Horatio Strongheart was carved into the headstone, marking the final resting place of Bartholomew's father, Gabriel's adoptive brother, and the previous innkeeper of the Adamant Tankard. The two men stood there for some time. Even though it had been 5 years since the night Horatio died, many people who knew him, his family especially, still felt the pain of his loss. He had been a dear friend to everyone who lived in Swampmuck. And a loving father, husband, brother, and uncle to his family. Even if they were only family by adoption.

"I wonder what he'd say to us all if he were still around." Bartholomew finally broke the silence.

"He'd probably tell me that I need to come visit more often, as he always did when I came by for my yearly visit." Gabriel said. "I should probably consider taking that advice."

"Definitely." Bartholomew agreed. "We don't see you nearly as much as we'd like to. Should you ever find the time to visit us, we'll always have a place ready for you at the Tankard."

"Don't deny anyone else a room because you're keeping one for me though." Gabriel said. "I'd feel bad if I knew someone couldn't get a room because of me".

"Don't worry, I won't" Bartholomew promised.

"I think we've bothered Horatio enough for one day." Gabriel said. "Let's go."

"Indeed." Bartholomew said as they began making their way out of the cemetery. "I believe you'll be spending much of the day with my sister and cousin."

Bartholomew waited a good spell for a response from his uncle. But when he received no reply, he became a little confused. Bartholomew looked to his side to find that Gabriel was no longer there. Taking a moment to look around, Bartholomew found Gabriel had stopped dead in his tracks a few feet back. His eyes were fixed on a crowd gathered around a wizardly looking dwarf. As he joined his uncle, Bartholomew noticed some of the crowd signing some parchment provided by the dwarf... in blood. Bartholomew had heard enough of his uncle's adventuring stories to be concerned by this. "Trouble?" Bartholomew asked.

"Possibly." Gabriel answered. "It's hard to tell with wizards... Make sure the villagers don't hurt themselves. I'm going to look into this."

Bartholomew nodded before making his way over to the crowd just in time to hear the dwarf ask for questions. A quick whispered conversation was more than enough to get Bartholomew up to speed while Thel'dek asked his question. As the dwarf gave his answer, Bartholomew melded with the crowd, making sure to keep an eye out for any signs of trouble as he did.

Einkil had been busily unloading the crates from the wagons as the dwarf spoke. Being a friendly sort, as well as a fellow dwarf, he was more than happy to lend the older gentleman a hand. His had been the first name signed on the list, before the sum of payment had even been mentioned. Being less than sober, the idea of getting to test a bunch of magical wands-something he'd never done before-seemed like a good time in general. 'What harm,' he reasoned, 'when the man asking is a fellow dwarf? Surely he could be trusted to not put others at risk, especially with money involved.'

So it was that Einkil would use his large battle axe to pry open the lid while the dwarven wizard spoke, reaching in to snatch up a dozen or so of the wands for himself. With one wand in his left hand, and the others carried under his right arm like a bundle of twigs, he began to wave the short rod about above his head. When nothing obvious occurred, he turned to the wizard, pointing the wand at him.

"Say, cousin," he began, speaking in only slightly slurred dwarven. "How does one go about using these kinds of fancy magic tools? Thinking about it, actually, what exactly are we meant to use them on?" While Einkil was not entirely estranged to magic-the world was full of it, after all-his teachings on the matter essentially amounted to his parents warning him to steer clear of it; A fact that often crossed his mins when faced with similar predicaments, but which he was currently too intoxicated to recall.

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The crowd is stunned by what they have just seen but they will recover soon and act quickly.

You can roll perception to try to hear what the dwarf was saying or to see which wand is the one he dropped into the crate if you were close enough to see where it went. You can roll insight towards the dwarf or crowd to get more information about their state.

You can roll other abilities as well depending on what you'd like to do, I'm still gauging how much encouragement to give for this group, although I'm assuming we'll end up chugging along once we settle into the swing of things. If you're unsure, let me know OOC and I can give you more info :D

@Necroes Add 14 x Wands to your inventory unless Einkil drops them or puts them in the crates.

Bartholomew and Gabriel perked up as they came to the attention of the dwarf wizard. "I'll keep an eye on him from the side lines for now." Gabriel said quietly to Bartholomew. "You go speak to him. Keep the attention off of me."

Bartholomew nodded before making his way through the crowd, closing to speaking distance with the wizard. "I do hope you can forgive a small amount of trepidation on my part." Bartholomew said in a friendly tone of voice. "However, I've heard enough stories from my more adventurous kin to be wary of magic. Especially the kind that requires a signature in blood or reverses the user's age." Though others would have spoken that in a more suspicious or accusatory tone, Bartholomew maintained his usual jolly manner of speaking the whole time. He bore no hostility towards the dwarf, though he was a little concerned by what he was seeing.

Bartholomew turned towards Krusk as the half-orc blacksmith made his entrance with spear in hand. Bartholomew could feel the tension in the crowd already present increase considerably, as it tends to do when an armed and aggressive half-orc begins causing a ruckus. Deciding that this situation needed to be defused, Bartholomew made his way through the crowd and interposed himself between the wizard and Krusk. "Easy now, Krusk. There's no need for violence." Bartholomew said calmly. "If there is a problem, let's see if we can solve it without spears, yes? I'm sure nobody wants any harm done over what could simply be a misunderstanding."

@Kenshi

"Krusk, wait." Bartholomew said as he once more placed himself between the half-orc and the dwarf wizard. "I am aware that you don't make a habit of telling me how to do my job. But loathe as I am to not do the same, I can't just let you arrest this man simply because he seems a little shifty. As suspicious as he might appear, there is no actual proof that he's committed any crime against us. Please Krusk, calm yourself. Let's be reasonable about this."

Einkil had been right next to the once-old wizard as he spoke, and had done his best to listen carefully to ensure he knew what needed said to invoke the wands. Having held one in hand, felt the power in it, he was fairly certain he knew what it did, and how to make use of it. Saying he was eager to give it a go was something of an understatement, and with more than a dozen already in hand; He felt he had ammunition aplenty.

(Perception check to hear what the wizard said to activate the wand: 19)

When the wizard had reversed in age, though, that gave Einkil pause. As short of words at the moment as the crowd, he could only nod in reply when asked about his brews, something he would normally go on about at great length. While he tried to regain his composure, though, an orc approached the small group-himself, the wizard, and oddly enough a kobold-with his weapon drawn. A firm grip on the wand, Einkil had full intent to unleash its power on the perceived threat if things turned hostile.

(Ready Action: Fire the wand at Krusk if he makes a hostile action against a dwarf.)

Speaking low to the wizard, he addresses him in dwarven. "Do not worry much about the green skin. If he proves a problem, the swamp is filled with places to dump vermin. As it stands, kinsman, I believe you should tend to yourself. Your display seems to have cost you a bit of manhood. You look as young as a pup."

Einkil was about to speak to the orc, but Bartholomew got in the way. The tavern keeper was well known to Einkil, even when he wasn't sober, and trusted as a regular client. He seemed intent on peace, which suited Einkil's preference just fine, but with a kinsman, missing his golden years no less, and himself under the press of an orc given a seemingly self-appointed badge, he was not inclined to lower his guard. He would speak, though, this time in common.

"Aye, orc. Ye'd do bast teh listen teh Bartholomew. Put awey yer stick an stop posturin'. Ken ye nah see when ah man is no a man no more? Begger issues at han' then suckin'the shereff's cock." As always, his accent was thick and his drunkenness did no favors to clearing it. If he recognized the local blacksmith, he showed no signs of it. At this point, his emotions were fairly easy to read; A desire to protect his kinsman, and a lack of respect for law enforcement.

Looking around at the crowd, Einkil got the distinct impression things were about to turn ugly. That said, everyone was focused on the wands, and someone had already approached on behalf of the sheriff. It was a long shot, but he would rather take the risk and have the attempt fail than see himself and his friends in the line of fire.

"Look out!" He yelled into the crowd, his deep, dwarven voice carrying with ease, as he put on his best city accent. "Sheriff's comin', an he's got the brute squad wit' 'im! Everyone, cheese et!" As he hollers out, he turns to grab the wizard, doing his best to throw them both behind the crate in the hopes his lie causes panic.

(Deception check to lie to crowd:19)
(Athletics check to jump the crate:4)

Thel'dek yelps as the crowd of gathered peasants mobbed the poor dwarf and his cart of wands, everything about the situation spelt bad news. His reptilian instincts told him to flee very far and very fast, except Thel'dek hesitated as he watched the two dwarves; one clearly inebriated while the other was thrown against the cart and off balance, so instead he skittered over to the wealthy dwarf and righted him up.

"Dwarf need to run," Thel'dek told him as he struggled to help the dwarf stay on his feet "Come with us, for now you need place to stay!" the kobold said with urgency as his eyes darted towards the angry mob.

Seeing the unacceptable behavior of the people of Swampmuck, Bartholomew decided now was the time for action. After taking in a deep breath, Bartholomew called out loud enough to be heard over the din. "Your attention please!" Bartholomew called out. "Those of you who do not stop this nonsense immediately will receive a lifetime ban from the Tankard!" A lifetime ban from the Adamant Tankard was something dreaded throughout Swampmuck and was neither given nor taken lightly. The Tankard was the best tavern for miles in any direction, and whenever its keeper threatened a ban of any length, especially a lifetime ban, they meant it. And since Bartholomew knew everyone, those who were banned had no hope of slipping by him as just another face in the crowd. Needless to say, he saw hesitation on many faces in the mob after that.