3. Dozer Mantleborne Correspondence

Dozer Mantleborne Correspondence


  • A solid shield dwarf, dressed casually in a worn set of half-plate, a thick metal wall of steel on his back and holding an impossibly sharp and gleaming dwarven waraxe, thumps into Spellweaver's Academy. He's been here a few times before. He makes his way to the front desk and asks for Alfred Tombigourd in a slow draawl. The front desk clerk, who is studying a tomb, looks up and slightly shakes his head, "Pardon?"

    " 'mornin. Needja tah fetch uh feller name o' Tombigourd? Alfreeed Tombigourd fer me, puhleeze sar? M'name's Dozer Mantlebourne. I 'spect he knows me, 'though I ain't got'n appoin'men."

    The clerk's brow furrows as he makes out the words. He opens his mouth... then shuts it. He makes some oddly shaped gestures with fingers and hands and says a few non-word words. His hands glow and vibrate slightly, like he's trying to pull something out of the air... and the air responds. His words, though clearly spoken, seem to get sucked into the air, as if the man was speaking into a tube, rather than in the open. A moment as he holds the position... there is a response from nothing... a few words, with a dwarven accent, "Down in a moment."

    The clerk halts his incantation, almost like scissors cutting the vibrations he started in the air. Like a conductor ending a 10 note symphony. He looks down to the dwarf waiting patiently, and says, "He'll be down in a moment." Without waiting for a response from the dwarf, he goes back to reading.
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    Dozer hums to himself a dwarven lament about a lost cask of ale and wanders the entryway, his bushy eyebrows dancing absently while looking at large scrolls of paper displayed on the wall with calligraphy in a language he can't understand. His lower lip juts out as he appreciates the shape of the runes made with almost splashed ink. It somehow reminds him of a Water Elemental named Drown Ed that his clan uses to pressure wash silt and gravel from their excavations.

    A slight dwarf with an unkempt beard, wearing sage's robes and tiny spectacles wanders over, his nose buried in a large tomb he's studying. He bumps into a column on his way to the front desk and apologizes to it absently. Once at the front desk, he mutters to himself... reading a section he doesn't understand out loud, but to himself, several times as he stand there... oblivious to his surrounding.

    He looks up and notices he's not where he thought he was. *"Err, uhh... yes? What am I... oh. Front desk." He looks at the clerk who, without looking up from his book points in Dozer's general direction. "Right." Alfred nods once and snaps his book shut, slightly annoyed. Sighs once, straightens his glasses and steps purposefully towards the much larger dwarf.
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    In a oddly crisp and almost lyrical cant on the rough dwarven language Alfred speaks quietly to Dozer, "Mantleborn. Same service, same recepient?"

    "Yeep, 'though I may need two. Been countin' n' I thin' I'm over th' limit."

    Dozer hands him rough parchment with even rougher inked dwarven runes on it; like the person that scribed it had hands used to carving those runes in stone, rather than moving a quill with ink over paper to make them.

    Alfred gingerly accepts it, reads it over to insure he understands it, points to one smeared rune and turns and shows it to Dozer who grunts and says, "Krah vart." The robed dwarf nods once and after a moment poses the question in dwarven. "You waiting here, or down at the Hold?"

    The almost boulder-like dwarf juts out his lower lip, wiggles his eyebrows and considers. He check a large leather aleskin slung around his shoulder and it makes a swishing, almost empty sound. He smiles widely enough that the expression escapes his thick beard and looks at Alfred as if that answers his question.

    Alfred nods and turns to go when Dozer says to his back in a rough, gutteral, accented dwarven, "Make sure t' burn eet when yeas dun, roight?" Alfred nods and continues on his way.

    Dozer watches him go. Juts out his lower lip, looks once more at the calligraphy on the wall and trundles out through the massive bound doors of the tower.
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    The accounting ledger of Alfred Tombigourd reads as follows:

    Quantity 2 ---- Spell: Sending --- From: Dozer Mantleborne ---- To: Grant Mantleborne ---- Descr: 50 words, original destroyed. Response 47 words returned to sender at Tuck-Me-Inn at the Dwarven Hold. Charge 106 gold 14 silver [97 gold: 1 gold/word, plus Spellweaver 10% overhead tax.]
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    Outgoing:
    Grant: Peltarch a bust. Powerful temple in city is corrupt n' tossed me in gaol. Fined heavily to geet sprung. Moving operation t'Norwick 'n th' south. Shouldn't affect profits. I already made contacts with the Hold there. Preetty lil' thang thar been ask'n 'bout you named Ruby Underhammer. Cousin Dozer
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    Incoming:
    Dozer: Gotcha, Peltarch busted. Rerouting shipments to Norwick to the south. Send more ale, pork n'hardtack. Opal wants ten more polar bear furs. Ma sends love n'says don't drink Norwick dry. How'th dwarf warts on yer pecker? HAR! Tell Ruby 2 months. Cousin Grant.