Stone Carving
Tenebrae - Sunday, January 05, 2014, 9:50 AM
Munch trudges through the plaza. Behind him is a collection of boards, nails, and wheels, that one might generously call a wagon. This hunk of junk is piled high with yet more junk; scraps of wood, bits of bent metal, some rags, strings, and assorted trash no one has been able to find any further use for.
What is it with people and wagons? Certainly they're a common enough sight in Goblintown and the Khazad quarter, but the temple district?
Well, it's not as if Fazahd can complain, for he has a wagon as well this time around - this one loaded with large stone slabs, each one roughend, unpolished marble, and parked out front of the temple of Daeus. The Daeusites in residence look somewhat surprised at the presence of the young man and his wagon, for as he climbs down from the driver's seat he is very clearly in the garb of the follower of Father Reos.
"...hail to you, brother," one of the older priests say as they emerge from the temple to meet him. "What can I do for you?"
"I've come to help," the young man says simply in a voice as plain and grim as the unpolished stone he brings with him. "I lend my aid to repair the house of the Brilliant One."
Munch just so happens to be aimed for the Temple of True Metal himself. One wagon for supplies comming, another for those departed. The artifical man's greeting is somewhat less formal. "Sup? Ya got trash ya want rid of?"
Well, you know how priests are. All pomp and ceremony. Mind you, as surprised as the Daeusite is to see a priest of Reos here, the BIG MECHANICAL LIZARDMAN gives him greater pause. "...we are pleased to accept the help of others," he begins after a few moments, handling the sight with the apolomb of someone who's on bro-terms with a major god. "I...will you deliver the stone to the yard, brother? And you, my...son...there is a great deal of damaged stone littering the yard as well as you can see. Please feel free to collect it if you desire."
"Quite," says Fazahd, who sizes you up with a sidelong gaze. "If it pleases you," he tells the two of you, "I am Fazahd Masterbuilder, son of Burhurd, disciple of Great Reos of the Forge."
Munch mmms non-comittally, more than slightly used to being stared at. Is a fairly good chance the golem considers it normal social interaction. He's stareing a bit at Fazahd himself. Though maybe that's because he can't- oh, no, there's a blink. Metal lids close for a moment over magicite eyes with a soft click. "....rocks look heavy. Ya want a hand lifting them off?"
Azog has arrived.
The Daeusite gives them both a smile before stepping back to monitor, hands tucked behind his back.
There are two wagons parked out front of the temple of Daeus, one loaded with scrap and one with slabs of unpolished marble. Fazahd stands with Munch near the entrance to the temple, where one of the Daeusite priests is just done receiving them. Fazahd turns fully to Munch now, and with a nod offers the golem his arm in greeting. "That would be most helpful," he says, "Thank you. I am Fazahd Masterbuilder, son of Burhud, priest of Great Reos." He just said it a moment ago, mind you, but that was to the priest. It'd be rude not to introduce himself all over again, right?
Munch eyes the hand a moment. Most people try to avoid touching him. Or making eye contact. But some are more hardy folk. Munch returns the offered handshake with the sort of grip you'd expect from one with metal bones; firm, quick, and practical. "Munch TerrorMaw, the Golem Who Eats. Take it yer new to the city?" His accent is distinct, but more than slightly difficult to place. Though with golems, weird speach patterns are hardly a susprise.
Azog has just left the Temple of Angoron and is headed up the street, noting the fellow he met the other day out in front with Munch and catching the tail end of the introduction. "You can't eat him," he shouts out to the golem. Perhaps this is humor? Azog's never been good at that. "Azog, of the Lightning Maul tribe," he introduces himself to Fazahd, "We did not get much chance to talk yesterday." He nods at what Munch says, and adds, "Welcome to Alexandria, it is an interesting city."
It is with a perhaps surprising lack of trepidation that Fazahd gives Munch's arm a firm shake in return. "I am pleased to meet you," he tells the construct. "Shall we...ah!" And there's Azog. Fazahd releases Munch's arm and gives Azog a nod, which though his expression remains stern passes as friendly well enough. "Brother Azog, good day to you. If you are contributing your strength today, it would be well appreciated."
Munch looks to Azog, to Fazahd, and back again. "Could so. Shouldn't. Probably wouldn't last long after if I did. But could. Still, won't, I've already got dinner set. You wanna give a hand?" He nods towards the slabs of stone.
Azog nods to Fazahd, and replies, "My strength is always available in a good cause!" He ignores the wind that whips his cloak and asks, "How may I aid you?" He gives Munch a puzzled look, but then works out enough to nod. "I will assist, yes."
"I have brought marble to repair the temple," Fazahd offers by way of explanation as he moves toward the back of the wagon; the young priest begins rolling up the sleeves of his robe, tucking them back with snaps expertly hidden beneath each. "If you two gentlemen will please unload the stone and arrange them in stacks of six each, placed in a row...there," he pauses to point to an open spot of the temple yard. "Then I will be able to get my tools together and prepare a workspace much more easily."
Munch hesitates a moment, until he realizes he's being included in 'gentlemen'. He's still slightly hesitant in lifting the stones; not for the weight, the golem is obviously quite strong, but he also has metal claws. Some care is given not to scratch the stone in places it isn't ment to be scratched. "You a stone worker, I take it?"
Azog nods gravely to Fazahd and removes his gauntlets, leaving leather gloves underneath. He moves to assist Munch with the marble, placing it as Fazahd asks, in the stacks and rows. "It is unfortunate that you missed the battles," he tells the man sympathetically. "But there will be more soon. The children of the firstborn, whatever they may be, will soon come to test us."
Fazahd nods as he clambers up on the wagon, walking over the slabs to a large wooden box mounted behind the driver's seat. "No son of Khazad Duin lives without learning a trade," he says. "I am a stonemason, engineer and smith by trade, and more recently a student of artifice." The young priest pauses to squint at Azog. "And no stranger to battle." Opening up the box, he begins to collect several rolls of very finely-wrought leather. Workman's tools clank inside. "Brother Munch. You consume scrap, I believe?"
Aurala has connected.
There are two wagons out front of the Temple of Daeus, one loaded with scrap and the other loaded with slabs of rough, unpolished marble. Whilst a priest of Daeus looks on from the entrance to the damaged temple, Fazahd, Azog and Munch cluster around the wagon full of stone.
Fazahd nods as he clambers up on the wagon, walking over the slabs to a large wooden box mounted behind the driver's seat. "No son of Khazad Duin lives without learning a trade," he says. "I am a stonemason, engineer and smith by trade, and more recently a student of artifice." The young priest pauses to squint at Azog. "And no stranger to battle." Opening up the box, he begins to collect several rolls of very finely-wrought leather. Workman's tools clank inside. "Brother Munch. You consume scrap, I believe?"
Munch peers at Fazahd a moment. "Best I know, only relitives I got are snakes the size of houses. But yeah, anything softer than my teeth, slower than my feet, and unlikely to get me lynched. It's that last bit that really starts to narrow the list down."
Elycia has arrived.
Azog gives Fazahd an approving nod at not being a stranger to battle. "Excellent. You will find that a-plenty here." He looks askance at Fazahd claiming to be a son of Khazad Duin. "You ... seem tall for a dwarf," he says, in what /for him/ is a diplomatic manner. He nods gravely at Munch's comment about his diet. He explains to Fazahd, "He doesn't understand why not to eat people, but he understands that people object to it."
Aurala makes her way down the steps from the temple of Angoron. She is humming to herself and obviously had been attending to something in the temple. The massive woman has her earthbreaker over one shoulder and is humming a bit to herself.
There are two wagons out front of the Temple of Daeus, one loaded with scrap and the other loaded with slabs of rough, unpolished marble. Whilst a priest of Daeus looks on from the entrance to the damaged temple, Fazahd, Azog and Munch cluster around the wagon full of stone.
"That must earn you a great deal of unwarranted distrust," Fazahd says to Munch. He hangs the rolls from his wide girdle as he next moves to one side of the wagon, where what is revealed to be a collapsible table is pulled from between the stone and the wall of the wagon's bed. To his credit, Fazahd seems to have little trouble with it; he's a strong lad on his own.
Azog's query is handled with a grunt as he dumps the table off the side of the wagon and into the grass. "Obviously I was not -born- a son of Khazad Duin," he replies. "But I was reforged as one." Fazahd leaps off the side of the wagon and onto the table. "Not all sons need be born stonekin."
Munch blinks at Azog. "No, I get that unnessasary suffering is wrong. What I don't get is once you chop them up, meat is meat. It all tastes pretty much the same." He blinks at Fazahd again. "....no, it's pretty much warranted. Anyway, how does an organic like you get reforged?" The metal man likely takes a rather literal interperation of the term.
Elycia walks her way into the temple district and tilts her head at the small gathering....and the wagons. "Strange that you need scrap in this area. Trying to repair more of the temples?" She says as she waves to Azog, probably one of the only people she knows here.....
Aurala looks around as well and then moves over and watches what they are doing outside the temple of Daeus.
Azog nods approvingly at Fazahd not being born a dwarf. "All the better for that," he says. He nods at what Munch says. "That is exactly it. Once you chop them up, meat is /not/ meat. Our Forge will tell you, that a deer may be pulped to meat, and eaten. But a person pulped to meat, while unrecognizable to you, perhaps, will is still a person in the eyes of the Great Smith, and may be brought back to life as a person if the right prayers are given." He offers a shout of greeting to Aurala as she watches what's going on. "Come join us, show your strength!" He is helping to lift large slabs of marble from a wagon and setting them in stacks.
"One is reforged by being accepted into a family," Fazahd replies. He drags the table a short way before flipping it over, pulling down hinged iron legs into place and righting it again. "Those who birthed me were killed when I was a child, you see. My father adopted me into his clan. Thus was I reforged, in the way Haghud was when found by Unas and Jezer in the mines of Azag-Mar." He gestures to the stone and then to a spot near the table. "Please, set them up as I asked right over here."
And then there's a very large woman arriving. Fazahd says nothing more for the moment, unrolling the tools upon the table. Elegant tools of burnished steel with tips of different materials gleam in the pockets of each roll, expensive and masterfully wrought. Well, you know. Dwarves.
Aurala nods and moves over. She cocks her head to the side a little, "Just moving the stone?" she asks as she looks around for a moment and then does move to help lift.
Munch ehs. "-I- can tell meat from meat; organics have too short of tongues. And anybody I chop up you don't want comming back. Pretty sure a god could bring a deer back if he wanted, though never cared to ask." He nods greetings to Elycia and Aurala, a bit of his attention shifting to the quality tools. He may be uncivilized, but as something built, has a eye for fine craftmanship.
Azog offers a nod to Elycia, and bids her, "Good day. Yes, we are repairing. Or rather he," the oruch gestures towards Fazahd, "is repairing. We are lifting slabs of rock." He nods to Aurala, "Just moving for now, as he says, I do not know if there is more after." He lifts, and places it where it's supposed to go. To Munch, he says, "That is the point. If a deer is brought back, it is a deer. If a person is brought back, it is a person. So, even if you pulp them into ... nutrients, you have eaten what, to Feiu of the Tears," he uses the Oruch name for Vardama, "is a person. At that is a sacriledge."
"Good day," Fazahd offers to Elycia once his tools are laid out; he gives the massive maiden a short bow before gesturing to the grassy area near the table once again. "I thank you for your assistance, mistress. If you will please help these two gentlemen arrange the stone slabs in a single row, six slabs to a stack, I would be very grateful." He next draws a square of thick leather from his belt pouches, which he then unfolds and smooths upon the table. Burned into it, as if with a hot iron or some other tool, is a carefully prepared and very precise series of diagrams. Most involve the temple, but some involve shapes of bricks and whatnot.
Aurala starts to hum a bit as she helps to move the slabs and put them how they are supposed to go.
Munch ehs again. "Sometimes people come back as deer. Or cats. Or birds. Or different sorts of people. Figure a deer could come back as a person. The Earth Mother doesn't seem to give a damn." Druids and their reincarnations; they screw everything up.
Elycia tilts her head a bit and chuckles. 'I fear I can't help you as well as you think I could. I'm not that strong." She says softly before looking at the rest of them. However, she does smile at Munch. "That is the earth mother for you. She looks at you in your previous life and gives you a fitting reincarnation. Say you were a bully in a previous life, reincarnate you as a deer."
Fazahd gives Elycia a narrow look. "Beauty must sweat as well," he states flatly, "In order it is to improve. If you wish to assist, you may come and help me with my tools." Given that Aurala's the only one carrying slabs at the moment, he goes to collect one from her first stack - grunting with exertion, the priest nonetheless sloughs the slab over to another spot near his table and drops it on the grass with a loud thump.
Azog hrmphs. "The Earth Mother may not care, but Feiu does." Driuds and their reincarnations, confusing the issue. To Elycia, he says, "I am attempting to explain why it is acceptable to eat the remains of a deer, but not acceptable to eat the remains of a person." Because he was taught that eating people is evil, but doesn't really have the background knowledge to explain /why/ in terms of cosmology. But he's apparently not carrying as fast as would please some people, so he shuts up and stacks!
Munch shrugs, and resumes carrying. It's not that he has any sort of aversion to hard work, a bit of the opposite. But he does have a rather limited attention span. "For the ones making the rules about such things, the gods seem to disagree a lot." Might be why the artifical man is a bit irreligious.
Aurala cocks her head to the side a bit and then smiles a bit, "Glad to be helping." she says softly and then then keeps moving slabs, humming a bit and watching some of the others, eyes on Azog a bit.
Elycia says, "Aren't they supposed to?" She says with a good little bit of mirth, but she contents herself to watching Azog and the rest stack the stone slabs..."
Fazahd gets out a plumb and grease pencil and, with the help of a straight edge and square begins to mark out straight lines on his slab. "Reos teaches that the divine spark of the mountain which fills every intelligent being is what differentiates them from animals," he says as he works. "Some of that is lost when the flesh is consumed, which damages the great masterwork of the universe. The spark of animals, being simpler, does not degrade - this does not mean, of course, that the animal is less worthy of respect or attention. Merely that it can be consumed without risk."
Azog shakes his head to Munch. "I think the only ones who disagree and think eating people is all right are The Dragon of Death," the name he doesn't use is Thul, "and his ilk. I simply lack the words in Tradespeak to explain more clearly." He looks to Fazahd and nods, "Yes, words like that, that explain why its wrong to eat people, even after they're dead." He watches Aurala and Elycia, but they seem too smart to join this debate.
Munch ponders a few moments. "Upon death, the 'spark' leaves the body. To go where depends upon the spark. The flesh left behind was just the box that held it. Breaking a box doesn't damage the tools that used to be inside it." The golem might be simple, but he really isn't dumb, though even when he starts to use big words some might miss it.
Aurala has disconnected.
"The spark departs, but those energies which bound it still remain - these must be released through the cremation or burial of the body, so that it dissolves and releases this energy in a prescribed way." Fazahd, now done with marking the stone, crosses to break out a new device from the box on the wagon. It's a strange thing, a brass tank with a long nozzle attached to one end, a hopper on the other, and a handle with a trigger mounted on one side. "This is the same energy which is exploited when one creates the undead, you see."
Azog disagrees, if not so eloquently as Fazahd. He didn't know all that stuff. All he can say is, "A person and their soul is not a box and tools. If you break a box, tools that were once inside it may not be damaged, but if you strike down a man, his mother will still cry, even though he's not inside her. That is the difference between living things and nonliving things. Even a golem's creator will be saddened at the destruction of his creation."
Cesran has arrived.
Munch ponders a few moments and nods. "Mothers kill their sons sometimes, but that is an exception, rather than a rule."
Fazahd grunts at that. "Wickedness is in the heart of every intelligent creature," he says. "The mark of goodness is the transcend that base nature and to become better, like coarse iron that is smelted into steel." Two wagons - one loaded with marble slabs, the other loaded with scrap - are parked out front of the temple of Daeus. Azog and Munch are offloading stone into stacks from the one wagon, whilst Fazahd is apparently working to mark the stone for cutting. He has a device in his hands, something along the lines of a tank with a nozzle on one end and a pistol grip; he unscrews the lid from the back end, and rests his hand atop it. Green mist coalesces there, and something liquid splashes into the tank. An acrid, chemical smell follows.
Azog nods to Munch. "And generally they will still cry at having to do so, even if the son is evil. Possibly not if the mother is evil." He's still carrying and stacking, grunting with effort and working up a sweat on this windy morning with the driving snow.
Munch mmms, focusing on stacking stones a few moments. "If both son and mother are evil, I'm not sure if they kill each other or not." He pauses a few moment, eyeing the tank-ish device.
Cesran comes slowly walking out of the Temple of Serriel where he spent another sleepless night. He makes his way down the steps of the temple slowly and he sighs softly. His staff is for once quiet.
Fazahd busies himself next with selecting a chisel from his tool rolls, a long steel instrument with some kind of glittering crystal encrusting its tip. He puts the tank on the nearby table and draws a warhammer from his hip, which the author previously forgot to add because he's dumb, a gleaming steel affair of obvious and exquisite worksmanship. He proceeds to then use this as a mason's mallet, driving the chisel to bite channels along the lines that he had drawn upon the slab. The bright sound of impact sounds as he begins to work, bits of stone spalling away as the crystalline tip chews through the marble as if it were but wood.
Elycia cricks her neck quietly as she steadfastly refuses to get into a debate, whichever one there is. She smiles a little at the warhammer and shrugs.
Azog stacks more slabs. This is what he does for now, offering Munch a sort of shrug because it's up to him to work it out for now.
Once the channels are cut, Fazahd puts the hammer back through its ring on his side and goes to collect the tank device. "Mistress," he says suddenly, diverting his course to Elycia, "I apologize. I did not introduce myself, and made an assumption as to your purpose here. I am Fazahd Masterbuilder, son of Burhud, late of Ironhold. It is my honor to serve Father Reos as his hand."
Munch pauses again in the lifting, distracted by the working. Specifically in the tools being used. Hammers are neat and all, but little tank things are giving the violent barbarian ideas.
Elycia smiles a bit to Fazahd. "Elycia Windrunner, a humble servant of Dana. I'm also sorry that I cannot help better, but.....I fear my 'help' would only delay your building attempts."
Cesran yawns deeply as he gets to the bottom of the steps and he leans against his staff. He looks to see who is about and he nods to Azog, Much and Elycia whom he knows. The wizard is moving at a very slow very tired place.
Azog offers Cesran a nod as he continues to stack slabs, though it seems like it's just him doing so now. Hopefully it's close to done, though. He does not fail or flag.
"Your presence alone shall serve as moral support, I am sure." He isn't smiling when he says it, which tends to send mixed signals. Nevertheless, Fazahd offers the lady a salute in the form of a gloved fist pressed against his breast, and then returns to his work.
With the deep channels cut with his chisel, Fazahd collects the tank and proceeds to take the device by its grip and passes the nozzle along each one. He squeezes the trigger rhythmically as he does so, and a greenish fluid pumps out of the nozzle into the cut channels; a great hissing sound, like hot metal tossed into a quenching barrel, rises along with a thin, grayish-silver vapor.
Munch is curious. This seldom ends well. The golem moves towards the cut slabs, still with enough presence of mind to not bump anything. But he does take a big inhale of the riseing vapor, a long black tongue flicking between metal jaws as if to 'taste' the chemicals.
Elycia smiles a bit. "heh. Moral support. I like that." She says quietly before watching over the creation of things. "At least you don't need help starting up the welding process....."
Cesran moves towards the others to see what they are doing and he has deep dark circles under his eyes. He leans heavily against his staff, "Ah finally fixing the temples?"
Azog winds up stacking more of the slabs from this load, but finally stops and says to Fazahd, "I must depart now, I have other tasks. But honor to you for your work here, and be well." So saying, he goes upon his way.
Azog has disconnected.
Munch doesn't seem too bothered by inhaleing toxic fumes from melting stone. That should likely worry someone. "You use acid for a specific reason, or just no access to adamantine?" Glancing to Cesran, he shrugs. "Been fixing since the first day. Clean up is part of fixing, right?"
"Yes," calls Fazahd, who does not look up from the stone just yet; once the chemical sizzling settles down, he unlimbers his warhammer and proceeds to strike the unwanted marble. Amazingly, the sections shear off without a hint of resistance - the marble section that remains is not only cleanly cut but its sides have been polished as smooth as glass. The young man makes a grunt of satisfaction and looks up, only to pause as he sees Cesran there. "Are you quite all right, sir? Do you need a healer?"
Fazahd adds as an aside to Munch, while marching across the grass to Cesran, "The acid helps."
Cesran shakes his head, "No I'm not all right I haven't been able to sleep in 4 days now is it...maybe 5 days not since the new year." He yawns again, "I've tired everything I know and I thought to come here to get some divine help."
Munch eyes Cesran with idle intrest. "I could knock you out, if you like?"
Elycia facepalms at Munch. 'I don't think he wants that, Munch." She says before looking to Fazahd.
Fazahd makes a soft clucking sound as he steps up to Cesran, pulling off his work gloves and taking Cesran's head in his bare hands. "Sleeplessness," he says, squinting into Cesran's eyes unless batted off. "And since the new year. Have you come into possession of an item of late? Something from an estate sale or the like?"
Cesran smiles wryly at Munch, "Thank you, but no I doubt that would offer me the restful sleep that my body is in dire need of." He hmms, 'Why yes I have. An old writing quill that never runs out of ink, very useful, why do you ask? Have you seen something like with with the other items from that sale?"
Munch shrugs mildly. "Maybe. But maybe would be the jump-stop you need. I'm pretty sure I can avoid lasting damage."
"Quite." Fazahd takes Cesran's hands, each in turn - ensuring he can keep hold of his staff, of course - and examines them carefully. "You are a wizard," he asks. "Have you been writing a great deal since then? Have you felt yourself drawn to using the quill rather than anything else?" He gives Munch a bit of a *look*. "An idea, certainly I doubt that it would help. I'm of the opinion that the bearers of these objects have been cursed."
Findrago has arrived.
Elycia raises her eyebrows at Cesran and quietly watches him. She doesn't say anything, but she DOES note that Fazahd has a point.
Cesran hmms, "So you've examined the others that have these items...what about Tatyannah she has two of them?" He asks worried and he nods, "Yes of course I've been using it why wouldn't I? I've been saving a lot not having to buy ink." He frowns, "Cursed you think?"
Findrago trudges in, his cloak wrapped tightly around his body. His gait is somewhat unsteady, and he weakly makes hsi way through the square toward the Temple of Tarien.
There are two wagons out front of the temple of Daeus, and it appears that people are busy helping rebuild. One wagon's loaded with scrap, the other slabs of stone - or much less loaded, for the majority of the marble slabs have been stacked six high in a row near a collapsible table that's been setup on the temple lawn. One of the slabs have been newly cut into a polished section.
Meanwhile, Cesran is being examined by Fazahd, while Elycia and Munch look on. "I know another who has been playing a musical instrument that continues to give him terrible pains in his ears. A curse seems the most likely scenario at this point. Will you give me the names of all of those whom you know have possession of these items?"
Munch frowns, and shrugs. "Hitting things tends to solve most of my problems. Eventually. Find the one who did the curse and hit him until they stop." Barbarians tends to take a straightforeward view of life. Straight towards violence, usually.
Findrago stops his trek through the square as he notices Fazahd a litle ways off. He raises a hand in a motion of greeting, and is subsequently nearly bowled over by a snowball from one of the usual pack of revelers in front of Tarien's temple. "Well met!" he calls, keeping a wary eye on the thrower.
Cesran nods, "I would agree Munch, but I don't think that this will be solved by force." He sets his staff aside on a bench and he hmms as he takes off his backpack. He sways a little bit back and forth as he searches and he pulls out the quill.
Munch blinks slowly at Cesran. Problems... -not-... solved by force. This isn't the first time the golem has encountered the concept, but it's still a bit forgin to him.
Aurala has connected.
Beep boop nonviolence not compute. Fazahd squints at the quill. "Keep this with you for the moment," he says, not reaching out for the device. He hears a familiar voice, then, and looks to see Findrago calling out - and he does so as well. "Findrago, hail," he bellows, "Come here, brother."
Elycia smiles to Fazahd and lets him examine Cesran. In the meantime, she makes her wayout of the temple district for the time being.....
Elycia has left.
Findrago makes his way over to Fazahd, ducking another snowball for good measure. "Good to see you again, my friend," he says, his voice weary. "Anything exciting happen when I wasn't looking?" he adds, with a tired grin.
Munch watches for a few moments and shrugs. Problems that don't need violence are beyond his expertise.
"I've found another who has your problem," Fazahd calls to Findrago, gesturing him to come over. "This man purchased a quill from the estate sale, and it denies him sleep. All he can do is use the quill - much as you have your troubles. The case for a curse seems evident."
Cesran nods to Findrago, "Hello Findrago it's good to see you again. Having troubles yourself?" He asks as he is leaning against his staff again, looking tired like he's been up for a week.
Munch hrmms, and waves vaugely, heading back to his wagon of scrap. "Estate sale. Someone died, kids sold their stuff. They weren't ready to let go. Find the ghost, rip it to pieces, bury them in salt. Easy. Anyway, I need to go. Let me know if you need any help ripping the ghost to pieces." Grabbing hold of the wagon's lead, the golem starts off, supposedly to dispose of all that scarp somewhere... all things considered, best be out of sight.