Explosions and Slaying

Lower Markets, Morning

A light drizzle coats the streets, though not enough to make the populace hurry through the market anymore than a disgruntled annoyance at slowly being soaked. It doesn't help that the morning was still being shaken off for most, and that the stalls were trying to prop up their canvases to shield from the sudden sprinkle.

A teenager whines under an overloaded backpack on her back. "Dad, do you really need all this stuff?"

A middle aged man with a longsword strapped to his hip pays for two wrapped bundles at a stall selling alchemical goods. "Yes. Most of it gets strapped to me anyways."

"But like, I figured your back would be shot," she huffs, setting the bag down and wiping black hair off her freckled face.

"You know, I thought so too. I guess the healers had a good spot of luck the other night, perfect timing, as I'm leaving later today-" he shrugs.

"I thought it was because you're getting old."

"And with that, your noodle allowance has been revoked."

"Noooo...!"

A little drizzle never hurt anyone; annoyed, maybe, but never hurt. Still, it can't dampen all amusement. From behind (and slightly above) the pair comes a brief snicker at the complaint-observation-punishment process. Waiting her turn for the alchemist, Bryn follows the bemused sound with some ...advice. "The more you carry, the stronger you'll get. Probably need to eat more noodles, though..."

The teen looks up and behind, over for her to gesture broadly at Bryn. "See! They get it! I gotta get big and strong!"

The man, bemused, rolls his eyes and ruffles her hair. "I wasn't going to anyways. I don't know how long I'll be gone in Myrddion and I know full well you and your friend and going to need to hit the noodle stand constantly."

She beams. "Sweet-!"

"But you'll have to work at Ma and Da's shop if you spend it all."

The girl deflates. "Aww..."

He shakes his head, stepping out of the way in line for Bryn to be next. "Though, there is such a thing as carrying /too/ much," he muses aloud.

Bryn grins tuskily down at the girl. "Gotta take the bad with the good. Since it's usually there." She doesn't imagine that working is all that bad, but is going of the girl's reaction. "Yeah, there's too much, too," gets added with a nod to Warrick before she steps up to look over the wares.

And then set looks some more. Bushy brows furrow. More looking. "What in here is good and for what?" This is asked towards Warrick rather than the stallkeeper (who probably thinks that all of it is good).

"Yeah yeah..." the teen sighs, opening the bag up and rifling through to get things somewhat sorted in there.

Warrick's attention is drawn back towards the stall. "Well, I come here rather often. Really depends on what you're needing. I do some jobs for the Explorer's Guild, and some of the things here are good for different things."

He points to a brown pouch the size of a fist. "Tanglefoot bags can get things sticky and slow them down. Really good for things that use magic." His finger drifts to a stone the size of a marble, then to a wrapped package. "Thunderstones and flashpowders are good for disrupting groups. The stone makes a loud bang when it hits the ground, and the powder, well, flashes, blinds things. Also thunderstones make a good signal," he explains.

The teen pulls out a half eaten snack bar, shrugs, and scarfs it down while continuing to sort.

Bryn nods her head again when he mentions the guild. "So they -do- offer out jobs. Good." This is mostly noted to herself as she follows along with his pointing and descriptions. "No idea what I need, but better to have it when I figure that out..." It is fairly clear she's making some mental notes. Maybe math, given that she pulls a small sack from her belt, pulls out some coin from it, and starts counting.

Warrick seems to straighten up a little bit at hearing that, him giving the much taller woman a once over in assessment. "I'd suggest one or two healing potions," he gestures to some small tinctures, with a red liquid within. "They're expensive, yes, but they're cheaper than dying."

He shifts on his feet. "I don't mean to pry, but, how experienced are you with the kinds of jobs they offer?" The man himself seems like he's been through a few scrapes: a fresh scar over an eye and an older set that claws down his left arm.

That gets a bushy brow (or two) to perk up before Bryn glances at the vials and back. "Yeah. Not dying is high on my list of things to do." A shrug follows. "Don't know what kinds of jobs they offer, other than what posted yesterday. Have to see if what they write and what happens are the same or not. Need the coin either way."

That gets a bark of a laugh to escape him. "Hah! No, they never really match up. It almost always ends up being something completely unprepared for. Which is why I'm getting ready for whatever, as I have no clue what this Myrrish posting is about. Never been there, though my parents are from there. Figured picking it up will be a good experience."

"And I get the house to myself," the teen grins.

"And it better be just as clean as it was when I get back."

There's some loud clanking coming from the bag. "Huh? What? I can't hear youuu!"

"Great..." Bryn doesn't look -that- annoyed at the news, though, and the part about Myrrish gets her brows up again. "You, too?" That seems to clinch her thoughts on her order, so she turns to the keep briefly. "Couple of those red ones," she points, " and whatever else he got," a thumb back at Warrick.

That done, she steps aside nearer the pair for anyone else in line.

"There. Now we'll both be prepared, or not. However it turns out." There is only the briefest pause before she continues, "You know she's going to be doing all sorts of her own thing when you're gone, right?"

Again, Warrick perks, brows shooting up. "Oh. Well then. Warrick Retzner, former Alexandrian Watch," he holds a hand out towards the oruch. "Pleased to meet you."

He opens his mouth, but his daughter beats him to it. "Heck yeah I am. Me and Lomi are gonna do soooo much!"

The father chuckles to himself. "Used to it. My old job had me out quite a lot. Cynthia is capable." He looks down at his daughter. "Just keep your nose clean."

She makes louder sorting noises.

Bryn reaches out for the hand, or rather the arm, her own hand clasping at his forearm. "Brynhildragar. Bryn to those I like." A look to the sorter. "Good meetin you, too, Cynthia. You must know your stuff, or your friends do; gettin into trouble, or out of it. Either way's better with friends."

Warrick is quick to adjust, clasping her forearm in kind. "Brynhildragar," he echoes. "Looking forward to working with you."

"I- uh- never get into trouble, nope. Not me," Cynthia weakly smiles, rising to her feet and lifting the backpack. "But yes it's very fun with friends." She side eyes her father, him giving her a raised brow before Cynthia looks back to Bryn. "I know enough to get around. Spend a lot of time in Goblintown and you learn /real/ quick."

Bryn gives Warrick's arm a firm squeeze and releases. "Call me Bryn. Same. Maybe we can stay out of trouble," she grins tuskily and looks to Cynthia, "as good as you do." Brows lift in curiosity again. "Goblintown? Heard talk of it, ain't been there yet. This place has alot of ... places to be."

Warrick returns the squeeze before pulling way. "Bryn then. I hope so as well, but experience tells me it'll be anything but."

Cynthia grins. "Yeah! If you take that road,-" she points, "-you'll get to the Trades. First main road there, take a right! Keep going until the buildings get smaller! And you'll /know/ when you've hit Goblintown. Fun place!"

"Her best friend lives there, and our house straddles Goblintown," Warrick adds on. "Yes. There is a lot of places to be here. Part of the reason why I like it. If you're new here, though, probably that place, Fernwood Pub-," he points across the block to a building, "-food and a place to rest."

"Lookin forward to it," Bryn admits to Warrick. "Trouble just makes it more exciting." She turns to follow Cynthia's pointing with her eye and make note of the directions, then pivots to follow Warrick's. "Not been there, neither. Looked too fancy for me or my purse. After we get back, though... That's reason to celebrate, eh?"

Warrick nods once. "Good reason, yeah. I don't really celebrate too hard these days, but that'd be a nice change of pace. But hopefully it's not /too/ exciting."

"What he means to say is 'Yes Bryn! I love all the fun explosions and monster slaying!'" Cynthia quips gleefully.

The dad simply sighs. "Anyways. It's nice to meet who I'm working with before hand. I've got to get a few more things and pick up some bolts for my crossbow."

Cynthia's quip sparks a sudden laugh from Bryn; one that is deep, loud, and maybe lasts longer than it needs to. It might even earn Warrick a hearty slap on the shoulderblade as she gleefully confides to Cynthia, "I love the slaying, too. Explosions ain't bad, neither!" After she regains her breath, she straightens and nods to Warrick. "Get ready for everything you can think of, then find if you thought of enough?"

Cynthia can't help but join in the laughing, and Warrick even cracks a smile as he's smacked on the shoulder (and jostled a little). "Well, it does feel nice to keep people safe," Warrick says, picking up the heavy backpack from Cynthia. He rifles around in it, pulling out a blackened armet helmet "Something like that. Better to have tools to adapt than tools to plan. Anywho, I'll see you on the ride over, Bryn."

He plops the helmet right onto Cynthia's head, which her laughter turns into an echoed and muffled, "Hey!"

Warrick chuckles, slinging the bag over a shoulder. "Cinny, we've got to stop by the Captain's."

She perks, then takes off running down the road pointed out before. "I'm gonna swing the test swords before you!" her voice echoes and fades away in the helmet.

He shrugs. "Later," he nods towards Bryn before lazily following after his daughter.

-End Scene-