Belin

Before you is what could only be a dwarf. Standing about four and a half feet
tall, he is of average height for his race. The dwarf has shoulder length hair
of a dark, brown shade that can only be distinguished from black at a close
look. His beard is the same shade as his hair and he wears it in many small
braids that hang down to his waist, which are tucked into his belt. His eyes
are a light brown color, which matches his tanned skin well. His clothing can
only be described as simple and functional. The majority of his head is covered
by a simple, but effective metal helm. Upon his torso is worn a shirt of chain
mail over a long sleeve shirt. His pants are black and appear to be just tight
enough not to hinder his movements, but not skin tight. The cuffs of his pants
are tucked into a pair of worn, but well polished and cleaned boots that come
up to his mid-calf, one of which appears to have a simple dagger tucked into
the top. The dwarf wears around his waist a nicely made leather belt that has a
leather strap attached to it which holds his battle axe in place on his back.
Over all of his clothing is worn a dark green cloak of fine quality, it bears a
pair of brooches, one, that looks to be made of steel, displays a pair of cross
battle axes with red hafts; the other shows the crest of the Clan Budazanul and
also it shows the wearer to be a Huskarl of the Bundazanul Clan.
 
Jorin

	Before you is the most eloquent looking dwarf. At about 4 feet and 2
inches of height this Khazad shifts occasionally and his chest heaves uneasily
after the simplest gesture. Actually he looks almost shy the way his deep brown
eyes shift about observing the most minute of details. However, any one who
truly knows him can testify that he is in fact the complete opposite,
especially in business.
	Draping over his broad shoulders is a long flowing green cloak,
fastened together at his breast by a sizeable jeweled emblem. His
hood is pulled back and rests lightly down his back, coming nearly to his
waist. His short hair is perfectly set, blowing on occasion from the
surrounding air circulation. From his chin hangs a magnificently maintained
brown beard which is braided into many ends and held fast in his belt by gem
studded ties.
	Jewelry shines abundantly on Jorin pleading for attention. You can see
a glimpse of gold and diamonds shining out from necklaces beneath his beard.
Also proudly worn are large jeweled rings on his fingers, all of them. Many of
these rings bear the symbol of his clan, Bundazanul, as does the brooch
clasping his cloak. Sticking out from its poor concealment under the cloak is
the very bottom of the haft of Jorin's battle_axe, also gem studded.
	More than likely as you now peer at him Jorin is puffing on his perfect
pipe, handed down for generations of his family. This pipe is his
prize possession, though he often allows friends a quick smoke. His love for
business and his lust for good pipe-weed always have him travelling, though by
his looks he is not daunted easily. This obviously rich dwarf isn't always
friendly to those he considers 'under' him, but everyone surprises themselves
and others sometimes.

Gumbart

You see an old dwarf. His hair is grey and long; his beard looks a bit shaggy.
Two braids have been waxed and stretch back to his ears. The piercing black
eyes are sunk deep within the wrinkled face. 
Gumbart is simply clad: shiny black shoes; baggy brown trousers, a khaki jacket
with several prussian blue patches; a nice little red felt cap. 
Around his neck, Gumbart is wearing a thin chain with a copper halibut on it.
The fish is the size of a coin; it has a fine silver lining and five small
rubies set on it. 
On his right hand, Gumbart is wearing the only jewelry you can see on him: a
small golden ring. 
Under his coat, Gumbart is carrying a short broadsword. You may see it or not,
depending on your inclination, because Gumbart hides it under his cloak
whenever possible. This short broadsword seems to be of Easterling make. It has
a plain, black grip and a heavy blade about two foot long with two nasty hooks
on the back of the blade.
Gumbart looks at you.

Ardin (Gumbart's puppet)

Ardin is a young dwarf with brown hair and eyes the colour of jade. He wears a
dark green jacket matching his eyes, a blue shirt, dark brown baggy trousers
and sturdy boots. If outside, Ardin wears a maroon felt hat. On his hands, he
carries several rings with big gems, around his neck he wears a big golden
necklace with a halibut shaped, sky blue saphire.

***** Erebor Time + Weather Service ******************************************

** Real time is: Mon Aug 16 07:57:15 1999, GMT -8 **
Elendor time is: Late Morning (about 10 AM ) on Highday, 27 February 3018. In
the Winter sky, Tonight the moon will be new. 

****************************************** Erebor Time + Weather Service *****

The tavern is crowded as the customers start to drift in from the starting work
day. A few of the customers looks as if they have only recently came to the
mountain from the road as their clothes still hold the dust of the road and the
worn appearance of too much time spent away from the comfort of home. Most of
these sit near the fire with dusty cloaks draped over the empty chairs next to
them and nursing mugs of Khulain's best with obvious enjoyment. Several of the
dwarves entertain themselves with less talk and pay more attention to the
steaming bowls of stew in front of them as they break pieces of bread and soak
up the aromatic juices in the wooden bowls. A couple of the tired dwarves sit
near the bar by themselves with their mugs and cloaks, as if thinking of what
has happened and what is going to happen now that they are back. One of these
dwarves cast a glance at the door as each person enters the room and watches as
the newcomers to see where he goes to sit down.

At one of the tables, Ardin, a young merchant from Erebor, is anxiously
awaiting his business partner Gumbart for a long overdue meeting. He
absentmindedly swirls the hot coffee brew in his mug and stares at the stair,
strying to espy the old dwarf amidst the stocky figures coming and going. Soon
enough, Gumbart descends the stairs into Longbeard Tavern. He grins as he notes
Ardin sitting there, drumming the table impatiently. Both grin and wave.
Gumbart steers towards Ardin's table through the crows. As he passes Khulain he
orders a coffee and gives the man a few coins. He sits at the table and says,
"Well met, Master Ardin. I am sorry for the delay. I've gotten the approval
from the warders, so everything is working according to our plan. I've a list
of items to get here; the basic items were ordered by Ordin for the warders,
the special stuff here is what I think will be necessary." Gumbart leans back
and watches the other patrons as Ardin smiles as he studies the list.

Turing in his seat to let his eyes follow the old dwarf, the travel-worn
dwarf's eyes narrow slightly as he catches bits of the conversation. He shakes
his head and drinks from his mug of ale before yawning. He sets down his mug
and stands up to stretch his legs. He grimaces as a popping sound comes from
the area of his back and removes the harness that holds his axe. As he reseats
himself he sets the bundle of leather, wood, and metal against the bar with a
soft *thunk* as the wooden haft hits the wooden bar.

As the late morning crowd begins to settle into their respective places in the
Longbeard, business elsewhere in the Mountain has picked up at a feverish pace.
Due to an unsettling number of orders for wood and add to that some personal
problems, the Thane Bundazanul Jorin isn't in his usual mood as he enters the
tavern. Jorin paces slowly in from the west entrance, a solemn expression is
set in his face. The pipe hanging dully from his pursed lips, one thing that
does come across as usual, emits a constant stream of trailing white smoke.
Without a glance at any of the patrons at all Jorin makes his way over to the
bar to visit his old friend Khulain, orders a coffee from one of the
attendants, and takes a seat at the bar slowly.

When Ardin finishes studying the list, the two merchants start discussing it.
The number of people on the trip are estimated, the amount of food needed is
calculated, they discuss how to deal with the denizens of Mirkwood, where to
get the necessary number of ponies and a plethora of other things. In short,
the two are engrossed in conversation about a trip to the west. Gumbart looks
up from time to time, checking who else is listening. The listeners either
pointedly ignore the old fool running of to get himself killed in the worst
possible manner, or they eagerly try to catch the words exchanged, adventure
and dreams of dwarven treasures glittering in their eyes. Ignoring both kind of
patrons, Gumbart and Ardin continue their discussion.

Belin's head turns back to the door as he notices a new figure arriving. He
smiles as recongnition flashes across his features. He quickly sets down his
mug and stands up to make his way over to where his Thane is. As he walks over,
his attention is once again caught by the two dwarves talking of a trip. He
looks as if he is about to say something to them but stops himself and
continues on his way over to his Thane. Bowing as he finally reaches him, the
Huskarl smiles and says, "Good day, Thane Jorin. I am back from my journey."

Jorin waits patiently for his ordered coffee to arrive as he allows a ring or
two of solid aromatic white smoke to escape his lips. Just as Khulain arrives
at his end of the bar and wishes Jorin a good morning, Belin comes forward and
announces his return. With a nod of greeting to the barkeep the Thane scoops up
his coffee and turns in his seat to face the new arrival. Upon seeing whom had
addressed him, Jorin almost spills his coffee all over himself. *Ahem* Jorin
clears his throat, half filled with coffee. "G'morning Belin! It has been a
good long while since last I've seen my Huskarlar! Come, can I get you
something to drink? You must have had quite a journey and I expect you to tell
me all about it." Jorin says as he motion Belin over to a nearby table to talk.

The discussion of the two merchants slows. Gumbart orders something to eat.
Khulain brings a few slices of a dark bread with a lot of hazelnuts in it.
Ardin and Gumbart share the bread and order some ale to go with it. Through the
din of the early afternoon crowd, fragments of the talk at the bar trickle down
to the two merchants, one very old and plainly dressed, the one rather young,
his fingers full of rings, a golden chain around his neck. The unlike pair
raises eyebrows and starts listening two the muffled talk of Belin and Jorin as
they hear Jorin mentioning what occupies their minds most: a dangerous journey.

Belin nods to his Thane and begins to follow him to the table as he has been
bidden. As he walks he starts to look around the tavern and frowns slightly as
he takes his seat. "My thane, I don't know how much of it I can tell here, as I
have not even reported to the warders yet. I have just gotten back to the
mountain, and have not even had a chance to vist the Barracks yet." He waves
for Khulain to bring him a mug of ale and then turns back to the other dwarf,
"I must say though that my journey has led me to Celebannon, and that is a
place I was not expecting to go. There were no problems on the way and
Lake-Town was pleasent while I was there." He smiles as he waits for the other
dwarf to respond.

A cross frown comes across Jorin's face at the response from his companion.
Obviously he wanted to hear some juicy gossip about things out East and current
events, but refrains from prodding further. Due to his respect for the warders,
Jorin simply sighs and nods, "I understand Huskarlar, your warder duties are
important. You must have seen some sights though, I wish I could have gone,
but...Well, you know how things are." Jorin scoops up his mug of coffee and
finishes it off. The Thane reaches into the breast pocket of his outer-most
shirt and draws out his gold-embroidered weed pouch. With out a concious though
Jorin stuffs a wad of tobacco into his spent pipe and lights it with his
tinderbox. The smell of burnt ale intermixed with tobacco fills the air around
the table and fits in well with the mood of the room. "Anyway, I'm glad you're
back safely Belin. Things have been busy here this winter, no doubt. Also,
there are other things have not been going so well..." Jorin says, as his mind
wanders back to the events of the last week.

"What thing have not been so well?" Belin asks, "I hope nothing too serious."
He takes the mug of ale from the server as it arrives without taking his eyes
off the Thane. "I think I have been away far too long and it will take me a bit
to catch up on the news of recent events." He sips his ale and sits forward in
his chair to hear whatever the thane is to tell him.

Jorin nods to the ale server, as Belin ignores him, to be polite. He shakes his
head smiling and returns his concentration to Belin. "Ah, well...I fear things
are ill down south. I have sent a message through the ravens...," he says,
pointing his hand up toward the ceiling, toward the top of the mountain,
"...letting those of importance in Gondor know of my plans to visit." Jorin
pauses a moment. "I have told you of my plans haven't I?" he says inquiringly.
After a few more puffs on his pipe, allowing Belin to respond, Jorin's thoughts
wander back to Belin's journey. "Hmm, the last time I was out East, through
Mirkwood, and over the Misty Mountains was years ago...I'm due back there soon.
I'm sure things have changed greatly there since last I had gone." Jorin notes,
mostly to himself.

Belin inclines his head, "No, my thane, I have not heard of your plans to visit
Gondor. I also have not heards of anything ill about the land." He frowns and
stays silent for a monment to formulate a reply, I have not been over the
Mountains, but Mirkwood is not a place that I would go back to unless it is
under orders from either you or the warders. It is far to dark and dreary there
and the elves are only descent company for a time." He shivers slightly at the
thought, "I have not heard any news from the elves about anything ill, but I
think that is just for the area around them as they only seem to concern
themselves with that." He sips from his ale again and says, "It is definatly
good to be able to enjoy Khulain's best again, my store ran out when I first
arrived in Celebannon and their ale did not compare."

***** Player Information: Jorin **********************************************
 
Jorin Ashbeard son of Jhorin, son of Ghorin <Liege> is an
IC 138 year old Male Erebor (Bundazanul) Dwarf:
His title is Thane of Clan Bundazanul (Jarl), Pipe Weed Merchant Ext.
Jorin has been idle for 36s
Jorin's location: The Lonely Mountain

Things commonly known about Jorin:
Being Thane of Clan Bundazanul is definately Jorin's most commonly known
achievement to date. As Thane he is known as quite the stickler for quality
lumber and his clan's reputation. People that recognize the name from a few
years in the past would remember Jorin as a pushy pipe-weed dealer with
relentless business tactics, a determined attitude, and a full purse.

************************************** Reminder: This is OOC information *****

***** Player Information: Belin **********************************************
 
Belin son of Bakin <Sry> is an
IC 115 year old Male Erebor (Bundazanul) Dwarf:
His title is Huskarlar of Clan Bundazanul, Baruk Nala Warder
Belin has been idle for  1m 59s
Belin's location: The Lonely Mountain

Things commonly known about Belin:
Belin is a warder and a Huskarlar of Clan Bundazanul. He likes to travel, likes
to see new things, and likes his jobs. He is nice to his friends and very loyal
to them. He'll try to help anyone he sees that needs it, as long as he either
doesn't know them or doesn't not like them.

************************************** Reminder: This is OOC information *****

***** Erebor News: Huskarlar  ************************************************

(Private Citizen): A "House-carl"; a member of a Hird, or House Guard. Landed
jarls have the right to form and keep hirds. Any warrior may serve in a hird,
although the face of the jarl is concerned: accepting someone of bad reputation
into your hird can damage your honor and position. The recompensation (or lack
of) for service resides with the hird's jarl, as are the oaths of joining and
such. These are also elements of face. The Baruk Narag can be considered the
uzbad's hird.

************************************************ Erebor News: Huskarlar  *****

At the mentioning of travel through Mirkwood, Gumbart freezes. He signals Ardin
to hush and turns his eyes towards the two dwarves, Belin and Jorin. He
considers. Finally, he gets up and walks over to the two dwarves. A lot of
stares from other guests follow him, daring him to disturb the two. He coughs,
however, and bows respectfully, saying, "Greetings, Thane of Clan Bundazanul,
and you, Huskarlar. I am Gumbart, son of Oibart, merchant of Erebor. I am
planning to cross Mirkwood come spring, just after spring floods. I am
currently making my preparations and amongst other things I am looking for a
guide. I could not help overhearing that you seem to have considerable
experience in travelling, so I was wondering wether you could suggest any
knowledgeable and trustworthy scouts for hire." Gumbart meekly bows again.

Jorin nods grimly and smiles to himself as he notes that Belin was so worried
about the ale situation. "Cousin," he says, chuckling a bit now, "Entering
Mirkwood you are fortunate to come out unscathed, let alone aleless, but I feel
for you. There is nothing like coming home after a journey to lighten your
heart." After a bit more snorting and chuckling Jorin sighs, getting back to
business. "Aye cousin, I thought I'd told you of my plans to journey south this
summer. I sent my message and have yet to receive a reply. It's been a long
time between...Too long. I fear that things fare poorly in the wars down South.
It's sad really." As he contemplates his own words Jorin sighs, just as Gumbart
nears the table. As the new arrival speaks the Thane looks up, stands, and bows
to Gumbart. "Greetings cousin," he says, pausing for a few moments as Gumbart
speaks and afterwards motioning toward an empty seat at the table, "Won't you
join us so we may talk."

Gumbart nods, surprised, "Thank you, I feel am honoured." He takes the offered
seat, biting back a triumphant smile. When Khulain next looks in his direction,
Gumbart waves and orders another ale when Khulain scurries over.

"I should hope the Gondorians fare well in their wars, I have not been there
and would like to see the sights of the kingdom." the huskarl says after a
slight pause, Seeing the other dwarf arrive and noting his thane stand to greet
him. He stands and says"Good day, Gumbart. I am Belin son of Bakin, a warder of
Erebor and Huskarl of Clan Bundazunal. Why would you be wanting to go through
Mirkwood? I know of no one that could help you find your way, even if it may
help. The paths of Mirkwood are often not the same as they were when someone
was last there."

Jorin nods in response to Belin's observation as he too takes his seat. "Belin
here is right Gumbart," he says as he takes a puff from his pipe, "I've been
through Mirkwood...Hmmm..." At that Jorin takes the opportunity to order an ale
as well from Khulain, who passes by the table to get Gumbart's order. "Well,
I've been through Mirkwood at least a dozen times in my life. It was in
Mirkwood where I felt the fear...The fear that never leaves you." the Thane
shudders, remembering something from the past, "When you make a living selling
things that are mostly made across the continent, you tend to pass some nasty
things, and Mirkwood is one of the nastiest...Were it not for the need for gold
I would never have made it the last time through. I was almost content to
abandon my journey. I have also been nearly killed in the Great Forest, by a
bear no-less." Pausing abruptly, Jorin rolls up his right shirt sleeve and
shows his companions two deep scars and several small in between left from the
maw of a large beast. He grins grimly, shakes his head, and just as Khulain
arrives with some substanance takes a swig of his ale.

Gumbart looks around, gauging the level of interest this conversation has for
the remaining guests. Ardin continues at his table, grinning in Gumbart's
direction. Gumbart pauses, looking at Jorin's scars. Then he lowers his voice
and says, "I'm outfitting a party of dwarves that will travel west in search of
treasure. It is a rumour I've heard in the East, from somebody I met in Buhr
Mahrling. Some call me a lunatic, but wether I be a lunatic or not, cross
Mirkwood I must." He fixates the thane with his stare. A fanatic light seems to
sparkle in the depths of his eyes. "Let me just say, that I'm expecting this
mission to be very dangerous, but possibly very rewarding, too. I'm prepared to
take the risks, and so are the stout fellows that will accompany me."

Jorin looks carefully at the concentrated Gumabrt, "Aye, but risks are one
thing...Suicide is another. Perhaps I know a bit more of the ways of Mirkwood
than I let on, but believe me - If you go running blindly into the darkness in
search of peril, you -will- find it." Jorin shakes his head in disbelief, "You
know...Depending on exactly where you are going, and what you are going to
seek, I might consider it worth my time to accompany you personally.
Depending..."

Belin leans forward to examine the scars on Jorin's arm. He then returns the
gaze to his thane's face with something of a new respect in his eyes but does
not say anything about it. Turning to face the merchant his brow furrows in
thought and the pauses a monment to let a silence settle before saying anything
to anyone. Finally he sends his gaze between the two dwarves and settles in his
chair, content to listen in silence for the time being.

Under drooping eyelids, Gumbart's piercing eyes judge Jorin. He considers the
possibilities, weighs benefits and risks, trying to think of something not too
reveiling. Slowly, haltingly, he starts to remind the dwarves of the last King
under the Mountain before Smaug ravaged these glorious halls, these golden
caves. "When Thrain I started to dig these halls, a refugee of Durin's bane.
Later, when Thror returned to these halls from Ered Mithrin, something had
changed. Thror's wealth knew no bounds. It is said that Thror had fashioned
himself an item of power. An item of such power as has not graced these lands
in a very long time. And it helped him build his wealth. Thus were the famed
treasures of Erebor accumulated, our proud heritage that Smaug tried to steal
from us. But we regained it. And yet, Thror's source of power remained lost. I
plan to find it. And I have heard where it might still be, after all these
years." Gumbart looks at the dwarves, a great need in his eyes, "This is the
treasure we are looking for. The source of wealth and fortune that made Erebor
what it is, a source of wealth of fortune to make Erebor something the world
has not seen since the days of Durin the Deathless."

Jorin's brow furrows as the conversation takes a more serious turn, one of
wealth gathering. The Thane eyes Gumbart with interest as his thought is turned
entirely inwards, towards all that Gumbart is saying. Jorin analyzes his words,
sensing that all that his companion tells him he believes to be true. As
Gumbart wraps up his speech a wave of patriotism stirs in Jorin's mind and he
grins greedily. "Well, should such an item exist, which is doubtful to say the
least, it would be profitable to seek, no doubt." speaks the pipe-bearer
lustfully, just now starting to get a hold of himself, "But first, what is this
item you speak, do you know? Also, where do you guess this item is? Why was it
not left to Erebor by Thror, whom we know was lost in the pits of the dark
tower in Mirkwood. You are not the only one who knows of great Thror's
capture."

Belin eyes widen as the two dwarves converse and finally he adds, "If the item
is lost in the dard tower of Mirkwood, there is a very small chance that you
are going to be successful, even if this thing exists." After saying that he
returns to a thoughtful silence while periodically sipping his ale and mumbling
unintelligibly to himself.

A sly smile creeps over Gumbart's old face as he observer the powerfull effect
his story has on the thane, just as it has over his own little greedy heart,
and just as it has had over many a dwarf that listened to Gumbart's vision. He
nods silently to himself, proud of his convincing tale and already growing
sorry for saying so much, too much, perhaps. "I will not reveal more of this at
this time, cousins. Let me assure you, we will not be walking into the pits of
Dol Guldur if I can help it. I've assurances beyond what you have heard and I
cannot reveal these without compromising my interest -- and the interests of
all my companions. As we get closer to our intended goal, more will be
revealed."

Jorin eyes Gumbart suspiciously, sensing the greed and seediness in his
companion's words. "Well, if time will allow me more information on this
journey to darkness, then time you'll get. I need to contemplate your words
before I give you any sort of decision, whether it be advice, accompanyment, or
financing." The Thane mumbles to himself thoughtfully, allowing Belin to get
some thoughts in and also to finish off his ale. Doing so Jorin empties then
repacks his pipe and lights another pack of ale-soaked tobacco.

"That is not much information to use." the warder says after Jorin finishes,
"Do you know anything about the area? what dangers may be faced? how you are
planning to get into the tower if you have to? what kind of arms to bring and
how many?" He says the questions with an almost accusing tone and sits back in
his chair with his arms crossed to wait for answers from the old dwarf.

A tired old warder drags himself into the tavern as though shackles and iron
spheres hender his entrance, and yet not enough to keep him from the closest
bar stool, where he slowly sits himself, not caring a wink of anyone else under
the mountain, barring Khulain, who sees his aging friend enter and prepares him
a mysterious brew, standing tall in a wooden tankard that could drown the
thirst of a troop of weak humans. At the peak of the tankard, mist rises,
atleast a foot in height. The old dwarf, Ordin smiles in delight at the sight
of the tall tankard, and slowly takes his first sip, knowing that the first sip
would be both the most harsh, and at the same time the most enjoyable.

The sudden tension at the table goes not unnoticed. Ardin watches Gumbart,
worried and unsure. Gumbart, however, remains unfazed. He smiles, the reaction
a familiar one. He shakes his head, slowly, however, and remains firm, "It is a
journey under shadows, all the companions know it. But where would we be if
Thorin Oaken..." He bites back his words as he notices the old warder Ordin
that took a seat in Jorin's back. Gumbart continues, his voice lower, "...if
dwarves were not intrepid explorers, seeking a fortune in unlikely places, hard
as stone and unfazed by dangers unknown? Of course success is not assured, but
should we therefore not attempt to recover Thror's treasure? Should we go back
to the simplest of masonry, to the trading of carpets and fishbone figurines?
Nay, I say. I will not. I will seek my fortune when the opportunity presents
itself. And I offer any trustworthy dwarf companionship in this noteworthy
quest."

Jorin shakes his head and glances over to Belin in disbelief. "Excuse me cousin
Gumbart, but don't you realize that we have already regained Thror's treasure
from our enemies. You yourself were about to mention old Thorin Oakenshield,
which is no comparison to you, or even me! He, with the aid of our cousins and
old Bilbo Baggins, wrested Thror's treasure away from Smaug the wretched - you
know that. And as for this item which you speak, unless it is some petty object
worthless to our foes, we will never see it. Have you ever seen Dol Guldur?
Were you present in Sarn Goriwing? I was!..."

Belin barely withholds a laugh as the old dwarf and Jorin speak. "Pretty words,
cousin, but I don't think you even touched upon what I asked. And unless I get
answers there is no chance of my going unless I am ordered to go by someone
with authority." He holds a slight smile on his face as the only evidence to
his amusement and sips his ale one more time before continuing, "I will admit,
I was not at Sarn Goriwing, but I have heard stories and none of which I like.
Can you admit even that much?"

***** Player Information: Gumbart ********************************************
 
Gumbart son of Gomin, son of Oibart <Gum> is an
IC 236 year old Male Erebor (Zinbar) Dwarf:
His title is Wandering Merchant
Gumbart has been idle for  0s
Gumbart's location: The Lonely Mountain

Things commonly known about Gumbart:
Gumbart is a poor Zinbar merchant, greedy, quick to complain about the
diminishing safety on the roads, scheming, and looking for ways to win an
incredible fortune in order to make up for all the years he has been cheated by
his so-called partners. In recent times, Gumbart has started to travel again.
Gumbart spent his youth in Emyn-Engrin.

************************************** Reminder: This is OOC information *****

Ordin finally finishes his first sip of his strong brew, and his head shakes in
a violent and yet brief spasm. He looks up to the bar keep and gives his nod of
approval. With a newly found smile on his face, the old warder spins himself
slowly about his stool, taking note of the patrons he's familiar with, giving
them friendly nods. Finally his eyes meet Gumbart, and at the same table Belin,
his eyes turn dark, the joy at his lips fade to a sour appearence, his brows
burrow without confusion, but with anger, anger of what recruiting rituals the
miserable old warder is employing on his own kinsmen. His eyes remain at
Gumbart's table for a while as he slowly sips his drink.

<OOC> Ordin dohs, "change that to miserable old merchant."

Gumbart grins at the renewed attack and says, "What would I have done Sarn
Goriwing? I am a merchant, not a fighting man. But believe me, a merchant at my
age has seen a lot of death on the road. The world is not for a world of fairy
tales, it is a dark and cruel place, I know." Gumbart looks for Khulain but
can't find him, so instead of ordering some ale, he has to turn back to his
sceptical audience. "There are no plans for each and every contingency, Belin,
son of Bakin. And yet, I will not be discouraged by it. I will prepare as well
as I can, and risk it all. I will risk it, because every gamble can be won,
because dwarven endurance has made many a wondrous victory come true, because I
will not wither away in poverty. I will will follow the directions I have
received, carefully verifying every step. I have cross-checked many references.
I have tracked some very specific people for long years. And now I have found
what I believe to be the most influential factor in building the fabulous
wealth and fortune of the Kings under the Mountain, the glorious treasure of
Erebor, the fantastic treasure that kindled Smaug's greed and was his downfall
in the end. I will not give the key to that away lightly. But I offer you a
chance to partake in that quest, as equal partners, just like every other
cousin that is coming along."

As the crowd in the Longbeard begins to thin out some, most people heading back
out to business Jorin groans at Gumbart's attempted speech. He chuckles to
himself nodding his head as Gumbart begin's to attack his credibility in
return. "Cousin Gumbart!" the Thane half shouts, "Perhaps you weren't aware
that I was once a merchant such as you? I was nothing more than a merchant and
huskarl when I serviced myself in the assault on Sarn Goriwing under former
Thane Frorin. Through the decades of pipe and tobacco merchantry I have become
rich with a treasure of my own, aided in Erebor's financial situation, and
become Thane of the greatest clan in in the Mountain! Don't talk to me about
'only being a weak and petty merchant'..." At this point Jorin downs the rest
of his ale, which most patrons lingering in the tavern still might guess he's
had about his fill of.

"My thane is right, cousin." the warders starts, "But if you wish to go on a
suicide journey I would prefer it if you did not take any of the other braves
dwarves with you. If one dwarf cannot accomplish what you seek, what makes you
think twenty or thirty can? It is foolishness. During the same quest you seem
to find so facinating, a few dwarves held this fortress as well as a full army
could. And if you seem to need so many followers of your foolishness, why don't
you take the time to plan better? It will make more people think more about
this 'quest' and possibly if you confuse them enough, to join it."

Ordin growls and now begins to gulp his strange brew as he ignores the rest of
the tavern and hones in on the table seating three; two merchants and a warder.
After some time of hearing the old merchant battered and questioned with no
gratitude for any answer in any matter, the old dwarf starts to almost feel
pitty for old Gumbart. As Belin finishes his piece, the old warder barks, "Hold
ye'r tounge, warder!" The tavern quiets, and all eyes scan between the table
and the slowly approaching Master Defender.

Gumbart grins uncomfortably at the rough support from Ordin, but the mounting
charges by the thane and his warder weigh too heavy already. He looks from one
to the other, trying to guess wether the spark of greed might yet be rekindled,
but reconsiders. Both of them seem too set in their belief, the glorious spirit
of adventure he loves to bask in is gone and only mistrust remains. Gumbart
looks at the empty mug of ale, never refilled because Khulain seemed not to
find the time to glance in his direction. He pics it up, checks again, puts it
down again, looks left and right, and starts to get, slowly. "It is getting
late, cousins. I am sorry for bothering you. It was not my intention to
provoke, and I shall not try to argue my cause any longer." Gumbart gets up,
joints cracking and tired, his cheeks sagging, his eyes sunk deep within the
dark wrinkles of his face. "Well met, nevertheless." he says, and turns. As he
passes Ordin, he bows respectfully, and says, "Aye, it is not easy to convince
some of our cousins to join this mission." Ardin, however, has already prepared
himself and takes Gumbart by the arm. He starts whispering intently into
Gumbart's ear and soon the two can be seen leaving Longbeard Tavern, deeply
entrenched in a secret discussion.

Jorin watches as Gumbart regretfully declines to further their argument. He
smiles and glances over to Belin, considering it a battle won. "Eh, I need to
think about it..." he mumbles, half to himself and half to Belin. Jorin doesn't
even really seem to notice Ordin's outburst or him approaching the table at
all.

Belin turns suddenly in his seat to see who yelled at a warder. Sending his
gaze about the room he notes that absence of any other warders except for one
at the bar. Recongnizing the officer he says, "Sir! Yes, sir. I will." He turns
back in his seat and doesn't hear Jorin's comment but thinking the conversation
over anyway he settles back with something of a victorious smile hidden under
his beard.

Ordin finally reaches the table and towers over the sitting figure of Belin and
without a look, sets his tall wooden tankard on the table. His gaze is fixed on
Belin. "Tis not fer ye to judge those who venture on such a voyage," The old
dwarf barks, "Be it for foolishness, duty, greed, or some odd view of heroism,"
at those last two, his gaze turns to Gumbart with a blank expression. The old
dwarf finally turns back to the young warder, with a much calmer voice he
continues, "Now, I have offered my services to this silly cause, and I shall
let ye'r self see in that what ye will, an I do not order ye ta partake in such
an undertaking, and yet if ye shall, ye shall have also me guidence and
leadership." With a grunt he reaches for his tankard and takes a long drag of
it.

Jorin leans back in his chair with his pipe wedged perfectly between his teeth.
He now stares blankly at the ceiling of the tavern, clouded and hazy in the
smoke of the patrons. With a slight chuckle at the fact that Ordin is stuck
going with Gumbart on his journey he remarks quietly, "Eh, I pity you cousin."
Other than that he just relaxes before having to get back to work and enjoys
watching Belin get disciplined.