"Another deep gnome. Wulbren Bongle." Don't laugh at the name! Or do, just not aloud.
"We grew up together in the Underdark, but when we went our separate ways, he...honestly, I'm not sure what happened to him. He was always a fiery sort, a true believer, mostly in himself." And Barcus, who still struggles a bit with confidence in everything except his work, loved that about him. "Which was fine until he wanted the Ironhands to murder all of the Gondians in cold blood on the steps of the Foundry. He was their leader before me, you see. Luckily the rest of them had more sense, and mercy, than he does."
"They followed me instead, I exiled him and told him to leave the city, and I'm not sure now if he's fixated on vengeance or reclaiming his power, but either way..." He shrugs helplessly.
He smiles faintly. "Yes, it's best practices to keep one's employer alive, I assume." The bit about loyalty, though? That's a surprise, and while it would be easy enough for someone to make that claim and then still turn on a dime, he doesn't think that's the case here.
Barcus looks down at himself, his simple clothes, inkstained fingers, neglected reading glasses, and has the grace to laugh. "I'm afraid I'm more or less exactly as I present myself here. Built for a workshop, or maybe a library, not a battlefield."
Philomeen will yell at him for not checking references, but: "I think we'll do well enough together, you and I. If you want the job, it's yours. Ah, and..." He scribbles a number on a sliver of paper and nudges it across the table to them. It's...generous. "Half up front. I don't wander around with that much gold on me, but if you come to the guild headquarters tomorrow I can give you an advance so you can collect whatever supplies you want before we go."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2025-01-12 05:16 pm (UTC)"We grew up together in the Underdark, but when we went our separate ways, he...honestly, I'm not sure what happened to him. He was always a fiery sort, a true believer, mostly in himself." And Barcus, who still struggles a bit with confidence in everything except his work, loved that about him. "Which was fine until he wanted the Ironhands to murder all of the Gondians in cold blood on the steps of the Foundry. He was their leader before me, you see. Luckily the rest of them had more sense, and mercy, than he does."
"They followed me instead, I exiled him and told him to leave the city, and I'm not sure now if he's fixated on vengeance or reclaiming his power, but either way..." He shrugs helplessly.
He smiles faintly. "Yes, it's best practices to keep one's employer alive, I assume." The bit about loyalty, though? That's a surprise, and while it would be easy enough for someone to make that claim and then still turn on a dime, he doesn't think that's the case here.
Barcus looks down at himself, his simple clothes, inkstained fingers, neglected reading glasses, and has the grace to laugh. "I'm afraid I'm more or less exactly as I present myself here. Built for a workshop, or maybe a library, not a battlefield."
Philomeen will yell at him for not checking references, but: "I think we'll do well enough together, you and I. If you want the job, it's yours. Ah, and..." He scribbles a number on a sliver of paper and nudges it across the table to them. It's...generous. "Half up front. I don't wander around with that much gold on me, but if you come to the guild headquarters tomorrow I can give you an advance so you can collect whatever supplies you want before we go."