The one with the hammer pushes his way to the front of the group and glares down at you. You two are passing acquaintances; you think his name is Rimtar Iridmedtob, one of the many weapon-smiths.

Because, you know, THAT'S what ShieldDawn needs.

ANOTHER legendary metalworker.


Misty? What are you doing out here, he asks. I thought the Duke denied your request to join the migration.

He changed his mind, you lie. You tell him about how the two of you meticulously debated the issue, and how he graciously admitted that he may have been mistaken in forbidding you from going to ShieldDawn.

Rimtar eyes you warily for a moment, then grunts in apathy. If you want to join, he says, you're free to come along.


He promptly turns around and continues leading the party along, and the others hastily follow. It takes you a moment to catch up, since they're moving at a blistering pace.

The rest of the party gives you sympathetic looks; they seem friendly enough, at least. It's a long trek to ShieldDawn, maybe a day or two, so you might as well make friends with those you can.

Who should you talk to? What should you talk about?