Yorastor found it hard to work the morning after the attack. While all the neighbors had been checked on that day, as he headed to the Rusty Dragon, many seemingly felt compelled to drop by, interrupt his work, thank him and “chat”. It became a problem by the time Alma Avertin arrived with a fresh, hot, crusty loaf of bread.
“You can’t hardly keep working while so skinny Mr. Farden! You need some meat on those bones if you are to keep at it like this – and we need you to, too!”
Yorastor sighed mentally. He had no intentions of “keeping at it”. He was simply concerned for his shop and home, and if he admitted it, a bit for the residents of the town. Nonetheless, he wasn’t about to go charging into the woods “chasing those demons to their lair” as some were suggesting.
Smiling kindly he said, “Thank you much Mrs. Avertin. Please give my best to Mr. Avertin. You know there is no need for this really – just trying to do what anyone else would do when they attack your home. Thank you for this though. I confess little enough will likely go on my bones though. If I don’t offer our neighbors something soon they’ll take to eating the books – and I can’t have that! As soon as the smell of your fantastic bread hits their noses they’ll come looking for this treasure.”
He was trying to really lay on the charm. It was a skill Yorastor never practiced. It seemed utterly senseless – people should see reality and not smoke and mirrors. He knew his innate charisma was powerful though – as demonstrated by the gaggle of Sandpointers standing in the library, ignoring the expensive tomes on all manner of arcana and instead discussing biceps, swinging hips and spraying goblin blood.
Mrs. Avertin beamed at the compliment, blushed slightly, and replied, “Well just see that you get the biggest piece then. I’d love to stay and chat but must get back to the store. If you care to drop in tomorrow we should have some meat rolls coming off around breakfast time. You can take your pick!”
Yorastor chuckled, “Again too kind! Schedule permitting, I’ll see you in the morning Alma.” He took her arm and escorted her out kindly.
Sighing, he turned, smiled, held up the bread triumphantly to the gaggle in the library and said loudly, “Well, if you insist on staying there please stop nibbling on the rug Chask. I’ll get this cut up and bring out some cider too. And don’t think I wasn’t listening Maver. My recollection doesn’t include any fireballs – it was a simple glamer really. Just to keep them still till those heavy, out-of-towners could do the real work.”
A chorus of laughter erupted from the library along with kind backslapping on Maver Kesk. Yorastor headed into the tiny kitchen area of his home and sighed again. He could see it was going to be a long, unproductive day. Why would anyone WANT to be a hero?!?!