Smavold

Smavold
Status:	Alive
Race:	Gor'Tog
Gender:	Male
Location:	Smavold's Toggery (Ranik Map 116)
Type:	shopowner

Smavold is the owner of Smavold's Toggery.

Description

A pair of dark eyes gaze out from under a perpetually furrowed brow. Smavold's well maintained dark green skin is flawless except for the frown lines that grace his downtrodden face and betray the young looking skin. Dressed in fine silks and clenching his trusty broom, Smavold sits slightly hunched over and appears to be quite thin, especially for a Gor'Tog.

Conversations

• ask Smavold about Smavold

With a brief smirk Smavold says, "I'm simple, really. I make most of my wares and spend my time selling them. I got nothing better to do, as I let the love of me life wed that pompous...." He stops himself short and recovers. "Sorry. I got a bit carried away. Perhaps I should stop talking now."

• ask Smavold about Gor'Tog

Smavold sighs slightly before saying, "We Gor'Togs came here cause the Dwarves don't look at us like we're stupid. They know that a 'Tog is a good thing to have on your side. It be a shame that not everyone understands us. That be their loss, though."

• ask Smavold about Hibarnhvidar

Smavold chuckles and says, "I like it out here good enough. In this here district there be plenty of drinking to go around and quite the nice scenery, if you know what I mean. Sure beats life in one of the clans in Zoluren."

Atmospherics

• Smavold dashes to the door, throws it open and shouts, "You blasted kids stop throwing that cat against my shop! This ain't a goal area!".
• Smavold grabs a few jars from under the counter and restocks the wooden pedestal with more wax.
• Smavold swats at a fly that swirls about his head. Suddenly, he chokes, coughs and then swallows, turning a bit pale. The fly is nowhere to be seen.
• Smavold's eyes quickly dart around the room as he slips a small pewter flask from his pocket and takes a few nips, obviously trying not to be spotted. As he puts the flask back, he notices you and blushes a little bit.
• Smavold leans too far back on his stool and suddenly flails his arms about, attempting to keep the stool from falling over. He manages to right himself, and settles the stool on its four legs with a relieved sigh.