Gnorri is walking over as quickly as his stubby legs will allow, the squat’s knee-length beard jumping up and down as he goes, but before he gets to you Johann leans in with an uncharacteristic frown on his face.

“Oh, there’s one more thing. Avoid the city of Mordheim. Dark place, even for you. Few things return, and none of them unchanged.”

>Why? What happened there?

“A fell comet landed on the city. It has been cursed ever since.” He shakes his head and says no more.

Gnorri does not hear any of this conversation and waves cheerily to you as he approaches.

“A good morning to you, lads! I hear you gave the Baron quite a scare, Gurnemanz! Good on ya, that piece of goblin dung deserves a good hiding on the backside, but getting slapped in the face will do.”

>I did not-

“O’ course you didn’t, you’d knock his head clean off, I can tell that much! But I can also tell you he looked like he’d been shouted at by Kurt Helborg himself, haha! Face as pale as a ghoul! Bastard deserves it. I would have done it meself you see, only we’re not allowed to put names in the book over spite. Ah well. Good to see you!”

You only understand some of what the small creature is saying, but it’s clear he’s quite happy with you.

>Greetings to you, Trader Ironhide. What brings you up here?

“Ah, that’d be something to do with you, actually.”

He leads the two of you to the crater, where the piece of debris sits, still smoking in some areas. There are several craftsmen from the town examining it with some other squats who are as equally small and longbearded as Gnorri. Gnorri nods at them.

“These are my boys. None of them a smith, but it’ll be a poor Dawi who doesn’t understand the basics of metallurgy and smithing. We’re trying to figure out what this is, Gurnemanz. Doesn’t look like any Gromril I’ve seen, and none ‘o them ever came with something like you attached. Oh, we’ll have to figure out what to call you too. Definitely not an umgi. Too big, and too scary. Sorry Johann.”

The man at your side merely shrugs. But you don’t understand several of the words the squat just used, none of them seeming to be in high or low gothic.

>Excuse me. But Gromril? Umgi?

The squat nods. “Ah. My apologies. We Dawi speak a different tongue to the Empire. Slips in from time to time.”

>I see. Would you mind telling me more about your people? Johann has already explained some of the Empire to me, but he said that you would know more about the lands beyond this Empire’s borders.

“And he’d be right! I’ve travelled just about everywhere in the Old World. From Kislev to the Border Princes, and Estalia to the World’s Edge Mountains! Come with me and have a drink while I tell you, this work will take awhile and it’d be damn boring without an ale!”