“I met a fellow in purple armor outside. Said he was an actor. Where’d he really get that gear?”
You just shrug.
“Maybe he got it from Matilda’s forge,” you say. “Don’t know. Didn’t see a reason to ask.”
She seems thrown off. You decide to keep explaining.
“I asked about his knife, though. He said he got dragged into a fight and ended up with it.”
“That would most likely be my knife,” Drip interjects. “There was a rather unfortunate incident, but it has been settled now.”
“What sort of incident?” the smith asks suspiciously.
“A forgotten god wished someone dead, and used me as a vessel to do it. The true gods know of the matter now, so they are protecting me from his influence.”
She doesn’t know what to make of that, and you don’t either.
“Now hold on a minute,” you say. “If you’re being protected, why’d that thing mess you up like it did to me?”
“I am being protected from a specific influence,” Drip replies. “Whatever happened near the docks must not have been the influence of the forgotten god.”
“Right, I’ve had enough of this,” the smith groans. “You’re both just pulling a story out of thin air to confuse me. Bet that so-called priest is just another actor. Now look, I came here because of that egg…”
“Here you go, then,” you say cheerily. “Take good care of it. We’ve got to pay a visit to the old theater.”
She just stares at the egg as you start to walk out. But just as you reach the door, you feel her arm on your shoulder.
“Wait a minute,” she says. “I ain’t through with you two just yet.”