"They must not be familiar with the Merchant's Guild or the Carta if they think anything of the sort, not that I'm implying he's in the Carta. Just that dwarves are more than capable." However, if she were to ask if he thought he had Carta connections...
"So basically, I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. I suppose I might as well stay, then. Less walking around that way." He chuckled, pausing in his rummaging in the stern to glance at her over his shoulder. "That's my favorite one. Doglord. As though any Fereldan would ever take being associated with dogs as an insult. They don't understand us in the least."
He pulled out a small pot and something flat that turned out to be a putty knife. "Rancid fat straight from a forgotten kitchen container. Crab ambrosia. You, uh, might want to move upwind from me. This is going to be bad for a few minutes." Each trap had a small, open topped metal container in the bottom. Cullen took a deep breath, held it, opened the pot, and started slapping smears of the fat into the traps a knife full at a time. "Oh, Maker's breath, that's foul," he gasped, his eyes starting to water.
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"So basically, I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. I suppose I might as well stay, then. Less walking around that way." He chuckled, pausing in his rummaging in the stern to glance at her over his shoulder. "That's my favorite one. Doglord. As though any Fereldan would ever take being associated with dogs as an insult. They don't understand us in the least."
He pulled out a small pot and something flat that turned out to be a putty knife. "Rancid fat straight from a forgotten kitchen container. Crab ambrosia. You, uh, might want to move upwind from me. This is going to be bad for a few minutes." Each trap had a small, open topped metal container in the bottom. Cullen took a deep breath, held it, opened the pot, and started slapping smears of the fat into the traps a knife full at a time. "Oh, Maker's breath, that's foul," he gasped, his eyes starting to water.