Quoted By:
The more you think on the matter, the more certain you become that asking the Cobbler about the mark is the right play here. Even shreds of information can be the difference between life and death. For all you know, it could turn out that the city or town that mark is from is going to be on the route you end up taking from the Mount to the frontier provinces. If you ignore this, you could end up right in the middle of a Coven's stomping grounds without even realizing it. A harrowing thought. Of course ... you are also worried about leaving behind a trail of your own. Though, admittedly, you are hard-pressed to see how anyone would manage to track you back to the Cobbler - or what specific harm it would do you if they knew that you had seen a specific maker's mark on a pair of boots, and had asked about. In fact, considering that they have the remains of Gothorum-One to deal with, it is more than possible that the Inquisition never finds all of the Strangeness in the 'Poonist's Perch.
That is a pleasant thought, and while you know enough not to count on anything of the sort, it does buoy your mood as you make your way into the looming shadow of the Mount, where the Cobbler hangs his shingle. You reach the little establishment without further incident, and upon entering, see once again that there are no other customers – which is as you want it, of course, but you cannot help but feel a little concerned for the livelihood of a man who has helped you so much. The man makes his way out of the back shortly, and after a bit of polite conversation and without fuss or complication you take possession of your repaired boots. Truly, he has done an excellent job on them – you doubt that this pair looked this good the day you got them. After thanking him for the work, all there is left to do is steer the conversation to a point where you could ask him about the maker's mark in the image of a masked badger. On the spot, you come up with some tall tale about a man who cheated your father-in-law.
“ … so he ended up waiting there, in the rain, for the better part of three hours before he finally came to grips that he had been 'taken in'. To be honest, I doubt the man had a share of a barrow-hog to sell.”
“A liar, a cheat <span class="mu-i">and</span> a thief. Well, 'tis a terrible position to be in, but at least your father-in-law can take some solace that the bastard will suffer accordingly, if not in life, then after it.”
“R-right. Uh, anyway, as slim as the odds are by now, he still is intent on trying to find this … well, one of the things that he remembers about him is his boots.”
“Oh?”
“Well, actually, the boots themselves were fairly standard affairs – but when he had taken them off to dry, he saw the maker's mark, that is what he remembered. Was large - ”
You gesture the size with your hands, while hoping that he somehow doesn't notice the exceptional size of your fingers.
