| Rarlmir | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Location | Insalubrious Effluvium | ||
| Race | Nord | Gender | Male |
| Health | 15,000 | ||
| Reaction | Friendly | ||
Rarlmir is a Nord found at a makeshift camp in the Insalubrious Effluvium with his companion Joneif.
Related QuestsEdit
Deepening Shadows: Locate Chancellor Gascone Dusant of the Congress of Calibration.
Quest-Related EventsEdit
When you approach, he tries to shake Joneif awake.
- Rarlmir: "Oy! Wake up, Joneif! Visitors! Bah- you're useless."
Speak to him to advance the quest.
- "What're you doing nosing around here with that ugly beast? Joneif and I haven't done nothing!"
- I'm looking for Chancellor Gascone. Have you seen him?
- "Chancellor who?
- Oh, you mean that brass-arsed fancy-boots that came running through here? Yeah, I seen him. Dragging his silly apostle skirts behind him like a broken wheel-chain. Seemed like he was in a hurry. Pretty suspicious if you ask me."
- My fabricant's lost the scent. Which way did he go?
- "Yeah, the grease mucks up fabricant snoots. That's why we stay down here. Wouldn't want the constables to see... Never mind!
- Your man headed west. Should be some oily footprints about. Follow those tracks and you'll find your fancy-boots."
Speaking to him again:
- "You need something else? I'm busy down here with... you know, experiments and such."
- What are you doing down here, exactly?
- "Aw, here it comes! All the questions and accusations!
- Joneif and me don't bother anybody, but constables come down here day and night, poking around like skeevatons."
- I'm not a constable. You can tell me.
- "Ugh. Fine, if it'll get you out of here.
- Joneif and me... we brew up... uh, elixirs. Yes! Elixirs, that's it. A good swig or two of a Rarlmir brew can settle the nerves, soothe the belly-growls, even thicken your hair. Just look at this beard!"
- If your brew's so great, why hide it down here?
- "Well, it's not strictly speaking legal. Sometimes the brew makes clockwork arms and legs go screwy. But that's rare! Barely ever happens!"
- What do you mean, go screwy?
- "They sort of take on a life of their own. Do a bit of wiggling around and, you know... fall off.
- Those fancy-boots up in the basilica shout about sensory linkages and tissue rejection. Fancy words for can't hold their liquor if you ask me."
- That sounds pretty serious.
- "Screws to that. If you don't like it, don't drink it. That's what I say.
- Now, off with you! Me and Joneif got things to do."