Granny is sitting there casually knitting. The adventure looks a bit closer and notices she’s making chainmail armor. Using a ball of stainless steel as yarn. The ball jumps up and down, chipping away at the floor. This isn’t helped by either a small tiger of really overgrown cat, most likely her familiar, batting at the ball. She notices the adventurer staring and asks:
“Hello young men. Would you like some armor? Here, let me check if it fits.”
Granny stands up with the speed of an attacking snake and casually drapes the largely finished armor over him, making his knees almost buckle under the weight.
“Oh dear, this is a bit too big on you. Let me find one a bit smaller, perhaps in a lighter fabric. One second, please.”
She returns as swiftly as she departed, and swoops seamlessly under his arm to take measurements.
Sensing danger, the adventurer reaches for his hilt and draws out his dagger.
The Granny, mouth full of sewing pins, deftly and graciously accepts with a “thank you” and uses it to cut some of the material near the back for a better fit. She sheaves it quickly back into his hilt, and slaps a cup of tea into his still outstretched hand.
“There you go, dearie” she says, patting his bottom.
Granny is sitting there casually knitting. The adventure looks a bit closer and notices she’s making chainmail armor. Using a ball of stainless steel as yarn. The ball jumps up and down, chipping away at the floor. This isn’t helped by either a small tiger of really overgrown cat, most likely her familiar, batting at the ball. She notices the adventurer staring and asks:
“Hello young men. Would you like some armor? Here, let me check if it fits.”
Granny stands up with the speed of an attacking snake and casually drapes the largely finished armor over him, making his knees almost buckle under the weight.
“Oh dear, this is a bit too big on you. Let me find one a bit smaller, perhaps in a lighter fabric. One second, please.”
She returns as swiftly as she departed, and swoops seamlessly under his arm to take measurements.
Sensing danger, the adventurer reaches for his hilt and draws out his dagger.
The Granny, mouth full of sewing pins, deftly and graciously accepts with a “thank you” and uses it to cut some of the material near the back for a better fit. She sheaves it quickly back into his hilt, and slaps a cup of tea into his still outstretched hand.
“There you go, dearie” she says, patting his bottom.