Online:Rarlmir

Rarlmir
Location	Insalubrious Effluvium
Race	Nord	Gender	Male
Health	15,000
Reaction	Friendly

Rarlmir

Rarlmir is a Nord found at a makeshift camp in the Insalubrious Effluvium with his companion Joneif.

Related Quests

• Deepening Shadows: Locate Chancellor Gascone Dusant of the Congress of Calibration.

Quest-Related Events

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."