Thrarn Iranorn said:
Karthak doesn’t completely understand what the locals were talking about and wants to ask the others what they got out of it, but thought it would be better discussed elsewhere.
Eyeing the disgraced soldier at the bar, Karthak pushes away his food, grabs his drink and stands. “I have some unfinished business that needs taken care of."
Quickly crossing the room, he walks up behind the soldier, places a hand on his shoulder and plops down on the barstool next to him. “I think I owe you a nice strong drink...and an apology. What’s your poison? And I will not take no for an answer”
Karthak orders two of whatever drink the soldier wants and drinks one of the drinks with him. ”I am sorry, I have always been bad with names. I am sure I heard yours, but cannot remember it. I am Karthak.”
"I don' belief we haf been introduuuced," McDonough says. McDonough belches once, releasing a foul stench of stale, sour beer. Throughout this conversation, McDOnough punctuates his speech with belches, flatulance, and scratching of improper areas. He grabs a new mug of ale from Blue Eye, and stands up. "Name's McDonough."
Karthak waits for the mans response and then continues. ”Well, I have a proposition for you. It appears that you are out of a job, and we are in need of a guide that knows what the hell is going on around here. You seem like the perfect man for the job. I do not know about the others, but I would be willing to pay you a good amount for your service. What you say, you join us at our table and discuss it over a bowl of soup?”
McDonough drunkenly appraises
Karthak with bleary, bloodshot eyes. Then he nods assent, and walks over to the table. Without introduction, however, he begins speaking, wobbling as he stands (he refuses to sit down).
"Back ter Buldon? No thankee, ssssir. Let me jes' say, I want ta say I mean, I mean to say, no hard feelin's 'bout earlier. Me time was numbered, what with the Sheriff and all. I'm the only one as knows what happened in Buldon all those years ago. 'Ceptin' him. When we went there a week after Duggan's grandson been taken."
McDonough belches again, then raises his hand to his lips and wipes a trail of yellowish saliva from the corner of his mouth.
"The Sisters, if ya find them. Thar bad news, yes they are. Not quite human, and theys gots helpers. Strange creatures that can never die, jes keep comin' and comin' until the Sheriff threw a fire grenade at 'em. But that ain't the hardest of the part. The worst o' it all was the Pale Walker. She came out o' the swamp like a storm o' hate, her ghostly touch enough to drain the life o' a man. We wouldna survived except for a man comin' from the wood, a lumberjack looked like, all burly and hairy and carryin' a giant axe. Couldna really see 'im in the twilight, but he were somethin' fierce.
"The Pale Walker, she twirled her dress and screamed in rage and came right at the man, but he stood still and the Walker just sort o' stopped like. That scream though 'twere enough to drive me an the other survivor out, but the Sheriff, he stayed. Brave man, the Sheriff. Next I know, an hour later or so the Sheriff tracks us down up the road whar we be hidin', carryin' our dropped weapons. He says, 'It's all taken care of. No need to worry 'bout the kidnappin's anymore.'
"We asked about Kevie, but the Sheriff says it's too late, a week with the Sisters and thar ain't no savin. A day earlier, an' all would be well."
He finishes his ale.
"So mebbe ya better be careful, and mebbe ya better not waster yer time. Done be done. I'm sorry fer yer kids an' all, but done be done. And ain't no way I go back to Buldon."
