Bellus says, "Be right back," and gets up to approach the one-eyed Rentsch, putting a tight fist on his money purse along the way. Once to the bar, he gestures for Rentsch's attention while fetching a gold coin.
"I need another ale," Bellus says, "and I'm looking for a runaway kid." Bellus describes and names the wayward lad. "Of course, there's a finder's fee if you can help."
[/sblock]The tall, lanky barman pours the ale and sets the mug down with a heavy clank in front of the dwarf. "Seen lots of them types around here," he says with a shrug. "Got a name and description?"
The barkeep scratches his head. "Yeah...Mick somethin' or the other. I remember him. Don't see many half-elves in these parts. I think he signed on with some of them black-cloaked brigands. Wanted to earn some fame and fortune." The man laughs. "Likely he'll find an early grave."
Sir Merrick turns a baleful eye on Zirat. "No avail?" his voice grows colder "How many fewer ogres are left to prey on villagers and travellers. How many brigands have had to be recalled for protection instead of sent out marauding? Drink your ale and speak no more of despair in our cause. We bring death and destruction upon our enemies."
Tell me my good friend.
Zirat reply as he raise his mug for a toast
Have we tried deception? Maybe we can join the bandits that rest in the temple dungeons and earn their trust?