[Emmon]

Before leaving the sanctuary of the Dragons Inn Emmon had stopped long
enough to buy a light dinner and to review the notes he had been given.
And once done, with his coin and notes tucked safely away, he set out for
The Hung Dog (he thought it was supposed to have been "The Hungover Dog"
but that was just his theory).

The Hung Dog bordered the shacks and so Emmon hoped to talk to a few
witnesses. He shook out his hair and mussed his clothes, and after adding
a bit of dirt to his hands and face he decided he'd blend in well enough.
Then all he had to was settle in for a bit and wait till the regulars got
tipsy on the sour wine, but not so far gone that they couldn't talk.

[Boris]

Boris Headager loved wine and food.  He preferred GOOD wine and GOOD food,
but seeing as how fate and circumstance had deposited him Montfort with no
money, no skills, and very little criminal ability, he took what he could
get. What he got at the Hung Dog was barely tolerable, but it was cheap
enough to keep even poor wretches like him mildly drunk for the evening.

Boris sighed as he entered the broken-down tavern and dragged himself
across the room to the bar.  He glanced at the crowd.  Mostly regulars,
but there were always one or two new faces.  No reason to worry though...
no one ever caused trouble at the 'Dog.  And it wasn't because of any
fancy magic either... it was just that no one here had anything worth
taking. Not even pride or self-respect.

Boris plopped his slack bottom onto a rickety barstool and leaned heavily
on the dirty bar.

"Gimme somethin'"   he yelled at Cay, the bartender.

Cay was a lovely name that belonged to a hideously ugly woman.    She had
a fine shape, though; and with enough ale a man could almost overlook
her lack of teeth, her bulbous misshapen nose, and the bizaare, throbbing
growth on her  neck.   Almost.

Cay slammed a tankard down onto the bar.    Diluted ale.   On GOOD nights
they diluted the ale with water.   On BAD nights, it was best not to think
about
what you were drinking.

This was a bad night.

Boris eyed the stranger sitting next to him and sipped his 'mystery-ale'
with as small a grimace as possible.

[Emmon]

Both respect for his profession and his health kept Emmon from doing
anything more than lifting his mug to his lips, and when it was safe he'd
pour the filth into the rat hole in the floor. He'd managed to get rid of
a couple of mugs Cay's "good" wine that way.

When the bartender headed back down his way (Hells, Lecinda looked like a
beauty queen compared to her) he waved her down, and said, "Cay, ma dear,
another mug of your best wine!!" He plunked down the five coppers
necessary and eyed his neighbor.

With a chuckle he said, "Twasn't a bad night selling maps to the sods in
for the festival. They wouldn't know if they were maps to Montfort or to
an orc village. Anyways sold out, and just as well finish getting drunk
here before I go home...I won't feel it when the Missus skins me for
drinking up the wages." He hiccuped and wiped the non-existent spittle
from his mouth.

"Gads, you wouldn't have believed he damned dandies that prance through
this town....I saw two fools tonight trying to ask about some fat, flashy
mage...'Bout as polite or subtle as a drunk orc on a holiday....." Emmon
shook his head and belched again, "It twas fun watchin' them get chased
out ....no hound has had its tail further up its...ar...." He added
another hiccup cum belch for good measure.

[Boris]

Boris chuckled as he sipped his swill.

"Yeah, I bet that was a sight to watch.    Best entertainment's always
free!   heh!"

Boris took another sip and quickly swallowed it before the taste
could assault his tongue.   Something about what the stranger said sounded
familiar.    A mage?    In flashy clothes?

"Yep,"  added Boris.   He was just filling in the pause in the
conversation while his brain sorted things out.

Yes... not too long ago Boris had done perhaps the only heroic
thing he'd ever involve himself with.   Some lady's house
was on fire and he helped put it out.   To tell the truth, he was
mostly in it for the nonexistant reward, but he DID remember
seeing somone like what the stranger just mentioned.  As a
matter of fact, now that he was thinking about it, he remembered
seeing that SAME man in a couple of other places, too... though
not around here.

But Boris wasn't THAT drunk...  this was no coincidence,
This stranger was fishing for information.

Well then, perhaps Boris could get his reward after all.

"Yep.  Flashy mage, eh?   Hmph.   Well those fellas shoulda
been askin around here.   We ain't as rowdy... and were much
more appreciative of strangers willin' ta share a bit o'  their gold.
But then, you wouldn't have had your free entertainment, would
ya?   Heh..."

[Emmon]

"Nah, I wouldn't have," Emmon said, with a hoarse laugh, "And I do enjoy
what few free things there are in this world."

He could tell that his "neighbor" had swiftly caught onto what he was
looking for, but now was not the time too look eager. Or to snap up the
bait too quickly - most fishermen carried a gutting knife. Instead he
leaned nearer (but not so much as to cause worry), and said in a
conspiratorial tone, "Since I'm well on my way to wastin' my coin - at
least let me buy you some of Cay's better stuff....."

His tone dropped lower and he glanced towards the barkeep, and added, "If
what you're drinking is the house special - its only good for killin' the
fleas."

[Boris]

"Heh!   Been noticin' a lot less fleas lately!    CAY!    C'mere and
bring us some a the GOOD stuff.   The stranger here is payin!"

Cay responded by sitting two large, dirty glasses of non-diluted
ale on the bar.

Boris grabbed both of them and handed one to the stranger.

"Well now,"  he said.   "What should we be toastin' to?"

[Emmon]

"I like the 'sharin' of prosperity' myself," Emmon answered, and plunked
down ten coppers for the barkeep.

[Boris]

"A man after me own 'eart!"

Borris raised his glass and downed a goodly gulp of the
(relatively) fine ale.

"Yep,"  he said.  "And here's ta strangers!   The friendly ones,
at least..."

[Emmon]

"Well that I usually am," Emmon answered, with a chuckle. He tilted his
own mug back and appeared to take a healthy swallow, though only a little
of the bitter ale actually passed his teeth. He wiped the back of his
hand, mug and all, across his clean-shaven face and said, "Ya know, I've
been thinking.....I might make your evening a little better and save my
own hide from the Missus....."

He set his mug down and leaned a little closer. "Ya see -  that fancy
fellow's other problem was that he was a cheapskate, but I'm not a greedy
fellow...and what he's paying would make up what I drank of my profits.
What say you...I pay you what I have left ...and I sell Mister Fancypants
your tidbit about the mage?"

He eyed his companion and said, "I'd offer to let you come with me and
split the profits, but I wouldn't be insulting you...Neither of us got to
be this old being trusting as babes at our Ma's paps."

[Boris]

"Yeah,"   Boris took another sip.  "Guess that's a fair enough deal."

Of course, Boris was wondering if it wouldn't be better to find this
fancy gentleman himself... but that would mean doublecrossing
this kind stranger.    Not that that was out of the question... but it
would ALSO mean leaving the bar and wandering around
the dangerous Montfort streets looking for a man who he
wasn't 100% sure even existed.      It was probably best to take
what he was offered.

"Well, It was just t'other day... or month... or week, I forget
which.     Seems there was this fire not far from 'ere.  I helped
ta put it out, but come to find that there wasn't no reward in it
as the lady who's house it was turned up dead later on.
Anyway... we'd just about put the thing out when these
folks show up.    Some of 'em looked familiar.   Some of
'em didn't.    One of 'em sounded like that mage you was
talkin about.     Big fella... big 'round the gut, that is.
Wearin colors brighter than the fire we'd just been fightin.'
They start roughin'  people around a little bit... askin'
questions.    I didn't hear what 'cause I tend to keep my
distance from large crowds a strange folks... 'specially
mages.    Anyway, this fat fella draws my attention, see...
and it wasn't cause a his clothes.   I couldn't quite
place it, but when I sobered up later I realizes that I'd seen
this fella somewheres before.     Not too long 'fore then
I was out on the other side a town.   You know.. where
all the fancy shops are.   I wishes I could tell ya I was
lookin for a job, but I was beggin for spare change.   Lots
a rich people shop over there, so I figure if I hang around
long enough some of their luck would rub off on me.  They
ran me off after a few days, but not before I sees this self-same
fat mage walkin around.     I saw him a coupla times, too.
I figure he must owned one a them fancy shops... I sure
hope he wasn't sellin clothes, though!  HA!"

Boris wet his throat with a generous gulp from his glass.

"Yep, saw him 'round there with the fancy stores.     You tell that
fancy man that, and you get yourself a reward.   Don't mention me,
though.  I don't like to be mentioned.   Maybe that's my problem,
heh?"

[Emmon]

"I've found its healthier that way," Emmon said, with a grim chuckle. He
reached into his pouch (the public one) and pulled out about fifteen
coppers, but palmed the silver piece he had also put in the pouch. The
coppers he scooted over to his companion and said, "That ought to keep you
in decent wine tonight - I _do_ appreciate the break you're giving me!!"

Which was true and when he gave his new friend a hearty pat on the
shoulder he let the silver piece drop into the man's pocket.

"Guess I better be getting that reward - and maybe by the time I get home
the Missus will be asleep."

Before he left he quietly added, "I've heard tell that they're hiring out
at Hillrover's new farm."

[Boris]

Boris pocketed the coins and smiled.

"Hillrover farm, eh?    Sounds too much like work... but I suppose I can't
escape it forever.    Thanks for your kindness, Stranger."