Post by Clannad on Jan 23, 2005 0:45:21 GMT
Silence lingered a few drawn out seconds, Jrace looked flatly at the man before him at this news, and thought, bugger. Lady Luck had clearly decided to shun him this day.
Looking at the bounty hunters narrow-eyed glare in response to his kindly offered information, the patron of the tavern who'd delivered it made a hasty retreat back to some friends of his, ale mug clasped tightly. Quickly conveying the news that the new arrival was to be avoided as he was most likely quite insane.
Considering the tavern he'd now found himself in having followed the instructions of a woman he'd met in the street near the gate, (the giggle really should of given it away) he decided there were conceivably worse places to be and helped the farmer into a seat. Settling down nearby he glanced about till caught the eye of one of the serving girls, beckoning her over, "two ales thanks, lass. Take the price of a third for yourself."
He grinned at her receding back, wondering hopefully if there'd be a chance there later, she didnt look half bad, and everybody knows what barmaids are like. The farmer coughed, dragging his attention away from the shapely behind neatly framed by that dress and back to the older man, "you alright there?"
Tomas shook his head, eyes looking slightly glazed, the stain of blood on his coat collar seemed to Jrace's mind to of spread further than he remembered. Getting up and moving round the table he examined the man's injury, frowning at what he found, it was more serious than he liked the look of. The older man quietly asked, "how is it?
Returning to his seat with a reassuring smile plastered over his features, "your fine, nothing that a good ale and some rest wont fix." At which point the barmaid made her timely arrival, delivering the drinks for the two with a slight smile to the bounty hunter. Leaving Tomas to grogily drink his, Jrace got to his feet and followed the woman back to the bar. Hailing her once he was out of earshot of his companion, "good lady, allow me to introduce myself, Jrace Bresinger. New to this fine city and establishment, I wonder, could you help me find somebody who'd know about patching injured men up? My friend there has a nasty looking wound to his head, brigand-delivered."
Looking at the bounty hunters narrow-eyed glare in response to his kindly offered information, the patron of the tavern who'd delivered it made a hasty retreat back to some friends of his, ale mug clasped tightly. Quickly conveying the news that the new arrival was to be avoided as he was most likely quite insane.
Considering the tavern he'd now found himself in having followed the instructions of a woman he'd met in the street near the gate, (the giggle really should of given it away) he decided there were conceivably worse places to be and helped the farmer into a seat. Settling down nearby he glanced about till caught the eye of one of the serving girls, beckoning her over, "two ales thanks, lass. Take the price of a third for yourself."
He grinned at her receding back, wondering hopefully if there'd be a chance there later, she didnt look half bad, and everybody knows what barmaids are like. The farmer coughed, dragging his attention away from the shapely behind neatly framed by that dress and back to the older man, "you alright there?"
Tomas shook his head, eyes looking slightly glazed, the stain of blood on his coat collar seemed to Jrace's mind to of spread further than he remembered. Getting up and moving round the table he examined the man's injury, frowning at what he found, it was more serious than he liked the look of. The older man quietly asked, "how is it?
Returning to his seat with a reassuring smile plastered over his features, "your fine, nothing that a good ale and some rest wont fix." At which point the barmaid made her timely arrival, delivering the drinks for the two with a slight smile to the bounty hunter. Leaving Tomas to grogily drink his, Jrace got to his feet and followed the woman back to the bar. Hailing her once he was out of earshot of his companion, "good lady, allow me to introduce myself, Jrace Bresinger. New to this fine city and establishment, I wonder, could you help me find somebody who'd know about patching injured men up? My friend there has a nasty looking wound to his head, brigand-delivered."
