Lafitte scowled slightly beneath his mask. Not much information to go on, he thought. With a grunt and a nod he went on his way with the wizard.
On the bright side, Jeneyeru seemed to be friendlier for whatever reason than his brother, the Prince. “Let’s try the tavern,” Lafitte said, nodding in its general direction, “I fancy a drink.” And with that Lafitte rolled a cigarette and shoved it part-way beneath his mask.
Taking a seat at the bar beneath the awning, he lit up and waved the bartender over, “I’ll take an ale…” he said, leaning over the bar, “…and some information if it’s not too much trouble.” The bartender gave an inquisitive look (at least as much as one could lacking the ability to show facial expressions) as he handed Lafitte a large mug full of a dark, frothy beer.
The man stood tall, and broad-shouldered. With the mask on Lafitte couldn’t tell which of Aeldreth’s many ethnicities the man was, save a guess that he wasn’t dwarf. He had on the typical garb of britches, hat and shirt of the day, though opting for a red vest rather than the usual coat, probably for ease of mobility preparing drinks.
As Lafitte took a sip of the bitter beer, he decided he’d show the possibilities of what the barman could gain by cooperating with him. Taking out his sack of coins, he laid a couple of silvers on the bar as a tip, making sure to show the glint of the gold pieces just beneath…