A chorus of cheers rang out from a corner of the bar. Thothen had made his way into a diverse group of beings. Humans, halflings, and orks were surrounding the dwarf. All held mugs high in the air. Ale sloshed, splashed amongst the beings and soaked the wood floor.
Jarik had pulled up a chair and sat at a table occupied by a single human. A hood was pulled low over the human’s eyes. Wisps of a gray beard protruded from his wrinkled face.
“Come here often?” Jarik asked of the old man. The human drank from his goblet and didn’t respond to the half-elf’s question. “Sure is busy in here today. How were you able to secure a table for just yourself? My friends and I were barely able to find a seat in here. Unfortunately there wasn’t enough room for us at that table. Mind if I join you for a spell? It sure is nice to get off of that horse. Sure is a long ride all the way out here. Why did they have to hold this auction in such a remote village? Do you have any idea?”
The old man glared at Jarik. “If I answer your questions will you go away?”
“Probably not. My name is Carroll Cassivellaunus, what’s yours?”
“My name is of no importance to you young one,” the old man said. The corner of the room seemed to grow a little darker and a little colder. “Vacate this table now before things get vastly unpleasant for you.”
“What ya drinking there?” Jarik reached for the goblet. “Is it tasty? Do you think I would like it? What brings you to this auction? What are you planning to buy? Is it interesting? I bet it would be something that you could use to level entire cities.”
“You are lucky on this day you meager little pest. For I do not wish to be escorted away for wiping a whelp like you off the face of this speck of a town.” A pillar of smoke erupted around the old man and he vanished.
“Looks like I need to find someone else to question,” Jarik said to himself as he finished off the red wine from the goblet.