Dorian Andrael sat at the table in the tavern sipping his ale slowly. The brew was smoky with the taste of peat moss from the bogs far to the north and sweet with hints of caramels and malted barley. He enjoyed this kind of brew when the cold winds began to howl and the rains made his bones ache and his scars burn. It warmed his blood and cooled his thirst just enough to make him want more. A stunningly beautiful woman with thick, shining auburn hair tied back in a bun beneath her woolen bonnet poured him another glass and shook her head at the coin he tried to drop on her tray. He'd over paid for the last four rounds and this one, it seemed, was on the house. Dorian watched as she swayed away from his table to wait on the handful of other patrons in The Barnacle Tavern and winked at her when she caught him watching. She threw her head back and laughed a deep, throaty laugh as she pushed her way back into the kitchen. Dorian chuckled to himself. On another night, she could get him into a world of trouble, and be worth every second of it. But not this night. Dorian sipped his ale and watched the door. He'd been watching the door for more than three hours now, and he was beginning to grow impatient. The only reason he was still sitting there was because the ale was good and the company was better. He hadn't wanted to take this meeting and didn't want to be sitting where he was, but he didn't have a choice in the matter now. He'd agreed before he knew what bargain he was striking, and now the price was his to pay. But that didn't mean he had to like paying it. "Are you going to sit there staring all night?" A rough voice growled from the other side of the table and Dorian jumped. "You're late," Dorian spat back at the man who shrugged. "You were supposed to be here hours ago. Don't keep me waiting again or it will be the last time you keep anyone waiting." "You threatening me, gypsy?" The man growled, his voice low and dangerous. Dorian leaned forward, his eyes narrow. "Yes," he hissed back. The two locked stares for a moment longer, then the greasy haired gutter thief sat back, the leering grin back. "Careful who you threaten, gypsy. They'll find your bells in the gutter, if you're not." Dorian turned his head and spat air. "And they'll find your eyes and your tongue nailed to a post in the midden fields, gutter rat." "You keep throwing names around and I'll take my information somewhere else," the man said, one eyebrow arched. "You won't," Dorian retorted, calling the man's bluff. "You know no one else will pay as well as I do, assuming the information is valid, that is." "Oh, it's real," the man said. "You asked for information about a man named Mordecai, yes? Just so happens I was in the mountains of Covetous the other day and saw a man who went by that name." Dorian frowned as he sat back in his seat and sipped his ale. "Mountains of Covetous? And what would a gutter rat thief from Jhelom be doing in the mountains of Covetous?" The man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I saw a rich man cast a gate at the bank and I snuck through before he could close it. I ended up outside of his locked tower when the gate closed and I was stranded. I had to wander around and find my way back to town. While I was wandering, that's when I saw him." "I don't buy it, gutter rat," Dorian said, shaking his head. "I want the truth, all of it. If I don't get it, you don't get your price." The man sneered at Dorian, but finally nodded. "Fine. I went through the gate and tried to knife the man in the back. He was quicker than I thought he would be, though, and my blade only caught his shoulder. He started casting spells and I ran. I hid in the rocks and snuck away, but I got lost. I kept walking, but instead of finding my way back to the forest I just kept getting deeper and deeper into the mountains. After a while, I found a trail and started following it. I thought it would take me down to a mining camp or something I could make my way back to civilization. But it led to a cave. I could hear something from inside, and thought it might be a miner, so I sipped a bit of a nightsight potion to brighten the darkness and stepped into the cave. Miners always carry trinkets and gems they uncover, and many have runes and scrolls to recall. I thought I might find my way back to town." "And did you?" Dorian asked when the man paused. "I'm a might thirsty," The thief said, eyeing Dorian's ale. "Let's get to the end of the story first," Dorian said, sliding his ale to the side. "Then you'll have enough coin you can buy your own ales." "Fine," The man growled. "Anyway, I went looking for miners, but didn't find them. Instead I found this guy dressed in black robes with a blood red cloak chanting something in an ancient language I couldn't understand. Around him knelt thirteen Lich Lords, their staves laid at his feet in a ring. All of the Lich lords were bowed with their foreheads in the dirt facing the man. They were chanting something I could understand. Mordecai. They kept saying it over and over again. After a while, the man stopped chanting and he seemed to glow green. He turned and headed for the mouth of the cave where I was hidden, the Lich Lords following like a pack of puppies or something, still chanting his name. I remember their eyes glowing green too, same color as the man. They all walked out into the daylight, the Lich Lords too, like it was nothing. Not a one of them burst into flames, crumbled to dust, or anything. It was like the sunlight weren't even touching them." "Where did they go?" Dorian asked as the man wound down and fell silent. "Are you mad, man?" The thief snorted, "I didn't follow him. I stayed hidden for the next three hours until the potion wore off completely. I wanted to make certain they were gone before I even dared to move. As soon as I felt I could, I ran. I found my way out of the mountains and kept running. That's how I ended up here, in this Fates forsaken mining town." Dorian thought about the man's story. It was wild and outlandish enough that he doubted the thief would have made it up. After all, why fabricate a lie so outrageous that no one would believe it was true anyway? Finally, he nodded. "Very well, take me to the cavern." The thief's face went pale and his eyes wide. He shook his head and started to stand. "I won't. Doesn't matter if you threaten to withhold your pay or not, I won't go back to those mountains. Not if you offered me all the gold in the Nu'Jelm prince's vault. I may be a gutter rat thief, but I'm alive and I have my soul, black and twisted as it is. I play to keep it that way." "Okay," Dorian said, motioning for the man to take his seat. "Okay.... I believe you. And here's your pay." Dorian slid a purse across the table. It held six diamonds the size of his thumb, a handful of rubies and emeralds as big as sparrow eggs, and a few hundred gold marks. The thief looked in the purse and his eyes widened again. He licked his lips. "Why the extra glitter and gems?" "For you forgetting that we ever talked," Dorian answered, "And to pay for your travel to another tavern. I don't care where you go, but you leave Minoc and don't return." The man started to say something, but Dorian shook his head and fixed him with a cold, hard stare. "I mean it. Leave town tonight, now. If the sun rises and you are here, you won't live to see it set again. Understand?" "What about the ale you said we'd drink?" The man asked, the sneer back on his face. Dorian shook his head. "Drink not with thine enemies," he replied, "And whatever else you may be, gutter rat, you're still my enemy. Now be gone before I rethink letting you keep breathing." The thief snatched the purse up, spat in the spittoon by his feet, and left. Dorian sat, staring into what was left of his ale as he thought. After a time, the tavern mistress returned with her pitcher and asked if he wanted another. Dorian shook his head, "I would love to stay and drink with you all night, love," he answered. "But I have miles to go before my head finds a pillow, and I have to be about it." The tavern mistress frowned and batted her long eyelashes. "Such a tragedy. Perhaps next time you're in town?" Dorian laughed and kissed the woman lightly on the cheek as he slipped another three coins, these platinum, onto her tray. "Love, by the next time I find myself here some rich mining baron will have snatched you up and made you an honest wife. And there's nothing I fear more than an honest wife." The woman's laughter followed Dorian out the door of the tavern and into the cold night, and it warmed his blood almost as well as the ale.
