Broken Pieces

(Stone Clan, Zoluren: 280 Skullcleaver 364)

Baresh was just thinking about closing early when two figures entered his tavern, look around, and then sat on one of the farthest booths, in a corner, each sited with his back to a wall. As Baresh approaches them, one of the figures raises his hand making him stop, and throws a Gold Kronar to him. Through a Plain Black mask, not the armor type, but rather like from a ball, a muffled voice dryly tells him:

“Just let us rest our legs for a couple of minutes… take that for your trouble.”

Baresh did as requested… but his finely tuned ears, trained in the art of understanding slurred speech and ale orders even in the noises nights… were kept wide open. Notwithstanding the distance, the mask of one of the adventurers… short and a little stocky… most probably a dwarf… and the small fine hand covering the face of the other, short but more wiry… a halfling perhaps… he was able to capture some phrases…

“… for your performance, it was a …” said the masked one.

“Well you know…” “I brought the…” said his companion.

The masked one took out a soft coin purse, bulging and apparently heavy. He threw it at the other one, who, after balancing it in his hand as if his fine fingers could count the coins from its weight, took out what appeared to be some kind of document and passed it over the table to the masked one. The Masked one promptly took a flint from his golden hip pouch, an and stiletto, after a quick flip of his hand, the document started to burn.

“You are not going to read it?” almost screamed the wiry one through his hand.

The masked one grunted enigmatically at his companion.

“… the point.” “… care” Mumbled the masked one.

“Ro… she wont be back?” asked the masked figure.

The wiry short one shake his head to his companion.

“… bori and a witness… Seda….” Added the one that Baresh was almost sure to be a halfling.

“Stick to… I knew he would loose his head.” Said the masked one with a mocking grunt.

“Then you know…” asked the one that looked like a halfling.

“… or not…” answered in part the dwarven looking figure.

Baresh then turn towards the door… a warm breeze entered and a pungent stench of Wet leather and viper oil reached out to him… offensively. Baresh turn again towards the both, but fount it empty… the window open.

“Guess that smell is not so good for business…”

Baresh smiled at his joke… and put the gold coin in his money belt while pondering how that all fit.