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Envinyatar · 09-22-2004, 01:10 AM

Fen Shepherdspurse

Fen leaned on the bar looking much the worse for wear. Most of the night had been spent galloping to and from his meeting with the Orcs, rather Orc, he should say. Búbkûr! Fen’s face screwed into a soured look as he thought of the Orc. That ugly son of a dark night irked him no end. Dumber’n a stump, he’d decided. He had hoped to speak with the other one, Gráthgrob, the one he’d first made contact with. ‘Ah, well,’ he’d shrugged mentally, ‘one Orc’s coins are as good as another’s.’ He’d come away from the meeting with a few extra coins in his pocket and a new task set for him: pump ‘em for information . . . – the tarks, Búbkûr called them, and the Elves.

And now here Fen was at the bar, wondering how he was to go about his assignment when his ears caught part of the conversation by one the Rangers and the Innkeeper . . .

‘We're interested in hearing about some of the attacks on the settlements around here. Do you know anything about it?’ one of the Rangers had asked. Butterbur’s back was to him and Fen could not make out what he said. But then the Ranger had turned and addressed all those in the common room. ‘Does anybody have any information regarding the attacks in this area?’ Fen was quiet, looking slyly about as several farmers spoke up saying, ‘Aye’, they’d heard the news of this or that happening.

Fen smirked to himself at their little stories. They were nothing compared to what he’d heard about last night. He called Butterbur to him, saying he might have something them Rangers might want to hear about . . . something horrible what just happened last night at the Whittleworth farm. Who should he talk to he wondered aloud, looking about the room at the Breelanders who had already engaged the attention of the Rangers there. ‘You wait here,’ said Butterbur, mistaking the man’s tired, grey, drawn face for one who had seen some horror and was distraught at the thought of it. ‘I’ll fetch someone to hear you out. You just set yourself down, and drink your ale. I’ll be back quicker’n you can wink . . .’

09-22-2004, 01:10 AM	#5
Envinyatar Quill Revenant Join Date: Jan 2003 Location: Wandering through the Downs..... Posts: 849	Fen Shepherdspurse Fen leaned on the bar looking much the worse for wear. Most of the night had been spent galloping to and from his meeting with the Orcs, rather Orc, he should say. Búbkûr! Fen’s face screwed into a soured look as he thought of the Orc. That ugly son of a dark night irked him no end. Dumber’n a stump, he’d decided. He had hoped to speak with the other one, Gráthgrob, the one he’d first made contact with. ‘Ah, well,’ he’d shrugged mentally, ‘one Orc’s coins are as good as another’s.’ He’d come away from the meeting with a few extra coins in his pocket and a new task set for him: pump ‘em for information . . . – the tarks, Búbkûr called them, and the Elves. And now here Fen was at the bar, wondering how he was to go about his assignment when his ears caught part of the conversation by one the Rangers and the Innkeeper . . . ‘We're interested in hearing about some of the attacks on the settlements around here. Do you know anything about it?’ one of the Rangers had asked. Butterbur’s back was to him and Fen could not make out what he said. But then the Ranger had turned and addressed all those in the common room. ‘Does anybody have any information regarding the attacks in this area?’ Fen was quiet, looking slyly about as several farmers spoke up saying, ‘Aye’, they’d heard the news of this or that happening. Fen smirked to himself at their little stories. They were nothing compared to what he’d heard about last night. He called Butterbur to him, saying he might have something them Rangers might want to hear about . . . something horrible what just happened last night at the Whittleworth farm. Who should he talk to he wondered aloud, looking about the room at the Breelanders who had already engaged the attention of the Rangers there. ‘You wait here,’ said Butterbur, mistaking the man’s tired, grey, drawn face for one who had seen some horror and was distraught at the thought of it. ‘I’ll fetch someone to hear you out. You just set yourself down, and drink your ale. I’ll be back quicker’n you can wink . . .’