Snippet #1891124

"Welcome to the Ace o' Spades. What canni' getcha?" The bartender - a thickly built, dark man with a half-grin and short-cropped brown hair - asked the newest customer. Hearing the order and seeing the large bag of coins, he raised an eyebrow in surprise. That was about as much as an entire night's winnings here for most, and yet this man was tossing it out so eagerly? Delrich followed a strict policy of ask-no-questions - such was what one needed to survive on Ralfar - but even he was curious, not to mention suspicious, of this customer's rather extreme generosity. He didn't doubt that the sound of the gold hitting the counter had already attracted the attention of a lot of the more unsavory sorts, but the next words out of the customer's mouth caused the number of eyes on him to rise exponentially. At those three words, all talk in the room seemed to cease in a wave, silenced by whispers traveling outward amongst the patrons. Delrich could see from where he stood pouring the man his beer that all eyes in the entire room were on him.

"That's somethin' we don' like talkin' about," He said at length, turning around with a grave expression. "Derned Hunter's done in enough people in this quarter already. Now, I advise ya' stifle yerself. It's got eyes ever'iwherr, sees ever'ithin tha' happens on this island. You'll be lucky if it di'n peg ya' as a threat for that comment and slit yer' throat once no'un can see ya'." Delrich handed over the beer, then whispered into his client's ear.

"Now I can tell ya'r new to Ralfar, so lemme give ya' some advice. Don' ask questions, 'specially not abou' it. Sometimes, it's best just ta' keep yer' head down. Better not ta' be noticed, take me word ferrit. 'S how I lived this long. Good luck ta' yoo, and I pray fer yer safety."

Stepping away, the disguised man went off to serve another client who had just seated himself at the bar. Over the years, he had perfected his poker face - and for all he let on, he was just an honest bartender. Although he didn't let it show, however, he was deeply troubled. That man hadn't been from Ralfar, that much was obvious. You didn't go around on the island of slaves and death throwing your money around and asking questions about taboo items like that. There was no doubt about it - he was either a cocky mercenary or a city guard, and he'd been sent to deal with Szaya. Since a mercenary would have been more street savvy than this man who acted so boldly, that left only the latter option. The half-oni knew that Szaya couldn't go forever without attracting the attention of the Arians, but still, he wished that time could have come at some later point.

Fortunately, she wasn't in, and wouldn't be for a day or so - he knew for a fact that she had gone off to break up a slaver ring that night, and would have been on their hidden airship, halfway to Demnix by now. Unfortunately, Delrich was fairly sure that guards wouldn't give up until they either got themselves killed or found what they were looking for. It might have become problematic to bring Szaya back into the establishment...