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-----At the corner of the market, they come in sight of a small tavern. A sign over the door features a boar’s head with a large reddish eye painted over golden lettering. Stepping through the door, Sol sees a medium sized drinking room with small short tables and benches. About twenty patrons are in the place quietly sipping their drinks. A warm fire burns low in the small fireplace and the tavern has a sullen quality about it.
-----The barkeep looks at Sol and the two guards with wide owl-like eyes as they enter. Over the bar, Sol sees a mounted boar’s head, which even though it is the namesake of the place does not add to the décor at all.
-----Sol starts to head towards the bar, a friendly smile on his face. When the barkeep looks startled to receive new patrons, then the poor man should be put at ease. Sol reaches the bar and leans against the bench with one elbow. Looking the barkeep in the eye, he nods a greeting and asks, "Good eve, sir. I'm hoping t'speak to a man named Dalyor. I was told I could find him here. And um...We'd like three ales too, thanks."
-----The barkeep quietly serves up the drinks and takes the copper coins that Sol lays out. He then leans in toward the young warrior, his eyes still large and staring. He opens his mouth exposing a few darkened teeth. In a whisper he tells Sol, "I don’ knowed if’n I ‘member anybody by that name." The barkeep sets his hand out in front of him with his palm open.
-----Sol sighs in disappointment. He's familiar with this drill and he's not overly fond of it. Winter certainly seemed to undergo this particular procedure a number of times, for information he cared not to share, most of which he said was worthless in the end. Still, it's all business in the end, despite its unappealing nature.
-----Glumly, the Gorian reaches into a pocket and pulls out a gold piece and places it in the man's hand. "Think harder. I'm sure ye know the man. After all, he is a regular." Sol's expressions softens slightly, showing the barkeep that it's not the man that Sol disapproves of, just the method of dealing with information.
-----The barkeep closes his fingers around the coin and pulls his hand to his side while a thoughtful frown crosses his face. "Reg’lar, ye say?" he asks in a low voice, "Dalyor . . ." His face lights somewhat with a feigned look of recognition. "Yea, . . yea, I knows. He be over by the fireplace, he is."
-----The barkeep motions to a figure sitting right beside the small mantelpiece.
-----Sol walks over past a few tables while the gentle murmuring of quiet conversation takes place with some of the patrons. The people in the tavern have somewhat of a shadowy appearance from the low lighting. As the young warrior walks toward the fireplace, some hesitate in their talking to give him a quick glance. Romney and Abram stay near the bar but keep an eye on what happens.
-----Rounding a small table, Sol sees a form slumped down and sitting against the wall. The flickering light of the fireplace shows a half-elven male wearing leather armor. His slick black hair is parted in the middle and strands of hair hang limply along each side of his face. Staring at the fire, the half elf suddenly coughs hoarsely and his body seems to quake with it.
-----Sol frowns in concern. This he hadn't been expecting. Naturally the Boar's Eye Tavern was the kind of place where Sol really did not want to know what everyone here does in their off time. The warrior takes the few necessary steps to get to the half elf and once he does, he asks questioningly, "Are ye Dalyor?"
-----Without waiting for an answer, Sol kneels down next to the man and says, "Look, I need to ask fer yer help, but that can wait. Are you all right? What ails ye? Can I get ye something, maybe?" Concern for the man for the moment outweighs other needs...
-----After the fit subsides, the half elf relaxes against the wall again and he looks up at Sol with bleary eyes. His face seems a bit pale and his nose appears slightly red and raw. "Naw, aw’ll be otay if’n da dust settles ‘round ‘ere." The half-elf says in a congested voice.
-----Getting a better look at the young warrior, the half elf answers, "Uh, . . yea, I be Dalyor." After a couple more harsh coughs that draw some disgusted glares from the nearest patrons, the half elf looks at Sol with large red-rimmed eyes and asks, "’Ey, don’ ah knows ye?"
-----Sol shrugs that he doesn't know and answers, "Maybe. I've traveled a little bit. Th' name's Sol. I'm trying to track down some former companions o' mine, an' I was hoping they'd been in t'see you. Gimplefwick, Kazel and Sethanales by name." Sol frowns a little as he adds, "Ye really look as if ye should be getting some bed rest."
-----Dalyor runs his finger back and forth under his nose and groans, "Ah, . . . ah’ll live." The half elf then asks Sol, "So ‘ow did ya find me?"
-----Sol replies, "Voruna said we could find ye here."
-----Dalyor nods his head and looks at Sol thoughtfully. "Wat ‘hese friends o’ yers look like?" he asks curiously.
-----Sol describes them as a scruffy halfling with a parrot on his shoulder, a hard eyed, dark-haired, half elven lass with a scar down her neck, and a well-dressed youthful half elven bard...with a harp.
-----Dalyor’s eyes go wide again and he sits up with a more serious look on his face. "Ah mights knows w’ere ta find ‘em. If’n ya wants ah kin bring ‘em back ‘ere." He suddenly seems to be a bit more energetic.
-----"I'd prefer t'go wi' ye. I'm not sure if they actually want t'see me, though I really hope they don't mind. Still, if ye need t'go alone, then yes fine, I'd appreciate it if ye could bring them here." Sol answers gratefully.
-----"Be best if’n ah go me own way!" Dalyor says lightly jumping up. The half elf then quickly disappears out the front door.
-----With his heart sinking, Sol looks around and sees all the tables are taken. He then heads up to the bar to drink and chat with Romney and Abram.
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