The Orcish Horde 2 — The Informant

Posted by Scourge on February 8, 2010

The missus whined and scolded a bit, as she always did when Harlon excused himself from one of these society dinners. She knew him well enough by now, surely, to realize he had no intentions of going to any of them. One thing you could say for the old girl: she could make excuses like the best of them.

So, while she donned a ridiculous turquoise gown and stuck an open fan in her hair – the latest fashion in Barend – he, pulled on his unpolished boots and planned how he was going to find the flamboyant stranger.

He was out the door in time to swing open the door to the coach grandly. “Make my apologies,” he said to a purse-lipped wife. The instant it rumbled out of sight, he turned the other way and headed over to the Corpulent Frog.

As expected, Stinky Delfarthing was at his usual spot, tucked up to the bar in the Corpulent Frog, and easily on his fifth or sixth drink of the night. Harlon strolled up and eased onto the stool next to him. “Hey Del,” he said, and the older man swung his head toward him cautiously, as if he expected it would fall off if he went too fast.

“Whosa talkin to ol’ Delfarthin tonigh’?” he blared. “Someone wan’s a lickin’?”

Harlon shook his head. “Its Harlon. I have a question for you.”

The drunk lowered his voice. “Questions cost.”

But Harlon was already pulling several coins out of his pocket and laying them on the bar between Del’s many empty glasses. The bartender – who actually looked exactly like the name of his establishment – sidled off and became interested in something on the other side of the room. He was a man more interested in booze and snack-food than questions.

“Whaddya askin’?” It appeared that Del had forgotten to swallow his last moutful and some of the drink dribbled out when he spoke.

“I’m looking for a new man in town. Colorful chap, runs about with a big orc.”

Del took another drink and Harlon watched him swallow carefully this time before replying. “Ah, yes.” His tone was suddenly quite clear and even lower than before. “I saw them. Odd fellow. And that orc! Warhammer?” He quirked his eyebrow at Harlon and shook his head. “Makes a man curious to be sure.”

Harlon nodded and slid a few more coins across the bar.

“He took a room in Lady’s Ansul’s boarding house. The orc went in with him, and two-three trunks of luggage hiked up on his shoulders – along with that warhammer big as a gnome – like they were nothing.”

“You’re a pal,” Harlon said, standing up. He clapped Del on his back. His mind was whirring again. Lady Ansul’s house. The same place Celiaria was staying. Odd, he thought, as he turned to leave.

“Sure,” Delfarthing replied, and tucked back into his cup. His free hand swept the coins off the bar and made them vanish inside his coat.

Something suddenly popped into Harlon’s mind and he turned back to Del. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was too late. Stinky Delfarthing had succumbed and was now lying on the floor, one boot still propped up on the barstool, in a pool of his own vomit.