“Lamm is dead,” the man in black said as he watched him die by the hands of some mysterious man, along with a group of men, and women who stormed the warehouse where Lamm took up shop. He had a faint smile on his face, “Good riddance to bad rubbish, I never really cared for him,” he remarks limping away gripping the side of his leg, an injury he sustained a few weeks prior when he was maimed by a guardsmen of the city watch a few weeks prior to this. A name he will soon not forget, “Thorn…” Turning back he sees the hunter, “THORN!”
Mr. Black sits in a rundown bar drinking ale, flirting with the bar wench, grabbing her ass every time she walked by, “Give me some sugar baby.”
The wench giggled, slapping him gently, “Oh you! Behave.”
Smiling he winks at her returning to his drink, downing it in one swig letting out a huge belch, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
Sitting there he looks at the bow and smiles, “Poor brat. He better not betray me, or he will die by his own bow, you.” Shaking his head realizing that he’s talking to an inanimate object, “Bah…”
A bard tells tales in the corner of the bar, spinning stories of a group of adventures and city guardsmen that have been helping out in the city during this bleak time. – A fellow bard, a cook, a generous bartender, a man with deadly fists, an angel, and the huntsman.
“Shad-up ye stupid bard! They ain’t no heroes, ’specially that hunter!” Mr. Black yells out loud. “That hunter shoots innocent people! I should know, he shot me.”
The bard stops his story to listen, as do other patrons that were listening.
“That hunter, his name is Thorn. He’s a trained killer. A half-breed elf and a human. He shot me in mah leg, crippled me!” Mr. Black yells out his own tale of woe and lies.
Truth be told, Mr. Black, a former member of Lamm’s gang, but no longer he struck out on his own, quite unsuccessfully, blaming Thorn for his failure at his chosen profession of a “Bill Collector -Thief.” Ostracized from several clans of thieves who wants nothing to do with a cripple that would hinder their group. Thorn had shot him when he pulled a blade on him after being caught breaking into a home of one of the city officials.
His lies make him sound like a legitimate servant for the city and he was just doing his due diligence, making an honest living.
Satisfied as the bard believes his bluff, and lies as the story changes when he continues.
“Another ale over here!” Mr. Black yells, grabbing the wench again winking at her.
She is a bit more intrigued she responds back with a kiss on his cheek, for she also took in the story of woe and whispers in Mr. Black’s ear, “I’m Pearl, I’m off in a few.”
“Call me… Black. Care for a little fun?” He asked.
With a nod, Pearl says, “I stay upstairs in a room. We’ll see,” she flirts twirling around heading back to the bar for his drink."
Leaning back in his chair satisfied with tarnishing Thorn’s name tonight, and successfully flirting up the wench so he has a place to stay he smiles he loves manipulation and bluffing his way to get what he wants.