Last call

The cautious drow leaned forward and finally made eye contact with Norman.

"While I appreciate the idea of achieving more together than through our separate efforts, I must inquire: What assurances can you offer? How can I trust that your adventuring company is as tight-knit as you claim? That you are as great a warrior as your enthusiasm claims? And, forgive my directness, but what's in it for you? What do you hope to gain from my presence? Or what is it you would specifically have me do? What reward is there other than doing the world good against evil?" Rezp said.

By the seven windmill gods! Norman had no idea that drow could be so chatty! No sooner had the man asked his last question, then the Norman had forgotten the first one!

He took a long sip of his tankard. The strong grog inside sloshed around in his brain as he drank, calming any anxiety that he might have otherwise felt... and dulling his senses like a crayon being drug across sandpaper.

"What- what was the first...? Ye know what, I'll tell ye what. That dagger that your clenching... (he was a drow for goodness sake, he was PROBABLY clenching a dagger) ...I've a feeling that it's for more than just the odd tavern drunkard. Am I right? I know a warrior when I see one. So, if'n your not apposed to killing things that we can all agree need killing, then there's money in it for you," Norman said and slapped the poster he'd been carrying down on the table in front of him.

Que dramatic quest music!

"Coin and glory for short term service. I can offer ye nothing greater than my word on everything else," he said and finished his drink. "I tell ye what, sleep on it. The Governor's having a meeting in a few days. If I see you there, I'll know I was right. An' if not, well... good luck your pursuits, friend."

And with that, the perky little gnome took his leave and dissapeared amongst the crowd of patrons.

"Ooh, a wee folk!" anyone sharp of hearing might have heard amongst the chatter.