Mitro had barely finished closing the smashed door, when an
arrow slammed narrowly missed a patron across the bar.
"Sheesh." he thought to himself as he glanced around. "I'll
be lucky to stay alive long enough to meet my contact."
As he made his was to the bar, he caught part of a conversation
by some big, smelly, brute. "Des handzz crushes your...
understandz...." The rest was drowned out as the battered
door came crashing in.
Pulling his hood around his head, he sits at the bar. A quick
nod to the barkeep was all it took to get a mug of dark ale
brought to him. Tossing a few gold pieces on the bar, he
quietly asks, "Is it true that your the one to ask for information?"
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