[i][color=ed1c24]Dren Rache[/color][/i]

"Merchant. Wait. I'll buy from you now." THERE was Dren's cue, a sly smile spreading upon his face as he curtly turned on his heels to face the speaker... though, his cool facade faltered a moment as he looked upon the person speaking to him. A large orc, an ice variety he'd have to guess by that unique skin pigmentation, towering size and clear strength, not someone Dren wanted to have to deal with in close proximity. He'd prefer to deal with this man from at least three towns away. Not to mention a questing hand was making its way toward that ugly length of metal at his side. No grace at all. But, if he insisted upon making a move, Dren could at least coax him out of it.

[color=ed1c24]"Sleeping Death? Childs play."[/color] he boasted, slipping a hand into the folds of his coat and removing another tiny pyramid bottle, this one containing a bright pink liquid. [color=ed1c24]"My friend, I carry a potion for almost every occasion, and if I do not know that occasion, I can prepare something for it when asked. As to disprove the charlatan accusation, I have offered your ally there a sample of my work. If you truly do not believe in my skills, simply try it out. If I am the charlatan you accuse me of being, the draught will be faulty. And then you can swing at me with that heap you're grasping for. I won't even dodge."[/color] Dren was sure this orc wouldn't back down from an offer like that. A display like this often verified to a buyer that Dren was more than willing to stake his life upon his work. Of course it could go the other way and this musclehead could just lunge at him. His free hand gripped the head of his cane tightly, just in case he would soon find need of it. 

[@Ashevelendar]