Edon Wolf
Broken Keg Tavern
Dalenham, Ethora
Indeed, Edon had mostly ignored Drostan. It was an unconscious thing rather than an active slight on the man. He had been, and largely still was, focused on his own thoughts.
He hadn't eaten since before the raid on the orcs. Some food sounded good, however, the idea of consuming anything from this place turned his stomach. The camp seemed more cleanly by comparison. He neglected to order anything to drink either. Edon wasn't about to risk his bowels on the local water and wasn't willing to dull his senses with something alcoholic.
For a few minutes, the nobleman's eyes were unfocused as he was lost in thought. When somebody came too close to their table, his blue eyes snapped up at them. As the cloaked figure engaged Varian, Edon's eyes turned to the mercenary leader with critical interest.
Salesman, he thought as he listened to the apparent merchant. The man was a salesman and his pitch was one Edon had heard in nearly every market he had visited. He would have sent him on his way but Varian and Drostan seemed to consider it.
Unhurried, Edon rose from his seat and stood to his full height. From there, he glared down at the portly man and said, "Some details would be nice." His tone had the practiced impatience of a man whose time was worth far more than the life of some merchant. It wasn't the most subtle trick but he knew this man's type; he needed to be reminded of his place.
