“That sounds horrible, R’uth.”
Lyssa stares at him with sympathy in her eyes, even though the minotaur can’t see it.
“Horrible, yes”, he slowly repeats after her. “I have been alone for long time. Demons do not understand me. I do not understand demons. They do understand coins and pointing at food and drinks. Time passes quickly when a stomach is full and the mind is drunk.”
The satyr looks at the table. Maybe all of those empty glasses explain the slur he speaks with?
“What game did you play, R’uth?” Bruq sounds intrigued. “Never heard about a minotaur playing games instead of the usual wandering through labyrinths.”
R’uth leans back in his chair, eyes closed, and he waves his hand towards him in a slightly uncoordinated manner, not entirely clear what he tries to make the satyr understand.
“People throw stuff at me. I smash it with a club and the stuff flies away. I am very good at this game. One time someone got in the way of my swing. His head flew right to the clouds!”
The minotaur laughs out loud. His heaving pectoral muscles push against the thick leather strap across his chest. At its bottom dangles a giant club, which has obviously seen better days. The head of the wooden weapon is splintered all over and it is covered with rusted metal shards and dried up blood.
(Deception 17)
“It does sound like fun.”
It helps that R’uth can’t see the siren’s face when she says this, because her squinted eyes and pressed lips might give away she thinks otherwise. For now, she thinks he believes her.
“If you’re finished with everything”, she continues as she looks at the partially empty plates, “we can help you walk over to the bar and meet our friends.”
He swipes his hand across the table, knocking over almost everything and getting all kinds of food on his palm and fingers.
“I am good. We can go now.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
The half-elf tries to draw the patron’s attention, but he doesn’t seem to hear him above the noise the demon’s making. Or he chooses not to respond, which is also an option. Oslando guesses it’s the first one.
“Demon”, Dargothoth says loudly before the eldritch knight can speak again, “we require your service.”
The toad-like demon puts down the cloth he’s cleaning with and turns around slowly. He slams his hands on the bar and leans over towards them, his slouch increasing. His bright yellow eyes seem too small compared to his bloated head and his slit-shaped pupils jump from stranger to another.
“What do you need, ucha’ari? Food, bed or both?”
His deep voice makes him sound grumpy and harsh. but his smile, although revealing sharp teeth, is welcoming. When he speaks certain letters, his cheeks bulge, only adding to idea of his toad-like demeanour.
“Both”, the cleric answers, “and advice.”
The patron widens his small eyes and places five clay mugs in front of them.
“I presume the two looking like a balam and succubus want a drink as well?”
The demon picks up a small barrel and pours a dark brown liquid into their mugs, spilling surprisingly little in the process.
“Dargothoth.” Mero whispers. “We don’t have any money to pay. Shouldn’t we tell him?”
The sivak shakes his head subtly, making sure the patron remains unaware of this potential problem.
“What is this beverage you’re pouring us? And what do you recommend us off of the menu? I want something with a lot of meat.”
The patron chuckles, not taking his eyes off of their drinks.
“It’s krogg. Not the best ale, but still ale nevertheless. Bitter and sweet, just like life.” He sighs and his smile disappears. “Just a little too bitter for my taste, these last few dekani.”
They understand that he’s speaking about weeks, but it doesn’t translate properly into their heads, as if there is no word in the Common tongue for what he’s saying.
The patron looks up and sees the questioning glance in the half-elf’s eyes.
“My apologies, urcha’ari. I didn't mean to bother you with the stories of an old hezrou. I’ll get you something to eat. And you asked for advice? What can I do for you?”
Now that they have his attention, Oslando feels like he can join the conversation again.
“We’re here to help with the curse that struck your town and a lady named Audrea told us to talk to you. She told us to say hello on behalf of her. Is there anything you can tell us?”
The demon stops pouring the drinks and looks up.
“If you can truly help us, then food and drinks are on me. Please, have a seat. I’ll get the plates and then we can have a serious talk.”
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