Ravenous Adventures - A Tale from Neverbeen Universe

29

Sendrith was very content with his find.

He had not reached the end of his mission, though. The item posed some questions and it intrigued him to find the answers. Moreover it prolonged his adventure, which was just what he wanted; the dungeons could wait.

Number 463 was trailing behind him, eyes wide and the spitting image of a frightened animal. The young shadow devil was quiet company and Sendrith liked it this way. Besides number 463 never denied him if he wanted to play. There were only two people in the entire world who he loved to play with; his lord and his twin. But right now, number 463 was the best choice as Sendrith needed his capabilities.

They continued their journey northeast and followed a path close to the borders. Sendrith intended to venture into enemy territory soon and the thought of danger thrilled him so much he almost wanted to be captured. Yet it was better if they kept a low profile and investigated inconspicuously.

At a village close to the borderlands Sendrith decided to stop at the only inn and rent a room. Usually they would have stayed outside and camped but he was seeking information, and what better place for gossip and rumours than a tavern!

Number 463 would stay at the room, though; he was too shy and a shadow devil always frightened people, and Sendrith couldn't allow that.

He first went to the local tailor and looked at the ware before he had the shop owner measure him up for a new outfit. His clothes would become too suspicious when they continued deeper into enemy territory. Moreover he would need much warmer things to wear if they went farther north into areas of eternal snow.

He took his time and chatted with the tailor, learned about the village and its inhabitants and created the air of a wandering scribe about himself. He knew word would get around and his twin was the perfect reference for impersonation. He even used Sendrael's name.

When the tailor buckled down to work Sendrith strolled about the village and made sure to be seen before he returned to the inn for a late luncheon. Its name, 'The Puking Heron', didn't daunt him at all. He sat at the bar and waited. Soon the barmaid, Taffy-Mae, was flaunting her cleavage over the counter and smiled toothily: "What can I get for you, hunk?"

Sendrith grinned right back. "I'll have some red wine and whatever you recommend for lunch, sweetie," he decided and winked at her for good measure. She chuckled in response and poured him a jar of wine the colour of clotting blood. "I'll see what our chef Bardrey is up to today," Taffy-Mae smiled like a Cheshire cat and waddled into the kitchen.

He took a sip and looked around. The wine tasted bland but at least it was strong. The taproom was almost empty save for a table of five currish looking men playing some sort of combined card and dice game, and a corner booth where a shady bloke was getting seriously plastered by himself.

That was not quite the company Sendrith sought; he would probably stay with the stereotypically busty barmaid and see what she knew.

Just then someone entered and almost knocked his head at the door casing; the guy was even taller than Sendrith and he looked very peculiar and distinctive. His skin was tanned and his long pointy and droopy ears gave away that he was a darkelf. He wore a linen shirt and padded trousers even though it was quite cold outside. But the most prominent aspect was his bright red Mohican and short dark-blue fuzzy hair. Lankily he strode to the bar and sat almost shyly on the stool next to Sendrith.

'Interesting', the silver-haired thought and grinned into his jug of wine.

Right on cue Taffy-Mae appeared and put a bowl of meat broth and a small loaf of bread in front of Sendrith before she greeted the darkelf with a smile: "What can I get you, sweetie pie?" Sendrith observed in silence while he ate.

The hulking Mohican startled and stammered: "Uh...an apple juice, please."

The barmaid's bright mood soured and as she replied with a pout: "Look. We're a tavern; order some alcohol, okay?"

The tall man seemed to shrink in his stool. "Yes, ma'am," he murmured and thought for a while too long; Taffy-Mae tapped her foot impatiently. "Well?" The funny darkelf scratched the back of his head and weakly smiled: "Uh, an apple wine then, please?"

The barmaid harrumphed and poured a jugful; when the darkelf drank a thirsty gulp he pulled such a face it was obvious the beverage was not cider but ordinary white wine. He didn't dare say anything, though, and the barmaid waddled towards the gambling men so they could place their orders.

Sendrith watched the strange man for a while sipping on his wine until he made himself known and startled the poor guy so much that he almost spilled his beverage. "You're an Underwoodian, aren't you? What brings a darkelf so far from home?"

"Uh...yeah, how did you know?" he asked puzzled and slightly amazed. Sendrith almost rolled his eyes. It said 'RGoG' on his breast harness and it stood for the Royal Garrison of Glaemmerstarff; Underwood was the capital of Glaemmerstarff Kingdom, and the garrison headquarters were located there. "Your accent," he said instead.

"Oh," the darkelf seemed surprised; he didn't answer the question, though. So Sendrith reached out his hand. "Call me Sendrael," he smiled. The scar on the darkelf's right cheek intrigued him.

"Uh, right," the peculiar bloke shook hands reluctantly, "nice to meet you. I'm Kara."

Sendrith nodded and rose his jug coaxing the other to drink, too. "So, Kara, what brings you here?" he tried again, sensing a story. Kara scratched the back of his head. "I'm on holiday," he told, "or I was. I'm on my way to my next mission now."

"That's nice," Sendrith replied and encouraged, "So you're traveling alone?" He assumed Kara was simpleminded and gullible as soldiers often were. Maybe he could learn something about that mission and use it to his advantage.

"No," the Mohican shook his head and then smiled, "I'm with my partner, Binky; he's really clever and reliable. He's over at the stables just now."

Sendrith nodded. This made the situation more complicated; a partner could interfere.

He took another sip of his wine and Kara swiftly repeated the move guided by his mirror neurons. Maybe he could get the darkelf inebriated enough before his partner returned; if he was used to drinking apple juice instead of wine he might not be able to handle his alcohol well. Drunk people usually loosened their tongues; and Sendrith would like that very much. He had still another good two hours before his new clothes would be ready, so he had time to oil the darkelf's tongue.