Anastri Galandel

Anastri walked into the bar, her green eyes peering around the room as she entered. She was nervous and excited, the lead she’d been hunting down for weeks finally - possibly - within her grasp.

The room, while touting a picturesque exterior had a gloomy atmosphere. Grimy and smelling of who-knows-what, it gave the impression that it had died a long time ago and only now had realized it. Several small clusters of drinkers were scattered about, huddling over the scarred tables and talking quietly. Warren (of course) headed straight for the easiest target, a little old lady, and the others were dispersing around the tavern so Anastri headed over to the counter. Behind it stood the barman, a gruff-looking dwarf who made her wish she had knocked Warren over on his way to the old woman. Or at least told him his charm would be best practiced on someone under sixty.

Sliding onto a rough wooden seat Anastri flicked her long braid over her shoulder so it wouldn’t drag, and tried to avoid looking at the ominous stains on the counter. Instead she focused on the clientele, which honestly wasn’t much better. There were two figures drinking next to her, both so bundled up it was hard to tell anything about them. They both gave the characteristic signals of someone who has been drinking a substantial amount and is now in the stage where they are going over all their past wrongs in their head. Not exactly a great time to engage them in conversation. Sighing, she turned to the unwelcoming dwarf.

“Hello. A glass of water please,” she said to the barman. He was a typical dwarf, long of beard and low of brow. His black eyes looked tired, and his face wore the run down look she saw so often on the faces of other half-elves she’d come across. He grunted acknowledgment of her request and turned to fill a dirty chipped glass. She pressed her acorn bracelet tightly with her hand and tried not to look disgusted at the blatant disregard for hygiene, because she did need information. “I was wondering if you knew anything about the Sunless Citadel. Me and my friends are here looking for it.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Why should I be interested in your lot goin’ to the citadel? Seems to me that you’ll just rile up the goblins and get yourselves killed.”

Anastri sighed. It was always like this. “I could… make it worth your while,” she hinted, jangling her coin pouch slightly. To be honest there wasn’t that much there, but it was enough to catch his interest. “I’d very be grateful, and I’m sure the citadel has been a great bother to your town. Me and my friends plan to rid you of any evil that lurks there, and I plan to pay you personally for any information you’d be able to give me. How about it?”

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly and she could tell that she had him. She slowly pulled a silver coin out of her pouch and slid it across the bar to him. With a sudden grin, it disappeared into a pocket and he began to talk.

“Well, I don’t know much, but what I do know is worth a pretty penny. The citadel has an ancient and terrible history, which I can relate to you, but I won’t ‘cause it’s borin’. Suffice to say that the ancient dragon Ashardalon sank it into the earth ages ago, and evil has lurked there ever since. Goblins set up camp there, and no one uses the Old Road anymore on account o’ the bandit activity. They’ve made it as inhospitable as a place can be, but I know for a fact that two others have already gone seeking this place.”

Anastri tried not to sound too interested. She’d never have pegged him for a storyteller, but silver can do wonders for the memory. “Really?” she said, pushing another silver piece across the bar. It likewise disappeared, and the bartender began to warm to his subject.

“Oh, yeah. Both of ‘em came through here they did. A bar’s the place to meet everyone and see everythin’. ‘Bout four years ago this old robed druid came by. Said somethin’ about the Citadel havin’ some sort o’ healing miracle tree. I didn’t pay no attention, ‘cause nothin’ good comes out o’ there. Mostly what I remember about him is his pet. Yeah, he had this massive tree frog, came in and got its stickiness everywhere. I told him what I knew of the place, and he headed right out. No chit chat, just gone. And I ain’t never seen ’im again. S’pose ’es dead.” Here he paused and looked at her pointedly. She slid another coin across the countertop and the flow of words resumed.

“Th’ other one was a mite more interestin’. Said ’is name was Lycinth. Fine lad, seemed at his prime, but very worried. Kept fidgeting, right, not at all composed. ‘E asks the same questions, but follows ’em up with gold, which is my kind of guy. I tells ’im and ’e takes off too! No sense in it at all.”

Inside, Anastri was nearly dancing for joy. This was exactly what she’d wanted. She pushed another coin across and stood up. “For your troubles, sir. Thank you so much for your time.” He took the coin without complaint and she set out to rejoin her companions outside the bar.

Warren was already outside, seemingly dazzled by the bright sunlight streaming across the town. The third thing you noticed about him was his build. He was tall and willowy, although sinewy might be a better word. When he moved, it was with the maximum economy of motion, with every action carefully plotted out. The second thing you noticed were his eyes. One red, one black, they gave him the appearance of a volcano with lava simmering just below the surface. The first thing you noticed about him was that he was a drow, and this colored every subsequent observation. Despite his bravado and questionable morals, Anastri couldn’t help but feel a sense of kinship towards him - from one ignored species to another.