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Garrick gave a brief gasp at the meal before him. Roasted chicken and potatoes. On the surface, it's nothing extraordinary. However, he recognizes the manner these are prepared. It's a very special meal to him. He stares at it for moment before he proceeds to pick at it with his knife. He remains soberingly quiet, focused on the meal.
Garrick gives a heavy cough, some wine caught in his throat. "Apologies, my friend. It's just, I don't the man very well and I find it strange to ask of me anything. He and I are practically strangers, let alone friends. I did not mean any offense and I'll be sure to keep my thoughts to myself from now on." He gives Rasp a slight nod, before returning to his wine.
Garrick sets his glass down. "Garrick. Simply Garrick will do for now. I'm not sure what the old man is scheming, but I prefer to keep information on a need-to-know basis." He opens his letter and gives another read. "I assume the fool has found himself under the eye of the guard and is needing his skin to be saved. Considering the 'variety' of individuals, he seems desperate. He's looking for help where he can find it. I doubt anyone would ask the likes of me for any true assistance. I'm obviously not the noble paragon of good and cleanliness that one would run to in this situation. From the looks of it, none of you appear to be a paladin either. Who knows what may be happening?" He takes another sip, with a smirk.
Garrick makes his way to the private room, a slight stumble still in his step. Spotting people that he never recalls meeting before, he is a bit defensive while moving about. Keeping to himself, he moves over to an empty chair. His armor clanks as he takes his seat. He examines the glass of wine, taking a moment to breathe in its scent. With a smile, he takes a sip. "Well, then. What are you all in for?"
Another mug appears before Garrick, as has become the standard. With a nod to Winthrop, he begins to take his first gulps. He drinks with intent, as if only stopping to breathe like a frog coming up for air as it swims. And swim he did. The ale swirls around the mug, the head comes to rest comfortable above his lip. Winthrop watches on with worry, the kind that signals dire portents for men with lesser stomachs. A moment passes, after which Winthrop recalls something of importance. Oi, Garrick. Gorion left something for ye. He made it clear that it is for your eyes only." He hands him a sealed letter. "Make of it what you will, but he seems to have taken a liking to you." The old fool would write me a letter? I hardly know the fellow. Garrick tears at the seal, taking no care to open the letter. He reads it. He wipes his face and reads it again, making sure to take in the details in his mild stupor. I am at best a stranger and he would trust me with a letter such as this? What is the man planning? Garrick stands from the bar without a word, quaffing the remnants of his current drink. After leaving a few coins at the bar, he makes his way out of the inn, intending to grab his equipment. The sounds and sights of Candlekeep fill his senses, much to his annoyance. I have a good number of hours. Plenty of time to sober up and look presentable. I must take care to get home without much of a scene, as I tire of the guards' questioning. A man imbibed is not a man happy to answer a guard's inquiries. He begins to walk towards his home, slowly as to not draw attention to himself.
Garrick, has your mother already passed away, or is she still ill? She passed a few weeks prior.
Hooray! I'll have to make sure to brush up on the setting more. I don't know the Realms too well.
Here is Garrick, ready to go. |
