Fires of Creation: The Hunting Party
Morin nodded cheerfully at the guards as he passed. "Heya boys. Working hard or hardly working?" Morin's tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of confusion to it. He had no idea what they were expecting to accomplish just standing on the street outside the casino.
He tipped his had back at the bouncer out front, before leaning over to whisper back at Io and Kelaria. "The way I see it, we got two options. Option one, we go in the direct way. Tell him that his boss is a traitor and a fugitive and he's fucked over the whole town. We tell him the council sent us to toss the place, and that Joram Kyte would have come himself, but he's too busy informing the family of the last idiot who tried to get in our way. The problem with a threat like that is we might have to actually back it up. Maybe we could get those yahoos at the corner to pitch in, but I doubt it."
"Option two, we bluff. Tell 'em Garmen's in trouble, and he sent us to clear out everything incriminating from the back rooms. I think I can sell it. We're mercs, after all, and the biggun already works for Garmen. Even if nobody here met her, I'm sure word would have got around about the huge armored barb guarding the boss' warehouse."
As he talked things through, Morin sized up the Ropefist in the stupid hat. The bard had been in town for a couple days, and he'd spent most of his off time socializing around town. Some of that socializing had even been in the Silverdisk itself. Did he recognize the big guy out front? For that matter, did he recognize the hat? It didn't even look like it belonged to the bouncer. It didn't fit his head, and it didn't fit his style. That kind of flash would be more suited to someone like...well, someone like Garmen.
"...Hey, Io, you're an expert on magic, right? Does that hat look...does that look like a hat of disguise to you?"