Quinn squatted up in a tree overlooking the next village on his journey. His fight with Gurr Laga was still fresh in his mind even though it had been a number of days since that meeting. Having to climb down the mountains to re obtain his sword and sack of equipment put him further behind then he had originally guessed. Emerging on the other side of the mountain, he had lost Gurr’s trail. But he wasn’t as upset as he thought, this murder had saved his life, something that didn’t make much sense to him. He decided before taking up the hunt again, he would do more research into his past. To do that he had to find the village where it had happened, and hope that someone was still around to tell him the story. So far, every village he had already passed through who recalled the man named Gurr Laga spoke fondly of him, that he was a generous, caring gentleman. This had puzzled Quinn, why would a man of such character turn into such a…beast?

The event of the murders had happened over a year ago, Quinn had only just heard about the bounty a few months ago, intrigued only when he found that none had found him just yet. The authorities of the area had appeared to have given up on catching him, thus the post of the bounty, or as Quinn saw it, the spike in the bounty. That was usually the case, the guards of the region would try to capture such a criminal themselves, only relying on bounty hunters if the trail went cold. The amount does usually depend on the crime, but those that go uncaught after a period of time seems to increase the gold over their head.

Letting go a pent up sigh, Quinn jumped off his perch to land with ease on his feet on the earth below, walking carelessly towards the town. It was like every other town along the coast, they were mostly sea farers, with a few farms growing inland. The vegetation was steady the crops rich, it almost seemed a paradise to Quinn. But he knew with each town he traveled through he would eventually reach the one he was searching for, and hopefully one who could answer his questions.

The village seemed to grow steadily around him as he proceeded into the center square. Like always he headed straight for the local pub, where everyone would go at least once in the day. Was this village going to be like the others? Will they think well of Gurr, tell him he was a helpful man, that he was a nice guy? Or was he close enough to where the murders happened that these people would know what happened, or even the rumor of what could have happened, right now he was thirsty for any new information.

Entering the tavern, everyone stopped what they were doing too look at the stranger, again just like every other village he had stopped at so far. Walking up to the bar he ordered a drink. The stares didn’t let up. After taking one sip, he set his glass down.

“Has anyone here heard of Gurr Laga before?” Quinn announced to the crowd in the tavern, he had said this line so often it has almost become rehearsed.

(OOC – for any Moderators that wish to know what I am doing: I am just NPCing these villagers to further my story since Quinn seems bent on solving what really happened and I am not one to deny such enthusiasm. I would normally let a dungeon master do this but since no one know the true story, not even me since I have two outcomes in my head right now and depending on how things work out I will choose which outcome really happened. This will be my final out of character comment within this post.)

The tavern’s liveliness quickly diminished as it’s denizens stopped what they were doing to look over at the person who had entered and asked such a brave question. The eyes that looked upon Quinn were not warm nor welcoming, their equal was that of daggers, trying to piece through this man’s question. The bar drew deathly silent as the patrons decided on who was going to answer this question first without the use of words, only looks and gestures. The answer would not be one that Quinn would like to hear most likely, but it seemed to be the answer on everyone’s mind. The tender of the tavern seemed to be the first to answer the question, his voice telling a different tale to what he spoke though.

“We don’t know any one by that name, you should leave town now.”

Another man slammed his drink onto the table, spilling its contents over the tabletop as he squinted and snarled slightly at Quinn. Everyone seemed to share this patron’s perspective, though not all may have shared it so deeply.

“We don’t know nothing about no murders.”

A stupid answer was given, making it obvious that something was known without the proper word used in the question. Yes, this town was hiding something in their past that they never wished to speak of, though not a soul in this tavern had lived her for more than a year.

After all the commotion quieted down, the people in the tavern seemed to shrug off the question and go back to their business or time off from work, not giving Quinn a second look. Only one man was taking the time to keep his eyes on the man at the door that asked a very dangerous question, the tender, kept his eye on Quinn, and did not seem happy that he had come into town. But if anyone were to know something, it would be the man that was staring straight at Quinn, having the perfect position within the tavern to hear everything that went on in this town.

Finally I’m getting somewhere. Quinn thought to himself a smile on his lips when the one patron let slip about the murders. But looking around he knew that everyone here was giving him the evil glare, they wanted him out, they wanted their secret kept secret. Quinn didn’t give up so easily.

“Who said anything about murders?” He asked in a cocky tone, letting them all know that they had just slipped up, that he now knew that some of his answers did rest in this town, weather they admitted it or not. Perhaps he had already reached the town where it happened, it would make sense by their reaction to his question and the order to leave town. He had thought it was still another village or so away, he must have lost count.

His eyes ran over everyone in the tavern trying to see if there was any hope for him to find someone willing to talk. They all seemed shut up about it he couldn’t see any faintness in heart, all seemed to stick to the story. His eyes then rested on the tender, behind the bar staring right at him. He out of everyone he seemed the most likely one to tell him what had happened, even if it was against the wishes of everyone else here. It may take a while for him to open up, but he wasn’t going anywhere fast anyways.

“Relax, I’m not a friend if that’s what your thinking.” He said to the room as he turned his attention to the bar tender, taking up a stool and ordered another drink. “I’m here for the truth. I’m a bounty hunter and need to know what the details are.” He said more quietly to the bartender, hoping against hope that he was willing to tell him their secret.

The crowd seemed to grow silent after the idea of the murder was put in this stranger’s head by some one who had one to many drink to understand what they were doing, so now not even a whisper was spoken. Most of the patrons just sat there looking at the stranger, wondering what it was he was looking for or rather who it was he was looking for, besides the obvious. The rest of the group of people either stayed to finish their meal, or leave the tavern completely, not wanting to stick around to be possibly questioned.

Worry began to grow in the villagers minds, that if they were to speak about the town’s past that they might bring it back to the town to cause harm to it again. They were happy with forgetting what happened to the previous inhabitants of this village, since it was the only way they could get on with their lives, and this stranger was just opening a wound that had finally healed.

The tender watched at the stranger approached him and then spoke a few ‘reassuring’ word to him to try and get information from him. The tender leaned in close to whisper to hunter.

“There isn’t much to tell you, since no one here knows anything besides what they heard. This town was rebuilt, and only a few people in town are actual family members of those that are gone. No one in the town lived here back then, not even me, just that poor kid, but he’s safe now, physically safe at least, I can’t see that his mind would have healed so quickly, being the only witness to that…event. Now that you know there is no one here that can help you, I think it is best that leave this tavern, this bar and head to Lómëdor if you want to talk to the only person alive that knows anything about what happened. It’s just too bad that he’s so young, won’t get anything you don’t already know from him most likely.”

The tender moved his hand so that it went under the bar, and then it returned with a jar with a label marked ‘Tips’ and place it in front of the hunter.

Quinn’s hope dropped at the mention that this town was rebuilt, meaning that anything first hand was impossible. He knew how rumors started, how one incident could blow up to something of un realistic bounds. Talking to anyone of these people would just be like talking to someone of the authorities, nothing new, just stuff he heard all before. The patrons were leaving the pub quicker then Quinn thought they should, a feeling was building up within him, he didn’t like the idea that a village of humans would force him to leave, but a mass crowd would be bothersome.

Quinn’s head jerked up, his eyes widened. “Someone survived?” He questioned the barkeep. That was news, but from the bartenders words, it sounded like this kid may be a bit troubled. But who wouldn’t be. He was just about to ask another question when the barkeep pulled a tips jar from under the counter.

Quinn looked at the jar, a bit surprised at first, but he soon recovered and moved to his change purse and pulled out a few gold coins and tossed them into the jar. He then reached in a pulled out some more gold. “Where’s the kid now?” He asked the barkeep.

The tender looked at the jar and then back up to the hunter before looking around to see who was looking and who was leaving. Right now the tender thought to himself that he could say anything to get this hunter out of the city and then the tale of the city whose ashes were built upon would be silenced again. On the other hand, if he gave false information he might incite the wrath of this hunter, causing him to return again, but next time not being so pleasant with his questions.

“If that person would be anywhere, it would be in Lómëdor like I said, other than that I am not sure where they went or was put. Possibly an orphanage or maybe someone already took him in, I don’t know and I have never wanted to learn. It’s been almost a year since I saw him last so he could be anywhere by now, but your best bet is to investigate near Lómëdor.”

The tender removed the tips jar and replaced it back on the shelf behind his bar and the looked over Quinn’s shoulder towards the door, giving an obvious gesture for him to use it.

“That is all I know and all that I can tell you, I hope that it helps because I don’t want anyone else coming here and asking questions. We just want to live our lives not remembering what happened on these here grounds. Not knowing is the best gift we can give our children and the best way to keep the town safe if the one in question that you are search for should ever return. Now I think it is time that you head through that door and down the road out of town, and if you do find what you are looking for, don’t return, we don’t want to know, like I said.”

The tender then turned his attention away from Quinn, beginning to clean a glass as though the hunter were not even there. The patrons seemed to soon follow suit, turning their gaze away from him, just hoping that he would leave and that the events he spoke of would never have to be spoken of again.

Quinn watched the face of the bartender carefully, he could see his mind struggling over what to tell him, making Quinn unsure if he would tell him the truth. It was after all a very strange town, even though he may not have expected a warm welcome, surely the fact that he was there to get information to hunt down and bring to justice this man who had so robbed the previous villagers of their lives should have some sort of support. Whatever, he thought to himself shrugging off the cool feeling he was getting from these people. They wouldn’t have to worry about seeing his face again, once he got the information he was out of here.

“Lómëdor.” Quinn whispered, his mind now lost in thought. Lómëdor was a large city, with a high population, not to mention the many travelers that pass through there practically every day. The bartender also mentioned an orphanage, the kid must be still young for others to think that. If this was a lie, it was a good one, the location made sense, he would have to go there and spend a lot of time look for one little kid, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. It would drive him away from this town at least for a time. If this was a lie, the bartender would surly know that Quinn would be back, that was something nobody here wanted. Truth or lie, Quinn had no choice but to leave it like that. He tossed the rest of his gold into the tips jar before he placed the jar back under the bar. The room was pretty quiet now, another reason for Quinn to believe that he may have told him the truth.

Gathering his few possessions he had arrived with he made to leave the tavern, and the town. His mind was still deep in thought. He was now faced with more then one problem. He could continue his trail of Laga by following up on this lead, or was his duty to the girl more important at the moment? It wasn’t like the girl was paying him, and the price on Gurr’s head was something that he couldn’t just brush aside. Maybe he could take the girl to Lómëdor…it wasn’t that far from where she wanted to go. They would need supplies and such. Though he couldn’t stall her there forever, he would only have a short time to find and follow up on the kid and what he knew. He didn’t feel that comfortable about deceiving the girl like this, but he wasn’t about to tell her about this bounty of his, it wasn’t her burden to carry.

He left the town in a peaceful stride, ignoring the stares of everyone who stopped to watch him leave. They all must know by now his intentions here. He walked as if he was in any other town, calm, relaxed and confident, never once looking back or into any face. All he had to do know is pick up the girl and convince her to go to Lómëdor.