"When did you got here to Bree? I just arrived some days ago." The tanned man in the Rohir armor said, they had met some time ago back in Stangard.
"I arrived some days ago too. What do you want to talk about, Oldur?" replied Dreothorn who wasn't in the mood for chit chat. He watched the man accept the two tankards and give one to him, then taking a long sip from his. After lowering the tankard Oldur spoke, "I ran an old group of mercenaries myself, I want to regroup again. I already got work orders but just need the companions..." Dedicate to the mercenary work again in resume, this idea unsettled Dreothorn...
"...What you say? You get money, good fights, women. All what a man could desire!"
Dreothorn stopped to think for a second, he needed money to sustain his life here in Bree and the desire of blood was stronger than anything. But then again; he is the godfather of a child, that is the most important thing right now... and if he lost all that for a impulse, he would be no better than others.
"Been there, done that. I won't answer until the time requires it Oldur."
"I understand, see you then."
"Farewell..."
But the idea didn't fend off Dreothorn's mind, it flew there freely, interfering with every other thought...
