[hr][hr][center][h1][color=goldenrod]Gunther Borgadais[/color][/h1]
[img]https://media.tenor.com/taG7jwvXg98AAAAC/oliver-stark.gif[/img]
[b]Location:[/b] The Moose Lodge, Uptown.[/center]

[hr][hr]

[color=goldenrod]"Hey you take care now. And tell your new girl that she needs to come see me. It's been a while."[/color] Gunther took the empty pint from the freshly polished oak bar. And with the pint he scooped up the generous tip that the well-dressed gentleman he had been speaking to had left behind for him, with a wide-white smile and a tip of his hat as he left the bar with a bit of a stumble to his step. [color=goldenrod]"Oh! And I'll tell the Mrs. I never saw you today, shall I?"[/color] A couple of the nearby patrons; regulars, chuckled lowly with Gunther. Gunther polished off the bar where the tip and empty glass had been, checked on his customers, and then headed to the end of the bar where a man he couldn't ever remember seeing approached.

[color=goldenrod]"Afternoon sir! What can I conjure up for you?"[/color] Gunther asked, a bit of a pep in his step riding off the temporary high from his last big tipper. Maybe he'd finally buy into that brewer's course on how to make his own beer...

"Whatever you suggest, son. But I'm more interested in what I can do for you."

Gunther furrowed an eyebrow, confused.

[color=goldenrod]"I'm not sure I'm following."[/color]

"Nor would you. Not like your old ma sat you down and explained this all to you."

Gunther's body reacted almost hastily at the mention of his mother, but before he even had a chance to get huffy puffy over it, the older man continued, putting his hand up to keep Gunther silent. 

"If you've got a moment later, I suggest taking a look at this here flier. It might hold some answers to questions you didn't even know you had, kid." The older man reached into the lapel of his suit jacket and laid down a piece of paper down on the bar, the blank side facing up.

[color=goldenrod]"Alright, I don't have time for any weirdos today. I'm going to ask you politely, just the once, to leave."[/color] Gunther threatened, more irate than before but also just questioning if this guy was just a well-dressed homeless man. It was also pretty likely he was just another rich fucker, but hopped up on something a bit stronger than alcohol.

"And you'll only have to ask me the once. I'll take my leave, kid. Just don't give up so easily." The older man adjusted his hat, tapped the face-down piece of paper and made his exit. Gunther's eyes never left the man until he was completely out of sight near the entrance of the building.

[color=goldenrod]"Fucking crack-pot."[/color] Gunther seethed and snatched up the flier, crumpling it up in the process.

[center][i]FOR A GOOD CAUSE
VOLUNTEERS WANTED

Traveling Apothecary Seeks Howls
As Escort Through Darklight Corridor
For Medicine Delivery 4 Day Journey
Good Food and Hospitable Conditions
Darklight Station 8 AM[/i][/center]

Howls, huh? He'd heard the term before, sure. But just like a lot of everything around here, there was a lot more fantasy to that notion than reality. And that guy... why would he even be trying to help him if there was anything to it? And just like that, Gunther realized that the man had been right. Because now Gunther certainly had more questions that he didn't know existed until just now.