Rats and Cheese

There are a few things about taverns that are facts regardless of whatever town, city, or village you happen to be in. Firstly, the bar never runs out of ale at any point in the day. Whether it was absurdly good logistics or simply magic, nobody could really say. Secondly, taverns will always have music playing and the songs will always be butchered by any one of any race. Everyone will be too drunk to sing on key. But if you could handle that, you should have a good time. Thirdly, there will always be a game of Poker.

Fran knew full well that Poker isn't the most efficient way to get information, but it was certainly the fun way. But the gruff, rough looking people, be it kobold or Golatih's would love to take advantage of someone that is terrible at Poker. Unfortunately, Ann, (Gods bless her,) has the worst poker face in the world. She figured that it comes with the territory of being one of the fiercest paladins in the land. They can fight for justice, but can't lie worth anything.

In any other situation, the blonde human paladin would barely flinch at anything. Orc attacks, werewolves biting away at her and Fran would bet good money that her best friend could stare down a dragon. She shivered at the thought of her best friend's infamous death glare. Every time she gave it, she swore that everything started snowing for a moment. That there maybe there would be an icicle just peering down from a thatched rooftop nearby. But in spite of this, everyone in that shady group of thieves, mobsters and drug dealers all fell in love with Ann. Simply because her poker face was absolutely terrible.

She turned over to her charge with a grimace and sheepishly showed the cards to her. "So, what do you think?"
"I don't know! Don't show them to me! I thought we agreed no backseat gaming." Fran quickly looked away, but she memorised the cards, they weren't looking good. She figured that in a way that Ann knew it too. Fran raised a hand over to the barman and gestured a drinks order for herself and her mentor. She then placed a solemn hand on paladin's broad shoulder and shook her head which elicited a sinister laugh from the group of pirates, kobolds, and all manner of society's baggage.

"Ah, ah, ah," bragged a smug kolbold, as he waggled his finger. Which made Fran's face turn crimson with rage. "You don't fold for her she has to fold. You should know that by now."
"I especially hate that guy, Ann." Fran sneered her good eye was staring daggers at him. "This would have been over and done with if I did this!" Fran huffed but graciously nodded at the barman as she snatched the mug of ale from the tray and placed another one next to Ann's wooden prosthetic arm.

"As if we would let you play, lassie!" retorted a drawf as he slammed his fist down and threw away his cards in disgust. "You got cheater written all over yer face!"
"I told you, I got nothing in my arms!" She pulled up her jackets to show that it was all bare, nothing but skinny white skin. "See? I got nothin'!"
Everyone else in the table except Ann mumbled. Some rolled their eyes, others snuck in a rude gesture or two at her. She saw red for a moment when she quickly reached for her sword, but Ann, as always with a cool head and a soft smile, placed a hand on her, and snapped her charge out of it. "Easy, Fran, they're only words." Fran smiled back and moved the hand away from her leather hilt. "I'm usually much better at this, gentlemen. Must be my armour chafing me again. It can be quite a distraction." Ann chuckled lowly as tensions lowered, the table laughed again, there were however uncomfortable leers.

It wasn't difficult to guess what some of the players must be thinking. The most blatant undressing of someone Fran had ever seen in a long time. She felt a pit in her stomach at the sight and was going pale. As if she couldn't have hated these seedy males any further, she flat out refused to call them men in her head. I know I promised no more unnecessary murder, but it would be so easy, and it's justified...this time... Kind of.

"Another hand, gentlemen?" Ann asked as she cricked her neck and readied herself for another game. "I'm... dealer, correct?" Her eyes shifted around the table, each of the participants giddy at the prospect of taking more money from the seemingly hapless paladin.
"Sure you are, madam. Looks like you might have a handle of the game now." Spoke a well-dressed dark elf, with burning orange eyes a smirk that could make people take a second look at him and long, loud, turquoise hair. Definitely a narcissist that Fran figured would be fun to punch in the face.
"I think it might be a good idea to take the training wheels off, wouldn't you agree?" said he.
"How do you mean?" Ann replied with a raised eyebrow and a frown. She was ready to attack if need be.
"Look at me, Madam." He scoffed, "Do I look like a fool to you? People that throw gold at me would not do so through poker games. They would just give it to me."
"Then I suppose we shouldn't be doing small-talk, should we?" Ann took a deep breath and took the deck in her hands and played around with it. "We're not after money, we're after information, and your brother."
"Is that so? Well, I'm afraid I'm the wrong man to ask."