Rogar leaned back in his chair, the remains of a harty mid-day meal on the plate before him, "So, tells me lass, do ye have th' healin' potions I asked ye fer? 10 o' them, if I remembers fer 275 good pieces o' gold?"<br/><br/>The battle hardened dwarf drops a bag of coins on the table top and shoves it over to the boar rider and grins, "Nay often I gets ta eat an' do busness wit' a lady such as yeself... What other concoctions do ye have?"<br/><br/>The male dwarf scratches at his long, luxurious beard for a few moments, "I be lookin' fer sum potions o' cure mod'rate wounds ta... 6 o' them perhaps? The same deal we's be havin'? He eyed her up and down, smiling at her, "Yerself be a fine lass, if'n ye donna mind me sayin' so." Then, he returned to business, "An' 6 o' them sanctuary potions ta... if'n ye can make' em."<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/>Paying for 10 potions of Cure Light Wounds, 25 gp+10% If the amount is wrong, I'll adjust it.<br/><br/>Tell me what you want for the other potions and we''ll write that out too. ;)<br/><br/>He turned to the aged loremaster, an unusual addition, but such skills would prove invaluable in such an adventure. "An' yerself wizard. As agreed, for yer enchantin' me armor an' axe." as a larger, heavier bag clunk onto the table and he pushed it over, "5,500 fer yer work."<br/></div></div>