<table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><br/><br/>(http://i840.photobucket.com/albums/zz325/mebygod/by_zompf.jpg?t=1256787901)</td><td>The red-haired elf shakes her head subtly at the haggling, drums the leather-gloved fingers of one hand on the opposite arm, and purses her lips in thought as she studies the Archon.  Fascinating being, that one, and a little unnerving.  She's seen plenty of odd things in service at the temple of Sune, but when Pellegri speaks, Fallon's more surprised than she'd readily admit.  <br/><br/>Staying on task, she forces this new aspect of the journey into perspective-- a powerful little spy at hand constantly, a vat-load of gold to toss about, and a desperate tale of woe from the Burning Plague?  Of course, Rengard is lying.  Trusting a bunch of mercenaries with a shipment of desperately-needed medicine?  That's tough to swallow... especially considering that a couple of those present look like they plan to fatten their profits by selling it on-site at a markup.  But paying in enough gold to fill a keg?  Impossible.<br/><br/>Still...<br/><br/>It would take gold to raise an army.  And a reputation.  And allies... and what if this really is medicine, and not the more likely possibilities-- contraband, narcotics?  Turning her back would mean leaving wolves to tend the sick, not to mention refusing a noble cause.<br/><br/><i>Well, I'm on the horse now.  Might as well ride.</i><br/><br/>Without speaking, the elven girl waits for the haggling to dry up before giving her nod of consent.</td></tr></tbody></table>