Bluff my way past. See if I can tempt them with a drink at the pub.
(+1 modifier for promise of booze)
[6+1=7] To your surprise, (and relief) your assailants seem greatly pleased by your proposal, and they quickly accept, falling in to follow you (somewhat unsteadily) down the street, grinning broadly. You head down the narrow alley next to the large abandoned building to reach the tavern, nothing more than a fairly large green door set in an otherwise featureless stone wall, the only light outside a small, battered lantern hung from the bottom of the sign, which you can barely make out to show a large, fierce-looking spider.
Accompanied by the three would-be robbers, you mount the single worn step and push open the door. Inside is a fairly low-key drinking establishment, consisting of a battle-scarred bar, a few heavy timber tables and all manner of assorted stolen or improvised seating. The whole uninviting affair is lit from above by a scattering of rickety lanterns, casting unsteady light across the smoke-stained walls and unwholesome-looking patronage, most of whom do not even seem to register your entrance.
Putting aside your distaste at the state of the establishment, you make your way over to the bar with your new friends, who watch you expectantly. Grimacing inwardly, you place a few coins on the bar. "A round of ale for my friends here-" You begin, but it quickly becomes apparent that the few other drinkers at the bar fully expect you to pay for
their drinks as well!
After all, you are sitting in the most comfortable seat, as they are quick to point out. You place a few more coins on the bar, and the bartender swiftly hands out the drinks, before turning to you.
You look more closely at the man, he is jowly, heavyset and bald, all of which are more-or-less a requirement for bartenders everywhere, but his eyes betray at least some intelligence as he looks you over. "Well? What'll it be for you then, sir?"
You glance about yourself quickly, then lean forward to speak the passphrase: "A pint of angel piss, with a dash of blood and a twist of demon's tongue." His eyes widen slightly, and he appears somewhat confused as he takes another look at your companions, but he shrugs. Evidently he's not paid to ask questions.
He hands you a bottle and glass seemingly at random from beneath the bar, and directs you over to a corner table with a nod and a grunt. Ignored by the three robbers now that they're happily on their way to total drunkenness once more, you head over to take a seat at the rickety, unnocupied table, setting the unlabeled, rough bottle and grimy cup before you.
You sit around for some time, then just when you are beginning to wonder exactly what the hell you are doing here,
[2] a small, slightly stooped figure makes its way into the place, clad in a patched shawl that obscures their features.
You watch the newcomer from your spot in the corner as they head across and hold a whispered conversation with the stocky bartender, who points them over in your direction.
You remain silent as the decrepit-looking old figure hobbles over your way, easing theirself into the chair opposite you with a weary sigh. They tug back the shawl from their head, and you see it is a wizened old woman, her face for the most part an indeterminate mass of wrinkles, with the exception of her sharp blue eyes, which she fixes on you.
"I am told," The old hag begins, in a slightly-wavering but clear voice, "That you are one capable of certain, shall we say, 'unusual' tasks." She draws her seat closer and folds her hands atop the table. You notice a few rings glinting in the uncertain light.
She cuts to the chase. "I want you to track down my son, Bhelan Mistaris. He is involved with some bad sorts, the poor boy, and I know he is getting into trouble at this very minute." Her lip wobbles back and forth, and for a moment it seems she might be about to burst into tears, but then she continues. "I will pay you, if you find my son, find out what he is up to, and keep him out of trouble. Yes?"
She peers intently with you with those eyes, and you feel a slight annoyance. The foolish, paranoid old bat, do you look like an errand boy to her? Nevertheless, though, she
did offer to pay you, and tracking down some rowdy son does't sound like a particularly difficult assignment... You doubt she has much money, however.