The Fortune's Bosom Inn

"Who is this one who you wait for? The masked man inquired, the voice ringing in his head with sharp intrigue.

Nax almost fell off his chair in shock. This masked man could hear his thoughts!

I-I... he composed himself, and thought: I am waiting for a messenger. Long ago, I was told I would meet someone on a night like this, in a tavern like this. This... messenger... would tell me something I have needed to know my whole life. Something of great importance to me. His mind shied away from the truth, hiding it...

"You would do well not to dwell on prophecy, spending ones life waiting often makes on unprepared when the time comes." The voice was full of meaning, emphasising the final words. "Alas, beyond that I can offer little else in terms of advice"

The woman appeared to hear nothing, her attentions focused solely on consuming as much alcohol as she could. She was on her fourth cup and appeared unshaken, despite the strength of her liquor. Perhaps it was her bulk that kept her from becoming lightheaded and tipsy, or perhaps too little time had passed to truly show the ale's effects upon her.

"Innkeep, do you have any stew?" She asked. "With meat. Don't care the sort." She took another swig of her drink. Her dark eyes swiveled to those who sat by her, peering up and down. The human appeared quite privileged. Fancy clothes; supple leather and good cloth, and so many shiny things. He stood out like like the sun reflecting off gold; in contrast, she would appear as steel or iron, dull and plain, but more vicious.

The other was also well-dressed, though their outfit was considerably more bizarre. Not that she hadn't seen bizarre things in her time. And it was rich, lavish in a manner different from the human's.

'Well of course. T'is the Fortune's Bosom; you knew what it was when you came here,' she thought. 'It's why you came here...' She drank a touch more slowly. 'Well that and they serve stronger stuff than that piffle in the other inn.'

The Owlbear woman continued to scull drink after drink, her and Bren apparently not privy to the masked man's projections.

I was once told that prophecy is a double-edged sword... Who are you?

"I am Nalkasi the faceless." The voice was now more akin to a fanfare, and was accompanied by a flourish. "I have wandered Faerun, collecting stories and knowledge. All the better to understand perfection."

*****

Bren fetched the woman a large bowl of stew and some crusty bread. While passing it over the counter he engaged her once more in talk. "Will you be requiring a room, or do you endeavour to pass out on the bench?"

Bren's voice brought Nax back to the tavern. He turned on his stool to face the barman.

"Here" he said, sliding a gold and some silvers towards Bren and the woman. "That's for her room, and I'll have a bowl too."

Nax turned back to Nalkasi the Faceless, not sure what to think. What were you reading? And why are you here?

"I would say the bench," she said, taking a bite out of the bread, "but as I don't think you could lift me, I'll take a room and pass out there." It was the least she could do. She had no manners or dignity, but she could give the working man some respect. Lessen his troubles, fill his purses. Drown herself in his strongest ale and stew. It seemed a fair enough trade.

"How much gold then, atop the ten I've given you?" Truth be told, she didn't have much left; her limited riches the result of a mercenary contract, now dissolved. If she'd bothered to learnt the ways of the rogue, she might've pinched the human's pocket.

'But I'm honest, if nothing else.'

As she thought it though, the human beside her slid coins across the table for her room. Her eyes widened for a moment, mildly surprised.

"I could've paid," she said, before clearing her throat. "But thank you, uh..." She paused. "Don't believe I caught your name. Probably didn't ask." Truth be told, she'd hoped to simply learn it via listening to their conversation, which they appeared to not be having. "Suppose for the troubles of the day, I should ask you for all your names. That is, if you wish to give them."

Nalkasi procured a small book from his pocket and passed it to Nax, the book was entitled "The tales of Arebeth De'Tylmeraid". Nalkasi responded "I am here because taverns are great places to learn new stories, and even watch new stories unfold" Nalkasi indicated towards to book, "Keep it, I already now how it ends"

Bren brought out a bowl of stew and set it before Nax. "Enjoy," then turning to the woman "And my name is Bren."

Nalkasi projected his thoughts touching the woman's mind "And I am Nalkasi the faceless." once more the thought was accompanied by a flourish, the voice sounding like a fanfare.

Nax tentatively took the book. He vaguely noticed a bowl of steaming stew being placed in front of him, and the woman talking to him.

"Oh, umm..." he muttered, slightly dazed from the revealing mental encounter. "That's alright, you've had a rough trip, clearly. You deserve a room to rest in. As for my name, you can call me Nax. And yours?"

Nalkasi made a movement with his hand, and accompanied with the look of surprise on the woman's face, Nax realised the faceless man was communicating with her.

The woman gave a nod to Bren as he spoke his name before jumping. She turned to give Nalkasi an incredulous look, mingled with a hint of irritation. 'I'm going to assume that this is just how you speak; otherwise I can't see why you don't use your mouth like the average folk. We can't all be special you know.' She shifted in her seat, reorganising her thoughts. 'Well, good to meet you...Nalkasi.'

With that she turned her attention to Nax. As she did with Bren before, she nodded her acknowledgment. "Name's Alastia. Haven't got a last name worth mentioning." She dunked her bread in the stew and took a bite. "Thanks again, and, uh, apologies. Not good at manners. Especially not after a tussle with owlbears." She gave a throaty laugh; an attempt to lighten the mood. It wasn't a particularly charming sound, but it was the best she could muster. "Probably should ask what you're here for. Though you may have already mentioned why several times tonight." She glanced over at Nalkasi with a raised eyebrow. 'Just not where all can hear.'

The voices rang once more in the Alastia's head, this time like a peel of bells, "For me to use my mouth to speak, I would need a mouth. Mouths are a part of a face, and I am Nalkasi the Faceless." The verse had the feeling of being well spoken, as if it had been said many times before. "I cannot speak for my fellow companion, but I am here to experience and learn, great stories can be encountered, even in the lowliest of places."

Nax considered Alastia for a moment.

"Just stopping buy for some food and a bed, really. I was here in the hope that I would find someone, but... not anymore" he answered.

'Believe me when I say not all things have mouths on their faces,' Alastia thought, smirking slightly and stretching the scars on her cheeks. She dipped her bread in the stew and chewed, pulled a face, and spent a few moments removing the stray owlbear feather that found its way in. 'As for stories, I find the best tend to come from the lowliest places. There are exceptions, but unless you like business or politics...'

Her opinions were skewed, she knew. But she had a distaste for those who had finer lives; who willfully ignored the starving and then cursed then when they became scoundrels.

"So," she said, addressing Nax, "are me and Bells not someones? I may have the charm of a mule's back end and Bells might not be the most verbose; and Bren and his folk might be of humbler stock, but we're someone." She paused. "We might not be who you're looking for, but you don't always get to be picky."

"Someones you are indeed, just different someones, that's all. Not that I'm complaining," Nax laughed, swallowing another spoonful of stew.

"This is good stew Bren!" he approved, nodding at the barman. "Fair food and fine company, what more could one ask for on a night like this?" he smiled at both Alastia and Nalkasi. What did it matter, if he didn't find who he wanted? It didn't. He should just enjoy himself here tonight.

At that point, the oaken door of the inn burst open once more. Nax twirled in his seat, taking in the sight before him.

In the doorway stood a tall figure, framed in the darkness of the night. He waited there for a moment, unmoving, before stepping into the glow of the inn's lanterns. A humanoid, dressed magnificently in rich red robes, wearing a crimson cowl that covered most of his face. He was wielding a wooden staff, a mahogany so deeply red it almost matched his robes. Atop the staff was a huge red ruby, cut into the shape of a shifting flame. A strange glow seemed to exist within the gem - not an illuminating glow, but a glow that nonetheless seemed too bright if one looked at it for too long.

The red man's eyes were covered, but somehow, Nax could feel their gaze; roaming first the common room, then the bar; Alastia, covered in feathers; Bren, still polishing glass; Nalkasi with his metal mask; before finally settling on himself.

"Greeting stranger, welcome to the fortunes bosom. Take a seer up here at the bar and tell me what I can get for you." Been called over to the man, with a large grin.

The red figure's gaze never seemed to leave Nax, even as Bren spoke. The figure simply stood in the doorway for several seconds. Bren's grin faltered, uncertain. Nax shifted uncomfortably, then rose. The messenger, he thought with certainty, filled with a strange mix of excitement, apprehension and something that might have been fear.

The red man spoke: "I am here for the one called Nax, of the Eagles." His voice was deep and sonorous.

Nax nodded in response, swallowing. "That would be me, friend. Are you here to tell me something?" he said, stepping forward slightly in anticipation.

Then red man stared for a couple of seconds more, seemingly taking in the man before him. The figure's left hand, gauntleted in the finest steel, slid from his sleeve, and with it, a slender, golden knife...

Alastia turned as the robed figure passed over the threshold, eyes narrowing at the sight. More fancy clothing; deep crimson red, and some sort of mystical staff. The glow of the gem set her on edge, and she rose from her seat with her hand on her longsword. To the average eye it appeared rather dull, the details of the hilt and blade lacking the elegant flair oft preferred by the upper classes. But the blade was well-forged and enchanted; and at this current time, still soaked in owlbear blood.

She observed the conversation between Nax and the figure; but her instincts set in as soon as she saw the dagger. Adrenaline thrummed in her veins as she shot forward, blade drawn, and moved to stand with her body between Nax and the other. Her mind took in the surroundings; the positions of Nalkasi and Bren; his wife and the other servers. The positioning of the exits, tables, chairs, any items that could be used if she was disarmed, or if her sword shattered.

"You'd better toss that on the floor," she growled, teeth bared, "lest you wish to lose your hand along with your blade."

Perhaps she was overreacting; but she'd rather overreact and save a life than the alternative.

The woman at the bar stepped in front of Nax, a plain-looking longsword drawn, caked in blood. This woman looked fierce. She growled something about losing a hand, but Ol'kans was not concerned by the feathery warrior. He closed his eyes, and focused his mind on the blade in his hand.

The red man's gaze seemed to lessen for a moment, and Nax watched, wide-eyed from behind Alastia, as the blade in the figure's hand slowly lengthened. Inch by inch, it seemed to grow, building upon itself, until it was as long as Alastia's own sword, but infinitely more elegant and ornate.

Nax didn't know what to think of the situation. Unwilling to let a stranger die for him, he stepped forward as well, drawing his own silvery blade. The three figures stood for a moment, and a triangular formation, three swords drawn and pointing, motionless.

The red one spoke again, his voice seeming to resonate off the paneled walls of the common room: "Only one will die tonight. Step aside, woman, and let the prophecy be fulfilled."

Nax's heart sunk. Never trust a prophecy...

Alastia watched the robed man's sword grow; lengthening into a beautiful, golden blade. Yet she remained steady; she would not have survived long as a mercenary if she panicked at every unexpected twist or turn. Instead she took it in, filed it away as she restrained herself. The urge to simply swing her longsword and be down with it was strong, but for all that she was brusque and coarse, she knew patience in battle.

When it suited, of course.

She felt Nax move to her side, noticed it from the corner of her eyes. She heard the hostile figure speak.

'Hah!" She spat on the ground. "Prophecies. A man once gave me a prophecy; predicted I would die that morning with my guts all over the floor." She settled into a comfortable stance, her senses honed and focused. "Someone's guts did end up on the floor that morning, but I can assure you they weren't mine."

After sitting and observing Nalkasi drew weary is the encounter and rose elegantly. No weapon appeared in his hand instead he appeared to preform a strange dances [casts hold person]. All in the room felt their limbs get heavy as if turning to stone...

Almost as soon as he'd raised his sword, Nax felt his limbs go stiff and heavy. Some spell... this man is a wizard. He tried to say something but his lips would not move. The intruder's hand visibly slackened for a moment, and Nax realised it was not the red man's influence, but someone else. But the intruder's paralysis was brief, and he took a step forward, this time saying: "Do not get involved, masked one, or you may find me a greater match than expected."

The masked figure made even more elaborate gestures this time focusing intently on the figure, who's focus on Nax seemed to lessen greatly, recoiling slightly...