(Neverwinter Nights: Tales of Arterra, custom module. Told from the perspective of Kasila (PC). Obviously veers off canon a little, since you can never actually hide on a roof from a salivating barbarian.)

Hiding on a roof a thought has occurred to me: I should have brought someone along.

Preferably someone big. Or strong. Or— Well, it doesn't matter matter at this point.

What does matter is that I'm standing on the roof of a dead man's house in the middle of graveyard, trying to stay out of reach of the man below who happens to have a giant, glowing axe.

"Get down here so I can kill you, whore!"

"You're doing a poor job of convincing me." I yell back, "And you saw what happened to that last person who called me that."

In reply he yells something incoherent and I'm think I see spittle come from his lips. Though, I could be imagining the rage-beast thing.

I doubt it though.

"How long are you going to stand down there?" I ask, "I'm not coming down."

"Just long enough for my friend to wonder what's taking so long and come up here. And he can get you. He's got magic."

"You could get him yourself. Make this faster for both of us."

"Ha, you think I'm going to fall for that? I leave and you'll slink away." He grips his axe a little tighter and continues, "Then I won't get to gut you myself."

"That's great." Someone else is in the graveyard now, but I don't draw attention to it. If I'm lucky it will cause the distraction I so desperately need. "But your energy would be better spent digging you leader out of the mausoleum's ceiling."

That made him angry, "Maybe I'll climb up and get you myself."

"You can climb?" And that got him moving towards the windows I had used to climb up. "Stupid bastard," I muttered. I kicked at the roof and pushed off one of the tiles, letting it fall towards him.

"Dumb broad! I'm going to have fun chopping off your head."

"Oh yes, I'm sure." I can see the man walking towards us now, but I keep wishing we would just distract this meat mountain with that big axe of his.

I can see it, I just wish he would do something.

"Oh, look. One of Amrod's lackeys. What a joy." As if he could hear my thoughts.

Well, it turns into a fight, a short one.

I slip off the roof as quietly as I could, trying not to yell as I nearly twist my ankle upon landing. But I don't get very far.

I'm stopped and have to stumble to keep my ass off the ground, as my cloak has been grabbed. "What are you doing here? You almost got yourself killed." To my relief, it is not glowing-axe-man.

I tug at the cloak once before giving up, "Well, it seems you've caught my intentions."

He sneers and says, "You did a poor job."

"Obviously." I roll my eyes and pull at my cloak again, harder this time and he let go. "Well." I pat my clothes a little to get some of the grime off, "thank you.. for saving my life." A little awkward sure, but better then nothing.

"I did not come here to save some bumbling, we—" I gave him a flat look and cut him off.

"It doesn't matter." Out of all the damned responses. "The fact of the matter is that you did save a weak, bumbling girl, and she is grateful. But has nothing but her word to give you." He was odd, different from anyone else around here, I had seen him sulking around the mercenary guild earlier, but only now do I recognize his tattoos.

Instead of replying to my comment he makes an irritated noise and says, "What?"

I frown, concentrating, "Have we met before?"

"I th—"

"Nono, that's not right. I'm sorry," I held up my hand and pointed lazily at his tattoos, "those just look familiar. And your armor. The design, I mean. I apologize." I moved to pick some of my arrows out of the corpse of the man who had once been foaming at the mouth (almost literally) to kill me.

"You've met a Romadon?" I had obviously peaked his interest.

"Oh, yes, that was the word. He regaled me with tales of his battles. Which were of no interest to me." I pulled out an arrow, intact. Good. "But he kept me busy that night, and told me places I'll never be able to get to. Big brute of a man." I pulled a couple more arrows of the ground, "Handsome though, and… rather fierce."

He just looks on for a moment, not getting my euphemism.

"Anyway," I stand, putting the clean-ish arrows in my quiver and turning towards him, "May I know the name of my savior?"

He looks at me oddly again, "My name is Montador."

"Kasila." I put my hand on my chest.

"Did I ask for your name?"

I give him an exasperated look.

Rude.