The small pub was crowded this night, as it always was. The dim light cast from the combination of lanterns and fireplace was softened even more by the thick smoke that rose to the rafters and threatened to lift the roof, or so it seemed. Jak, a half-elven bard, smirked to himself as he played a long slow tune from his lute, which of course had been threaded with magic in such a way that people's generosity would even be more focused on him. Little did he know that in the crowd, Tira, a local thief who he disliked for her ways of getting money, and yet still felt some love for (and so hated even more), was "working the crowd" as she so casually put it. But Tira saw him and knew what he was doing, so she slunk off, before she too was ensared by his music. Goodness knew he could turn her ear with ease, why give him the chance to do it with magic?
Observing this local criminal element was an Elf ranger whose identity was shrouded beneath a dark hood. He found it distasteful that people would so easily take advantange of others, but he was forced to admit that while he disagreed with their choices in profession...or more exactly, how they used their skills, they were both very good at what they did. His low-light vision was the only thing that gave him the view he saw of the thief's handiwork and his Elvish knowledge of arcana was the only thing that gave him a defense against the music the bard was playing, though it was admittedly very good music and he would have paid the man anyway. Everyone had to eat, he knew that well enough. But he made a conscious decision to wait until the bard finished.
Jena, the barmaid, leaned against the familiar oaken bar, listening to the music played by the bard and the words he spoke as the lute traced them before her eyes. She closed her eyes slowly, leaning a little farther forward. The bar slipped from her mind, and instead of heavy smoke, she smelled the morning mist in a deep hidden forest as she broke camp with others, who she could not for the life of her place. The dream was hers. This life was hers, but soon she heard her name being called and another request that barely bordered on the edge of politeness for a pint of ale. She snapped out of it and returned to the bar, getting the old soldier his ale. He meant very few of the things he said, but he meant enough of it that she always kept an eye on him. But she let it go and continued in her mindless work, keeping an ear bent towards the wonderful bard.
A man nearby whose clothes marked him as a disciple of soldiery was paying less attention to the bard and more to the barmaid. One might have marked his eyes as crude and rude, except that he was turning them on everyone and his eyes were not just tracing her body, but merely questioning to his pleasantly drunken mind whether or not she was a threat. He was a Half-Orc, but the Orcish features only made them known in that his eyes were red, he was large, and had oversized canines. He passed as a human enough times that it was second nature. But no matter how much he tried to resist what his Orcish side told him, he could not take his eyes off of two people in the entire pub. The Elf ranger...stick-eater, to his mind, and the barmaid. Something told him that she was a danger even though there was never a way she could be.
Then something happened. In the back, a discussion which had long since heated into a true argument took its eventual turn. One of the combatants had a pair of elegantly carved sais, the other had his own pair of punching daggers. What got everyone's attention was the odd tone to the clanging of two sets of weapons. Jena fearlessly jumped over the bar, holding two mugfulls of water. She got over to them, and splashed them both: "Now see here! I don't want no fighting in this establishment. Just drinking, talking, laughing, and a good time. Now calm down, mind yer P's and Q's, and we'll forget that this ever happened, huh?" The two guys looked chastened, and both the fighter and the ranger saw the strength that had remained hidden for its time to shine. No one stood in her way, but she smiled and offered refills to all who wished them.
At around the same time, a young Raptoran was just using his wings for the first time, in combat with something he'd never seen before. The woman had approached him as a human out on the street, and he had pleasantly shared her company on a short walk. But as soon as they got out of the eye and ear shot of others, she showed her true self. Her mouth opened wided than it should ever have been able to, no matter what. He leaped up and suddenly was able to flap his wings powerfully enough to hold himself in the air. But he was unable to take the elation that would usually have come with that. He pulled the arrow back on his footbow, firing an arrow at her. She somehow grabbed it from midair and he dived down, unfurling a weighted net that he threw down at the snake-woman...her intentions towards him were obvious, and he would do her the same favor. His rapier slashed out, passing through the webbing of the net and slashing open the woman's neck. Odd-colored blood seemed to fire at him and he carefully cleaned and sheathed his sword. He dragged the strange woman to the inn, and opened the door, panting from the effort of dragging the snake. Everyone jumped to attention and ran to examine the snake-woman...everyone but the barmaid, who realized that perhaps the man who killed it would need a hand. She guided him to a chair and helped him relax, getting him some food and a drink. He smiled up at her and thanked her profusely for the help she was giving him. She just called it her job, and to an extent she was right. But he was still thankful.