Fight in the Night

It wasn't until well after nightfall that the two found the only Inn with the money and manpower to stay in business, i.e., the Yawning Portal Inn. The situation in the city was much worse than the rumors flying about were; Captain Aseph's jaw would have dropped if he could see the state of the city now. The assassinations of nobles throughout the city had sent a ripple of terror throughout the city. Many houses were abandoned, as frightened citizens began a migration out of the former City of Splendors. The people still brave enough to stay in their homes locked their doors tight by dark, and there was little hope for the everyday traveler to find hospitality, in the current mood. Shops closed down earlier and earlier everyday, and the city guard seemed to be everywhere.

Alain closed the inn door behind him and turned to survey the room. It was fairly large, with a good number of patrons despite the current state of the city. Somehow, he doubted it was the quality of wine. There was safety in numbers, and the idea of the people banding together against some unknown threat seemed closer to the mark. He spotted an elven woman, a half-orc, and a halfling talking together in a corner, which served to confirm his thoughts. From the looks of their equipment, they were adventurers— it wasn't often that one would find such an eclectic mix of races in a mercenary band.

"I'll check us in. Are you thirsty?" Trey inquired from behind him. Alain turned, struggling to keep the smile from showing on his face. His teacher knew quite well how thirsty he was, as Alain had complained of his thirst at least three times during their walk through the city.

"Just a bit, Teacher. What will you be having, ale or wine?"

The corners of Trey's mouth twitched in amusement. It was common knowledge to Alain that Trey did not consume alcohol of any type, as it violated the oaths of abstinence he had taken to become a monk. The mind of a monk must be as clear and still as a babbling brook in springtime. "Not tonight, I think," Trey answered. "Just water is fine." He winked at his student, then walked toward the front desk, where a pretty, middle-aged woman was working.

Alain walked toward the bar in the corner, passing the front desk, where his teacher had already lapsed into a comfortable conversation with the woman. Alain was always amazed at how Trey could connect to people so well, breaking past the barriers of their suspicion easily. Distrust was always there for the wanderer, and it would be even worse here with the current situation. Despite this, the woman was now chatting as animatedly as a schoolgirl with Trey. Alain grinned ruefully to himself as he stepped up to the bar, where a burly dwarf was tending.

"What d'ye need, lad?" the dwarf asked, polishing a glass with a dirty rag.

"Two glasses of water, barkeep," Alain answered, and the dwarf promptly slammed two glasses of water on the counter, an expression of suspicion on his face.

"There ye be, stranger. Five gold." Alain paid the dwarf, realizing with a tinge of dismay that between him and his teacher, they only had twenty gold coins. This too, was in accordance with their vows of poverty. Alain regretted that vow the most, just because of the exorbitant amount of gold they could receive from selling the armor they had found on their quests. Trey's monetary restrictions kept them from having more than one hundred gold coins; all extra weapons or armor would not be sold, but given to those who needed it. Alain had no doubt that Trey would most likely be donating any extras in their inventory to the local armory nearby. That is, the ones still in business.

Alain found a small table in the corner of the pub, and took his seat. He finished his drink in one long swig, then noticed that the three adventurers he had noticed earlier were sitting quite close by. Their conversation, though low, could still be heard by the human, and he nursed his drink as he listened to the snatches of talk.

"…that one over there?" the half-orc questioned, indicating the subject with a nod of his head.

The elven woman shook her head, and Alain noticed that they were looking at Trey, who was still speaking to the receptionist. "No idea, Daelan. Just a run-of-the-mill treasure seeker, I suppose."

The halfling, his legs barely touching the ground, slammed his drink on the table, a look of incredulity on his face. "Y'mean ya don't know?"

Daelan looked at the halfling with equal parts puzzlement and disbelief and took another look at the bald man at the front desk. "Should we?"

The halfing shook his head incredulously, and pointed towards Trey. "That's!" he started, before noticing he was speaking too loud, and quieted his voice. "That's," he continued, "Trey Nefzen. Kept that city in the desert, Anarouchie or something, from rising up again!"

The elven woman started, obviously familiar with the story. "You mean the city of Undrentide, that was in the Anarouch?" she said pointedly, looking at the halfling. "Are you sure Tomi? That's the one responsible?"

Tomi nodded, pushing his chair back and putting his feet on the table, elaborating with the air of someone doing a great favor, "O'course I'm sure. I heard that it was him, and another (student or somethin', I'm not sure) that stopped the folk from raisin' the city. With their bare hands too, y'know, cuz they're monks. Then, before the crash, they got off somehow. I dunno how!" he said quickly, seeing the doubtful looks on his companions' face. "But I swear it's him."

Alain sat back in his chair, and didn't hear the answers of Tomi's friends. Unconsciously, his hand slipped into his pocket, fingering the cold, smooth metal of the Relic of the Reaper which he and Trey had acquired during their time in the Plane of Shadows. He remembered little of his time there; when he tried to, images of red-eyes shades and illusions of home came to him. Trey most likely remembered more, but when questioned, he only shook his head and told Alain to find some more firewood. Alain thought something huge must have happened there, for Trey to want to forget the memory completely. His teacher was usually a stickler for the old adage 'Learn from your mistakes.' The only thing Alain knew for sure was that the Relic of the Reaper was responsible for their escape, and that Trey did not trust the planar creature (or in-between planes, as the Reaper says) which inhabited it. So Alain was to keep it with him. Not that it was hard to, because you couldn't lose the damned thing.

Another thing that irked him was the fact that he was at most, an honorable mention, in their adventure in Undrentide. Pride was never an attractive characteristic, and completely unbecoming of one of his profession, but Alain could feel it rising within, and he got up, half-intending to go over to the trio and set his story straight. Instead, he took a deep breath, trying to release the green grip of jealousy on his mind, and decided to retire to bed. He passed by the three he had eavesdropped on, and suddenly felt sure that he would see those three again. When he did, he would show them that he wasn't some mindless hanger-on, but skilled in his own right!

Strange visions danced in his mind's eyes that night. He saw a dusky-skinned woman with snow-white air in black and crimson armor in some sort of throne room. The woman was speaking to something, or someone, that Alain couldn't see, but he could feel it, somehow: a malovelence that was dark and gleeful, like a very large and hungry dog behind a very flimsy fence. Alain saw himself and Trey, and before he could reflect on that out-of-body experience, they were…

A searing heat against his left side awoke him, and his left hand clutched at it impulsively, finding the Relic of the Reaper, its metal already cooling. What the Hells…that never happened before. He lifted his head from the bed, his eyes squinting into the darkness of the room. Nothing amiss, nothing out of…

Someone was in the corner of the room, standing over his equipment chest. As Alain sat up, blinking sleep out of his eyes, his ears caught the muttered words of a spell, and it dawned on him what the thief was doing, a second before his chest disappeared. The sight of his chest vanishing at a few spoken words sparked him to action and wiped whatever drowsiness in his body away. He rolled out of bed and landed noiselessly. It was fairly dark, but this didn't bother him. He was unarmed, not even a dagger in his bed, and he was nearly naked, but he needed neither weapon nor armor. Ki was his weapon, and it had never failed him. He charged from the shadows, slamming his shoulder into the thief, whose slender body crashed into the door, shaking it on its hinges. The thief's hood had shifted, and Alain caught a flash of dark eyes shifting to a reddish color. Infravision, which means elf, right? No, drow!

The drow snarled, cursing him in a language he could not begin to understand, and unsheated a wicked-looking dagger, acid dripping from the tip. Inwardly, the drow cursed at her clumsiness. She had been teleported in, and had performed her task soundlessly. So why had the cursed male awoken? Nevertheless, she was obliged to perform her role and eliminate him, which would be an easy task, despite her surprise. What good was a male without a blade? She sprung to her feet and lunged out with her right, hoping to end the fight quickly.

All rational thoughts fell away. Instinct, cool and sure, replaced them. Alain, intuiting the attack, stepped to his right and inside the drow's reach. His left arm grasped her right wrist and twisted hard, while he used his momentum to deliver a right straight into the thief's nose, effectively disarming her. As the drow fell back a step, recovering from his strike, he flicked the dagger over his shoulder, where it clattered to the hardwood floor underneath his bed. The drow, recovering quickly, swiped a hand across her face, wiping the blood from her eyes, and aimed a kick toward his groin, hoping to incapacitate him and escape. Alain twisted his knee in front of his waist, taking the blow, then kicked out into the drow's chest, knocking her to the ground with a thud. The gleam of a dagger on his dresser caught his eye. Trey had placed it there the previous night with a laugh, saying that it was customary for the Inn to issue blades in the last few weeks. They had a good chuckle about it then, now it would save his life. Inwardly steeling himself for the finish, Alain smoothly lifted up the blade from the dresser's surface, then swung downward, almost kneeling as the blade punched into the drow's gullet, the enchanted blade slicing through her armor with a sickly-sounding POP! The drow cried out in pain, trying to rise to her feet feebly, as her life-blood poured from the wound, before slumping back in death. Her eyes had locked onto his near the end, and he tore himself from her glassy eyes, her flow of blood slowing to a trickle. After all the battles he had fought, he still hated to see death. He would rather disarm than kill, but there was no choice here…right?

Trey burst into his room just then, and Alain looked up at him, glad to turn his mind away from the dying drow on the floor. Trey took in the situation in a few quick glances, then walked over the corpse to the bed, picking the Relic off of the bed, tossing it under-handed to Alain. "You alright?"

"Well enough," Alain answered, though a dozen questions had fought to escape from his mouth. "You?"

"A few scratches, nothing too bad." Alain could see a few nicks on Trey's forearm that went beyond the state of 'a few scratches.' The acid had left the skin pockmarked and badly burned. Though acid on the skin was fairly dangerous to anyone, Trey's Ki had protected him from the brunt of the damage. It was good to know that the energy surrounding them could repel the elements from their naked skin. The blade's poison, similiarly, would pose little threat to his constitution. Within a week, the worst of the burns would fade. Within a month, there would be little evidence of any scars.

Trey could see the questions in his student's eyes. He continued, "Did you happen to have a dream, right before you woke?"

Alain shook his head, puzzled. "I did. I saw a Drow woman, and she was talking to…something I couldn't see. Then the Relic burned me in my sleep, and I woke to see our visitor here."

"Huh. That's never happened before, has it?" Trey mused, but his tone was somewhat distracted and Alain could see he was deep in thought. What did he dream about? But the question he wanted to pose would have to wait, as the door opened once more. This time it was the innkeeper's daughter, Tamsil, her face shifting from mild worry to horror in an instant.

"Oh my word!" she exclaimed, bringing a hand to cover her mouth, lest it release any screams. Alain fidgeted, keenly aware of her disgust. It was not a clean kill, and that was due to the fact of how unfamiliar he was with a blade. Trey stepped forward, taking charge of the situation. Alain felt a keen sting of gratitude for his quick action.

"Is the inn under attack?" Trey questioned, trying to get the girl to pull her eyes away from the dead Drow on the floor.

"N-no, my lord. I came to your room because of the commotion I heard from downstairs…the only attack must have been centered on your rooms." It was with some difficulty that Tamsil's eyes rose from the body. Her hands had developed a slight shake to them, Alain noticed.

"But that doesn't make sense…We only just got to town! No one knows we're here yet, do they?" Alain blurted, and his confusion now mirrored that of Tamsil's, and she shook her head.

"The Drow stole our equipment, and we need replacement gear." Trey said, trying to bring the girl back to business matters. The girl's eyes were again riveted on the Drow, and he doubted she had ever seen a dead body. Her father's Inn wasn't the best place for such an awakening to the frailty of life. "Do you know where we can re-supply ourselves?"

Tamsil nodded, finally looking away from the corpse. "There's an armory my father keeps across the hall, free to anyone who needs it in the defense of the city. I know it isn't up to the quality to adventurers such as you, but it should be enough to support you until we can recover your equipment." She blushed, blood rushing to her forehead suddenly, and Alain guessed she had finally realized that the two of them were wearing nearly nothing. "Well, I should just… let you get dressed, milords…" She blushed again, and quickly excused herself, closing the door behind her. Alain smiled to himself, wondering whether she would faint from lack of blood if he had asked her to stay.

Trey sighed, turning to Alain and pointed towards the door. "Let's find that Armory, Alain. Then I think we better have a talk with Durnan about this." He opened the door and stepped out into the drafty hallway, and Alain followed after him.