The Longest Road, Part 5

You look up at the three inebriated warriors surrounding your table, glaring down at you. Even drunk as they are, any one of them could probably take you in a fight. You'd have no chance whatsoever against all three.

But rather than a problem... you choose to see this as an opportunity.

"Please, friends..." you say, your voice calm and level. You're not actually trying to talk them down—if you were, you'd be doing a better job of it—but rather trying to sound reasonable and sincere in a way that they won't actually listen to. "I'm just trying to eat my meal. There's no reason for a quarrel between us."

"I ain't your damn friend!" snarls the leader of the trio, slamming his fist down on the table. "And your rotten hide stinkin' up the place is all the 'reason' I need to beat you to a bloody pulp! Now get the hell out of here before we show you some pain!"

You look up at him, meeting his angry gaze without flinching. "No," you say quietly. "Beat me if you must. But I'm not leaving. Not if it means giving in to a petty bully like you."

"Why you little—!" The big man lunges toward you, grabbing you by the front of your shirt and hauling you up out of your seat. He pulls his other hand back, ready to swing it in a devastating punch...

...but that punch never lands. Instead, a green-skinned hand clamps down on his wrist, holding it in place. "Enough, Brannek," says a deep yet feminine voice. "Just go back and sit down."

Brannek whirls, only to see Khaytala behind him, preventing him from hitting you. He strains against her grasp, but she holds his arm in place effortlessly. His two friends spin as well, momentarily raising their fists as though they might start a brawl. But Khaytala shoots them each a fearsome glare, and they shrink back, lowering their guard.

For your part, you affect a look of wide-eyed surprise at your rescue... even though this was exactly what you were aiming for all along.

"Bitch..." growls Brannek drunkenly, still trying to pull his arm free and swing at you. "All you freaks an' monsters... backin' each other up against us normal folk. It ain't right!"

Khaytala's eyes flinch almost imperceptibly, but she shows no other reaction, only repeating her command with even more force behind it. "Sit. Down."

For a moment you think it might come to a fight... but then Brannek's resolve crumbles, realizing that he and his friends don't have a prayer of winning. He lets you go, and in turn Khaytala releases her hold on his arm. He stumbles away, followed by the other two, continuing to mutter obscene imprecations under his breath. But he's cowed now, and soon his words are no longer audible as he makes his inglorious retreat.

The half-orc woman watches him go, then sighs and looks over to you. "Sorry about that," she says, looking at you with concern. "Brannek's always an asshole, but he's a lot worse once he's had a few drinks in him. You alright?"

"Only thanks to you," you say gratefully. "Please... is there anything I can do to show my appreciation, Miss...?"

"Khaytala," she replies. "And don't worry about it. I'm just glad you weren't hurt."

"At least let me buy you a meal," you insist, and this time you do turn up the subtle charm. "Please. If nothing else, I'd enjoy the chance for good conversation. It's not often I meet someone kind and brave enough to stand up for someone like me."

She hesitates, but then gives you a small half-smile and relents, the two of you sitting down at your table. "It's nothing that noble," she says, looking embarrassed. "It's not like I was in any danger from the likes of Brannek. So you can hardly call it 'brave' on my part."

You're not so sure. Maybe she wasn't in any physical danger, but looking around the room, it's obvious that standing up for you against a human has only increased the level of silent animosity directed toward her by many of her "comrades." You're pretty sure she feels the pain of that shunning more than she lets on... but even so, she took up your defense—a complete stranger—without any hesitation.

"Anyway," she continues, quickly pushing the conversation onto another subject. "What's your name? I don't think I've seen you around here before."

"My name is Talavar," you say. "Talavar Kessen. I just arrived in this city, from up in Urdeval."

Khaytala's eyebrows rise a little. "Urdeval? You're a long way from home, then. I've never been that far north myself."

Which was, of course, exactly why you picked that tiny, remote nation for "Talavar Kessen" to be from. It was one of the surprisingly few places that there was no record of Khaytala visiting in all the information the ratfolk spies had collected. A lot easier to bullshit based on what little Iskro could tell you about the country if the person you're bullshitting had no firsthand experience either.

"I'm a courier by trade," you explain. "I carry items and messages from my clients wherever they need to send them. Usually it's just around Urdeval... but for the job I'm on right now I need to get all the way to Nelin. That's why I'm here, actually. From what I overheard, it sounded like this tavern might have some leads on the best way to get there safely. Since—as you saw—I'm not much of a fighter myself."

Khaytala shrugs. "You weren't lacking in guts, though, standing up to Brannek like that," she says. Then she cracks a grin at you. "Lacking in sense, maybe. But not guts."

You grin back. At this point one of the tavern girls walks by, and you signal her, arranging for Khaytala to get the meal you offered her, and she takes the half-orc's order. It doesn't take long for the food to arrive, and the two of you set to work eating.

For all her initial reluctance, it's clear the more you talk that Khaytala very much enjoys the chance to talk with a friendly face, even if she has difficulty showing it. You can tell that she's definitely intelligent, with a forceful, compelling personality. But she has little sense of guile in her honest soul... which allows you to guide the conversation more or less at your whim.