[h3]THE SCENE AT PRESENT[/h3][hr]
At the bar sits [color=yellow]Fade[/color], denizen of the Underdark, all power and silk. The hooded dwarf [color=yellow]Gharlyc[/color] emerged from his solitary corner and stands near her, while at the opposite end of the bar, [color=yellow]Ealdwine[/color] offers to play his lute for the patrons.

Standing small nearby, writing words in the empty air and brandishing sharp fingernails, is fragile one-eyed [color=yellow]Milo[/color]. Speaking with her (and with a hiss between them) are [color=yellow]Fate[/color] (a scruffy one-eyed waitress, dusty from chopping wood) and [color=yellow]Edward[/color] (a well-dressed nobleman with a curious weapon at his back).

[h3]BUSKER[/h3][hr]
To the old innkeeper, the temperature of the house itself seemed to drop the moment that slinky drow walked in the door. Before she even spoke, Busker stood frozen midway through wiping out a mug, his eyes wide and mouth dry. This was one of those patrons with heavy pockets and heavier consequences if she were displeased. His brain scrambled to prevent himself from shaking of stammering, to say something that would convince her she had every reason to display her coin and not her weapon.

Perhaps his desperate, subconscious mind craved familiar comfort in this time of careful balance, because somehow his eye was distracted by the appearance of a face he knew well. [i]Gharlyc![/i] a happy thought cleared his fears, and relieved recognition gleamed with uncharacteristic joviality in his beady eyes. For a dangerous and pivotal moment he forgot about the drow -- but when a voice across the bar had the audacity to call for free somethingorother in exchange for a song (or something of that ridiculous nature, Busker was in the middle of a very important conversation and would not be further distracted) Busker was startled away from Gharlyc's comforting presence and was forced to acknowledge that the murderous drow, growing impatient, had spoken again.

"Y-yes," he stammered without having clearly understood what he was agreeing to. It didn't matter: there was no possible, conceivable way he would deny this woman the moon if she asked for it, if only to keep his own head. Busker cleared his throat, put on his best smile, and ignored the bead of sweat that tickled down the side of his face. "Of course, anything you like, my lady. That particular wine is exquisite, and is hidden away from all but the most distinguished of guests. Allow me to have it brought up for you." With the same fixed smile, he tipped his head, kept his eyes on the drow, and stumbled his way down the bar to where he had spotted Wink standing like a fool.

He grabbed his daughter's wrist and yanked her to attention, tumbling coins into her hand. "Go to town and run back a bottle of raspberry-honey pink-wine, [i]now![/i]" he stammered, harsh and hurried, and he shoved her at the door before he returned to the drow, fixing his smile again. "It will be brought presently," he assured the drow, clenching the edge of the bar to keep his hands from trembling. "Might I interest you in some fine cheese and toast while we wait? On the house, of course."

In the corner of his eye he kept watch on Gharlyc, desperately wanting nothing more than to catch up with his old friend, but scared to death of removing his attentions from the drow.

[h3]WINK[/h3][hr]
Wink's greatest dreams came true the moment a sleek, shining nobleman stepped over the threshold. Before he had made two steps inside, Wink had disappeared into the back in order to adjust her corset, smooth her apron, fix her hair and apply what little makeup she owned. She checked the puffiness of her lips in a tarnished mirror, pulled at her eyelashes, pinched color into her cheeks, and sauntered out into the room again -- only to find that Fate had found him first.

Under normal circumstances, Wink might find Fate's aggression against the patrons amusing, but this time a pale horror checked her enthusiasm. The wolf-girl would drive him out! The chance of a lifetime would [i]run[/i] out the door before Wink would have the chance to let him sweep her off her feet!

Desperation set in. If she confronted Fate, things could get so much worse. She scanned the room for an answer, and found it in a bard that her father had (of course) very pointedly ignored.

Wink rushed across the room and -- just as Busker was speaking with the drow -- laid a fervent hand on Ealdwine's arm. "A room and ale and supper for yer music," she told him enthusiastically, with a gleam of urgency. "Set yerself up over here, there's good acoustics, and play somethin' ... [i]dignified[/i] for the nobleman."

Her intention was to use this bard's music to calm Fate and to retain the interest of the nobleman. She was putting a lot of trust in this man's abilities, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

She yelped when her father suddenly yanked her away and dropped coins into her hand, stammering something about wine before he was gone again. She stared along the bar at a dangerous-looking drow woman, and grinned a little at the way Busker was sweating. Served him right.

Wink glanced across at the nobleman again, biting her lip, but knew she would regret it if she didn't fetch the wine as required. She gestured to the bard again, urgently, and put all her hopes in him as she sprinted out the door and into the cool evening. She would run down the road to town, looking for a wine she wasn't sure existed at all, for the sake of preventing her father's cruel and agonizing death.

If the nobleman was gone when she returned, she would hate Busker to the ends of the earth.