Malcador finished his first drink and ordered a second before he judged the time to be right. Emmaline stood up and picked up a drink tray from the bar while the barman looked the other way, then sauntered over to the table as though she belonged. Horatio Clodfoot was tall for a halfling, just over four feet with impressive blond mustaches which drooped down to his breast bone. He was dressed in a doublet of gold and cream with a large feathered cap on his head. Three other halflings were drinking with him, two appeared to be body guards while the third might have been a secretary or an advisor, given his round glasses and advanced age.

"We didn't order any drinks," Clodfoot stated in a surprisingly deep and melodic voice as Emmaline closed in.

"They are on the house," she lied and set the tray down.

"By the Moot look at the size of them melons!" one of the bodyguards said with a leer. He reached out to grab Emmaline and she slapped at his hand. The paper note she had tucked up her sleeve slid free and fluttered to the table top.

[b][i]You are in danger, beware of assassins.[/i][/b]

All three halflings read the paper at once and their eyes widened like tea cups.

"Assassins!" one of the bodyguards roared and leaped to his feet overturning the table. He knocked the old conseler over and the halfling crashed into a burly looking human who spun just in time to see Clodfoot jumping to his feet.

"You stunted little klutz!" the human yelled, jumping immediately to the wrong conclusion, then slugged the Emissary across the face with a punch that sent him reeling back into Emmaline. Off balance and startled, Emmaline promptly toppled over and landed on the bodyguard who had tried to grope her. Clodfoot yelled in fury and punched the human in the groin, doubling him over.

Within seconds the tavern descended into chaos. Halflings and humans were throwing punches at each other, but the violence quickly spread to intra-species as well. Emmaline struggled to stand up, the halfling pinned under her rump tried to shove her off but that was just making things worse. The bodyguard tried to scream but was muffled by her bottom. A noble laid out a serving wench with a thrown elbow and was rewarded with a bottle of wine to the face from the incensed barkeeper. Punches, bread, and flagons of ale flew in every direction.

"You are coming with me," Clodfoot declared, grabbing Emmaline by the arm and pulling her to her feet. She ducked a roast chicken and kicked a chair at an onrushing fisherman that sent him crashing the ground. One of the Halflings slapped her across the rump and she whirled to find the one she had sat on grinning at her.

"We will sort it out later," Clodfoot said as he dragged her towards the stairs at the corner of the tavern.

"Look out!" Emmaline yelled and snatched up a serving tray which she thrust out like a shield. A crossbow bolt smacked into it, splitting the wood in two. The crossbowman, a cloaked figure near the door, snarled and began to reload the cumbersome weapon. One of the halfling body guards produced a short bow and began trying to string it, but was cut short when a drunken dwarf crashed into him, sending them both sprawling into a knot of drunken clerks.

"Malcador!" she yelled as she was half escorted, half dragged up the stairs.