A Mythical Match Up IV - Futures Market Part V

            Nathan raised his right hand to shield his gaze from the ruddy orange glow of the afternoon sun. He squinted his eyes and made out the familiar silhouette of the Vasarian family manor through the intrusive radiance. He sighed, though in truth he felt little relief.

            He paused a moment to look down at his clothes. His shoes and socks were filthy. His pant legs were splattered with what he hoped was only mud. His shirt, while not stained, torn or otherwise blemished had acquired a veneer of dust. His skin and hair were sticky with half-dried perspiration and dirt. He swore softly, shaking his head, and then turned his gaze upwards. Tall, regal townhouses and gated manor homes dominated the surrounding neighborhood. The street was empty save for a solitary figure on horseback a few blocks ahead. The more raucous city sounds were subdued and distant here.

            As Nathan approached the Vasarian home he noted with mild distress that its gates were closed shut. He ventured up to the fence and peered through its wrought iron bars. To his relief, he spied a footman - a thin anthropomorphic white-tailed deer wearing an oddly modern looking black buttoned coat - walking along the yard.

            Nathan called out and waved. "Hey! Uh, excuse me."

            The deer slowed, glanced in Nathan's direction but then continued along as though nothing had happened.

            "Hey. Hey!" called Nathan, a timbre of panic entering his voice. "I'm a guest of the Vasarians! I'm with Melinanatha! The Draco dominatrix."

            The deer actually stopped this time. He looked askance at Nathan. After another second of hesitation, he started walking towards him. At some point he seemed to recognize Nathan, whereupon he broke into a run.  

            "Oh! Yes, er, forgive me, uh, noble human," stammered the deer as he reached the gate. He removed a thick key ring from his coat pocket. "Lady Melinanatha told us you'd be returning on your own but I, er, we assumed you'd be accompanied by an escort or bodyguard."

            The deer slipped a thick brass key in the gate's heavy lock. There was a metallic screech. He pulled the gate open and beckoned. Nathan stepped inside.

            "By the progenitors," exclaimed the deer softly, looking Nathan up and down. "Were you waylaid by ruffians? Footpads?"

            Nathan hesitated. "No, not exactly."

            "But-"

            "Appreciate the concern," interrupted Nathan as kindly as he could manage, raising a hand. "But right now all I want to do is go into my room, clean up and get some rest. Don't worry about it."

            The deer hesitated, but then seem to collect himself. He stood at attention, bowed and gestured at the house with a white-gloved hand.

            "Thanks," murmured Nathan. He started heading towards the front doors.

            Though still technically daytime, the sun had sunk directly behind the estate. Thus the entire courtyard was shrouded in a wide and surprisingly deep shadow cast by the manor. The dreary environs mirrored Nathan's expression. Behind him, the footman shut the gate and locked it.

            Nathan heard familiar voice.

            "Boss?"

            He turned and saw Gnesh - the orc bodyguard and guide Melinanatha had hired to lead them around the city - leaning against the servants' bunkhouse ten or so yards away.

            "Oh, hey," said Nathan quietly.

            Gnesh slowly strolled up to Nathan, stopped a few feet away and gave him an odd, appraising look. Nathan said nothing. He vaguely noted that the orc was still wearing the same thick chain and leather armor even though he didn't appear to be on duty.

            "Shoulda gone with you," grunted Gnesh last. "But the Lady said no."

            "It wouldn't have made a difference," said Nathan gloomily.

            "Hm. You get robbed? Roughed up?"

            "Uh, sort of, I guess," said Nathan. "There were a bunch of...beggars, thieves, bullies, I don't know. They started following me once I made it out of the market next to the big bridge. I started running and so did they, so I just...threw the rest of my coins on the street and they stopped to pick them up. I lost them but got turned around in this maze of alleys. This one badger woman...pretty sure she was a hooker... pointed me back to the neighborhood but she, well..." Nathan blushed "Let's just say it took some convincing before she believed I didn't have any money on me. Then when I finally make it back to the district I..."

            Nathan trailed off. He stared up at Gnesh's craggy, stolid face and sighed. "It was a goddamn disaster and I was this close" he made a pinching gesture with his thumb and index finger "This close to just portaling back to Earth."

            "So she did just leave you out there," said Gnesh, folding his beefy green arms. It was a statement, not a question.

            "Yeah. Is she back?"

            "Got back a few hours ago. Dunno what she's doing now."

            "Did she...say anything about me?" said Nathan, wincing slightly.

            "She said you'd be comin' back later, nuthin' else," said Gnesh, shrugging, arms still folded. "Everyone jus' figured you were exploring the city on your own or still talkin' wit other nobs."

            "Yeah. Everyone but you," said Nathan, smiling humorlessly.

            Gnesh suddenly looked uncomfortable.

            "Thought something was off after what happened at dat bar," muttered Gnesh, lowering his arms. He scratched the back of his neck. "Didn't know it'd get dis bad."

            "Yeah," said Nathan, staring down at the ground. Suddenly, he looked back up. "Hang on, you were there. What did I start talking about after I got hammered?"

            "Didn't hear much," said Gnesh, shaking his head. "Was watching dat football fight on the...dat magic box."

            "Oh, right."

            "But dere was lots of laughing an' gasping from da others an'...well, boss, in my experience, folk tend to say stuff dey shouldn't when dey get dat soused. And nobs here gossip like washerwomen, so I figured word got around to her."

            "Something like that," sighed Nathan, rubbing his temples. "Again, thanks again for helping me back after that bender."

            "Least I could do after letting you down," said Gnesh.

            "Letting me down?" exclaimed Nathan, taken aback. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one who got drunk off my ass."

            "Don't matter," said Gnesh firmly. "Protectin' clients means protectin' dem from themselves sometimes. Shouldn't have watched the football fight. Shoulda watched you and done something when you started drinkin' too much and talkin' too much."

            Nathan stared at the massive orc. He opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again and shut it again. He was simultaneously touched, embarrassed, grateful, and even, much to his shame, a little resentful that Gnesh hadn't actually stepped in sooner. All this compounded by the despair he'd been grappling with since Melinanatha abandoned him on the bridge was hitting him hard.

            In fact, tears were welling in the corners of his eyes.

            "...Thanks," he managed, pinching his nose. He looked away, took a deep breath and exhaled.

            Nearly a minute passed. Neither Gnesh nor Nathan said anything. Around them, the shadows in the courtyard grew deeper as the unseen sun edged closer to the horizon. The deer footman glanced curiously at the pair as he passed them on his way back to the manor.

            "Okay," said Nathan eventually. "I gotta...I gotta make this right." He turned back to face Gnesh. His eyes were bloodshot, but determined.

            "How?" inquired Gnesh.

            "...Good question," admitted Nathan, managing a weak smile. "One thing I do know is that Melinanatha needs some time to cool off."

            Nathan paced back and forth a few times, brow furrowed in thought. Gnesh watched on impassively.

            "I need to find out what I said at that bar," said Nathan at last. "I can't remember anything. Maybe I exaggerated some stuff or...or maybe I hinted at some of the issues with the mines and Northkeep and they were just guessing or bluffing. At least I'll know exactly what we're dealing with then." He nodded at Gnesh. "Are you still on the clock?"

            "Huh," said Gnesh, cocking his head.

            "Sorry, I mean...are you still working for Melinanatha and me?"

            "Yeah, for two more days," he said. "After dat you gotta pay me again."

            "Okay, good," said Nathan. "I'm going to head inside, get cleaned up and get some more local currency. Shouldn't take more than a half-hour. I just hope I don't run into Melinanatha. Then I want to head back to the bar - the, uh, Wemic's Rest."

            "Uh, you wanna go back to the bar?" remarked Gnesh, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think dat's a good idea."

            "Huh? Why?"

            "Don't think a drink is a good idea now."

            "I'm not going there for a drink," said Nathan, shuddering. "In fact, if I try to buy a drink, slap it out of my hand."

            "You got it, boss."

  ***

            Dovon's leonine ears twitched. He gazed up from behind the bar counter. Sure enough, someone had entered the bar and was making their way down to the taproom. Dovon smiled softly. He lowered the tankard he'd been wiping.

            "Come in, come in," he said, waving a paw. "Tis early but-"

            Nathan walked into the taproom, closely followed by Gnesh.

            "Ah," said Dovon, chuckling. "Back so soon?"

            Nathan detected an uncertain, almost nervous undertone in Dovon's voice.

            "Yeah, uh...." began Nathan awkwardly "First, I want to apologize for...whatever happened last night," he said.

            Dovon's thin smile brightened.

            "Hah! Well, it comes with the business," said Dovon, placing the tankard and rag on the counter. "I won't begrudge a customer a night of debauchery now and again so long as it doesn't threaten my well-being, my tavern, or other paying customers."

            "And it didn't?"

            "Ha! Hardly," laughed Dovon. "Quite the profitable night, too." He gestured around at the currently empty tavern. "However, I would be lying if I said I wasn't hoping for a quieter evening tonight."

            "Uh yeah, great," murmured Nathan. He cleared his throat. "The reason I stopped by is, well, I wanted to ask some questions."

            "Hm?" said Dovon.

            "Thing is...I can't remember anything of what happened here last night," explained Nathan, his face reddening with renewed shame. "I remember walking into your bar, being carried out by Gnesh," he pointed a thumb back at his orc bodyguard "And then waking up back at the Vasarian's. The space in between? Total blank."

            "No offense, cousin, but I don't find that terribly surprising."

            "Yeah, I know, I know," sighed Nathan.

            Dovon leaned forward over the bar and inspected Nathan.

            "Rather lucid and bright-eyed for one who quaffed enough liquor to drown a dwarf," he observed curiously. Suddenly, he grinned toothily and leaned back. "Ahhh, someone had the foresight to procure a sobrietas sarong. Those damn alchemists should pay us tavern-keepers a tenth of what they earn on those elixirs. I'd sell them right here at the bar if guild law didn't forbid it."

            "Look, I just want a run-down of what I did and what I said after I got wasted," said Nathan, pressing on. "I'm not expecting a word-for-word reenactment, but anything you remember could be helpful. Please. It's important."

            The wemic frowned thoughtfully. He rubbed his furry chin.

            "Well, business is slow and shouldn't pick up for a demi-hour or so," he said. "And my tavern certainly benefitted from your patronage; I am not ungrateful. Very well." He gestured at one of the stools. "Have a seat and I'll tell you what I remember."

            Nathan nodded, pulled up one of the stools and sat. Dovon reached down under the counter and produced a small earthenware mug, placing it on the counter. He then took a jug off the shelf behind him, uncorked the jug and filled the mug in a single fluid motion.

            Suddenly, Gnesh stepped up to the bar and swatted the mug off the counter. The mug sailed through the air and hit the cobblestone floor with a sharp crack, leaving a splatter of clear liquid and ceramic shards.

            Nathan and Dovon looked down at the floor and then up at Gnesh in shock.

            "Boss's orders," said Gnesh firmly, folding his arms. "Gotta slap any drink he tries to drink."

            "It was just spring water!" exclaimed Gnesh, bemused.

            "Spring water's still a drink," said Gnesh.

            Dovon's ordinarily pleasant countenance soured for a moment. Then, he sighed, put the jug back on the shelf after re-corking it and addressed Nathan as though nothing had happened.

            "As I recall, you came in with your...literal-minded friend a little before first evening bell. I asked if you wanted a drink and you said to surprise you. I poured you a cup of the house special - a blend of an IPA from your world and one of the Realms. You expressed some amazement at the Earth amenities on offer and-"

            "Hang on," interrupted Nathan. "How strong a drink are we talking here?"

            "The house special? Quite light. You specifically asked for nothing too strong, now that I think of it."

            "Oh, okay."

            "We chewed the fat for a while. We discussed the nature of the Realms and Earth; you mentioned you were courting a Draco noble." Dovon smirked. "I teased you a bit for pursuing such challenging prey." He hesitated. "Er, after a bit of prodding on my part, you confessed to some doubts regarding the lady."

            "Huh?" said Nathan, blinking. "Doubts?"

            "Yes, you, er, I believe you said your relationship felt like an accident and that you were weary of her taking advantage of you and pressing you into a wedding. Also that you simply could not imagine being lovers with her, let along married...Uh, are you alright, cousin?"

            Nathan was staring at Dovon, eyes wide, mouth agape. His face was beet-red.

            "I...said that?" he croaked.

            "Perhaps not using those exact words, but yes."

            "I said that...to you?"

            "Yes. Later, you admitted you did have feelings for her despite all this," Dovon paused. "I believe you called her big, beautiful, sassy, smart and..." he trailed off and shook his mane. "I can't remember the last one. Your sincerity was quite refreshing."

            "...How many drinks had I had by then?" groaned Nathan.

            "Hm? None."

            "What?" exclaimed Nathan, sitting up. "You said the first thing I did was order a drink!"

            "Yes - one cup," said Dovon patiently. "You hadn't even..." he paused, tapping his chin. "No, no, I tell a lie. You did take one or two drinks before confessing your true feelings."

            "But you said it wasn't hard liquor."

            "It wasn't," said Dovon. "Anyways I-"

            "Hang on hang on hang on," said Nathan, almost frantically. "Look, I pride myself on telling it how it is but...Christ, I haven't admitted some of that shit to anyone, let alone a complete stranger. No offense."

            The wemic bartender gave a diffident shrug.

            "Perhaps, but it is something of a custom here for bartenders to lend an ear to their customers woes, play the role of the confessor. I understand it is similar on Earth."

            "You're not getting it," snapped Nathan. "I can't see myself talking about that stuff with anyone after just one drink. Especially the..." he shuddered "...Big, beautiful and sassy bit. I wouldn't have admitted that to anyone." He paused. "Another thing - I've never gotten black-out drunk before. Ever. I can count the number of times I've gotten drunk on one hand. And that was when I first started drinking." Nathan wrung his hands. "None of this makes sense."

            A strange silence settled over the taproom. Nathan just sat there, breathing heavily. Dovon observed him, his striking yellow eyes narrowed slightly. His tail swished back and forth. Gnesh stood a few feet away from his charge, arms folded; his expression betrayed nothing.

            A thought occurred to Nathan. He realized, almost immediately, that it could just be his mind desperately concocting some excuse for his actions. This alone almost made him dismiss the notion outright, but something about it just made too much sense.

            "Was my drink spiked?" asked Nathan suddenly.

            Dovon stared at him.

            "Are you implying I poisoned your cup?" he asked quietly.

            "Well, did you?"

            Nathan regretted the words as soon as he uttered them, but did not take them back. He returned Dovon's intense stare.

            "How dare you suggest I wou-" began Dovon

            "Da boss asked you a question," cut in Gnesh. He leaned forward and placed his hands on the counter, leveling his own steely gaze at the bartender. Dovon responded with a low-throated growl that sent shivers running down Nathan spine. It had no effect on Gnesh.

            "Of course I didn't 'spike' your drink!" snarled Dovon, stepping back. "Forget what the city watch would do if they thought I was in the habit of drugging my customers. If Byteiye - Mythic Matches - suspected anything untoward, it would be the end of my business and worse." He wagged a clawed digit at Nathan. "They watch your kind here far closer than you could ever imagine, cousin!"

            This last remark nonplussed Nathan but he brushed it aside. For now.

            "Okay, say I believe you," he said slowly. "Could someone else have spiked it?"

            Dovon's scowl softened. Slightly. He glanced meaningfully at Gnesh. The orc got the message and slowly took his hands off the bar. Satisfied, Dovon turned back to Nathan.

            "Unlikely," he said, shaking his head. "As I recall, you started drinking soon after I served you and did not let go of your cup for the rest of the evening."

            "But did you actually have your eyes on my drink the entire time?" persisted Nathan.

            "No, no I did not," admitted Dovon.

            "And were there any other customers when I started drinking?"

            "Yes," said Dovon. He paused. "Come to think of it, some new customers did arrive just before. But to slip something into your drink in such a short time without anyone noticing...it would require a deft paw indeed."

            "So they'd have to be some kind of pro," mused Nathan. "Okay, I know I'm grasping at straws here but it is possible. If they put some kind of...roofie it would explain why I acted the way I did."

            "Perhaps, but I would not be so quick to blame your behavior on some potion," said Dovon an odd tinge of resentment in his voice. "You seemed distraught. And distraught folk are capable of foolish things."

            "I'm not saying I know for certain," said Nathan, giving Dovon a look. "But something's off about this whole situation. It's worth checking out." He paused, thinking. "Is there...any magical way of telling if I've been poisoned? A...detection spell or something?"

            "Hmm," said Dovon. "Perhaps. You'd likely need to hire a professional - an experienced mage, a diviner; perhaps an alchemist?"

            "Okay, good, good," said Nathan eagerly. "Where could I find one?"

            "No simple answer to that," said Dovon. "You could visit some of the festhalls and taverns where freelance mages are wont to frequent, though there'd be no guarantee you'd find anyone capable of casting the right spell. Most of the resident mages only see clients by appointment and there is no mage's college. Alchemists have established shops, but I'm not even sure they'd be capable of doing what you need."

            "Is there anyone you could recommend?" asked Nathan.

            "I do know a few apprentice mages and...specialists, yes. But the ones I know who reside in the city won't be able to help you. As for the others, well, I don't know how to reach them - most are travelers who rarely stay in one place for long."

            "Hmm."

            There was a brief silence.

            "I know somebody who could help, boss," rumbled Gnesh suddenly.

            "Huh?" said Nathan, looking back at the orc bodyguard. "Really?"

            "Yeah. Even know where she is."

            "And...you're sure she could..." Nathan waved his hands vaguely "...Cast the right spell?"

            "Probably," said the orc, shrugging. "Don't know for sure. But she's good. Really good. Does this sorta thing all da time."

            "Nice! What's her name?"

            "Maeve Marigold."

            "What?" exclaimed Dovon in apparent shock, eyes wide. "Maeve Marigold? Here?"

            "Oh, you've heard of her?" said Nathan.

            "Maeve Marigold?" repeated Dovon, addressing Gnesh. "The Maeve Marigold?"

            "Yeah, Maeve Marigold," said Gnesh.

            "Vixen beastkin? Big hat? Huge..." Dovon hesitated and then gestured at his chest with both paws "...Tracks of land?"

            "Yeah, her," said Gnesh.

            Nathan looked at Gnesh and then at Dovon.

            "Could someone tell me what's going on?" he exclaimed, bemused and annoyed.

            "Maeve Marigold is...famous," said Dovon nervously. "Er, infamous. Perhaps...two parts famous, one part infamous."

            "Is she dangerous?"

            "Well...yes and no," said Dovon, squirming a little, rubbing his thick padded paws together. "She was going to-...There are many stories about her. Some good, some bad. She's a highly skill practitioner of the magical arts and one of the very few beastkin graduates of Saehre Academy. She's a freelance mage but styles herself an investigator - what I suppose you would call a detective, cousin."

            "A detective? Really?"

            "Yes."

            "Well, a detective is kind of...exactly what I need," said Nathan. "But from the sound of it, you don't think hiring her is a good idea."

            "It's just..." Dovon sighed, leaned over the bar and lowered his voice. "I've heard rumors she's been meddling with forces that should never, ever be trifled with. Not the Infernal or Celestial Realms, before you ask. She never touches divine magic. And don't ask me what these forces are. However, if there's any truth to the rumors, you should be careful around her. That's all I can say."

            "But she's a good mage?"

            "Oh, one of the best," said Dovon.

            "But...that means she's really expensive, right?" sighed Nathan resignedly.

            "Not as much as one would think," said Dovon carefully. "And she's been known to work cheaply when cases intrigue her. You, as a human, would likely intrigue her."

            "Alright. You know what? Sold," said Nathan. He turned to Gnesh. "Where can we find her?"

            "She's stayin' at The Gutted Wasp over on Pie Street," said Gnesh.

            "Not the most pleasant part of town," commented Dovon. "But with him by your side you should be fine," he added, nodding at Gnesh.

            "Okay. Great! Let's head out," said Nathan. He turned to Dovon. "Thanks. Thank you for all your help," he said sincerely. "I'll recommend this place to all of my friends who have the app. And, uh, sorry for thinking you spiked my drink."

            "Apology accepted," said Dovon, bowing his head gracefully. "Before you go, cousin, a word of warning and a question."

            "Uh, okay."

            "First, if you must hire Maeve Marigold, do not allow yourself to be pulled into her affairs. Pay her for her services and be done with her."

            "Got it," said Nathan.

            "As for my question, are you only doing this to soothe a guilty conscience?" said Dovon.

            Nathan blinked. Up until now his mind had been racing but Dovon's question brought his thoughts to a screeching halt. He stood there dumbly for a second or two, though it seemed much longer. It felt like his brain was short-circuiting.

            "I'm...not sure," he muttered.

            Dovon smiled wanly.

            "Be certain you can answer that before you next speak with your lady, cousin" he said quietly.

            Nathan opened his mouth, shut it, and then hurried out of the tavern. Gnesh looked at Dovon, gave him a curt nod and followed Nathan out.

            Dovon didn't move for a time. Then, he exhaled as though he'd been holding his breath. He raised his right paw and gazed soulfully down at a golden ring around his ring digit. The ring bore no gem or engravings yet shone brilliantly under the pale glow of the anachronistic modern lights above.  

  ***

            At Gnesh's recommendation, Nathan purchased a dark-olive hooded cloak from a cluttered little tailor's shop two short blocks from the tavern before heading out. The cloak's thick, coarse fabric lent it a reassuring weight when worn. More to the point, it served to conceal his ears and thereby his race and extra-planar origin. He needed to attract less attention now.

            The trip to the Gutted Wasp took considerably less time than Nathan anticipated. Gnesh led him down a shallow incline to a long, narrow road that ran parallel to the river and then turned and entered an even narrower road - or alley - that ran perpendicular to the former. The buildings here were far smaller and dingier - built from worn, often waterstained wood instead of stone and plaster. The people here were similarly dull and ramshackle, preferring muted, ragged brown and grey clothing over the colorful panoply of raiment favored by the rest of the city. Most were beastkin but there were also some orcs and what Nathan assumed were goblins and trolls. No one paid much attention to him, though he swore he could feel hidden eyes bearing down on him. Gnesh seemed entirely unconcerned but he was almost impossible to read.

            Still, by the time they reached the tavern - an unattached, single-story brick and wood building about the size of a small ranch-style home adjoining the docks - late afternoon had fully transitioned to evening. Lights - lanterns, hearths, candles, and even a few multi-colored magical motes - were flickering to life all around them in the nascent gloom. Nathan didn't like being out this late in what seemed to be a bad part of town. He realized he hadn't even left any messages for Melinanatha  - or anyone else at the Vasarian home for that matter. He half-considered texting her via Mythic Matches.

            "Here we are, boss," said Gnesh, pointing at a swing sign hanging over the entrance. It read, in faded black font, 'The Gutted Wasp.'

            Nathan nodded, took a step forward only to be stopped as Gnesh raised a burly arm.

            "Let me go in first dis time," he said.

            "Oh, uh, yeah. Go ahead."

            Gnesh issued a complying grunt, opened the thick, reinforced tavern doors and walked inside. For a disconcerting few seconds, Nathan stood there alone in the seedy neighborhood. Then, the door opened and Gnesh gestured for him to come inside. Nathan gratefully complied.

            The inside of the Gutted Wasp was dark, smoky and humid, illuminated only by a few grimy lanterns hanging from the walls. The main room - large, but with a low ceiling - was cluttered with crude tables and chair arranged haphazardly around each other. Rather than one common bar there were two along the east and north corners. There weren't many other patrons - maybe a dozen or so clustered in groups of two and three huddled around a table. It was quiet. Only the muted conversation of the customers and occasional squeak of a chair precluded absolute silence. The place stank of cheap booze, urine and day-old fish.

            Nathan looked around the hostelry with no small trepidation. He glanced over at Gnesh, who was also scanning the room.

            "So, she's a fox beastkin?" he whispered to the orc. "I don't see anyone like that."

            "She's here," said Gnesh confidently, keeping his voice down as well. "Jus' gotta find her."

            "O-kay," said Nathan uneasily.

            He started making his way towards the east bar, slowly maneuvering between the tables and chairs. Gnesh closely followed him. Every so often Nathan risked a glance at some of the customers. None of them appeared to be a fox, let alone female. Wary eyes met his gaze.

            He reached the bar. No one appeared to be working there. Despite this, Nathan took a seat at one of the stools and waited for a good half-minute. He looked around. Nothing had happened. Gnesh was just standing there behind him, arms folded.

            Suddenly, someone nearby coughed meaningfully.

            Nathan blinked. He looked around. He didn't see anyone. The voice hadn't been Gnesh's.

            "Down here, ya idjit."

            Nathan looked down and saw the top of someone's head just cresting the other side of the counter. He leaned forward a little and saw a scowling, bearded face staring back at him.

            "Oh," said Nathan.

            "Are ye orderin' something or ye just going ta squat there all night?"

            The barkeeper, Nathan realized, was a dwarf. Or possibly a bearded halfling or gnome? He wasn't sure. Best not to ask.

            "Uh, just a cup of...ale," said Nathan. He had no intention of drinking it but didn't know what else to say.

            The barkeep grunted and disappeared behind the bar. Remembering what happened back at the Wemic's Rest, Nathan glanced back at Gnesh.

            "I'm not actually going to drink it," he hissed. "Don't slap it out of my hand."

            The orc shrugged.

            The barkeep reappeared and placed a small wooden tankard half-filled with a murky brown liquid on the counter.

            "Seven pebs," he said, extending a grubby hand.

            "Er...pebs?"

            "Pebbles."

            Nathan hesitated.

            The barkeep rolled his eyes.

            "Fine. Eight copper bits, ye skinny, pointy-eared git."

            Nathan wordlessly opened his pouch, counted out eight small coins and placed them in his hand. The barkeep grunted, pocketed the money and then turned to leave.

            "Hang on," said Nathan.

            "What now?" sighed the barkeep.

            Nathan lowered his voice. "I'm looking for... Maeve Marigold. Is she around?"

            The barkeep simply muttered a string of expletives under his breath and started walking away.

            Suddenly, Nathan had an idea.

            "Hey," he said just loud enough to draw a few curious looks from the other customers.

            "By Ersâna's four floppy teats, what?" growled the barkeep, glancing back.

            Nathan reached up and slowly lowered his hood half-way, revealing his face and, more to the point, ears. The barkeep cocked his head. He took a few steps to get a closer look. Then, his eyes bulged in recognition.

            "A human?" he gasped.

            "I'll ask again," said Nathan, adapting a more commanding, almost menacing tone. "Where. Is. Maeve Marigold?"

            "Up in the attic, milord," whispered the barkeep. "Er, she asked not to be disturbed and, uh, paid for the privacy. If she asks, tell her ye already knew she were there."

            With that, he scurried away.

            Nathan rose from his seat. He couldn't help but smirk a little. He looked around the room and spied a crude ladder behind the bar leading up to a hatch in the ceiling. Leaving his drink untouched, he walked around the bar and over to the ladder.

            "Uh, Gnesh, you want to..." said Nathan, gesturing at the hatch.

            "Nuh uh," said Gnesh, shaking his head.

            "Huh?" said Nathan, suprised.

            "I'm, uh...too big, boss," said the orc, somewhat uncomfortably. "I'd fall through."

            Nathan looked up at the ceiling and down at Gnesh. True, he was pretty heavy and the ceiling didn't look particularly solid. Still, something was off.

            "Fine," said Nathan, deciding not to push the issue. "But get ready to come up fast if I yell for help," he added.

            "Um, sure boss."

            Nathan ascended the ladder, reached up and pushed the hatch. He felt some resistance but managed to open it after a few seconds. Nathan climbed another few steps and peered into the attic.

            It was pitch black. Were it not for the dim light emanating from the bar below through the open hatch Nathan wouldn't have even been able to see his hands in front of his face. He dug into his pocket, took out his phone, activated its flashlight and took a look around. There wasn't much here save for a few small piles of straw and some dusty old bottles. The space offered barely enough room to walk while crouched. Nathan swallowed nervously. He climbed the final few steps and shut the hatch behind him. Silence followed.

            "Uh, Maeve Marigold?" he said, taking a few steps forward. The floorboards creaked under his feet.

            There was no reply.

            "Maybe that dwarf was just messing with me," he muttered.

            Nathan crept along the attic, phone in hand, scanning every corner for some sign of life. Then, he noticed something on the wall to his right. It seemed to be some kind of...poster? He stopped and raised his phone to get a better look.

            The poster depicted a fox beastkin. The fox - vixen, actually - sported a ludicrously curvy body, with wide hips, thick, luscious long legs and boobs bigger than a pair of ripe watermelons. She wore an ensemble seemingly designed to exaggerate her already promiscuous form, incorporating a long loose green skirt, a tight leather bodice over a white blouse that barely concealed her pillowy cleavage and, curiously an oversized black witch's hat. Smooth, long auburn locks of hair spilled down from her hat. Her green, sultry, half-lidded eyes seemed to be gazing directly at the viewer. A large, fluffy tail protruded from her backside.

            Nathan sighed. It was some kind of pin-up - a particularly hyper-sexualized one even by the libertine standards of the Realms. Curiously, it was full color; most of the posters he'd seen around town were black and white.

            Still, he had to admit she was pretty hot.

            Hang on...a witch's hat? A fox?

            "Maeve Marigold?" whispered Nathan softly to himself, perplexed.

            Suddenly, the poster bulged as though something behind the wall were trying to tear through. Nathan yelped and stumbled back, hitting the back of his head on a beam. He tumbled to the ground but managed to keep a grip on his phone. Cursing, clutching his neck with his free hand, he looked up. His eyes widened.

            A red-furred arm had emerged from the poster. It seemed to be extending outwards as though trying to force its way out. Bizarrely, the poster had stretched out around the arm, clinging to it as though it had been turned into rubbery, sticky plastic wrap. Then, a second arm shot out. The poster clung to the second arm just like first. As Nathan watched on in astonishment and horror, he noticed that the vixen on the poster was moving as though it were some kind of animated cartoon. More disconcertingly, the arms jutting out of the poster were contiguous with those of the vixen. In short, the two-dimensional figure seemed to be emerging into three-dimensional space!

            Then, the vixen's head popped out of the poster, soon followed by her prodigious bust, each boob bigger than her head. They dangled there, jiggling enticingly in the air as the vixen wiggled her way out of the poster. The lower half of her body was still flattened against the paper.

            Suddenly, she stopped and looked down at Nathan, shielding her eyes from the surprisingly bright light of his phone with one of her paws. She pouted.

            "Oh foo," she said sourly. "You found me."