"You! Battle Mage!" A harsh and gravelly voice barks.
The man's eyes slowly rise from the table to focus on you. You look at him in puzzlement, for it was not you who called out. You don't even know his name.
Suddenly, he is on his feet, his chair knocked over onto its back. His dagger is out and he is in a strategically sound fighting stance. His sharply angular face wears a sort of resigned half-smile.
You stare at him, puzzled. Why is he attacking you? You didn't do anything....
Faster than the eye can see, he slashes at you. Thankfully, you were already moving away and your body was already in motion, making it simple to drop to the ground. He does, however, catch the side of your shirt, cutting it open on the shoulder. You roll over to look up at him, only to see that his blade has been met with a nasty looking creature with a thick grayish hide slightly resembling tree bark.
"What would you have with me, Troll?" the man asks, quiet and calm.
The Troll grunts as he heaves a large battle axe crusted with a black, flaky substance (blood?) at the man. He parries easily, though it seems that his weapon, which is small and flimsy compared to the axe, is rather frail. The Troll growls,"I want the ten gold you owe me."
The man falls back into a defensive position. "Ten gold...? Who the hell are you? I don't owe anyone anything."
The Troll takes another whack at him. "Lying Mage scum! If you will not pay me with your gold, you will pay me with your blood!" The large creature hacks away at the slim Mage, heedless of their surroundings. The Inn explodes in a general uproar, bets being laid, chairs flying about, drinks and food heaved through the air. The man holds his own and actually slices the Troll's thick skin a few times, but the Troll's height and meaty strength seem to give it a greater advantage.
Through the brawl, a figure slips into the door swiftly, as if having been called here. It appears to be a woman, face and body hidden by a gray cloak. She chants softly to herself and extends her arm, palm up, to the entire Inn. All who had been fighting suddenly freeze in their tracks, unable to move. Even the liquids sloshing out of glasses halt in mid-air.
The woman lowers her arm. She slowly picks her way through the wreckage of the furniture and stops before the Mage and the Troll. She shakes her head and speaks. The soft alto tones reverberate through the Inn, though she is barely speaking above a murmur.
"Do you owe him his money, Mage?" she asks quietly.
The man can only move his lips. "No." She nods.
"Does he owe you your money, Troll?" She turns towards the Troll.
"Yes," growls the Goblin.
"A truth spell has been cast. Neither of you is lying," she says. "You, Troll, are merely confused about who owes you a debt. The one who is indebted to you is huddled in that corner." She points to the farthest corner of the Inn, where a ratty looking man resembling the Mage is cringing. "You will, however, pay the Mage twenty silver for his pains. You will also pay the Inn one gold for the damages. Is this fair to you?"
"Yes, Lady," the Troll agrees sheepishly. He apologizes to the Mage, who nods coldly.
The woman chants again, in a tongue which is unfamiliar to you. With the combatants still frozen, the furniture and broken dishware seal themselves back together, the food and liquids inside. As everything returns to its proper place, a wave of peace sweeps over you. You notice the effect of this on everyone in the Inn. Taunt faces and tense bodies relax. The woman raises her hand, freeing all from their frozen positions. Weapons are returned to their sheaths. A Tranquility spell, you suppose. The Troll hands over his money and stalks over to the scrawny man in the corner. He grabs the man's shirt and hauls him outside, despite his shrieks.
The Mage sheaths his dagger and helps you up. "My apologies, friend," he says, smiling ruefully. He traces the cut on your shirt, muttering, and the rip seals shut. The Mage turns towards the woman, and as you stand, you catch a glimpse of pure white hair combined with a youthful and oddly familiar face. The woman turns away just enough to obscure your view.
"I don't want to have to come back here on your account, Merloch," says the woman. You can hear the smile in her voice. "Stay out of trouble or you'll hear about it from me."
The Mage sweeps a low bow, with a hint of mockery. He grins at her. "I hear and I obey, o great and fearsome Lady." She turns towards the door, laughing, and walks out.
"Who was that?" you ask the Mage.
He is still smiling. "The owner of the Inn." He sits back down and gestures towards the chair across from him. "Please, join me." You sit, grateful that the fight is over.
"Well," says the Mage. "You seem to have come at a rather inconvenient time. My name is Merloch Tzeenth. Is there something you need?"
You tell him that you are a Traveler and you are exploring Fantasy. You want to get to know the people better, and what better place to come find people than in an Inn? He nods. Would he care to tell you more about himself?
"...Alright," Merloch agrees. "But first I could use another drink..."
You get the hint.
"Barkeep! Another ale please."
"Gee, where did the time go?...It's bedtime, bye!"
"S'cuse me, I'm going to talk to that oblivious woman at the bar"