That night the snow was gently falling, smoke was trickling into the sky from the chimneys of all the warm and comfortable families, and candles were being lit to chase the creeping dark away. The night was a normal one in the small town of PortsView, the local Inn checking in guests for the night weary from travels, and the Church giving its last sermon. But one thing in the small tavern called The Nights Delight would change the image of PortsView for years to come.

Inside The Nights Delight
From inside The Nights Delight looks just as warm and cozy as it does from the outside. With six or seven round tables in the middle of the big room, and a bar across from the entrance, and a flight of stairs leading down below the establishment to the right. A fire place on the left side warmed the place up, with a crest hanging above the fireplace of a Scythe and a Hay Fork. No one really knows what it means, everyone assumes it is to represent the hard work and good harvests that PortsView's surrounding fields haul in every season.
At the bar sat a burly half orc, sipping the last of his first drink of the night. He had found the tavern that night, and decided to give it a shot. So far it has done him good service, and the patrons around him didnt seem to mind his orc heritage, even though the constant orc threats on the Island of Ghein.
Sitting at one of the tables closer to the fire was an elf, one who seems to dabble in the arts of the arcane. His black hair contrasting with his green eyes, he sipped some of his water that he had, and enjoyed the warmth and new found silence of the tavern.
Across the room, sitting at a table next to a window was a young female human, whos face looked as though she was in deep thought gazing out the window. On her table was a glass of finely brewed tea, something that the tavern didnt carry frequently. Lucky her they were in stock.
Suddenly the door to the tavern opened and a gust of cold air sent a chill down everyones spines, no one was expecting it. In came a woman, who quickly sat down at the nearest table. She had just come from the last sermon of the Church of Pelor and was looking for a warm and filling meal before heading home. Being a cleric of Pelor meant she frequented the church a lot, and this was often her second destination.

Sitting in the middle of the room were two other in patrons, one a scraggly bearded looking man with nothing but some burlap clothes on his back. The other figure was a man sporting a black studded leather vest, with a cloak and a hood. It looked as if they both were engrossed in a heated conversation, both were leaned into the table talking in fast whispers.
Then something surprising happened. The scraggly man stood up, his chair skidding out from behind him and falling on the floor attracting the attention of everyone in the bar. The man produced a dagger in a moments notice and plunged it into the chest of the man in the cloak. Blood spurted onto the table from the wound, and before anyone could react, the attacker was out the door.
The bar tender stood shocked and called out to his daughter.

" Sarah, stay in the kitchen, dont come out!"

He started to run towards the bloody man, knocking a table over in his wake. He got to him and looked him over.

" He's dead..."

He looked around the rooma the patrons with a stunned and worried look, waiting for someone to move.

Typical. Dogfish is just tipping up the glass to finish his drink and order another to begin a long string of 'em, and what happens? A guy gets stabbed while he is (not quite) watching, that's what. The stabbee gets his quickly, and the stabber gets gone almost as quickly.

Slamming the glass down, Dogfish jumps to his feet and starts to rush after the stabber-jerk, but he is out and the door is closed before Dogfish can get halfway across the small room. Damn tables in the way! And the fact that he doesn't have the donkets to pay damages at this time is the only thing that kept him from using the tables as stepping stones for a more direct route to catch the raggedy-lookin'dufus! Then he hears a table hit the floor -- hard. When Dog turns 'round he sees the bartender bending over the stabbee and claiming he was dead. heck, he didn't care about his own tables getting knocked over, and Dogfish was worried about it? Crap!

Then he glanced around the room in the sudden silence to see if anyone was lookin' at him like he was the one what killed the man in black. A few pairs of eyes may have been on him, but none seemed to have any fight-fire in them. Then Dogfish had a sudden flash of inspiration: it might be better if he just stayed where he was for a bit to see if anyone else bolted for the door. He could interc-- intrasek-- instagret-- get in front of 'em and stop 'em.

From where he was he asked the barkeep, "You know this guy here what got jabbed?"

Well, now. What do you know? Shan comes into a small sleepy-looking lake town, expecting an uneventful stay, and witnesses a murder? And the brute at the bar jumps up like he's going to capture the evil-doer. Even Shan couldn't get out from behind the table in time, and she was closer. He didn't have a chance and should have seen it. He probably would have realized it if he knew his abilities as well as he should. To be fair, everybody in here was caught off-guard by the stabbing, but the ugly one at the bar was just too far away, and he could have reacted faster. Shan was on her feet even before he started to move, but she had chosen to put the table between her and the center of the room, her back to the wall, and she knew that the drab man would escape before she could round it to intercept him. The table had become a liability to quick movement in at least one direction. She'd have to remember that.

And the suddenness, the quickness of the death proclaimed by the bartender. Poison, maybe? There, her knowledge was somewhat weak, but she had heard of some poisons that acted almost immediately, within a few heartbeats or a few steps ...

But she had a precise description, in case no one else did. And if the local constabulary didn't catch him -- and she didn't think it likely -- she knew what to look for.

The bartender rushed to the fallen man's aid while she stood and mused, causing her a certain amount of embarrassment, quickly subdued. He would not have had time to get a good look at the person who did the stabbing. When he pronounced the man dead, she closed her eyes, dropped her head, and silently wished a bright flight for the spirit suddenly bereft of a body. Big 'n Ugly then asked if he knew the man that had been stabbed, and she jerked her head up suddenly to hear the answer. Okay, so maybe he was Big and Not-Quite-So-Dumb. And that question brought others to her mind that she intended to ask, but first she had to find out what information would be given freely.

As she listened, she glanced at the woman who had arrived just before the altercation. She was not familiar with the mode of dress, but she looked capable of defending herself. A warrior's look, but a more peaceful demeanor than most. In spite of the suddenness of the recent event, she seemed almost as calm as Shan herself, and that was something to be commended -- later.

As Relnalgo was enjoying the company, although he wasn't talking to anyone he just enjoyed being in the same room as outher people, in the inn he observed something he hadn't seen in a long time. As he drank his water a man was stabed.

He quickly rushed to the proclamed dead man, bent down and explained that he was trying to descover wheather any posion was used, if there was an assissin in town then he needed to know what weapons he was using.

As he is bent there he forms some strange hand gesture and mutters a few words in a toung unknone to you. (Casting detect posion)

Agela walked up to an empty table and took a seat. She searched her coin pouch and found 1 shiny silver piece. She set the piece down on the table and settled into her chair rubbing her hands together to thaw off the cold. The fire was a welcomed site and the warmth of the room filled her with a rush of comfort.
A well needed meal would provide her the nourishment she would need for the journey home. She waved to the patron of the establishment. 'Ello friend. I would like to have a hearty meal of whatever you have cookin' on the fire. It sounds delicious and I am starving!
Before she could even receive a proper order .. Her thoughts were interrupted by a scream. A man had been stabbed and right away the door had closed as the attacker had fled. Agela rushed to her feet, running over to the fallen man. She lifted her hands in prayer to Pelor
Pelor, great and mighty sovereign power of all that is good and holy, I beseech you to save this man from this horrible fate that has befallen him. I call on your healing power to provide help where it is most needed With the prayer completed Agela's hands glowed with a surge of healing power which she layed down on the wounded man saying gently in his ear Help is here sir .. stay with me ...

Dog looked across the room at the woman who had entered just before the stabbing. She had quickly shut out the refreshing cold air as she came in. She seemed to be uncomfortably cold. In Dog's experience, it was typical of most humans, with their thin skin, no hair 'cept on their heads. The woman seemed to be in a rush to get a table, sit, and holler out an order. Then she got interru--, intrerrep--, integrate--, she didn't get to finish, either. But while he was running toward the door, she musta been running toward the one who fell, 'cause when he turned back and stopped to ask the barkeep a question, she was bending over him prayin' for some kinda help. Yeah, right! Barkeep said he was dead, so ... so what? If she can bring him back, then Grakk wanted to be knowin' her, fer shure! He turned to look back at the door, twisting his body without moving his feet, then turned back to glance at the woman who was still prayin', then glanced up at the silent girl that was standing earlier. The only noise was the shuffling of feet, the woman's chanting, and his stomach growling.

If the barkeep says he knows the dead man here, then Grakk has a coupla questions to ask. Could be a bounty in it, if he can get help. But not too much help. Grakk needs some quick cash ...

Shan sat down, for now. While the big one ran for he door, then quickly gave up (another mark against him), the woman-warrior rose quickly and ran to the fallen man, arriving just after the proprietor said he was dead. She then began a litany-prayer for aid of some kind. So she was a cleric. Shan had come to respect many clerics for their dedication, their code of ethics and behavior. And those were as valid to them as her own was to her, and so deserved respect. Although some did a little too much chaotic thinking and acting for her to be comfortable with them, even they deserved respect, and they got it -- albeit grudgingly.

So the situation, for the moment, seemed well-in-hand. When the time came to ask her own questions, she had another to add to her list of people to ask, but the number now was only three. The old parable states:"A search or task which is not personal can more quickly and easily be completed on four legs. Three are unstable, at least for movement. Two are too slow, but can be used if necessary." The third person on her "list" removed the "handicap of Two Legs", but still presented a liability. So there is a fourth. There must be. But is it the fourth a "who" or a "what"?

Things had presented themselves in the order they were supposed to be presented, it could be no other way. So she would wait for the fourth "leg" for her search for knowledge.

"You know this guy here what got jabbed?"

Were the first words that broke the silence since the stabbing.

" No, I don't, I didn't know either of them."

The bartender looked around the room at the people who started to move, and got up.

" I have to go make sure my daughter is O.K, I'll be right back."

He rushed inside just as the most recent patron who just shook the chills off her shoulders and an elf who looked as if he muttled in the arts of the arcane both reached the side of the downed man.

The elf bent over to cast a spell after he made it aware to others, and detected a small trace of very lethal poison within the gushing stab wound.

The woman started to say something out loud that they all could hear.

"Pelor, great and mighty sovereign power of all that is good and holy, I beseech you to save this man from this horrible fate that has befallen him. I call on your healing power to provide help where it is most needed"

The wound closed fast and the bleeding stopped, a large scar left in its place. The Man gasped for air and was clinging to his throat when he came to life. Barely clinging on and with the poison still flowing through his veins, the man was suffocating to death, again.

The other two patrons either stood or sat and watched as the event went on, waiting for some questions to get asked

The bartender came back in and stopped in his tracks.

" I thought he was dead, quick! Someone do something, he 's choking!"

The Bartender ran over and stumbled over a chair slightly, a rag in one hand and a bottle of some unknown drink in the other.

"... he's choking!..."

Okayyyy. She is good! He had watched the wound close and nodded approvingly. Then Dogfish hesitated only a second more, trying to decide whether or not to give the man one of his precious anti-poison potions he had bought. Only a second. Then he reached into his beltpouch and felt for the square bottle ... the square bottle ... the square bottle ... ah! found it. He held out his other -- empty -- hand to stop the bartender for a moment.

"Waitaminnit! I got somethin' ta help -- I think."

To no one in particular, he raises his voice to almost a shout, "Hold his hands away from his throat!"

Rushing to the side of the revived man himself, he quickly un-stoppers the bottle and grabs the back of the choking man's neck to tilt his upper body so he can pour it's contents down the man's throat, holding most of the bottle's neck inside the man's mouth and cupping his other hand around it to keep him from spitting out the foul-tasting stuff. Even then, he got a lot of it sprayed back into his hand. All he could hope is that enough got down to help him. Then the man would owe him. And Grakk intended to collect -- either money or information ...

[[ Sorry. I'm new to this. I guess I should have posted this: bottle is anti-toxin]]

"Lady he has been poisoned, forgive the informality but a life is at risk, can you do anything about it? Or shall we carry him to a temple as it is my belief that the poison is lethal." The elf said after he had cast the spell looking at the female who had closed up the wound and preparing to help the man up if he was capable of walking.
"He has been poisoned." The elf announced to the whole inn and turned to the guy who was giving the man bottle of liquid.
"If that's anti-toxin it might still not work, we'll still need get him to someone who can extract the poison if it doesnt but thank you." Returning to a whisper and addressing the female.
"The poison, it's lethal but that anti-toxin will probably give us a minute or two to get the poison out."

Dogfish hears the words from over his shoulder "If that's antitoxin, it might still not work ...", and thinks ( might not work?!?! might not work!?!? oh, just great! The guy I bought this from said it was sure-fire, never-miss, fool proof. If it don't work, I'll put him on my list, I sure will! )
Growling in frustration, he waits until the man stops gagging [if he does], then drpps him back to the floor and moves away to watch from a distance, scowling in aggravation, clenching and unclenching his fists ...

As Shan noticed a third person, a dark-headed man, get involved in the injured man's case, she perked up. More so when she heard the words "poison", "anti-toxin", and "extract". So. Alive, but still in trouble, the man was. She assessed her belongings quickly and found nothing in her memory that would be of aid here and now, except her strength, arms, and legs. But the dark-haired man intrigued her. Might he be the "Fourth Leg"? He was the last to have drawn her attention, but he was nonetheless intended to have crossed her path and those of the others he was with now.

But if they split up and went their separate directions, she might never get this search for knowledge underway. Snorting in frustration, she stood, rounds the table, and approaches the group hovering over the fallen one. She waits for an opportunity to speak, not wanting to interrupt any vital information being passed. Clearing her throat, she speaks. Not in a tone of Slashing, to cut off the flow of someone else's words, but in the tone of Offering Knowledge, to inform.

"'he'he'hmm. I see that this situation is being well-handled. I am not a healer, nor do I have anything on my person that I believe would be of help here. But I will still offer whatever service or aid any of you feel I can provide."

That having been said, she stands quietly, staying out of the way until she is needed (if she is needed).

Saying a quick prayer for the man's recovery (just a role playing prayer) Agela nodded to the man holding the antidote. It may be best to get him to the church .. but in this weather I am afraid he might freeze and slip into an even deeper unconciousness if we try to move him. The antidote might work and it is our best hope. I'm sure that if this man survives he will repay you for the antidote in the very least. Agela stayed with the man holding his hand and continuing to offer prayer up to Pelor.

"So your saying that we can't move him," the dark haired elf clarified
"and you haven't answered my question so I take the answer as a no to be safe. I will run to the nearest temple and fetch someone who can heal a poisoned wound to be on the safe side." he says, standing up and leaving the inn towards at a jog towards the nearest temple.


OOC: I take it that there is a temple in this town/village/city and that an observant sorcerer would of spotted.

"... I'm sure that if this man survives he will repay you for the antidote in the very least ...."
The odd thing was that the healer didn't seem to look at Dogfish like he was some sorta ogre or somethin' like'at. It didn't seem to bother her that he grew his looks to be like this on purpose so some wouldn't get too friendly. And if she thought he was gonna let the guy outta his sight until he got a chance to talk to him, she was so wrong !! But the guy was hurtin' and he wouldn't say nothin' to him -- not yet.

Another bright light shown in the nearly empty cavern of Dog's cranium: "Ummm, if ya want, I'm pretty sure I can carry him where he needs to go, and save tryin' ta load him onna horse, or like that."