A coin for the Talleyman

after the trickster

In the hospitality suite, two minstrels played. The sweet rich melody of the mandolin rang softly throughout the upper halls . A flute soft and soothing intertwined to create a lull. A peace. At the table 6 sat oblivious. Cards were delt, coins tossed glasses filled then drained. Then repeated. In the distance, at the end of the hall the riser stopped. The metallic sound of it’s wrought metal galy open upon well oiled hinges escaped no one in the room. Even the musicians. They exchanged a glance without dropping a chord. Two at the table, oddly the two whose back most faced the door shifted. Footsteps could be heard coming closer. Conversation drew nearer but the voices were known and the drawing tension, diffused. Into the doorway, through the haze of pipeweed 3 halted and stood. A bearded dwarves mage, with large ample breasts, a pale skinned waif dressed in colors of coral, and the sea, framed a wizened oddity. An upright tarapin donned in robes wearing the symbol of one of the gods. All looked into the room somehow appearing puzzled at their own arrival. All looked worn and frayed . Disheveled. As the broke the plane of the doorway entering into the room questions flew from the eyes of all in the room. It was the waif who spoke first. " What had happened was…"



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