Morning dawned and found Havirk and the dwarf walking the streets of Westwind, where Havirk found out more about the dwarf. His name was Stornami Greyhand, he had been an acrobat for 24 years, and he had been driven out of his home by shadow dragons. When they finished verbally abusing dragons, orcs, and monstrous creatures in general, they had arrived at their destination-The Wrong Whistle inn. It was in one of the shadier parts of the city, and in Westwind, that was usually pretty bad. 

“What are we doing here?” whispered Havirk, who was nervously studying two humans watching him. They wore long filthy black cloaks, and hoods fell low over their faces. They had long knives at their belts.

“Relax,” replied Stornami. “All we’re doing here is meeting up with some old friends of mine and getting out.”

Havirk was not reassured, especially when the two cloaked men followed them in. Havirk was wearing the spare suit of armor and the longsword at his belt, but he still wasn’t used to them.

Rounded stone beams supported the roof of the Wrong Whistle. The walls were packed with rusty, blood-stained weapons and evil-looking books. Havirk read the ones that he could: The Crime of Death, Monstrous Magic, How to Kill…Havirk was surprised no-one had been arrested because of these books.

Stornami strode to the bar and conversed with the bartender for a little. The bartender pointed towards a table in the corner of the smokey room. Havirk looked in the direction he pointed and saw a dark figure.

Stornami beckoned Havirk over to the table, and they both sat down. The figure was that of a human woman. She was dressed much like the men outside, only her clothes were cleaner and dyed red. She had two daggers and a rapier in her belt and a small crossbow on her back.

“Who are you?” asked Havirk. The woman looked at him for a few minutes.

“Who says I am someone?” she said suddenly. “Who says you are anyone? Who says any of us exist? Who says this world does not exist?” Havirk looked at her.

“I do.” The woman smiled.

“Well said. In that case, my name is Nylah Webb, better known as the Red Rouge. What did you want me for?”

Havirk pointed at Stornami. “He wanted you, not me.” Nylah’s face went hard.

“Stornami.”

“Nylah. It’s been a while.”

“A while since what?”

“My mistake.”

“That was no mistake. You left me to die.”

Stornami spread his hands. “I said sorry. What else do you want me to do?”

Nylah narrowed her eyes and didn’t speak for a minute. Then, abruptly, she said, “I assume you need my help. Really? After all these years, you come to me for help after what you did?”

Stornami looked at the floor. When he looked back up, his eyes were full of tears. 

“Please Nylah. I know what I did was wrong, but I want to have another chance. Please.”

Nylah turned away. Stornami kept talking.

“I want to have another chance. For me…for you…and for the kid.” Nylah turned and looked at Stornami, then at Havirk.

“Look at him. He’s fifteen. His parents were killed when he was a baby. He’s spent the last few years of his life working as a slave at the docks. I brought him there, sold him, and told him to wait until I came back. What I did to him was worse then to you. He should have left like you did. But do you know why he came? He came because he had nowhere else to go. I want to give him something, and the only way I can do that is if you come and help us.”

Nylah sighed and got up. “I never could say no when you started making speeches. This is a bad idea, but…fine. I’m in.”

At that moment, the two men from outside approached the table. Nylah looked slightly nervous. “Dale! Merrigan! So nice to see you! Um…what do you want?”

Dale, the big muscular one, growled. “We want to know what these two strangers are doing here. Y’see, we aren’t too fond of strangers here.”

Stornami stepped in front of Dale. “Relax. We don’t want any trouble.”

The lithe, wiry one named Merrigan chuckled. “Oh, but we do.” Havirk’s hand dropped unseen to his sword hilt. Merrigan and Dale drew their long knives, Stornami took his axe of his back, and Nylah drew her rapier. They hung there for a moment, then plunged into battle.

Nylah’s rapier plunged into Dale’s forearm, and stayed there as he ripped his arm and the rapier away, and Nylah drew her crossbow. Merrigan slashed at Havirk, but his armor held. Havirk stabbed out blindly, and Merrigan fell dead, blood soaking the floor. Stornami swung his axe down towards Dale’s head, but Dale caught it on his shield. Dale thrust out his knife at Stornami, catching his arm. The dwarf gasped, and swung again. 

His legs folded and fell. Five feet away, his torso landed with a thud. 

Nylah walked over to the top half of Dale, ripped off his sleeve, and bound the cut in his arm. Yellow vapor was seeping out of the wound. Nylah gestured for Havirk to fetch the dagger Dale had been using. He picked it up and gave it to her. She held it out for Stornami’s inspection. 

“Cursed?” she asked. Stornami shook his head. “I can’t tell. We need a cleric or a wizard for that.”

Nylah stood. “I know where we can find one. Follow me.”

They exited the tavern, leaving blood in their footsteps.