Fortunately for Marlykan, a small brawl near the other end of the tavern drew everyone’s attention for a moment, giving him time to reconsider his tact. When Fhariel turned her attention back to him, he addressed her in a more reserved tone; “Such a serious subject deserves a more serious venue… perhaps the inn across the way.” Nodded her agreement, they slipped through the crowd toward the door, leaving his gaggle of local girls to seek satisfaction elsewhere. Retrieving his cloak, Marlykan was clearly more concerned at protecting his instrument then himself from the blustering rain as they sprinted across the muddy lane, an act that seemed to garner more respect from his stoic companion than anything else he’d done. Finding a quite table in the corner of the common room, she measured him carefully; he was a handsome rogue, but too full of swagger for her taste. However, he had abandoned his gaggle of swooning maids, any one of whom would have eagerly shared his bed tonight, in order to satisfy her questions and, although she was sure his intentions weren’t entirely altruistic, he still seemed to be her best hope for the information she sought. “I’m Fhariel Ammath,” she began in a measured tone. “My father insisted we leave our home in the Court to join the Retreat, but chose to take to our family’s holding in Evereska rather than continue to Evermeet. I objected to leaving the Cormanthor, but was little more than a girl then. I left Evereska to return on my own, against his will, but after a long and difficult journey I found our home infested by drow! Is there no one willing to oppose them?” “It isn’t that no one’s willing,” Marlykan explained defensively. Although he’d always felt like an outsider amongst them, for some reason he seemed compelled to defend the dalesfolk’s lack of response to the drow threat to this cold, demanding beauty. “Dark times have fallen on the dalelands. Some say it started with the Retreat or the Times of Trouble and others with coming of the drow, but in any case the dales aren’t as strong as they once were, Cormyr is still in disarray from Azoun’s death and I’ve heard whispers that even the Harpers are at war with themselves. Harrowdale has been left mostly unscathed so far, but many of the other dales have suffered unprovoked attacks from the drow. There just isn’t a single voice to unite an effort to repel them… and it’s said that there are many thousands of them scattered from the Court all the way to Myth Drannor!” Fhariel was crest-fallen, she’d expected to find someone gathering an army to sweep the drow out of the forest and back into the Underdark where they belonged, if not in Harrowdale then somewhere in the region, but if this bard was right there was no army… and no hope! Seeing the dejection on her face, as if her very life was draining from her, he tried to offer her some hope. “I’ve heard that rangers often clash with the drow deep in the forest, and the dales each defend their own of course, although Harrowdale hasn’t suffered near as much as others, if the tales the locals here insist are true about them, the sisters of Eilistraee in the Velarwood send war bands to oppose them.” “Drow fighting drow,” she laughed humorlessly. “What a state we’re in if that is our greatest hope!”