[Aqua-chan]

If Gorion was Caprina's adoptive father, then the innkeep Winthrop was Imoen's. After the girls had left Candlekeep for the first time Imoen would often pester then-party members to tell her stories like he had. She missed his stories greately throughout all their adventures, the Gate region and Amn alike. The maddened necromancer, Xzar (who had apparently been killed by a Harper later in Athkatla while Imoen was a resident of Spellhold) often had gone into ferocious shouting sprees in the middle of telling the impressionable girl about dragons he had known who'd had feet like a rabbit's.

Unfortunately, old Puffguts had been getting on in the years, and his gluttonous lifestyle likely never helped his health. Like every other visit Imoen grew slightly saddened by the fact that Winthrop was no longer the one lounging behind the front desk, but rather a skinny stinge of a merchant named Arker Furen. Winthrop had died after Irenecus' move on the former Bhaal daughters. A heartbroken Imoen, who had dreamt of returning the inn and telling him a grand story for once, now failed to see the glitter that used to shower honorable Candlekeep.

Upon entrance of the inn the pair received a few warding glances from Innkeeper Furen and a few of the tavern patrons. Imoen was known well enough in the small sanctuary, but Anomen seemed to have not earned the small town folks' trust just yet. She guided Anomen up the stairs by the shoulder, not hesitating in response to the wary looks. She knew Arker was bucking to give them - at least Imoen - some sort of trouble like asking for a room fee before they occupied a space. His dislike for the mage was rooted in the fact that she had turned down his offers to go to dinner several times before finally telling him to 'shove off', but a mere sideways glance dispelled his thirst for vengeance when she and the stranger passed. Together they ascended the stairs without incident.

The room they took to was a mere peasant's suite with few distracting frills. Intended to house one occupant in a compact space, the narrow room offered a hay straw bed, a rounded table that wobbled on a short leg, and an equally shoddy chair. Chained to the table was an oil lamp, but the window let in enough gray light into the room for the two to just barely see without the extra lighting.

"Should I get some drinks?"

Anomen took his seat in the chair, yet his downcast eyes never seemed to move off the floor. "I've already put away enough alcohol to stun an ox."

With a slight frown playing on her lips Imoen weakly declared "You seem sober enough." Anomen snickered lightly. He never drank so excessively that he would become intoxicated, even if Caprina had made quite a show of the practice a few times during their travels. His father was a constant reminder of a few good reasons not to do so.

The priest sighed, bringing his hand over his eyes. "I stopped drinking when I realized that it wasn't helping matters any."

"Good," her tone changed from half-hearted to very firm as she took seat on the pathetic bed. It creaked gently under her weight. "There's plenty to do now without having to deal with you drooling drunk. Recanting the full tale would be a good start," she prodded.

Unlike how he had been with the other occupants of Candlekeep Anomen was completely honest in his telling to Imoen. She, of course, knew of the pregnancy, and Anomen filled her in as to why they had docked in Amn as opposed to sailing farther along to coast to the Walled Library: it had been their intention to pay a visit to ranger Valygar Corthala at his estate in the old Docks District, but as luck would have it their former companion had apparently traded Athkatla for Waterdeep. Their route, as Caprina insisted Anomen must see her homeland for himself, took them through the Cloudpeak Mountains to Nashkell. There they stayed for only one night before hitting the beaten paths and less patrolled roads to the North. To save time they left the routes to cut through a place called High Hedge to get to their location, and it was in this wilderness they were attacked.

Imoen had listened to his explanation intently, and waited for him to continue after his short pause. The silence, however, lagged on.

"And then what?"

"What do you mean 'and then what,'? We were ambushed, I fell unconscious, awoke and used most of my remaining energy to heal myself to where I was able to pull myself over to Caprina," he growled defensively, obviously not at ease with reliving the event once more. Whether the emotion originated in his fatigue, intoxication, or behavior result of his pompous upbringing, Imoen ignored the snap and moved on.

"It seems unlikely that you were attacked by common bounty hunters," she said, "If there was some sort of price openly placed on your heads by anyone from the Spine of the World to Tethyr I would have known about it.
It seems to have been a professional hit in nature. No wandering mercenaries would have just run into you there unless they had been tracking you since -or before- you arrived in Amn. Bandits rarely frequent the area now, and even then they stay on the main roads."

"I saw them flee before blacking out. We weren't looted," he offered, confirming her thoughts about a random raid.

"Lucky you that they didn't. You might not be alive now if they had." The look he gave her was tired; bitter, and it practically spoke his thoughts of that comment. Instead of dwelling on it she pressed forward. "Were they model assassins?"

"I doubt it. Experts to sneak, but amateurs to killing. They hid well until our guard was dropped, and stealth was about all they used."

Imoen leaned forward and picked at the folds of her armor, a studded piece called the Deep Night. Studying mageries had been interesting for a while, but once she had returned to normal life in the cities Imoen couldn't help but revert to her old cutpurse ways. Still an arch mage who could cast a fine Bigby's Crushing Hand, of course, but only when she decided to trade the leathers for the spell book.

"There are only so many organizations past The Guild that hire out services. So... what do we know?" Upon her speaking of 'The Guild' Anomen cringed openly; a response due to his years of training to oppose such corruption. Of course Imoen was referring to the Shadow Thieves which she had quite successfully worked her way into the upper ranks of, and she was now spreading business all along the land. Imoen noticed the priest's grimace. With a roll of her eyes she spoke as if exasperated, "Yes, Anomen, I am still a thief, and no, I still have not robbed a single peasant for the benefit of myself since the last time we had this exact same discussion."

"You only operate a subclass society that condones it." If it were another time or a different situation Delryn's retort would have had some sort of venom. This time around he could barely muster the energy to put some bite into the argument. It mattered not; they'd had this fight before and never had it come to any avail.

"Again, I ask," she gritted through a slightly clenched jaw. Were it not for her sympathy and own grieving for Caprina the cleric would have been experiencing the light hearted woman’s true wrath. "...What do we know?"

The next few moments were that of almost silence. Neither of them said anything, and the muffled applause to a minstrel's performance ending came through the floor below them. Anomen tapped his fingers on the table systematically for the next few moments. Both minds were busy pulling out ideas and theories, but ultimately neither could establish a positive fact or lead.

"It seems like we know very little." Another pause for silence.

"Then we'll have to change that," she replied steadily. Looking as if she was about to stand, Imoen slapped her hands on her knees firmly. "We'll start with the scene of the ambush."