Hotel Auberge

   Maes walks into the Hotel Auberge. It's the kind of place he'd never have stayed before... Before this. Despite all that he'd been through in traveling, his robes remained clean. Nevertheless, he needed to look the part he intended to play, and that would require new attire. He walked to the service desk and asked for the least expensive room with a private bath, to have a hot meal brought up to it, and to have the concierge arrange for a tailor to make a visit in short order. He placed a single platinum coin on the counter. "I trust this will cover it," he asked, looking at the clerk from beneath his hood.

   "Maes," Maes responds. "I will also require a barber, come to think of it," he says, realizing his hair is rather long and unkempt. "Please let me know if you will require more compensation."

   Maes takes the key from the clerk and heads to his room. He largely ignores whatever decoration the room has and concentrates and making the bath suitable and filling out the meal ticket. Some of the options were foreign to him, but one he knew sounded very delicious at the moment. He wrote rôti d'agneau on the ticket and rang the bell. When the server arrived, he also asked for a pitcher of clean water, and a bottle of spiced mead if they had it.

   After the server leaves, he settles down into the bath. His skin never really stayed dirty anyway, but after a few days on the road, a soak was especially pleasant. It was a luxury he had only enjoyed a handful of times in his life. When the server came with his meal, he waved to several gold coins left on a small table as a tip and bade him leave the tray in their place.

   Several minutes later, he arose from the bath and after drying himself, dug into the finely roasted lamb and accompanying side dishes. The taste was amazing and following it with the spiced mead brought out the meaty undertones just right. He was sure he wouldn't be able to enjoy another meal like this in a long while and savored every bite.

   When the tailor arrived, he asked for a modern Gauldish suit, "one such as a lower noble or wealthy merchant might wear." Maes had never noticed fashion in the first place, he had no idea what the tailor might show up with, but made sure to flash a few of the platinum coins he had left so it would be something suitable.

   He asked the barber for a shorter, smart-looking, and fashionable cut. After it was done, he paid double what the barber charged and asked that his visit stay between them. If someone were to ask, he had visited a wealthy client who preferred anonymity while visiting Travere.

   After it was all done, he rang for food again, a light meal this time, so he could sleep well. He would go to the palace the next morning.

   And just to be sure he wouldn't be disturbed, he wedged the small table under the door handle to his room and locked and barred all windows. He'd learned the trick from a past... associate. He knew his unique appearance would be a giveaway if the cartel had men here, and flashing such coin around would surely make him a mark for other ne'er-do-wells. He then pulled the mattress from his bed and placed it on the far side of the bath, behind both it and the privacy shade, and against the wall. Feeling a little safer, he finally settled down into a light sleep, but one better than he'd had in months.

   Maes shot up out of sleep, catching the scent of burning wood. He looked quickly around the room to make sure nothing in it was already alight. Seeing nothing, he got to his feet and walked to the window. He was on the first floor, if he needed to get out, he could do it easily here.

   Instead, he gathered his belongings and wrapped the new suit in the papers it had been delivered in, securing it with the belt. He grabbed the coin purse from its hidden spot and tucked it into his robes as well. He wouldn't get far without it at this point.

   He stopped to listen then. He listened for the things you'd normally hear from a building fire: the stamping of the feet of other patrons, the yelling of the staff, the sound of a bucket brigade being formed.

   Seeing the smoke start to leak in from under the door, Maes grabbed the towel from the bath and used it to seal the gap. If this was a trap, they'd probably be expecting him to come out the window by this point. He could certainly give them what they wanted, and a little more...

   But not yet. If the fire were a trap or a diversion, they wouldn't let it get out of hand. At worst, it might be several minutes before another member of the staff or guest noticed the smoke. And if they were willing to let an entire hotel burn down to flush out one man, then he had to have a little respect for their tenacity.

   Instead, he slung his belongings over his shoulder like a pack and ducked down next to the door. He kept listening.

   Well that was new. He had expected men to be waiting outside the window, but it looks like they had gotten tired of that. Looks like he was going to have to do this the hard way.

   Of the two of his powers he'd grown accustomed to, the preternatural fear he could cause in folks was probably the one he was most comfortable with. He didn't enjoy hurting people if he didn't have to. He reached down into his being and drew forth that power now. If any regular man saw him, all they would see was a terror so real they'd flee, and barring that, most curled up into the fetal position, crying to themselves for it to stop.

   Maes kicked the table out from where it had wedged the door shut, but left the towel in place. One, it would continue to stop the smoke from coming in to choke him, and two, any attacker that tried to burst through the door would be stymied, even if only for a moment. He turned the lock open and then rattled the knob and coughed loudly. "I can't open the door," he shouted and coughed again.

  He propped himself up against the wall next to the door and waited.

   Seeing the tube push the towel out of the way, Maes tries to back away quickly. The puff of glittery powder is unexpected though. Unsure if he got out of range of the newest threat, he slides further back along the wall. If they just kept filling the room with whatever that was, he had no real way of getting through it, save holding his breath and diving through the door. He suspects that won't end well, even with his terrible aspect manifested.

   There was no helping it now. He'd have to try the trick he used when the cartel had him trapped in the basement. He stood up and thought about where he wanted to go. The first time, the only destination that popped into mind was the alley where he'd fought with Redagar's men. This time he had more options. He concentrated on the place he thought would be safest and said aloud "drumen quantin portas!"

   And nothing happened.