You make your way over to his table and take a cautious seat. Though you are much closer, it is as if his form has retreated far back into his cowl. From its shadow, thin lips offer up a thinner voice: "Greetings travelers. Though you do not hail from this land, my master has known of you for some time. I know your purse is light, and your bellies are empty. Come now, -are you amenable? He has need of your services..." As he speaks, you notice his palm on the table, almost covering a shining set of buttery gold coins.
No sooner does the thought enter your mind than your left hand leaves the table for the coins. But almost before you decide to act you feel leaden, and time seems to slow to a crawl. Your fist does not make it halfway to the robed figure when it stops, along with the rest of you, frozen. Piercing the blackened visage now are two fiery eyes locked to your own. Unable to turn away, you hear a voice burn in your mind: "Fool! Do you take me for a mere messenger? I AM NOT. I could destroy you as easily as the wind changes its mind." Your body seems to swell from within as every muscle tightens. The blood pounds in your veins and drowns the sounds of the tavern, but the voice in your head remains. "I was sent here by my master for your answer and I WILL have it. Tell me T-Dog, and tell me now, -ARE YOU AMENABLE?" As the voice trails off you feel the muscles in your arms go slack as your body collapses into the chair. A wave of exhaustion washes over you as the sounds of the tavern return to your ears. Your eyes dart round to the inhabitants of the room. Laughter, drinking, a game of cards. Incredibly, nobody seems to have noticed you or your companion in your dark corner of the room. You look back at the blackness of the cowl and then down to his finger tapping slowly on the table, no sign of the gold this time. The thin voice says: "Well?"