From the Darkness
Part 7
"That wasn't called for, long-ears!"
The group of humans stepped forward, out of the doorway and into the cool night air. One of their own lay face-down in the soft grass next to the path. His body reeked of alcohol and sweat. A fresh bruise was in the process of spreading across one cheek. The cause of this injury stood between him and his drunken comrades. They had been drinking since sundown, and were starting to affect the general feeling of calmness that the inn usually peddled. Therefore, action had been taken, in the form of throwing out the largest, rowdiest drunk in the group.
Samael had returned to Lor'danel with his Shatterspear tusks, and had been paid for them. However, he had not received as much gold for them as he had expected. It seemed that with the ever-increasing influx of trolls in the surrounding forests, Samael's 'employers' could afford to lower the price on them. Therefore, the silver-skinned elf had taken up another position, this time acting as security at the Lor'danel inn. The innkeeper had approached him with the promise of gold if he would help remove some 'merrily destructive' humans.
Now, he turned and face the advancing group of humans. He recognised the type - mercenaries who travelled here and there, mostly providing protection for caravans too small to be robbed, and people who could not afford the services of experienced fighters. They were brawlers, nothing more, and now with more ale than sense, Samael knew that they were no challenge at all.
"Hey, elf!" one of them challenged, brandishing a billy club and dagger. "I think you accidentally threw my friend out of the inn."
"No accident, human," Samael replied, without a smile. "You and your friends drank too much. I simply wanted to make sure you were outside before you began destroying what little light is left in this town."
The humans looked perplexed for a second, as they grappled with the eloquence and formality of Samael's speech. Then, realising that they had been insulted they stepped forward, now intent on putting the uppity long-ears in his place. They moved to surround Samael. However, the elf's deep voice stopped them in their tracks. It vibrated with suppressed anger.
"I would think very carefully about what you're doing, humans. I have endured much today, and am not in the mood to explain to the sentinels how I managed to dispatch a group of drunken men."
These words were accompanied by the slow ring of drawn steel. Samael stepped back, dropping into a fighter's crouch. One of his swords flashed in the moonlight as he brought the curved blade to bear, the point angled towards the centre-most human. His eyes were hard and unyielding. He said nothing more, but his message was conveyed. The human who had spoken took a step back, his shoulders slumping. He wasn't ready for a fight. Not with an elf who would clearly not think twice about spilling blood.
Samael lowered his blade. "A wise decision," he said, sheathing the weapon. "Now see to your friend and get out of my sight."
As the humans complied, Samael noticed another figure standing at the doorway to the inn. It was another kal'dorei, a woman who wore a basic tunic and carried a sentinel's blade at her hip. She held Samael's gaze, and gestured with her head to the inn. Samael nodded once, and after a quick check to see that the humans had vacated the area, he followed the sentinel inside.
The group of humans stepped forward, out of the doorway and into the cool night air. One of their own lay face-down in the soft grass next to the path. His body reeked of alcohol and sweat. A fresh bruise was in the process of spreading across one cheek. The cause of this injury stood between him and his drunken comrades. They had been drinking since sundown, and were starting to affect the general feeling of calmness that the inn usually peddled. Therefore, action had been taken, in the form of throwing out the largest, rowdiest drunk in the group.
Samael had returned to Lor'danel with his Shatterspear tusks, and had been paid for them. However, he had not received as much gold for them as he had expected. It seemed that with the ever-increasing influx of trolls in the surrounding forests, Samael's 'employers' could afford to lower the price on them. Therefore, the silver-skinned elf had taken up another position, this time acting as security at the Lor'danel inn. The innkeeper had approached him with the promise of gold if he would help remove some 'merrily destructive' humans.
Now, he turned and face the advancing group of humans. He recognised the type - mercenaries who travelled here and there, mostly providing protection for caravans too small to be robbed, and people who could not afford the services of experienced fighters. They were brawlers, nothing more, and now with more ale than sense, Samael knew that they were no challenge at all.
"Hey, elf!" one of them challenged, brandishing a billy club and dagger. "I think you accidentally threw my friend out of the inn."
"No accident, human," Samael replied, without a smile. "You and your friends drank too much. I simply wanted to make sure you were outside before you began destroying what little light is left in this town."
The humans looked perplexed for a second, as they grappled with the eloquence and formality of Samael's speech. Then, realising that they had been insulted they stepped forward, now intent on putting the uppity long-ears in his place. They moved to surround Samael. However, the elf's deep voice stopped them in their tracks. It vibrated with suppressed anger.
"I would think very carefully about what you're doing, humans. I have endured much today, and am not in the mood to explain to the sentinels how I managed to dispatch a group of drunken men."
These words were accompanied by the slow ring of drawn steel. Samael stepped back, dropping into a fighter's crouch. One of his swords flashed in the moonlight as he brought the curved blade to bear, the point angled towards the centre-most human. His eyes were hard and unyielding. He said nothing more, but his message was conveyed. The human who had spoken took a step back, his shoulders slumping. He wasn't ready for a fight. Not with an elf who would clearly not think twice about spilling blood.
Samael lowered his blade. "A wise decision," he said, sheathing the weapon. "Now see to your friend and get out of my sight."
As the humans complied, Samael noticed another figure standing at the doorway to the inn. It was another kal'dorei, a woman who wore a basic tunic and carried a sentinel's blade at her hip. She held Samael's gaze, and gestured with her head to the inn. Samael nodded once, and after a quick check to see that the humans had vacated the area, he followed the sentinel inside.