The Final Straw

From Reydala

The next day wasn't much better.

Shutat stood behind the bar counter, drumming his fingers on the wood and ignoring Gil while the shorter man yelled at him. He was no captain; how could he lead a bunch of pirates when he hated the idea of pillage? (Dante, you bastard...)

Gil jabbed a finger in Shutat's face, and he suddenly rejoined the world. "I don't care what you have to tell them, Shutat, I want them out of here!"

"I wasn't paying attention. Who do you want out of here?"

The innkeeper purpled in rage, as he spoke very deliberately. "I want you and Sion to get off your asses and get Azael and his party out of my inn."

Shutat's eyes picked out two of the people in question sitting at a table on the other side of the room. The big, tattoo'd guy and the woman who was always in those robes shared their spot with several of the younger people from town. "Why? They've paid up for the rest of the week, haven't they?"

"Because, you stupid, backwoods retard," Gil raised himself on his toes so that his and Shutat's faces were inches apart. "They're Haldians, and they're taking good, Regial-worshipping kids and twisting them to worship that abomination. I want them gone."

"Religion..." Shutat sighed. "It's such a pain in the ass."

"Get them out of here, or I'll have you mucking the stables for a year."

"So I'm a bouncer, now." Shutat moved around the bar, and upon seeing him move across the room Sion stood from his stool to help. The Jovenite shook his head and raised his hand, though; there wouldn't be any trouble. Shrugging, Sion returned to his seat and crossed his arms, drifting off to sleep. Shutat picked his way to the table that Dincht and Hynel occupied, brushing past several youths in the process. The two apparant Haldians looked up as he stood at the table, conversation cutting off.

"What do you want?" The big, tattoo'd man said in a harsh accent that made it difficult for Shutat to understand what he was saying.

"I'm sorry, but my boss takes offence with your religion." Shutat jerked a thumb towards the door. "He'd like you to pack up and leave, and we'll refund your payment for the rest of the week."

Dincht laughed. "And what if we say no? What're you going to do about it, Chicken Shit?"

Shutat crossed his arms and simply looked at the bigger man, not rising to the bait. "I would prefer we could resolve this without incident. If you would like, I can recommend another inn."

"You see? This is what I was talking about," Dincht addressed the gathered youths. "Lord Hald, the Magnificent, admires and rewards strength." His hand suddenly shot out, grabbing Shutat by the throat. As the Jovenite's hands instinctively grabbed the bigger man's wrist, trying unsuccessfuly to free himself, the giant man continued. "Might makes right. If this piece of shit were stronger, I wouldn't be able to do this..."

Shutat suddenly found himself crashing through a window, glass lacing his body with small cuts as he slammed against an opposite wall. As he collected himself, he realized Dincht had actually thrown him through the window into the alley behind the inn. More sounds of struggle came from within the inn, as Shutat heard glass and wood shatter and snap. Dincht finally came out of the back door, broadsword out and bloody, and the cloaked girl followed him, hands glowing.

"How dare you command worshipers of Hald?" Dincht's eyes gleamed, and he raised the blade of his sword in excitement.

"Religion is such a pain in the ass..." Shutat stood, brushed the glass out of his white hair, and pulled a dagger out of his belt. Adopting a knife-fighting stance that he had known since he was six years old, Shutat beckoned towards the two. "Well, let's get this over with."