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, Dizal-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, Dishwasher?"
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 bothersome fly 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."
Shutat panted as he stood over the fallen Haldians. Dispatching Tattoo-Face was easy enough, but the woman had been a different story. Somehow, she shot fire and other nasty things at him. His hand shook as he felt his singed hair. If he hadn't dodged right when he had...
No matter. Shutat cleaned up the mess as best he could, laying the bodies somewhat orderly and searching them. Coming up with a few coins apiece, he pocketed the money; it's not like they would need it. He then offered a quick prayer to Trianna (purely customary, though; it seemed unlikely to him that Joven's Warrior Goddess would give a damn about a pair of Haldians) before heading back inside. Enna was bandaging Sion, who appeared to have gotten a deep cut from Dincht's sword. Gil was arguing with Azael at the front door; everyone else appeared to have left during the ruckus.
Azael's head twisted sharply to Shutat as he entered the inn. "You. What hapened to the other two members of my party?"
Shutat shrugged, then crossed his arms. "We had a debate about comparative religions. I won."
Azael's eyes narrowed, seemingly taking in Shutat's roughened up state and coming to conclusions. "I see. Well, then, I suppose we should talk repayment." His katana seeming to appear out of nowhere, Azael impaled Gil on it and the older man made a surprised, strangling sound. The Haldian raised his blade and twisted his wrist sharply, sending the ex-innkeeper flying into a pile of broken furniture. As Sion stood and rushed Azael with a yell, Gemma dropped from the ceiling and tripped Shutat, sticking a dagger deep into the Jovenite's back while Azael dispatched the bouncer.
Enna stood a split second after Sion's death, trying to reach Shutat while Gemma forced the dagger deeper into him, the Jovenite screaming. The brown-dressed man's head whipped up and Shutat felt his weight simply disappear. The next thing Shutat saw was Gemma somehow behind Enna, as he struck the back of her head. She collapsed, and the silent man gathered her up, waiting for Azael.
During all this, the extraordinarily handsome Haldian crossed the room towards Shutat, cleaning blood off his katana before sheathing it. As he stood in front of the defeated Jovenite, he spoke, in cold, measured tones. "You killed two people in the service of Allmighty Hald. For this grievous sin, I have killed the owner of this inn, that foolish man who attacked me, and I will sacrifice this woman to Hald." Azael looked at Gemma. "Let's go. The Avalon can be ready to go in an hour."
Gemma tilted his head towards Shutat, and Azael shook his. "No, Gemma. I want him to live, and know that because of his foolish actions, he lost the woman that he loves." He looked down at Shutat, and smiled. "Oh, yes, I know how important this...Enna is to you. She will scream for hours before she finally dies, and it's all your fault."
The two Haldians left the inn, leaving Shutat sprawled on his belly. After several agonizing minutes, he was able to twist his arm so that he could pull Gemma's dagger out of his back. Sticking his behind his belt, he rose unsteadily to his feet as he felt blood soaking the back of his shirt. He then removed the shirt in question, and quickly tore it into long strips, forming a makeshift bandage. By the time he shambled to his room, fetched his gear, and made it back to the inn's front door, he estimated thirty minutes had passed.
(Got to get to Daved...got to get to Shagohod...Enna, hold on...)
