NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: Adventures of the Creeping Bam (BOOK 2: One Cold Trail)

CHAPTER ONE: THELGAEWYNN

"Oi, stumpy! That's a sorry excuse for a beard, short-arse! What's the matter, can't you grow a real one? Thought you dwarves could just do that."

Wow, this guy picked a really bad time to mess with me. Can't he see how much steel I'm carrying? Anyone with even half a brain knows you don't insult a dwarf when they're armed. I mean really, you don't insult a dwarf at all if you got any sense, but still ...

"C'mon now, Toe, that's enough." Least his friends got more sense than him, maybe they can get him out before I force a readjustment. I turn slow, giving 'em all time to rethink their life-choices, maybe even clear out before I get a look at 'em. If they got any sense, that is.

"Bloody hell, it's a lass. Sot of ... bloody ugly lookin' one, mind." Moment I look at 'em, I can tell they're drunk, but it's the one in the lead, the one already swaying my way with a crude leer, who's really shitfaced. As he leans towards me I can already smell the liquor on him, don't even need to catch a whiff of what's probably some seriously foul breath. "Nice an' roomy, maybe, but that face ... I'd do ya if you wore a sack on your head, maybe."

When he grins his teeth are bad as his breath. "How 'bout it, darling? Doubt you get much luck, looking the way you do ..."

Slowly I let my breath out, but not to try and calm myself anymore. I just don't want my hands to shake while I'm beating the shit out of him.

"Seriously, Toe, lay off 'er, would you?" Two of his friends are smirking with amusement, but the most sober-looking of the quartet still seems to have some smarts in him, or maybe he's just a more decent sort than the rest. He's almost attractive, to be honest, but not my type. The company he keeps certainly wouldn't help his case. "She clearly don't need your shit right now, an' we got stuff to do."

"Oh I dunno, this one could factor into that, if she was willing to make a few little concessions." Toe, if that really is his name, waggles his eyebrows in a way he must think is inviting. I'd have to disagree. "Reckon I might be able to lay my hands on a bag at short notice, if you fancy –"

Grabbing his admittedly large ears with both my hands, I smash his face down into my knee before he can finish that offensive suggestion. I let go as soon as I feel the satisfying crunch of his nose, and he actually bounces, although I think it might be an involuntary jerk of his body. Either way, his back straightens out in an instant, and for another moment he stays relatively upright, albeit with his legs still bent into a crouch, while a great gout of blood pours from his mangled nose. For a moment he stays like that ... then he topples backwards and thumps the floorboards hard.

There's a beat, maybe more than one, when we all just look at each other, this guy's friends gawking at me in surprise, for the moment ignoring their motionless companion. I cock my head and then my brow, considering them all for a moment, finally deciding I might as well let this happen. "I might still be able to find a sack of my own if any of you wanted to have a go too."

The drunker pair that are left look down at their unconscious friend one last time, then exchange a glance. They're starting to get angry already. Drink'll do that, of course. The relatively sober one, on the other hand, just rolls his eyes, like he can already see where this is going and wanting nothing to do with it.

Clearly the drink does as little to help their coordination as their judgement as both try to rush me at once and just get tangled up, almost going down before they can even start. The larger one, almost big enough to be an orc but unfortunately human, shoves the other off with an angry grunt and he bounces off the wall, barely catching himself before he can fall. By then the winner of that pointless tussle's already baring down on me.