Two strangers rode into town, horses kicking up clouds of dust as they trotted through the main street. They stabled their horses at the nearest hitching post and headed into to creaking saloon; desperate to escape the midday sun. Desperate to escape what followed in their wake.
They hauled their saddlebags through the batwing doors. A wave of curiosity passed through the bar as heads slowly turned to examine the newcomers. The noise dipped, but seeing that they were just the average filthy travellers that came and went in this frontier town, the locals carried on as usual.
One of the travellers stopped, overcome by a hacking cough. She tried to wave away the thick cloud of smoke that lingered. The other bent over to check on her.
“My lady, we cannot possibly stay in this ………. quaint place”
The lady put a hand on the larger man, stopping him from aiding her.
“Shithole, Cas. I believe you meant to say shithole.”
The man, Cas, grimaced at her language. He did not disagree though.
“We don’t exactly have much of a bloody choice, Cas. It’s either here, or on the street. And I, for one, prefer the smell of smoke and liquor to that of horse shit and dust. Now come on, get us a room and don’t tell them anything. We don’t know who is listening.”
Once again grimacing at her colourful vocabulary, the man reluctantly nodded.
“Of course, my lady Ell.”
The large man strode across the bar with the grace of a courtier, eliciting stares from the locals. Ell groaned. If her siblings finally managed to kill her, she was taking this idiot with her. Discretion was apparently not his speciality.
Doing her best to imitate the strut that she had seen the locals do, she strutted up to the bar and grabbed a stool. Cas had finished paying for a room and was taking their heavy bags up the stair. Ell blew out a sigh and signalled the bar man over.
“What can get’cha, little missy?”
Ell chucked a silver coin down on the counter.
“A whiskey is fine. Make it a double.”
After a moments consideration, she continued.
“Ah fuck it, make it a triple.”
Ell had acquired a taste for whiskey over the course of her journey. Or perhaps, more accurately, she had acquired a taste for getting blackout drunk and forgetting about their journey. She shook her head. Can’t exactly call it a journey if you don’t have a destination, huh?
The barman didn’t say a word, just wiped a glass and poured her drink from some dusty little bottle. A wide brimmed hat was dropped on the counter beside her, soon followed by a rugged man claiming the stool next to hers. He sat so close that Ell could smell the whiskey and puke that floated along with his breath.
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“Now what is a pretty little thing like yourself doing in a town like this?”
His lips were curled into a droopy smile as he ran his glazed gaze down Ell’s body, before finally taking a look at her face. His eyes widened in surprise and Ell knew what he was going to say next.
“Oh ho, ruby red eyes? Don’t see that too often. Where ya from darling?”
His interest had shifted now, and Ell cursed herself for a fool for ever sitting down in the first place.
“Me and my husband are from a village near the capital. We’ve heard whispers of some mithril being found nearby, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”
The lie rolled off her tongue naturally, having used it in every town they had passed through. She gave him a sweet smile while he sat back, defensively.
“Oh, I wouldn’t know anything about that little missy, you had better ask someone else.”
He shot up out of the chair and strutted back to the group of men he had come in with. Every village idiot and their inbred family had come out to this Gods-forsaken dust hole hoping to make a fortune by finding a mithril mine. Rumours of mithril being found were abound, and each miner protected his lead carefully. They wouldn’t let another steal their chance at a fortune, even if they knew that their lead was most likely bullshit. All this meant that asking was a perfect way to get them to back off, as Ell had discovered.
Ell sat, sipping at her whiskey. The liquid burned her throat, but it took her mind off her rump, which was aching from days in the saddle. A creak and a whoosh drew her attention to the entrance. A trio of black cloaked men entered the saloon, causing all chatter to come to an abrupt halt. They smiled pleasantly, or at least, it looked like they tried to. The scars and marks on their faces eliminated the possibility of anyone ever describing them as pleasant, and the sharp, twitchy eyes declared them as wolves striding into a flock.
“Ash and Hell-fire.” Ell spat.
How had they found her so soon? She was sure she had lost them a few towns back. It didn’t matter how though, all that mattered now was that they had. Ell pulled the dust goggles that were perched on her raven black hair over her eyes and got ready to run up the stairs to Cas. A distraction for the trio of hunters was not-so-thankfully provided by an equally looking dangerous pair entering the bar soon after them. This pair was a man and woman dressed in the outfits of the priesthood of Alsius. Ell had no idea why they thought that disguise would work. Priests tended towards the pleasant and chubby, and these two were the exact opposite. A wicked scar ran all the way across the face of the woman, and the man’s hulking muscle strained against the confines of the much too small, and obviously blood stained, vestments.
The two groups smiled at each other, nodding and saying meaningless pleasantries repeatedly. A perfect distraction which let Ell slip up the stairs unnoticed. Another creak and a whoosh announced the arrival of yet another group, but Ell was already slipping in the door to her room before she could take a look.
“We have a serious bloody problem, Cas!”
Cas hadn’t unpacked anything and was leaning against the wall, peaking out the window. He wore a very displeased face as he beckoned Ell over.
“I am aware, my lady. Look. They have been slowly surrounding this establishment for a few minutes now.”
Cas pointed out the window. Outside, the town was still dead silent, but it was now filled with various groups of people. Some sauntered about outside the saloon, trying to look casual, while other stood in circles, laughing loudly and looking around, even though no one seemed to say anything. The more Ell looked, the more she could pick out. A black clad man had climbed his way up into the shade of the second-floor awning of the building opposite, staying perfectly still. Another just simply stood in the centre of the street, absentmindedly batting his club against the dusty ground. This one was enormous, easily reaching seven foot tall. Even from the window, Ell could pick out the marking on his arm, indicating he was a berserker class warrior. Three band surrounded it. A man walked out from the bank a few doors down, looked about, and quickly span around. He sprinted back to his door and slammed it shut. Ell could hear the wooden planks being slammed across the door. It was the only noise in the whole damn town.
“We are so, so, so incredibly fucked.”
A grumble was the only reply from Cas.