Within the Ferret’s Flagon, Byron, the tavern’s owner, lay huddled behind the counter of his tavern. His wife and young daughter huddled in his arms and a pair of clubs waited within easy reach as the sounds of fighting echoed all around them. He heard the occasional sniffle and whisper among the others who’d chosen to hide in his tavern. He’d not turned any away. His heart could not bear to bar any the debatable safety of his tavern with demons stalking the streets.
His daughter whimpered in his arms and he stroked her back. “Shh… shhh…” he whispered softly, hoping it would comfort her. Part of him thought he ought to say something like ‘it’ll be okay.’ But he didn’t trust himself to lie around the heavy lump in his throat. His heart hammered in his chest as the fiercest sounds of fighting he’d heard so far moved ever closer toward his tavern.
He squeezed his eyes shut and silently prayed to Imidean, goddess of protection. He’d never been much of one for religion, but demonic invasions had a way of converting a man it seemed.
The clash of metal on metal and the blood-curdling shrieks of demons sounded like it was just outside of his tavern now. Then, the one thing he’d been fearing for hours finally happened.
The tavern door broke open and the heavy hooves of a demon thudded upon the floorboards.
Byron hugged his girls closer and prayed the demon might overlook them.
Then, he heard something he didn’t expect.
“Bahahahaha! And where in all the world do you think you’re running too, little demon? Did you think a dwarf wouldn’t follow you into a tavern? Of all the places my enemies have ever run to, this is perhaps the stupidest,” a booming voice said with great laughter as though the speaker were at a carnival rather than the nightmare that’d fallen upon the city.
“Get away from me! Get away!” the demon shrieked with panic in its voice. Great hooves raced across the tavern only to stop abruptly with a heavy smack that rattled the bottles on the shelves.
Nails dragged across the floorboards as the demon screamed and wailed, scrambling to get away.
Byron’s curiosity began to outweigh his fear just enough for him to crack open his eyes and look at the reflections in the bottles behind the counter.
There, in the countless reflections, Byron saw a fat dwarf dragging a demon by its tail until it was nearer the door. The fat dwarf reached down and Byron heard the sound of ripping flesh and snapping bone mixed among the demon’s agonized screams.
Then, Byron watched in stunned silence as the fat dwarf began beating the demon with its own arm.
“Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?” the dwarf said with sing-songy laughter in his voice before splitting the monster’s skull with his axe and tossing the arm aside where it landed with a wet thud upon the wooden floor.
“Ah nobody can say demons aren’t worthy entertainment. Now onto more serious matters. Barkeep?” the dwarf said.
Byron didn’t move. Too used to being frozen with fear behind the counter and unable to speak around the lump in his throat.
“Hello? Barkeep? I have a flagon I wish to refill with your finest mead. Though, I ought to warn you that my flagon holds a touch more than the usual sort. Hello?” the fat dwarf said.
“It’s on the house. Take whatever you need,” Byron said, finally able to get himself to speak, but unwilling and unable to get off the floor or let go of his girls behind the counter.
“Truly? Free mead and fighting in the streets? Now that’s what I call service!” the fat dwarf said as he scrambled over the counter and began filling his flagon with the most expensive mead Byron had. The dwarf paused and sampled his flagon with a swig before nodding his approval and continuing to fill the flagon, which seemed utterly bottomless.
“Not bad. Not bad. Not the best I’ve had mind you, but it’s always hard to turn your nose up at free mead, I say. I’m terribly sorry about the mess I’ve left on your tavern’s floor. Demons aren’t good for much, but I’ve always found they bleed well. More’s the pity they never bleed where it’s convenient to clean. Why only a moment ago, one bled into my underclothes. The audacity of that! Truly inconsiderate creatures,” the dwarf said as he emptied the massive barrel of mead into his hand-held flagon.
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The dwarf sighed. “I suppose this’ll have to do. I could use one of your other barrels, I suppose. But, I prefer not to mix meads. It confuses the flavor. I don’t suppose you know of any other good taverns in the city? Perhaps I ought to do a tavern crawl…” he said.
“There’s two on Elm Street,” Byron said, his voice quavering, “they have an even wider selection than I do.”
The dwarf arched one eyebrow. “Truly? Oh, that is most joyous news. I shall seek out this Elm street you speak of and have a good taste of what they have on offer then…” the dwarf trailed off as his eyes fixed on a basket of scones Byron’s wife had baked just that morning. Before they’d known of the nightmare their day would turn into…
The dwarf licked his lips. “I don’t suppose I could impose just a little further?” he said without taking his eyes off the freshly baked scones.
“It’s no trouble,” Simone, Byron’s wife, said with a trembling voice, “feel free to take the whole basket. No charge.”
“The whole basket? Free mead, free scones, and demons to kill in the streets? Why this is quickly becoming one of my favorite cities in all the world. And I’ve been to more than a few, I assure you,” the dwarf said. He secured his impressive axe to his belt and picked up the basket of scones, sparing the time to dip one into his mead before devouring the thing with pleasure-filled moans of delight.
“Oh, now that’s a scone. Mmm. Hold fast to your baker, tavern keeper!” the dwarf said as he scoffed down another and strolled out into the street once more, “Hear me, hellspawn! Hear me and despair! For I have scones now! Do you hear me!? I HAVE SCONES!”
Silverbeard walked through the street, devouring the basket of scones amid large swigs from his flagon. “Ah. Food, drink, and a little tussle. This is shaping up to be a magnificent day! Why it’s almost as good as last Tuesday. Now that was a real fight, I tell you. Not this half-assed demonic ‘invasion’. Honestly, it’s like you demons aren’t even trying anymore!
“Now, when I was a boy, demons really put in some effort. They sent proper armies to wet my axe. Not this half-rate rabble. Why there are barely enough of you to bother coming all this way for! You’re terribly lucky this city is so free with its food and its mead or I would be quite put out! What happened to your standards hmm? Where’s your pride gone? And the demon lords of old that truly knew how to gather an army? Bahahahahah! Dead to my axe perhaps?” Silverbeard yelled out as he walked.
An enormous, rotting giant stood up in the city before Silverbeard. Its flesh yellowed and rotten and its eye sockets filled with gibbering demons.
“Ruaaarrgghhhh…” it groaned as it lumbered toward Silverbeard, crushing whole houses beneath its toes as it dragged a wooden club the length of a street behind it.
But, Silverbeard didn’t even look up from his basket of scones.
“Look out!” hissed a man hiding in an alleyway, hoping to warn the oblivious dwarf before running for his life back the way Silverbeard had come, desperate to get away in time.
But, despite the man’s warning, Silverbeard did not so much as look up at the enormous lumbering creature that blotted out the sky with its bulk and cast half the city into shadow.
Instead, Silverbeard’s focus was trained utterly on the final scone in his basket. The others had gone so quickly that it felt as though he’d not even had the time to truly appreciate them. He was determined not to repeat that terrible mistake.
He picked up the scone and let the basket fall to his feet. He ran the freshly baked confection under his nose, dusting his beard with a fresh layer of crumbs as he inhaled the heavenly scent.
“Ruaarrrrgh!” The undead behemoth roared as it brought its massive club down upon Silverbeard’s head, smashing him into the street and sending cobblestones into the air as windows exploded all around.
The runes in Silverbeard’s armor lit up with a faint blue glow that spread like a ripple to the club and the undead giant. For a moment, all was still, then the undead giant’s club exploded into fragments, starting with the end that had smashed Silverbeard but racing along the length until it reached the putrid, undead monster.
When the ripple of destruction reached the behemoth, its head exploded in a fountain of gore that eviscerated all the lesser demons within its skull.
The undead giant leaned one way then the other and finally crashed to the ground like a mountain had been felled, releasing a cloud of dust and detritus into the air.
Silverbeard climbed out of the hole in the street the creature had smashed him into, chewing upon his final scone and savoring the flavor.
“Mmmph…” Silverbeard moaned appreciatively before taking a swig from his flagon and giving a satisfied belch.
“Ah… that hit the spot,” Silverbeard said, crumbs falling from his magnificent beard. It was then, that he finally seemed to notice the undead behemoth. Or what was left of it.
“How’d you like my armor's retributive enchantments? Quite marvelous, don’t you think? And you should feel proud! You’re the only thing that’s hit me hard enough to be worth troubling the magic over. Why just a little harder and I might even have felt it!” Silverbeard said before breaking into laughter that jiggled his paunch and rattled his armor.