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“Revenge? Revenge on…”

A loud mechanical whine interrupted them.  Nathair moved away from the door without even looking up. Oh wonderful, some regulars apparently – since the bartender knew to set a dozen glasses. Loud laughs like a group already drunk, albeit by adrenaline and eleven men sauntered in.

Smells like opportunity if you as Nathair. Two of them had some stupid hefty weapons almost as large as them looking ugly tough. The kind of weapon you kill a draekon with, quite nice.

“Rum and a shot of Dragon’s Breath for the rookie.” A large were-man said, clapping a hand on the youngest of the crew looking bright-eyed and proud of himself.

“First kill!” He announced to cheers.

Odd. Most boys in Hesgmarde killed a draekon at fourteen – part of their coming of age ceremony. The boy was still young but he looked older than that, but who was Nathair to judge? Different world different rules. Anyway, the draekon part was still an assumption Nathair made.

“Up came the monster.” – Here comes the embellishments every rook’s kill provides. Nathair grinned and cupped his drink over his lips. “The harpoon had him fast but he wouldn’t stop fighting. Set on blood, he snapped left and right chasing us out of range.”

Nathair slid slower, sensing potential for a good scam.

“Bart here flew right up to the beast, spinning like a madman to dodge ‘im. Boom! One shot in the eye and it was over.”

One shot indeed.

The bartender came back with a flaming drink. Oh, Nathair wanted to see this go down.

Kid actually drank it once the fire went out.

“I couldn’t help but overhear – a first kill? I always love a good story” And people love to tell a good story, just about everyone in the group let him cut in.

 

–      Several minutes later –

Everybody was drunk and Nathair…was pretending to be drunk. Because it sounded like a good idea at the time. And of course everybody was comparing their first kills.

Nathair was good at this, scary good. You have to be to live in the situations he’s been through. He didn’t even think about it now, just reflex. Or…well, sometimes he did think about it, hated it just a little. But right wrong, good and bad, they were all just luxurious theoreticals he could never afford.

Oh well.

He let out a slow sigh and leaned back with a relaxed, easy smile.

“Tell me again, how big did you say it was? Six tons? Seven?” He said, exaggerating the kid’s – Bart’s – earlier claims in the telling/retelling of the account. This was the fun part coming up.

“Oh I’sssay ‘bout ten ton, at leas’” He slurred, gesturing yee-high. Nathair glanced around at the rest of the band – they’d been talking about their first kills too. So he perked a little innocent, inquiring smile.

“That’s incredibly impressive, I don’t know a lot of about dragon hunting, how big are most dragons?” he asked, glancing around again. “How big were your first kills?”

“Pft, ol’ Bert you’re a good hand but it weren’t near ten ton, laddy.” A more lacky, lean and mean crewmate guffawed, clapping a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “My first kill wasis closer to tha’”

“So your’s was bigger?” Nathair prodded.

You, me and Nathair all know where this ends so let’s just say when the fists started to fly, Nathair casually ducked, grabbed his drink and moved back. A crewmember with a scar along his face careened into the counter in front of him as Nathair took a sip.

“Uh…what would you bet the kid over that lean one over there?”

“Gimmie a drink,” Growled the man, tapping the counter before grabbing the first cup of something he saw. Then he clamped several coins on the counter. “My bet’s on the Steve there – outta ma way!”

Balling his fist he made a B-line for the fight yet again, and Nathair glanced down at the coins with a sly smile.

He got up to five or six men betting high dollars on the bear-man and a solid three or four betting on the kid, eight bets on the one with the scar and up to ten miscellaneous bets for random events in the middle of the fight.

“Drinks on the house!” He yelled, left a few coins for the bartender and slid the rest into his pouch.

“I think we might want to leave now,” he whispered to his companions already heading for the door. “They’re generously funding our revenge plan, you’re welcome.”

He’s already out the door by the time anybody looks up.

 

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