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Arriving at Foamwolf's shop, the wronged customers looked inside. The shop was open, and empty of customers; the dwarf weaponsmith sat behind his counter as usual. They went in. The dwarf enquired politely of them what the problem might be, but his eyes roamed alertly across the group, missing nothing. Zada explained tautly that they were unhappy with the weapons they'd bought, and brought up the correlation between the Rune and the failures. "I'm sorry," said Foamwolf briskly, "we don't give refunds; once you're out of the door, that's your own problem." Zada flared. "I lost three good friends thanks to your shoddy wares," she barked. "Please," said Foamwolf with mock concern, "it's no problem of mine if your friends were incompetent fighters. Don't go throwing accusations like that around. It's bad for business." Animir glanced at Zada. "Would you say having your arm cut off was bad for your business?" she asked archly. "Let's see," replied the ranger, and drew her new shortsword. Foamwolf appeared quite unsurprised by the development of hostilities. "Trouble!" he howled, and the doors around the walls of the shop opened all at once, disgorging a collection of ruffianly thugs from store-rooms and back rooms. One came around the outside frontage and through the main door, locking it behind him. Anvarna glittered from the sheath, as Animir called out, "Kill that one first; we may need the keys!" It was bravado on the face of it, because they'd have to fight through twice their numbers to reach him, but the bare-faced confidence it implied had an impact on the thugs' morale. As did her smooth conversion of the draw into a strike which slid the point of the sword into the nearest thug's eye, killing him instantly. Foamwolf reached below the counter and brought out a magnificent gold-hilted sword, which he brandished as he leaped onto the counter, yelling fiercely. He did not close with anyone however. All hell broke loose in the shop. Surrounded at the counter, the four companions put their backs together and defended themselves. Zada's newly acquired shortsword flashed, slaying her first opponent as her second beat her guard and wounded her in turn. Thorkil also accounted for a thug, trying to defend the unarmed and (as he thought) helples Lothaledala. She, however, was not helpless. As two thugs approached her, grinning and wielding sword and dagger, she leaped into the air and spun around. A short punch rocked a foeman's head back, stunning him, and a flying kick doubled another over onto the floor. Their answering stabs and slashes slid past her unarmoured form as she twisted and angled her body away from them, leaving her unscathed - almost. A dagger drew a red line down one leg, but left no real wound. |