TITLE: The Glass Gargoyle of the Last Elven King
I’d been chasing my bounty for the last two hours in the pouring rain, only to be told that he’d holed up in my pub. Now granted, I don’t own the Shimmering Dewdrop but I've spent plenty of time and cash I couldn’t afford there. It wasn’t shimmering, nor a dew drop for that matter. But it was my turf, and that son of a hag was holed up there. It was enough to make any self-respecting woman highly annoyed.
Noise from the pub smacked me in the head the moment I turned down the lane. That was never a good sign. Only one thing could count for that- a full pub brawl. Just what I didn’t need. Although if it wasn’t too bad maybe I could sneak in, grab my quarry, and get out before anyone noticed.
I’d just nudged open the wooden door when a chair flew over my head and shattered against the door frame. The debris also scattered on the retired fighters piled next to the door, but they were in no condition to notice.
Damn it. The one night I actually needed to get something done at the Shimmering Dewdrop that didn’t involve me sleeping it off in the back room and they were having a party.
I was having enough difficulty adjusting to the idea of having to bounty hunt for a living; I shouldn’t have to wade through bodies on the floor to get it done. Sadly, the natives were not only restless, they were homicidal.