Refugees

8/4/05

.. and with a belly-laugh that started at his toes the little gnome slapped Hec hard on the back. "I hate you, ya know that right?" quipped the little man. Hec shoots back "So long as we're honest, the beast LOVES YOU!". This last comment causes the gnome to pause mid-gulp of his ale. Hec continues: “He thinks gnomes taste like chicken!” to which the gnome spews his ale at the bartender as the two erupt into riotous laughter. Others in the pub leer at the two enjoying themselves oblivious to their surroundings. The dwarf teetering on the barstool was comical enough without the gnome sitting on the stool next to him… propped on a stack of books… dangerously close to falling as well. They would be marked as easy targets by the crowd were it not for the glowing blades hanging from their belts with obvious pride. These instruments are not for impressing people, or for hanging on the walls. These were cold instruments of death.

“It’s time for me to git where ahm goin!” growls the gnome. Hec motions for the bartender, but when he turns back the little man has gone… and without paying for his brews! “Bloody Hell!” Hec bellows at the crowd. “Where the…?”

Hec is interrupted as the front door slams open and a gnome is sent flying (rather gracefully) into the pub. Nittering lands on his feet, turns to face Hec and grins widely.

The contents of the pub collectively gasp and cringe as the doorway is filled with a growling beast. Razor-sharp claws click on the wooden slats of the floor as the beast moves through the doorway and into the widening clearing in the center of the pub.

The tiger moves forward until his breath ruffles the back of the little mans hair. “Nitt” reaches around behind him and slaps the tigers nose (prompting a low growl) while continuing to grin at Hec.

“You see,” began the gnome, “I heard a noise outside and was… concerned for your… pet here. So I rushed outside to see if I could be of assistance.” Amazingly, his grin widened a little more as if stretched between his ears.

The bartender emerges from the crowd and lumbers up to the tiger. “Leave yer dirty animals outside or I’ll make a RUG!” he yells and moves to slap the tiger on the nose. Hec rolls his eyes and plunges his hands into his pockets as the large cat removes the bartenders arm above the elbow. From his pockets Hec removes bandages and a gold piece and drops them on the floor in front of the screaming bartender. “For your pain and suffering sir, good day!” notes Hec and the three quickly exit the pub.

“Your cat just took that guys arm off!”.
“He doesn’t like to be struck.”
“He didn’t take MY arm when I popped him on the nose!”
“You weren’t trying to cause harm.”

Nittering trots around behind the tiger. “So what’s …” (bends over and looks) “… HIS name?” Hec and the cat both raise an eyebrow. “Name? Why it’s BOB!” grins Hec.

“B… BOB?!” It was Nitterings turn to raise an eyebrow. “You’re ferocious dwarf-eating saber-toothed tiger is named… BOB?! That name SUCKS! Who gave him such as stu…” Nitt is cut off as the cat wheels around to face him.

“Great name” recovers Nitt. “Love it. Wouldn’t name him any different. I wish MY name were Bob. I’ll probably name all my children Bob if…”

Hec rolls his eyes and begins walking towards his next adventure. Nittering, left standing and obviously offended, yells after them “FINE. Refugees already HAS a hunter! You wouldn’t be interested in joining anyway, we’re fancy. You hear me? We’re way too FANCY!”