“You don’t seem to get it,” the one in the center of the trio chuckled. “You ain’t leaving.”
He was the ugliest of the three and that was saying something. A crimson bulb at the end of his nose dangled almost down to his top lip which twisted up in a web-work of scars across the right side of his face. The two flanking him were just born with wrong sort genes and fashion sense.
“This is all very convenient, don’t you think?” He looked Ugly straight in chest, anywhere else was painful. “We all just happen to end up here with no one else around.”
The flankers looked from Ugly back to him.
“Exactly,” Ugly’s fingers inched closer to the iron on his hip. “We ain’t going to be interrupted.”
“Funny, how that worked out so well, eh?” His crossed his arms, his hands well away from his holster.
“We got three guards cooling down the hall,” the one on the right was starting to get twitchy.
“And that’s why I don’t pay upfront.”
“What do you mean?” The one on the left was slowly starting to get it.
“No lookouts, only three guards, for this size of a place.” He sighed. “You do realize this is an Imperial Outpost?”
“You’re a wanted thief,” the one on the right nodded as he spoke.
“Yes,” he drew the word out. “The Empire just hates an elf that doesn’t follow the rules.”
“Never trust an elf,” Ugly snapped. “They got magic in their voice.”
He resisted the urge to pinch the ridge of his nose.
“I name you Crispin Walker,” he pointed to Ugly. “Elias Sogim,” the one on the right. “And Angelo Match. The three of you have been causing quite a stir playing at being bounty hunters for the Empire after failing being train robbers in the Dwarven Providence.”
That rattled them.
“Magic is dead,” he adjusted lifted the hat a touch to get it off the tip of his ears. “Even someone as stupid as you should know that.”
“Stupid?” Ugly reached for his gun.
In a blur of motion the knife tucked in the inside brim of his hat was firmly planted in Ugly’s chest. The two watched as he fell flat on his back clutching at the knife.
“Piece of advice boys,” the elf smiled. “Never get into a quick-draw contest with an Elf.” He tapped the bag by his foot. “I’ve got what I want, Crispin there is known for leaving a trail of bodies, and there’s still a sweet take in the office.” He set his hand on the grip of his gun. “That’s an Imperial knife in his chest,” he drew the blocky revolver with a smooth motion and centered it on the twitchy one to the right. “This is an Imperial gun with standard issue lead to sling.” He paused. “Do I need to go on?”
“You wasn’t here,” the one on the left chimed in. “Just people flapping their jaw to get some coin.”
“Clean up your grammar and we just might work together in the future,” he smiled at two and motioned to the doorway behind him. “Go ahead, take a look inside, I’m true to my word.”
The one on the right, Elias, inched toward the door, taking extra care to give the elf space. He peeked into the door and his jaw dropped open.
“What?” Angelo leaned forward but didn’t move.
“Gold,” the other croaked.
The elf casually leaned over, picked up the bag by his foot and walked away.