The ale was cold and the fire warm, that was all that mattered. At least that's what Galdbrand The SilverBlade told himself as he settled into the only orc sized booth at the small tavern in a gnomish village. The ceiling was too low to stand properly, the portion sizes were pitiful by normal sized standards, and the music was some strange churning instrument that sounded like someone torturing a cat. But the ale was cold, the fire was warm, and he was no longer on some Godsforsaken mountain killing frost drakes.
"Need more ale sir?" A small gnomish waitress asked as she came by, a towering stack of empty plates and goblets balanced perilously on her hip. Galdbrand nodded and raised his empty tankard. She laughed and rushed off without another word, only to return moments later with a large (by gnomish standards) pitcher of the amber liquid.
"Take the jug, save's me coming every time you take a sip for a refill. Boss wants to know if you'll need a room for the night, only got one with a bed big enough for ya and he wants to go ahead and get it reserved if you will." She smiled. He nodded and pulled two gold and a silver from his purse.
"One for the drinks and another plate of food, one for the room. Silver's for you" He muttered. Her eyes lit up as she snatched the coins with a gleaming smile. She curtseyed happily and rushed back to the bar to tell the barman the news. Galdbrand swigged his ale and sighed, relaxing his sore muscles. He'd gone into the mountains with a mercenary company, but when they'd discovered some ancient ruins halfway through the job they'd abandoned him and it to the elements and dove in. Probably never to be seen again. He'd had to kill close to twenty frost drakes that had been raiding local farms and villages all on his own, and he bore some new scars and soreness from the ordeal. He just wanted to relax, in truth he wanted a hot bath, but the city's hot springs closed at dusk so he'd have to wait for the next day.
A loud clanging from the bar turned his focus from his drink to a party of silver cloaked individuals making a ruckus at the counter. Two taller figures flanked a shorter one that had its fist slammed down on the old wood, not gnomish short, but maybe 5 '5. "And I'm telling you peasant that if I don't receive that room immediately I'll have your head and it" They snarled in the kind of lilting lyrical voice that could only be an elf.
"I'm afraid it's already reserved by that gentleman over there sir. If you'd like to work something out with him, that's between the two of you. But if you don't mind your manners you'll be sleeping in the cold tonight, possibly in the permafrost cells if the town guard needs calling." The small Gnomish barkeep growled, turning his back and tending to other patrons. The cloaked elf spun on Galdbrand, as did their two companions. All that sort of ethereally pretty elves seemed to be with angular features and skin so fair it seemed to glimmer in the light. A sharp contrast to the rough hewn and dark moss green skin of orcs. Elves were notorious for their superiority complex, not all shared it, but the ones who did were insufferable.
"You there, Orc, this innkeeper tells me you've reserved his only room with a tall man's bed. If that's true I'll need you to relinquish it so that myself and my companions may sleep comfortably. I'll pay you whatever you paid for it so that you're fairly compensated" The leader, an effeminate young male elf snapped, holding up a gold coin like a treat for a mutt. Galdbrand sighed and sipped his ale. Elves were mostly androgynous by nature. There was a joke amongst the kingdoms that elf children only knew whom their father and mother were by whose teats they suckled. But this particular whiny cunt was especially pretty for a male elf, if also especially abrasive.
"No thanks. Had a long day on the road and I'm not interested in sleeping rough tonight" He called back with as friendly a tone he could muster for the fool who seemed to be racing to make an ass of himself and an enemy of the whole bar. The elf glared and one of his companions stepped to the edge of Galdbrand's table.
"Please, we have also had a long day of travel. And while I'm sure a rugged adventurer such as yourself is used to sleeping in...less than optimal accommodations, our liege is accustomed to luxury. He'll likely be unable to sleep in the smaller beds in the other rooms." They said as politely as they could muster, though there was an edge of 'I'm doing my job here don't make it hard' to their voice. Galdbrand rolled his eyes and stood from the bench he'd been sprawled out on against the far wall of the tavern. As he rose he still had to duck from the ceiling, towering over the elves. He was nearly 6 '9 and as thick as most bugbears at the shoulder. His thick midsection was affixed with a loose coil and his legs were covered in thick fur lined pants for the cold. Though he'd shirked his jacket he still wore his leather vest, adorned with the fangs of both a Black Dragon and a Hydra. Not many adventurers operated without a company or party, but Galdbrand the Silverblade needed no aid.
"Do I look like I'd find comfort in a smaller bed? I've declined your request politely, please leave me to enjoy my meal." He grunted. The elf nearer to him looked like it was taking everything in him not to draw his sword out of fear, but the one that seemed to be in charge held no such weakness, marching up to Galdbrand like an indignant child.
"Listen here brute, I'll not be sleeping in a bed the size of a lounge cushion while some odorous buffoon lounges in a proper one. Either take the gold I offered you or I'll take the room and keep it." He snapped. Galdbrand looked down at the lippy elf and then back to the polite one with a raised eyebrow. The polite elf seemed to understand his gesture and stepped between his employer and the hulking mercenary for his protection, but the whelp took offense at this and shoved his own guard out of the way. "Are you too drunk to understand me? Or are you as dense as your ugly face would lead one to believe?" The mouthy elf snarked, glaring up, clearly oblivious to the obvious threat being posed to him. Galdbrand gave a heavy sigh before turning to the barkeep.
"Mutual combat legal in this town?" He asked quizzically. The bartender and barmaid both gave a wide smile and nod, but the bartender quickly snapped a finger to a sign saying "Fights take place outside or rooms are forfeit." Galdbrand nodded and glared down at the elf.
"How about this? We step outside and have us a little fight. You and me. IF you win, I'll give you my room no charge. And if I win, you'll be my little bed warmer for the night to use as I please" He smirked. A chorus of hoots and jeers, as well as some laughter erupted from the bar at large. Everyone was eager to see this entitled prick get what was coming to him. And though the elf seemed somewhat apprehensive about risking the humiliation of being made a concubine, he couldn't stand the indignity of turning down the challenge.
"As if you stood a chance against me in combat brute. I'm a bladesinger, taught by the master Archaneon the Fourth. I was a squire in the Adrageron Campaign! All that would accomplish is dirtying my blade with your blood." The elf hissed. His companions again attempted to step in but he physically forced them away. "Your vulgar taunts don't scare me" He growled. Galdbrand chuckled patronizingly and picked up his massive blade from the wall it was leaned against. More like a 3' long butcher's cleaver on a stick than a proper glave, it was still light and nimble in his hand. Upon its retrieval one of the guards practically lunged between him and the mouthy elf having recognized finally whom they were trying..
