Scene Eighty Six
In which Knives are thrown
Greg watched what was happening with interest. There seemed to be some sort of force field over the doors; it didn’t matter how much the other patrons hammered, or yelled, or threw things, there was always the wall of electricity which kept throwing them back.
It was general bedlam within the inn, everyone was yelling, or kicking, a couple people seemed to have acquired weapons. Greg realized that he was the only man still sitting; even Crazy Sven seemed to have run off somewhere.
Greg was so busy checking what all the loud people were doing that he never even saw the Dwarf coming. The first he knew was that someone had kicked the legs of his seat forward, sending him sprawling to the ground. He opened his eyes, his head spinning and looked down the shaft of a battle axe. “Hello” said the Dwarf holding it; watching Greg out of the corner of his eye, in the way that movie antiheroes are apt to do, “My name is-”
Greg’s foot slammed into the Dwarf’s face.
Then Greg was away. Oh good, he thought, the cold panic is still here. He could feel his feet hitting the ground like hammers on anvils.
Upstairs, he thought, and starting dodging up the stairs. He looked behind him and saw the Dwarf following him at speed. Let’s see you jump, he thought to himself. He dived from the top of the stairs, clearing the banister, and feeling the table creak as he landed on it.
Kitchen, he thought, vaulting over two large trolls. He made it through the door; the kitchen was nearly empty. He found what he was looking for, and turned to face the charging Dwarf.
It takes a ridiculous level of skill to actually use a thrown knife as a weapon. For most people this means that if they try to replicate their favorite movie scene in an actual fight they simply enrage their opponent, and give them a weapon. Greg was not ‘Most people’, he was a vampire, with the ability to telekinetically influence small objects.
As the Dwarf sprinted into the kitchen the knife buried itself in several of his internal organs. He staggered backwards and collapsed against a wall. Greg didn’t want to wait around to see whether he got back up. He ran, though the kitchen, though the store room, into the force field around the back door.
Ah, thought Greg, sitting up and rubbing his nose, I’d forgotten all about that.