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Coming in from the south they could see that the moat didn't make it all the way around the keep yet, and there were
teams of diggers and other laborers halfheartedly wandering about. The moat was a new addition, then, and certainly
more for show than for defense. The Friendly Arms never locked its gate, and everyone was welcome inside, so the
likelihood of siege was hardly pressing.
They passed over the drawbridge and made their way with no wasted time from the pillared entrance to one of the
biggest buildings in the broad, open bailey. Even if Abdel had never been there before, the sound of revelry leaking
into the early evening air would have told him that this was the inn proper. It was a long walk to the high oaken door,
and as they crossed the bailey they passed a group of gnome guards. The sight of the tiny fighters made Abdel smile.
The three guards, each no taller than two and a half feet, were dressed in fancy but functional ring mail. Their short
swords were smaller and no doubt lighter than Abdel's dagger. One was holding a spear from which fluttered the
banner of the Friendly Arms, less heraldry than advertising. The three little men nodded to Abdel and returned his
smile, then turned their attention abruptly to the inn.
Abdel noticed a sudden change in the tavern sounds. Montaron stopped too and held out a hand to gently block
Xzar.
The mage twitched away and shouted, "Stop touching me!"
"Shhh," the halfling warned as the gnome guards began moving slowly toward the inn.
There were pauses in the steady sound of laughter and frivolity, that was what first alerted the guards, then came
loud cheers, a crash, and breaking glass followed by a loud grunt.
Montaron laughed and said, "Sounds like my kind o' place!"
The three travelling companions followed the gnome guards to the door. Abdel stood behind the gnomes as one of
them opened the door, and he was hit with the blast of sound from inside just a fraction of a second before the chair
hit him in the face. Down the big sellsword went, never seeing the three little gnomes wade into the crowd. The guards'
fists were small, but when they brought them into play at their own eye level, taller men dropped like sacks of flour.
Abdel, angry, bleeding from the nose, stood up, grabbed the broken chair, and surveyed the dark room full of
doubled-over men. He gave up hope of finding the one who threw the chair, but he gave the room an icy glare all the
same. Laughter started, and Abdel turned red before he realized they weren't laughing at him but at the man being
carried out by the three gnomes. They were dragging the dirty, vile-smelling commoner more than carrying him, and
the big man made a small sound every time his head bounced against the rough wooden planks of the floor.
Abdel looked at the now unconscious man with undisguised fury as he was dragged past. Montaron grabbed the
chair when he saw Abdel jerk forward.
"Leave 'im," the halfling said. "Looks like 'e's paid in full."
Abdel stood stock still and tried to let the anger pass, but it wouldn't. He wanted to kill someone. Montaron was
looking at him curiously.
"See?" Xzar stage-whispered.
The halfling pushed the mage away and pulled gently on the chair. Abdel let him take it.
"Ye'll be needin' a drink," he said, and Abdel nodded.
A gnome woman climbed up on top of the bar and called to the room, "Next one throws a chair gets my fist in his
danglies. This " and she paused long enough to belch resoundingly "is a class establishment."
A cheer followed this warning, and the crowded room fell back into the general chaos of a night at the Friendly Arms.
* * * * *
The ale was good, and after three pints of it Abdel was starting to relax. He sat at the bar and kept his head down,
ignoring the tussle and bluster of the ever more crowded barroom. He'd not spoken since he'd been hit by the chair,
and though his nose hadn't bled much, he refused to wipe the blood away. The big sellsword was quite a sight. He'd
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