A Night in the Copper Coronet
It was a busy night in the Copper Coronet; the tavern was filled with its normal, rough crowd. Several men were watching a dog fight, a few more were yelling insults at each other over a card game and a group of sailors were singing rowdy songs in the corner. Even the Shadow Thieves had come to join in the fun, three of them sat in another corner, slightly away from the rest of the crowd. Randal, Flint and Benny, all trained assassins and not particularly approachable men. They had been there for no more than an hour and already Flint and Randal were clearly drunk.
“I want another drink,” Randal stood up. “You two want one?”
His two companions nodded and the assassin worked his way across the room, around the groups of people. At least, he did until a young man bumped into him, spilling his drink down the assassin’s front.
“Hey!” Randal said aggressively. “Why don’t you watch where you’re bloody going?”
“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” the young man, who Benny recognised as Carlo Casper, shot back. The shapeshifter stood up and moved over to stand behind Randal and Flint followed him. “It’s not my fault you were standing there.”
“Leave it, Randy!” Benny hissed. “Don’t start no trouble.”
“You want to watch your mouth, you scrawny little runt!” Randal growled at him. “Look at me, I’m soaked and I stink of ale.”
“You stink anyway,” Carlo exchanged a glance with his friends and smirked. “The smell of ale is a big improvement.”
“I’m not the one dressed like some little beggar kid,” now it was the assassin’s turn to smirk. “Considering your mother spends most of her life on her back, I’m surprised you can’t afford some half decent clothes. But then I forget…your pathetic excuse for a father drinks it all away in here, doesn’t he?”
“You better watch your mouth! If he hears you say that, he’ll kill you!”
“I ain’t scared of your father, Carlo.” Randal shook his head. “He’s just a stupid, drunken bully who thinks he can push everyone around. Just like you actually.”
“Don’t you dare insult my family!” Carlo swung his fist and hit the assassin hard in the mouth, knocking him off his feet into one of the tables. Benny and Flint glared at him menacingly, as Randal stood up unsteadily.
“You just made a fatal mistake!” he spat, wiping away a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. “Bastard!”
“I’m not scared of you!” Carlo taunted. “Come on, hit me. Give it your best shot.”
“If you say so.” Complete silence fell over the tavern as Randal walked over to Carlo, his eyes narrowed dangerously. Suddenly, without any warning, he lunged forward and slammed his forehead into the other man’s nose. There was a sickening crack and Carlo gave a howl of pain and stumbled backwards, clutching his broken nose. As Randal shook his head unsteadily, a little dazed by the force of the blow, Carlo’s three friends came in on the action. One was knocked unconscious when the assassin’s fist smashed him hard in the jaw, the second was slammed against the wall and had his arm forced roughly up his back by Flint and the third took a swing at Benny, stumbled off balance as the shapeshifter easily dodged and crashed to the floor.
That was the cue for the other patrons, who had been waiting the fighting with interest, to get involved and suddenly everyone was hitting everyone else. Tables, chairs, glasses and even the occasional person went flying, the women were screaming, Lehtinan was cursing at people and ordering them to stop, but no one was taking the blind bit of notice of him. One of the sailors had picked up a chair and was swinging it round and round his head, hitting anyone who happened to be in the way. And Randal, the one responsible for starting it all, was having the time of his life. But as he punched another man in the face, he felt two strong hands on his shoulders, pulling him back.
“Time to go now, Randy,” a familiar sounding voice told him. “We’ve had our fun.”
“Benny.” The assassin turned his head, looking at his friend but not really seeing him. The shapeshifter’s hair was ruffled and there was a small cut above his eye. “I don’t want to go yet. The fun’s just beginning.”
“Mae’Var ordered us to keep a low profile, remember?” Benny hissed in his ear. “He’ll kill you if he hears that you just happened to start another bar fight. Come on, Randy, we’re going.”
Randal struggled briefly, then relented and slumped against Benny as the other assassin led him through the fighting crowd and outside into the cool night air.
“Well I don’t think our kind will be allowed back in the Copper Coronet for a while,” the shapeshifter looked back over his shoulder at the tavern. Judging by the shouting, and the bottle that flew out of the window, the fighting was still going strong. Randal shrugged, still leaning against his fellow assassin for support.
“Was worth it though,” he said, his speech still a little slurred. “People need a good bar brawl now and again, gives ‘em a chance to let all their frustration out. And it were a good fight, weren’t it, Benny?”
“Aye,” the shapeshifter admitted, unable to help smirking slightly. “Aye, I suppose it was. Come on then,” he patted Randal’s shoulder. “Let’s get you back to the guild before you cause any more trouble.”
