It's Like a Red Rag to a Bull

Or, at least, that's how the saying goes.  Our encounter last night seemed to have ruffled a few feathers, and the effect was very predictable.  We took an early night, turning in as soon as we got back to the inn last night, and even posted a watch in the room - although it's much harder doing that indoors, the cold air keeps you awake or you can walk around if you're nodding off outdoors.  Walking around on wooden floorboards just wakes everyone up.

We were out of bed before first light too - and we ate breakfast as early as they would let us.  We were expecting trouble, but Daran and Kenner seemed excited, not apprehensive.  They were really looking forward to settling some scores, I think.

We went out to meet the morning traders and split into two groups.  I tagged along with Barr and Daran as we went around the market traders.  We wanted information about Gallam End gang, and we were prepared to bribe people - with real gold - to get the information quickly.  Barr is the natural talker among us, I think Daran and I were really only here to provide some protection.  We ran into two separate groups of heavies - they were definitely out hunting us, too.

The first group were the easiest.  We didn't really suffer anything from them - Daran faced them down and was quite belligerent when they tried to attack him.  Of course they didn't manage to keep tabs on where Barr was, and the four meat-heads were so intent on beating up the people they'd been sent to attack, the also missed that I was there.  The rather limply started off by pushing Daran around.  They surrounded him, but the slicing sound as Barr sliced through the tendons in the back of one of heavies' knees was revolting.  They pulled long knives out to Daran, so I swept both the legs from underneath the one in front of me with my axe.  Daran disarmed the one who started the pushing and shouting, and stuck the knife into its owner's kidneys.  We left the injured writhing on the floor here, as the unhurt one ran off.

The second group was much less subtle.  We'd actually moved up a side road to talk to some of the back-street shop owners.  We were surprised by the presence of three heavies stepping out of an alleyway.  They already had their swords drawn, and behind us were another three.  A fight broke out.  I actually took a blow to my arm from one of the swords, and Barr had to do some proper hand-to-hand fighting instead of what he normally does, which is put them out of the fight before they know it's started.  It took a little longer than we expected, as Barr and I are not experts in this kind of fighting - but Daran is.  He waded into, and through them.  As we walked off, it turned out that Barr had also been stabbed, but like me, his pain wasn't serious.

We regrouped late morning at a place called Wray's Grill where they serve some excellent fried food.  The place was quite busy, and I had my first encounter with the little race, the Hznamen called them 'Halflings', I think their name in Dzarraf is Hulbitwain, but that seems something of a mouthful.  They're very lighthearted, and in the brief chat I had with them I found myself laughing quite a bit too much.  We had another breakfast in this grill, and the Halflings insisted this meal is called 'second breakfast', and is only really traditional (in their terms) if it's served with extra mushrooms.  How can they be so small yet eat so much?

Anyway, after Mullory had patched us up, our two groups swapped notes.  We think the Gallam End gang are run by two brothers, Brian and Graham Evans, and their organisation has been milking the northern end of town and some of the countryside for ten years.  They're well established, and in the last two years have been upping their activities and the income they've been extorting.

Many of the traders didn't want to talk to us; they were very coy about grassing the gang up - the consequences must be terrible.  I've never seem Mullory so angry.  Normally he wouldn't advocate violence, but he knows that he can make a real difference to so many people here by taking this group out of the local equation.  We'd even had a tip-off about where some some of the senior members of the so-called guild meet.  One of their 'generals' is a guy called Barry Wilson, and he hangs around the back room of Buck's Tavern by the north entrance to the town.

So, guess where we're going later on.  We needed some supplies first - we want to hurt these people with no collateral damage.  We spent the afternoon walking around the northern parts of town - Elenhugh though it may pay us benefits if we know a little of the layout of the streets.  We've spent an hour before our evening meal deciding how we're going to approach this tavern and what to do when the heavies bolt and try to run away.