The arriving figures are dirty, cut, scarred, and bear the unmistakable aspect of street thugs.
In an instant, there is tension in the air, as the five new arrivals stare at our gang of four, surprised to find anyone but the portly blacksmith in the tiny shop.
“That’s a fine gold bar you’ve got,” says the leader of the new arrivals. “Why not go ahead and share it with us, eh?”
Ugly grins spread across the faces of his friends. Crucially, though, they are unarmed, and unarmoured. Shyan steps up and loosens her weapon in its sheath. “Seems you and your boys aren’t ready to play. Why not let us have a moment with your backsmith friend, and then we can chat later?”
A laugh goes up amongst the dirty men; the blacksmith is dead silent. Cang slowly creeps behind the cover of an ancient wooden worktable.
“Just let me pick up me order from old Horton here and we can have more than a chat,” the leader says with a lascivious smile. “Come on, lass. Me boys is hungry.”
Without a word, Shyan draws her weapon completely free.
She asks, “Are you sure?”