Balzen Inn History II

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A Meeting of Guests
Willowharp smiled, "Of course you can I'll just have-" Her words were cut off from a clatter at the doot of several trays followed by a stream of curses in several languages. WIllow closed her eyes and sighed for a moment.Before continuing. "As I was saying I'll have a room prepared right away, any preferances?"

Karlo yawned again and streatched. "Anywhere with enough room to stretch out in would be fine." As an afterthought he added: "A one with a big window would be nice."

Kharagoradoth's ears pricked at the clatter, but he wasn't really interested. Instead he looked vacantly at Fandarel.

Fandarel glared back. Hissing he showed just what he thought of this furry annoyance. 

Iro stood and placed a hand on Fan's head. "Good night" she said. "I think we'll turn in as well.

Kharagoradoth continued to watch Fandarel. He felt no fear towards him. He knew his power was a match for anyone's, he just wished he got to use it, instead of keeping it bottled inside. He looked back over at Karlo. Why couldn't he just let him go?

Iro half-pulled Fan out the door. Finally, Fan stopped glowering and they went back to their room.

CAmilla stood aside to let Iro and Fan pass and waited a bit nervously for Kharagoradoth. Willow sunk back into her armchair and gazed out at the fading sunlight. Night was coming, she could feel it.

Karlo looked at Camilla brighly. "So where will we be stopping the night?" he asked.

She looked at him a little frazzled. "Umm...the Blazen Inn: Dragon room."

"Thankyou" Karlo replied, and walked out of the room. "Come Krix." He said to Karagoradoth, and the cub slunk after him.

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Breakfast and an Assault
(The Next Morning)

Willowharp picks her way none too carefully aroud sonourously snoring dwarves strewn about her bar. SHe picked up a cleanig cloth and dipped it in a bucket of what should be called water but had so many cleaning agents in it it could have been a chemical weapon. She sloshed the mixture over the counters and chairs, thouroughly disinfecting them. She hummed to herself as she cleaned with a but of a wolfish sound in her hum. Her long hair was tied up in a cloth and an apron was tied tightly on.

Wendell was nursing a bottle of Willowharp's herbal tea for his sore and worn voice. Camilla scuttled about with the dishes, taking them to a back room to be washed.

Kharagoradoth padded into the room, his shout wrinkling at the smell of chemicles. He leaped up onto a bar stool and looked at Willowharp with his head on one side, ears pricked.

Iro comes down the stair and quickly jumps onto a stool as well to avoid getting sloshed. "Morning all!" she says cheerily. "Can I help with anything?"


Willowharp flashed them a wolfish smile before sloshing more of her potent mixture over the floor. "Morning! I hope you all had a good night. What can I get you?" she looked at Kharagoradoth.

"I will have whatever breakfast you serve. I think we'll be staying her longer."

'My master wants a pot of tea.' Kharagoradoth told Willowharp, 'and could I have a bole of milk? We'll probably be down for breakfast soon.' he added, feeling hungry himself.

Willowharp smiled, "Of course you can!" and gave Camilla a meaningful glance to which she dissapeared for a moment into the kitchen. A momnet later she reemerged bearing a large punch bowl of milk and a tray with tea pot, cups, saucer, sugar, cream, and freshly baked biscuits.

'Can you put it onto the bill?' Kharagoradoth asked, then suddenly the milk, tea and all vanished, followed a second later by the Krix.

Willowharp blinked for a moment. "Sure." she said but guessing the Krix had gone back to the room she finished up her cleaning and moved to roll out fresh kegs from the basement.

Iro shook her head and murmered to herself. "No manners, doesn't even excuse himself before teleporting." 
"Camilla," she called, "May I have a cup of tea and a piece of toast please?"

Camilla bustles off and returns with a whole loaf of toasted bread sliced into large peices. WIllowharp took a piece for herself.

"Do you know where I can get a job?" she asked as she munched on her slice. "Anything will do."

Willowharp rummages through some papers under the bar. She returns with a lavender paper with a checklist of things. "Well, its not much but it is something. I do have need for someone who can manage the ales. We go through so many kegs with the dwarves I can hardly keep track of it all."
she held out the paper.

"Sounds good to me!" Iro says cheerfully.

Karlo entered the room and sat on a stool. "Goodmorning." He said with a cheery smile.

"Morning" responded Iro.

Karlo nodded towards Iro. "have a good night?" he asked conversationally.

Iro nodded. "I've been wondering," she said casually, "about the troops around this town. Especially some rumors I've heard about dragonkin. I'm very curious." She smiled.

Karlo pause for a second as he did a mental shuffle, then shrugged "Probably another spoilt lord telling the authorities some dragonkin are trying to kill him or something. If you ask me they overexaggerate everything. Why would dragonkin want to attack this town? Its not like there's much wealth here, or even a decent feeding ground, although I suppose it'd be easier than attacking the larger towns."

Kharagoradoth appeared at the door, and slunk into the room, trying not to draw attention to himself.

"So the only interest dragonkin might have in this town would be to attack it?" Iro asked, ignoring Kharagoradoth's furtive entrance. She sounded slightly annoyed. "I was wondering about the dragonkin themselves actually. No one has been able to tell me much about them and I am very curious about the different...nations."

Karlo looked thoughtful. "I suppose they could have other reasons. They have become more civilised over the years. I don't really know much about them myself, except that they don't like to give away much about themselves if they can help it." said Karlo. It was mostly true.

Iro nodded. "Understandably," she said, then added to herself. "Still, I would like to meet one of them."

Karlo stifled a smirk at that, and meerly nodded in aggreement

Fan came down the stairs and went to Iro, shooting a glare at Karlo. "Fan!" Iro said happily, beaming at him. "I got a job. Want some breakfast.?" Fan swallowed a piece of toast.


The doorway to the room was suddenly darkened as a red-faced Dwarf in a leather jacket strode into the fray. His shoes clumped loudly as he strode, stroking the end of his reasonably long dark beard.
He cleared his throat as he reached the counter, looking at the woman mananging it. Confidently he spoke up. "This is a nice place." Ne nodded his head, looking round the establishment slowly. "A very nice place. But then therein is the problem with this place; being so nice, it'd be a shame if anything happened to it." His voice hadn't changed at all from its gruff but warm tone.

Willowharp hardly glanced at the dwarf as she handed him a tankard of ale. "It would be a shame."

He took the ale, and took a deep draught from it. He made several loud swallowing noises, and then began to cough. Once he was finished being impolite and gruesome, he set down the tankard, and placed the according amount of coins on the counter.
"I'll tell you what though, there is this certain investent that you can pay every week, and if you do, nothing bad happens to your business. Sometimes, if you a problem, that can go away if you put money into this investment..." The Dwarf dropped the pitch of his voice to a lower and more forward tone. He glared intently - but not unpleasantly - at Willowharp as he spoke.

Willowharp took the glass and began cleaning it after she deposited the coins in her pocket. She raised one eyebrow at the dwarf. "Protection? The Blazen Inn's been open a hundred years and I've never paid a protection on it. Tell me, why should I now." her tone was not pleasant but not unkind. Being her age made her look at things from all angles before making a decision.

Karlo watched the dwarf curiously. He'd never head such rubbish. Protection from what? This wasn't something someone had cooked up because of the dragonkin was it?

The Dwarf shook his hairy head. "No, no, no. All I said is that it's a very good idea to pay up, because otherwise bad things can happen to you and your business." He drained the last of his tankard, and then left. However, just as he reached the door, he turned round again. "It really would be smart to pay up." The Dwarf gazed stonily at Willowharp and Karlo.

Karlo watched the dwarf leave in confusion. What silly bugger would give money for something like that? He didn't even explain what the bad things might be or how he could possibly protect them from them. He could be a silly dwarf of the street playing a prank for all they knew, and yet Karlo felt a shiver down his spine, and he looked to Willowharp to see her reaction.

Iro raised an eyebrow as the dwarf left. "What a strange fellow! Trying to sell protection." she shook her head in bemusement, but her face remained serious. She had met many people who offered her 'protection.'

Willowharp smirked as she set down the now clean cup. "He must not know me very well to come and advise me protection. I don't balk under threats nor do I let anyone disturb my home. Who ever he's sent from can try but I'll be he won't have expected the few tricks I've got up my sleeve." She noted the others watching her. "Don't worry too much. It won't have been the first time I've been threatened before. The last group that tried found themselves a head short of a leader. I'm more than capable of handling anything thrown at me." She patted the button she always wore. Being a lycanthrope had its perks.

It didn't take long before the Dwarf returned, only this time he wasn't alone: a stocky individual with thick arms and a boulder of a body pushed into the room before his associate. He wielded a brutish implement utilised for clubbing victim's skulls until a particular degree of brain damamge had been caused. Right now though, while the club was inactive - as was it's mongoloid wielder's brain - the instrument was merely trailed along the ground, scraping the tiles.

The proposing Dwarf spoke up, though his voice had changed to a much harsher pitch. "Now," he gruffed. "How about that little business proposition?" He indicated to his counterpart, who snorted loudly and gripped his club in both meaty hands. His knuckles were worn down from decades of roughing-up unfortunate souls.

Iro silently picked up her giritan and stood up. Fan raised his head and hissed. She looked over at Willowharp to see how she wanted to handle the situation.

Willowharp smiled a cold chilling smile that revealed fangs dropping down over her bottom lip. "You're welcome to talk and I'll listen but I doubt your 'freind' has meet anything like me." She beckoned to a taller chair for the dwarf as golden fur rippled up her bare arm like water.

Karlo ramained where he was, but tensed in case he needed to take any action. He signalled to Kharagoradoth to come to heel, and the Krix slunk over obediantly to sit beside him. He made sure the Krix wasn't going to do anything, best to keep the peace if at all possible. He'd rather not draw attention to himself.

Kharagoradoth sat at Karlo's feet and watched the two strangers eagerly. He could smell the tention in the air. Why wouldn't Karlo let him do anything? Oh if only the tention would snap. He needed something to happen. He wanted to fight.

The confidence within the two Dwarves faded as quickly as the colour in their faces, which fermented into a pale white. The brute dropped his club, and the smarter of the two began to shift uneasily towards the door. He didn't like the look of any of these suddenly terrifying people. With one hand he reached towards his waist, where he was relieved to find his piece, his gun. Quick as his shattered nerves would allow him, the Dwarf drew up the pistol and poised at different people in the room.
"Now then," he barked shakily. "How about it now?"
As he yelled, his brutish counterpart seemed to have slightly gained confidence again as he remembered that he too had a firearm. He pulled it out of his trousers - a mammoth of a weapon - and drew back the hammer. A loud click sounded amoung the people in the room. The Dwarf man-tank grunted a threat, but no-one understood it; like every thug he had spent hours developing his muscles, but not his brain.

In that instant Willowharp's face elongated and became a muzzle wrinkled up into a snarl. She barked once and leaped over the counter and landed infront of both dwarves. If they fired it would hit her at point blank range but then they would have something much worse to deal with. A werewolf is pretty awful to fight but what's worse then that is a wounded werewolf because now you've just made it very angry.


Iro lept forward. She brought her staff down on the brutish dwarfs firearm, hoping to disarm him. Fan circled quickly around behind the dwarves, were he could do more damage with his raking claws without getting in the way of the others.

Where Iro had swung down her staff on the mongoloid's arm there was a loud and dull crack, and his eyes rolled back in agony. He collapsed to the floor, writhing around with his new wound, yelling in a squeaky and pathetic voice. The other one however (the smarter one) reeled round, deciding that now was a perfect moment to run for his life. He was unfortunate however to find Fan leering at him and bearing his claws.
The Dwarf sighed in disbelief. "What are you people?!" His voice was loud and authoritive, but it was all a facade; he had disgarded his firearm.

Willowharp smiled in the odd way the werewolves can smile with a snout and snarled "We are your worst nightmares." She made several steps towards him arms, now covered in fur and distorted with lean muscles, towards him in a frightening manner.

Fan hissed threateningly and moved closer, beak ready to stab.

The Dwarf's face had changed to a completely pale-green shade now. His counterpart was on the floor yelling incomprehensibly about his broken arm while he was now cornered by these people.
Suddenly he felt a beak poke him the back, and he jumped forward, spinning around then with his fist clenched. It crashed down hard into Fan's beak, knocking it sideways but drawing blood on his knuckles. The Dwarf took advantage of the shock incident to make a run for the door.

Fan shook his head, momentarily dazed by the blow. Iro threw her staff to bar the door. It landed quivering in the frame, but she was left weaponless. 

Willowharp laughed, a laugh that trilled between a bark and a human laugh that sounded eerie and cold. "I tried to reson with you. Go home child, go home and cry to your mother!"

The Dwarf was out-numbered, but he was a Dwarf nontheless. The door jammed, he spun about glaring at Iro, against whom he drew himself forward at. When he heard Willowharp laugh however, he was unsettled. Cold, he thought. Cold was the only word one could describe that sound with. Shaking off the transfixing spell of the laughter, the Dwarf noticed that his injured accomplaice's club lay on the floor by him.
He snatched it up, and swung it towards Iro, who ducked out of the way and drove a clenched fist into his abdomen. Grunting loudly, the Dwarf collapsed, the club clattering down again.

For a second he caught his breath and then attempted to pick himself up. He scrambled for the club, but as he clambered to his knees, his respiration heavy and laborious, Iro slammed a foot into him once more.

The drama might have been comical, if it weren't for the violence.
Blood running slowly from his brow, a burning mark where Iro had kicked him, the Dwarf bolted upwards quickly to his feet. Reaching for the club again, he leaned over and instantaneously Iro made another move. She was fast - goddamnit she was fast! - but the Dwarf was a fighter and now anticipated her attack. As Iro ran to him, he lowered himself further and tackled into her, throwing the swift female over his shoulder and crashing down hard to the floor. She gave a cry, and amidst the clamour the Dwarf took up the club and rose it up above his head, preparing to let it down upon her.

Only to have the club torn from his grasp with one crack of her pawed hand. She lowered her twisted canine human face to his and looked him in the eyes. "Get out." was all she spoke slowly and coldly. She held his companion in her other paw and slid him towards the still standing dwarf.

A possessed blood rage whirling in his eyes, the Dwarf panted heavily and shot his opponent a poisonous glare. Then he mellowed his senses and without a word he picked up his fallen comrade - who cried out as he was lifted up - and guided him to the door. As they reached the frame, the Dwarf stopped and turned about slowly, focusing his gaze at Willowharp. "Run and hide half-breed," he cautioned. "You've made yourself an enemy you can't beat." Then he turned and left, pulling his wounded friend along with him.

At last the chaos was over, for a while.

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You Don't Know Who You're Messing With

Willowharp staightened herself up, standing to her towering seven foot werewolf height and then in one great shudder her fur and muzzle faded away and she was the elegant elvin woman once again. "They'll be back, of that I'm sure. I've delt with people like them before." She looked over at the others. "Thank you for your help. You didn't have to intervene, its not your fight. But all the same, thank you."
She moved to straighten the chairs and things back to thier right order.
Wendell and Camilla emerged from thier hiding places with buckets and a mop and began cleaning up the mess.

A few moments later, a wiry young man entered the Inn. "Hiya," he said nervously. "Umm...you don't know who that was, do you?"

Willowharp sighed, she could see where this might be going. "Trouble I'll assume. Am I right?"

Glancing very nervously over his shoulder, the man shifted his weight as he spoke. "I don't know who he is exactly, but I know he's part of this real big underground organziation called the Dwarf Brotherhood..."

She looks at the counter, "Figures it would be as much..."

"Trust me though, you don't want these guys to start making trouble. They're bloody crazy, all of 'em." The man bit down hard to his lip, almost as if his conscience was reprimanding him for talking.

Willowharp noted his hesitation and turned towards him. "Why do you know so much about them? And why your concern about me?"

Iro eyed the newcomer curiously as she brushed herself off. She ran her fingers lightly over Fan's beak to check it for injuries and was relieved to see he was fine. She collected her staff and sat back down a chair.

The man swallowed. He had hoped he would not have been asked this, but given how he was surrounded by slightly unstable looking people, decided it was best not to lie. "I've done some business with them before, I mean, I still do, and I'm not turning my back on them, but I'm just telling you that they'll hurt you if you don't give in."
He shifted uneasily yet again. Immediately he regretted saying anything at all, and his face showed this instantly. "I only tell ya this because I've seen what they do to people, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

Willowharp leaned back to seem less threatening, "Wel, thanks for your concern. You look shaken, how about something to settle your nerves? On the house." she said passing him a gentle looking drink of a warm purple color.

The man took the drink, the warm fluid calming him almost immediately. A few minutes past in relative peace, until something crashed through a window, clumping loudly onto a table and sending a customer toppling backwards in surprise. When the object settled, it became clear what it was; a half-brick.

Cadmilla picked the brick up and brought it over to Wilowharp, who looked it over. Wendel sighed and began sweeping up the window glass.

Iro shook her head at the childishness of the gesture and helped Wendel sweeping up the pieces. "What do you plan to do about these people?" she asked Willowharp.

Willowharp smiled, "What I've done for the past three hundred years my friend. Stick though it."

The newly arrived man dived for cover as the brick came through the window, and shuddered when he realised who was responsible. "It's no use just stickin' it out," he whimpered. "You won't shake them off!"

Willowharp growled and picked up the new brick. She hefted it on one hand and sent it wizzing out the window, back the way it came. "I've had three hundred years of practice on patience and endurance, they may be formidible but they've never been matched up agienst me."

The man opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. At that point, someone new had walked into the inn. Another Dwarf, similarly dressed to the previous invaders, with an ugly cigar protruding from his mouth and filling the room with a smoky stench.
"So, this is the place, huh," the Dwarf snorted, arms behind his back and his chest puffed out, while he strutted forward. The wiry man had pulled a hood up and turned away to hide his face.

Iro Sierra coughed and pulled her scarf up to cover her nose and mouth. She moved over to Fan and sat perched on his back, ready in case this new dwarf decided to cause trouble.

"So you lot hurt those poor young Dwarves who came in here earlier, huh? Goddamnit, I might give you credit, if the odds weren't ridiculously unfair." The Dwarf withdrew the cigar from his mouth, spitting something foul onto the floor, and grinding the lighted end on a table. "I was told the owner was some Elf," at that point he saw Willowharp, "and I guess that'd you, Eldwat."

Willowharp crinkled her nose at the smell but stodd tall. "Yes, this is my inn. What can I do for you?" she said flatly.

"Well you can start to pay up, or else this little bar you've got here might just go up in flames - just like the title of this place says." The Dwarf's eyes were fixed on Willowharp, while with one hand he pulled back his coat to reveal a holstered firearm.

Willowharps voice dropped to a low and dangerous tone, hinting a snarl. "It's an inn not only a bar and the only flames you ought to worry about are the ones you are calling out of me. I've been running this in for three hundred years and weathered through countless threats, tell me. Whay should yours be any different?"

"Because," the Dwarf added quickly, "those other threats were not made by anything like the Brotherhood, which you are now dealing with...understand?"

Iro laughed, "I wouldn't be so sure yo were the first, but I'll bet you've never seen anything like Fandarl before." Fan glared menacingly down at the dwarf, extending his neck to its full 1 and a half meters. 

Willowharp bared elongated canines as she added, "I've delt with a clan of Vampires, dwarf. An ancient clan of vampires I battled with each one with my own hands. You can try and break me."

The Dwarf seemed slightly perturbed by this notion, but he hid it fairly convincingly. "Well, that's good and all, but um..." He shot a glance at Fandarl and his eyes widened. He froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, and then swallowed this uncertainty. He proceeded then to puff up his chest and make a move against the nearby animal, swinging one of his thick arms wildly at the beast.

Lightning fast, Fandarel shot out a giant clawed foot at the exended arm, slashing downwards in a powerful blow. His feathers raised, he hissed his rage at the dwarf. Iro winced in sypmathy as she saw him attack, she had seen Fandarel in action before.

The claws cut through the Dwarf's flesh and drew blood immediately. He screamed and reeled backwards, blood hitting the floor in heavy droplets. The young man who had entered earlier, slid down against the wall in horror, wondering why he had come into such a terrible scene.

Willowharp leaped to the dwarf's side and stood over him, her face, more of a muzzle, over him. She snarled "You don't want to mess with us. I do not kill unless left with no other choice, don't force my hand."

Iro placed a restraining hand on Fan's blue throat. She was unhappy that there had been blood shed so soon after her arrival. Still, it was better than the last place she thought to herself. If only these dwarves would leave. She hoped he would listen to Willowharp. The powerful woman did seem to be in control.

The Dwarf glared up at Willowharp, and sighed deeply. His face has grown a sickly pale in the few moments after his injury, and this resigned his decision.
"Fine," he grumbled. "You'll be left alone - by the Brotherhood at least." He rolled clumsily onto his front, and then with his usable limb jerking beneath his weight and from the shock, he struggled painfully to his knees, and up.

Willowharp stepped back. As she did her body bagan to shift back towards the elegant elf she was. She shuddred once and the fur began to fade.

(go to Outside Blazen to view new story)

Now we're back on the inn so go to the inn ^__^

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