Scarburg Meadhall

[Gwathagor]

"Maybe you ought to, Master Halfling," said Crabannan, in a half-mocking tone of voice. He hadn't the ability to be angry at this funny little fellow, but he was curious to see if the halfling really would try to "teach him a lesson." He crouched into a fighter's stance and raised his fists. "Come down off your high horse, sir, and make me apologize."

Javan, Garmund, and Cnebba looked dumb-founded from Falco on his pony to Crabannan. They had never seen anything like this strange, dark man, who laughed and fought in the same breath, conducting both activities with equal seriousness.

Crabannan was gambling, of course, that Falco would not suit action to the word and follow through on his threat. If he did, Crabannan knew that he would find himself in a bad situation. He would be forced either to back down and apologize, or to fight the halfling. The latter was out of the question. He knew that he could not possibly justify fighting the halfling - not, at least, if he wanted to be accepted in the settlement, for however short a time. On the other hand, retracting his challenge did not sound very attractive to him either.

It was clear to him that he had acted rashly, and he cursed bitterly under his breath. He had a knack for making himself unwelcome wherever he went, and he knew it. Either people didn't share his curious, wry sense of humor, or they found his brooding, stern personality uninviting.

Too late now, he thought.

He took another step forward towards Falco as he clenched his fists tighter and put on his best dastardly ruffian grin. He had had lots of practice.

"Avast...halfling! I'm waiting for you!" he cried.

Avast?! Crabannan groaned inwardly. This couldn't end well.