Chapter RHYERS - Damn Sam & Tross
Driter’s Den Tavern, Netherlands
RHYERS
Samuel scouted the Firoque, trailed the Cimmerii, and swore to Rhyers they’d find the Cimmerii man in the Driter’s Den.
We’re more likely to find Mardichi. Rhyers assessed from the look of the tavern. It was small, haphazard and rocked on a wood platform balanced on a lake.
Looking precarious as hell. Rhyers didn’t particularly want to go in.
“Well,” Sam slapped him on the shoulder. “Ready to go in?”
No! Rhyers tossed him a dirty look.
Not in the least. It looks like it’ll smell of piss.
I don’t want to go in there.
But Sam was headed in.
Ugh. Rhyers groaned. Taking a hesitant step.
“You coming?” Sam turned to beckon.
Could I stand out here and get fileted alive instead? Sounds more pleasant. Drawing a long breath, Rhyers headed in.
It didn’t take long to spot the short stalky man. One who was allegedly part of a band of brigands that preferred to hunt outside Dread Country. Killing anyone generating any form of light.
Anything that might be a Watcher.
Sam wasted no time, strolling up to him. “Tross!”
The man turned with brows lifted.
Answering to his name. All the confirmation Sam needs.
Sam drew his short stick. Snapping it to the side made a small scythe toss open and latch in place. Sam swung it expertly.
But Tross reacted instinctively. Ducking it. When he straightened his eyes were rimmed in orange.
Definitely Cimmerii.
Tross drew a long thin blade.
Rhyers groaned. It’s going to be a long night.
Thank you Samuel.