Sentinel
Without warning you thrust forward running your blade all the way through the fat man's neck. His eyes are wide with horror as he gurgles helplessly. Blood squirts from the wound in his throat and he drops to his knees.
You withdraw your blade from the crimson gash. Grabbing the bartender's rag you wipe the blade of your sword before returning it to the sheath. The room is silent and the townspeople are horrified.
"Does anyone else want to press their good fortune?" You ask eyeing the room.
No one moves.
"Sir," The bartender says quietly. "Please, I need to speak to you."
You withdraw your blade from the crimson gash. Grabbing the bartender's rag you wipe the blade of your sword before returning it to the sheath. The room is silent and the townspeople are horrified.
"Does anyone else want to press their good fortune?" You ask eyeing the room.
No one moves.
"Sir," The bartender says quietly. "Please, I need to speak to you."