Brief and brutal

Tane knocked away the man's spit-slickened hand, then crouched, spun and buried an elbow into his midsection in one swift motion. The man staggered, huffing, and tried to focus. His hands curled into loose fists and he took an unsteady step forward, a snarl forming on his bearded face, but Tane had already moved aside, kicked his leg from under him with a short jab to the back of his knee, then grabbed his hair and pulled him to the floor. Another kick--this one to the man's jaw--finished him.

He whirled to face any new attackers but this time there were none. I stood in front of him, hands raised in supplication.

"No one else needs to be hurt," I said. "These good people are smart enough to know when not to pester a person, right?" I asked and looked around the room, nodding, to solicit a response.

"Oh aye," several people said.

"I'm not much of a joker, anyway," one man said, backing away.

"I could use a bit of optimism now and then!" A woman chimed in.

"Good, good," I said as Tane sat back down. "See?" I told him. "You are getting better. Only one man on the floor and he...well, he may recover. In time. Under the care of a skilled healer. And perhaps a strong prayer circle."

Tane looked unconvinced. He prodded the bleeding man with a toe, then walked out of the tavern, his shoulders slumped.

Author's note:

Thanks for reading! In his creative writing Masterclass, Neil Gaiman stressed the importance of writing frequently, every day if possible. "You have to get the bad stories out," he said. That's what this blog is, in part. Admittedly, I don't always put a lot of thought into these entries; they are merely a way for me to: (a) test out a few jokes and make fun of the genre; (b) work on dialogue and scene; (c) develop the world of Korin, where my real fantasy stories take place and (d) appear busy while I eat lunch, so I can avoid human interaction. Feel free to let me leave a comment or critique. I always like to know what works and what doesn't.