Written for LJ's dao_challenge Lightning round, subject: "dwarves."
Dragon Age belongs to the behemoth that is BioWare, & I wouldn't think of getting in their way.
Last Call
.
Kivi Brosca gritted her teeth and glared at the wall of belt buckles and human posteriors between herself and the bar.
"Oof. Move it, kid."
Stone-forsaken surface.
"Heads up, you. Oh, hahaha! Good one… Alf, didja hear that?"
Stone-forsaken humans.
"Hey, cutie, as long as you're down there…nyerk, nyerk…"
Brittle, fractured Stone-lost damned human surface fucking crowds…
##############
Alistair craned his neck as he surveyed the noisy crowd.
"I can't see her," he said, absently accepting a tankard. Perched on a stool, Oghren drained his own tankard and with a rumbling belch signaled the barkeep for another round.
"She'll be here."
"She knew where this is, right?"
"It's the only tavern in town, boy, how hard could it be?"
"Right, forget I asked." He drummed his fingers on the bar.
"Maybe I should wait for her at the door."
"She's fine."
"But I just-" He broke off and Oghren turned to look.
Like wheat being felled at harvest, a path in the packed mass of humanity was arrowing implacably toward the bar to an accompaniment of high-pitched yelps of agony. Kivi appeared, and without breaking stride punched a mailed fist squarely into the jewels of a last tipsy farmer unwisely slow to move out of her way. Disregarding the chorus of soprano moans in her wake, she stomped around the bar and glared at the barkeep's stomach.
"Ale. Now."
As the man hastily complied, Kivi met Alistair's horrified gaze and narrowed her eyes.
"What?"
"Nothing! Nothing! Glad you made it!"
Oghren grinned into his tankard as Alistair edged himself closer to the protection of the bar.