(A/N: First story on the internet, look at this n00b go -awkward turtle- I thought Fable needed more fanfiction so here ya go. I don't own it, Lionhead and Microsoft do etcetc. Feedback welcome if you actually read it lol, flames will be used to feed the fire I burn all the fucks I give on :3)

I gave a sigh and stood up wearily from my abused work chair, business had been slow today. One of the louse-ridden male prostitutes came into to have a tacky rose inked onto his arm at around noon, but that didn't consume much of my time, I hated doing designs like his anyway, cliché and drab. Still, gold is gold.

I extinguished all the oil lamps in the room in preparation for closing up, giving the shop a once over before closing and locking the heavy wooden door behind me. I pondered going straight to bed in hopes of better business tomorrow, but decided to go to the Tavern instead. I walked past the prostitutes in the shady door ways, ignoring their lack lustre invitations. The atmosphere in the tavern was cheerful and rowdy as always, I went up to the bar and ordered a tankard, shooting a glance around the crowded tables. A few brave travellers lucky enough to survive Wraithmarsh were staring at me strangely, they probably didn't have tattooists where they came from. I caught the eye of one of them, a shy looking lady, and gave her a lecherous grin, flexing my back muscles to make the dark ink upon my skin shift. She paled visibly and dropped her gaze. I sniggered under my breath as I return to my mead, shifting to get more comfortable on the hard bar stool. I wore only my boots, bandit trousers and belt, my long hair braided in a tail down my back, like most of Albion's tattooists I prefer to go shirtless to promote my work.

A commotion sounded outside, nothing unusual about that, it's Bloodstone after all. The strange thing however, was the sound of a dog barking and snarling, and a strange crackling permeating the air. Though my curiosity was piqued, I kept my eyes on my design gloved hands for the moment, whatever was causing the noise was probably something I didn't want to deal with. Everyone in the pub seemed to have a similar idea as conversation started again and the bard continued to perform horribly. I was listening intently to the outside atmosphere, curious as to what was going on. I had never seen a dog before and the last person I'd hear of who had one was someone most people were afraid of...

The sound of heavy, metal laden boots thudding on the walk way outside the door made my ears prick. A man entered a couple of seconds later, his form filling the doorway. The people closest to the door fell silent, some of them gaping in full out awe, the women who had stared at my tattoos actually let out a small shriek, clinging onto her husbands arm.

The figure who stood there was tall, broad shouldered, and extremely muscular. Scars laced up and down his bare arms and torso, a few slicing across the thick column of his neck. The scars however, paled in comparison to the man's face. A chiselled jaw, high cheekbones, and straight nose made him traditionally handsome, the presence of glowing green eyes with slitted pupils did nothing to detract from that, two thick horns protruded from his brow, ridged bone curving in the middle and turning up at the end into a vicious looking point. His black hair hung in small individual braids to the middle of his back, draped over the pommel of the battle axe strapped to his back. He looked dangerous, and worse still; he looked like he was on a mission.

He observed the room at large, obviously noting the tense silence. He let out a single bark of laughter, briefly showing the edges of pointed teeth. Everyone took this as a sign of dismissal and shakily returned to their business, they all of course knew who the mysterious creature was. His name was Sparrow, a gypsy gone Hero, the old blood in his veins giving him the power to wield massive amounts of strength, magic, and technical know how. He single handedly wiped out the Temple of Light and it's pathetically defenceless monks, destroyed countless bandit settlements, won the Crucible, and fought his way through Wraithmarsh completely unscathed. He was probably here to speak to the only important man in the town: Reaver.

He strode over to the bar and took a seat next to me, his loyal dog prowling after him, it's appearance had apparently been altered too by the deeds of his master. Pitch black fur coated the animal's body, growing thicker and spikier around the scruff, tail, and chest, somewhat like a Balverine. His eye's were a glowing green like his master's and had a calculating intelligence too advanced for a mere dog. His paw's were about the size of my fist and had glittering black claws that clicked lazily on the dirty wooden floor. He stood nearly level with the tables in the bar, a truly hulking beast. He, like his master, was a force to be reckoned with. A spiked collar adorned his neck with a single metal plate attached. I squinted closer so I could read it. Skree. Well it certainly suited him.

He caught me looking at him and let his mouth fall open, his tongue lolling out past his vicious teeth in a big dog smile. He crossed the few feet between us and started sniffing my offered hand, his cold nose making me smile. He pushed his head under my hand and I scratched behind his large ears, surprised at the softness of his thick fur. I snapped back to reality as I heard a low laugh coming from beside me.

I turned to the noise and saw Sparrow observing me over his tankard. "He seems to like yeh, normally he'd rip yer hand off fer even tryin' tae touch him."

I blushed a little, embarrassed at my own forwardness. "I guess I should count myself lucky then, those jaws look like they could do some damage"

Skree returned to Sparrow at that, sitting by his master's feet and resting his great head on his knee. "Aye, that he can. He musta decided there was somethin' special about yeh then."

The last statement was accompanied by a small leer that made my mouth go dry. It suddenly hit me that I was sitting in a bar, talking to the most dangerous man in Albion about his dog,

While I was getting over my shock, Sparrow took it upon himself to continue the conversation. "Those are some really interestin' tattoos ye've got there mate, where'd ye get them done?"

I cleared my mind with a small shake of my head and flashed him a grin, I was happy talking about my work if he was interested. "Me and my friend did them, I own a tattoo parlour round the corner, he got caught up in a raid last year though and died."

Sparrow never missed a beat. "Aw shit, I'm sorry to hear that mate, you're friend was a talented tattooist though I gotta say."

I laughed, and took another swig from my tankard, setting it back on the bar. "It's alright, he was a dickhead anyway, I just wanted him for a business partner, talented artist though"

Sparrow smirked at my black humour. "Well this Is actually quite handy, 'cause ah wanted to get some tattoos done when ah'm in town anyway. Yeh reckon ye can fit me in anytime tomorrow?"

I nearly choked on my beer, managing to splutter out a response. "Y-yeah, no problem, just come into the shop anytime, I'm there all day. Is there anything you had in mind?"

A genuine smile came across his alien features, still managing to be charming even with the fangs and horns. "Thanks mate, thats really decent of yeh, ah just wanted some Dark Clan designs on mah back and a Thermos symbol on mah chest. What's yer name?"

I took a mental note of his designs and felt a surge of approval. "That sounds pretty cool, I'll see you tomorrow. My name's Jamie" I said getting up from my chair.

He got up from his chair too and offered me his hand. "Thanks again mate, I'll see ya then. Mah name's Sparrow" His hand's were huge, dwarfing mine, and I wasn't exactly a small man. The handshake was firm and I was startled at the amount of heat he was emitting, even through his gloves.

I paid the silent barman the money for my tankard and headed for the door, looking over my shoulder and nodding at Sparrow, he saluted back to me in a mocking way before returning to his drink, resting his elbows on the bar. I was again astounded by the sheer size of him when his biceps came into view, muscles formed through suffering and hard work prominent through the skin.

I made my way back to my tattoo shop with my little house on the top floor, ascending the stairs tiredly and kicking off my heavy boots on the way. I undid my belt and wriggled out of my trousers when I reached my bed, crawling under the thick blanket and gave a sigh of contentment. I allowed thoughts of the night's encounter with Sparrow fill my mind, feeling a flutter of excitement in my chest. Tomorrow was definitely going to be interesting.