For a blessed change, they weren't the ones getting pounded by a big freaking dragon. If Fenris had not pointed out that the men down in the pit were wearing the distinctive livery of one of the region's most notorious slaver rings, Hawke might even have led her friends down to provide assistance. As it was, she found herself a nice, sheltered outcropping of rock above the fighting and lay down on her stomach to watch the battle.
After a moment's consideration, Fenris unslung his sword and stretched out beside her, quickly joined by Isabela and Merrill.
"I wish we had a snack," Hawke murmured absently as the dragon tossed a slaver into the air over and over again. "This is better than watching a play."
Merrill hissed in sympathy when one of the slavers stabbed his sword into the dragon's forefoot, making the great beast jerk its foot away and hold it off the ground. "I hate when I hurt my foot."
Isabela dug in her pack and pulled out a bottle of rum. "If we aren't going to be fighting it, we might as well enjoy the show," she said, pulling the cork and taking a swig before passing it to Hawke.
"Excellent!" Fenris said with feral approval when the dragon flicked its tail and slammed one of the slavers into the pit's rock wall. He took the bottle when Hawke passed it to him with a murmur of thanks, drinking even as he kept his attention fixed on the battle below.
They all sighed appreciatively when the dragon picked up another slaver and tossed him high in the air before simply opening its jaws wide and swallowing the man whole.
The next time it spat fire out on the last remnants of what had once been at least a dozen slavers, it also spat out the slaver's now-gleaming, acid-polished armor.
Isabela burst out laughing. "Looks like it ate something that disagreed with it." She nudged Hawke with her elbow. "Get it? Disagreed?"
Hawke groaned and snatched back the bottle of rum from Fenris. "Isabela, that was terrible."