The formation stopped as Boran stepped off the porch, his large club slung over his shoulder. “I am Boran Stonetusk of the thunder peak clan! I am the guardian of the Dragon’s Hearth and all who reside within.” Boran’s voice boomed like the name sake of his clan making him seem to grow larger as he hoisted the club high before dropping to the ground in front of him. With a swift movement of his arm he drew an arcing line in the dirt in front of him. “This line will be your last hope for peace, cross it and you will forfeit your lives.”

“Boran, what are you doing?” Megra called out the panic clear in her voice. “Fall back, we can more easily defend the Hearth together.”

Boran shook his head but didn’t take his eyes off the invaders. “You hired me to protect the brothel and its people. It is my duty and I will fulfill it, I promise I won’t fail you again.”

Megra was stunned into silence. From the day she had hired him from the carnival she had never seen a more dedicated or reliable hand. Boran had shed and spilled blood by the gallon in service to the inn and she had always thought she repaid him in kind. 

“Boran my friend please-” she cried but before she could finish one of the golden warriors breached the line. 

Dipping into a low lunge they drove the point of their sword toward the bouncer's throat hoping to catch him off guard. But while Boran may have slowed some in the recent years he still possessed good instincts and simply batted the sword aside with his free hand. With the other he brought the club around with enough force to shatter the man's helm. The warrior only barely managed to avoid the swing dropping to the ground and rolling in a panic as Boran took hold of the club with both hands and buried it with a thud into the dirt where the warrior had been only a moment before. 

Seizing the opportunity another of the pride gave a slash of his own this time aiming to hamstring the goliath. Unable to block the strike Boran turned his leg toward the slash, the weapon cutting into his thigh. To anyone else it would have been a devastating injury but to a half troll it caused little more than a flesh wound. Even with his years of “easy” living the bouncer's muscles were still as dense as a tree. 

With a swing of his massive arm he backhanded the man sending him reeling despite the strike being only a glancing blow. Wrenching the club from the dirt he faced down the invaders with a roar to make his ancestors proud. He could feel in that moment their strength and their resolve. He remembered the stories of his tribe long scattered to the wind but who had faced down armies that outnumbered them twelve to one. They had never fled and fought to the last to protect their home and their spirit now flowed through the bouncer.

The warriors retreated slightly and had begun to regroup but Laoise stood them down.

“You would face us all on your own?” She asked sizing the man up behind her visor. 

“And a hundred more if I had too,” Boran answered.  

Laoise gave a nod of acknowledgement. “I can respect such valor and as a sign of that respect I shall even the odds.” The lioness motioned for her pride to step away so she could face the bouncer alone. “We shall duel and if you are able to land even a single blow upon me we will leave you in peace. Are you agreeable Boran Stonetusk?” 

For the first time in three decades Boran didn’t look to Megra for guidance or permission. He was writing his own story now and he knew the ending he wanted to write. Hoisting the club in acknowledgement he waited for the lioness to ready herself before he made his charge. 

Swinging his large weapon Laoise was disappointed when she judged the attack too far to have any hope of landing. It wasn’t until the last possible moment she realized the strike had been against her blade rather than her person. At the last second she withdrew the weapon suffering only a nicked edge instead of the assured shatter that would have come with a direct hit. 

Impressed she attempted a riposte but in Boran's hands the club was as nimble as rapier. Deflecting Laoise's counter and he stepped in to try and strike the woman with his free hand coming within inches of actually doing so and forcing a quick retreat. This pattern would be repeated as the duel raged, Laoise forced to withdraw her weapon from an incoming attack while any counter she made was batted away.  Occasionally she would land a snapping cut though it was never more than shaving nick to the massive man.  

It was a decent enough showing that a hopeful murmur began to spread through the crowd eventually giving way to cheers as the golden woman was pushed back.  The residents of the Dragon’s Hearth shouted their support to their champion, one of the loudest voices coming from Eshana who hung out the front window as several hands tried to pull her inside. 

Even Megra joined in feeling a bit of hope return. If Boran could cause the Lioness this much trouble on his own perhaps they actually stood a chance. All they needed was a decisive blow not enough to kill but severe enough to shatter the determination of the pride and make negotiation seem the more sensible option. 

On the other side of the deck Cas leaned over the railing bouncing nervously on their paws. “Come on big guy you can do this,” they said through grinding teeth.

“No he can’t.”

 Cas looked down to see Adrian crouched to the side of the stairs. He had driven the nicked dagger into the end of one of one of the boards and was working feverishly on his bindings. 

“Seems to be doing alright to me,” they said even as their stomach dropped at the gunman's words. 

“Supposed to seem that way but this isn’t a fight, it’s a hunt.”

“What do you mean?” Cas asked. “He’s been pushing her back the whole time.”

“No, he’s been getting corralled, look.”  As Adrian finally cut through his bindings he nodded toward the field. 

The pride had been slowly encircling the pair inching closer with each step taken away from the Hearth. Their positions went unnoticed by Boran who swung wildly for a final time toward the golden knight. Laoise, dropping the subterfuge, strided deftly out of the way, the tip of her sword cutting upward with a silver flash.

With a thud the heavy club fell from Boran’s grasp. The hand which had held steel like a moment before now hung open, the fingers unable to curl without the tendons that had just been severed. A spray of crimson came soon after covering the dusty ground as Boran reached to reclaim the weapon with his functioning hand. No sooner had his fingers brushed the handle that they were severed with a large chopping swing from one of the flanking guards. Raising the ruined appendages to his face the bouncer observed them dumbstruck as the shouts of the crowd became screams of horror. 

The decision to flee was made a moment later but by then it was too late to save the man. Turning back towards the inn he was unable to manage a single step before another hacking blow succeeded in hamstringing him. There wasn’t even time to call out before Lioness’s blade pierced his  throat then ripped out with a spray of red. In the moments before his heart stopped Boran scanned the gathered faces with a silent apology. He failed them for a final time. His last thoughts were of mother and Eshana. The ending he had wished for his legend now passing into oblivion as he collapsed for the final time.