Anthony Blackshaw, 07 Aug '12

        A globule of spit landed in the dust a few inches from Rud's foot causing him to stop mid‑stride. At the entrance to the tavern a skinny weasel faced man slumped on an old beer barrel chewing. He looked up to meet Rud's glare and smiled revealing a few yellow peg like teeth and a mouthful of chewing tobacco.
        
        “-and it over” said the man pointing towards the sword at Rud's side.

        Instinctively Rud took a defensive step back and gripped the hilt of his sword. The skinny man on the barrel stopped smiling and sat up.

        “-ere you -and that over now!” the man protested and this time he reached forward for the sword.

        Rud drew his sword from its scabbard a short way making it clear he had no intention of handing it over but that he was prepared to use it. A look of fear washed over the skinny man's face and his mouth fell open.

        “N-n-now just you st-st-stop right there” stuttered the man getting to his feet and taking a step away. “Th-th-this -ere's a f-f-free town an' y-y-you can't take n-no s-s-sw-sword in t-to no tavern.”