Perhaps that was the kind of thing women liked. The bigger the better.
Brahgen realized that she was looking at him and he shifted his gaze quickly to the others, who had finished with their argument.
"Did you truly kill those hags on your own?" one of them asked.
"Well, no. I killed them all with my dagger but I needed a little help. First, when Skharr eliminated almost a dozen lizardfolk that were guarding them and when the last one tried to kill me, he managed to stop her."
"I thought he only added that to make sure it didn't sound like he was completely useless in the fight."
"Aye, he wanted a little recognition instead of giving all the credit to a dwarf for saving his life."
It honestly felt like he was talking to people who had no intention of listening to his version of events.
He frowned when he realized that Skharr had moved away from the young woman and approached him instead.
"How does the life of the party feel, Brahgie?" the warrior asked with a grin.
"It is not as much fun as I might have thought," he answered honestly. The group had wandered off to get more drinks and would probably return soon. "It is an interesting feeling, however. None of them would have given me so much as a second glance before."
"Are you sure you want the attention of those who are so shallow that they must needs dole it out?"
The dwarf shrugged. "It isn't like I have much choice. And I might as well enjoy it. Soon, I will no longer be the life of the party and they'll move on to bigger and better things."
Skharr nodded. "You might want to consider that they are more interested in being the sole focus of your attention as the night wears on. Or you might want to find a way to choose which one's attention you want for the rest of the evening."
He winked, clapped him on the shoulder, and retreated as the young women began to return, once again arguing something.
"Hmmm," he muttered as an idea formed in his head. The barbarian was right. He didn't want to be that kind of dwarf and he doubted they had much interest in him aside from the brief moment of fame his recent return had garnered him.
And if he had to spend much time with any of them, he wanted it to be doing something they both shared an interest in.
"Basted like a goose," Skharr whispered as he approached the young woman again.
"How do you know he'll make thievery a point of interest?" she asked.
"I've spent enough time with the lad to know he has many interests, but most revolve around his ability to take items from folk who don’t pay attention." He looked at her again and noticed that she had tugged her dress down so the fabric hugged her curves a little better. There was certainly dwarf blood running in her veins. Most humans didn't have the perfect shape of an hourglass that generally appealed to him.
"Evanessa," she said.
"Hmm?"
"The woman under the dress you're admiring. Her name is Evanessa."
He nodded. "My apologies. I did not mean to stare."
"All it means is that others will stare as well."
"You'll want to reveal a little more," he commented. "You want him doing more than staring by the end of the night. Not all your skin but enough to make his imagination run wild."
She narrowed her eyes. "I have no hair on me, sir."
"Yes." He tilted his head. "That is a point of some embarrassment for you, I take it?"
She glowered at him and rested her hands on her hips.
"Have you ever considered that it might be one of your finest assets?" he suggested. Her eyebrows raised and her gaze shifted to where Brahgen was still dealing with an onslaught of questions.
"I see." She thought about it for another second before she tugged her dress a little lower to reveal more of her cleavage and slid her sleeves down so her shoulders were exposed as well.
There was truly little left to the imagination. Skharr knew Brahgen would have trouble finding proper words to greet her with and thankfully, that would be for the best. Him talking would be a problem. His mind would be gone and what was voiced without its interference would be about as honest as the young dwarf would ever be.
"Right then," Evanessa muttered and rolled her shoulders. "I don't think he'll see this coming."
On that, they could agree.
What was the point of telling a story if every word he said would be picked apart, analyzed, discarded, and replaced by what they wanted to be the truth?
Brahgen tried to not show his annoyance and drew a deep breath.
"No, they don't follow any dragons," he stated when he heard someone suggest as much. "They're called the Dragon Followers because their standard from when they were in the imperial army was a dragon."
"But you said there were dragons in the water," one of the women commented. "And they were pirates that sailed on those waters so they followed the dragons in the water."
There would be considerable misconceptions about the damn pirates by the end of this. He had a feeling that the pirates wouldn't mind that their legend was growing. Stories about them fighting alongside the sea dragons would spread now, unfortunately.
"Do you have any more stories?" one of them asked and flipped aside her bright red hair that had begun to fall over her face.
"Oh…yes, I suppose I do. A little more recent. I suppose you all know my uncle Captain Fasenroar, yes? The man who rides around on a ram all day long, telling the youths of the city to get back into the city walls before nightfall? I assume he’s not a popular character among you?"
The general utterance among the group was that Fas was, in fact, not a popular dwarf with the youths of the city.
"I suppose that if someone were to have delivered a blow to his face, it would be a story for you to tell for a while, yes?"
"Sure, but none of us will believe that happened or he would barge in here to demand satisfaction from your mother."
"Perhaps he's a little too embarrassed because, while I laid him flat on his ass, he was too distracted to notice that I'd lifted something from him."
Brahgen took the dagger from where he'd hidden it inside his cloak. It was an item of some pride for Uncle Fas, as he recalled, a battle trophy collected from a goblin chieftain, who had in turn stolen it from one of the dwarf kings of old. It was almost long enough to be a short sword, with a burnished silver sheen to the wickedly curved blade and bronze on the pommel polished to look like gold. Three large rubies formed what looked almost like a mace as the base of it.
"I'll tell you what," he stated as the others began to inspect the weapon thoroughly. "If anyone manages to take it from me, I'll relate the whole of the story to them. In private."
That was a good way to make sure he could escape without injuring anyone's feelings and be able to spend the evening with someone he genuinely wanted to be with.
"How are we supposed to take it?" one of them asked.
"You'll have to steal it, of course," he replied. He reached up to grasp the handle to draw it out but his eyebrows raised sharply and he gaped when all he held was the scabbard.
"Won't you have to negotiate to get it back, then say someone can take it?"