Dennis burst through the door with a frantic look in his eyes.
"Dragon!" he screamed.
Already, the sound of great, leathery wings was in the air. It sounded like a 747 - a 747 with great leathery wings.
"They come back for 'em," Goom told Mahrcut stoically. Mahrcut had a look of fear in his shifty eyes and stubbled face.
He and his fellows threw the wenches from their laps and ran away like humans from a dragon. He'd left the glowing heartstrings behind.
Chaos erupted in the beer hall. Bandits, thieves, and several other synonyms were grabbing their belongings and making a dash for it.
They knew it was impossible to out run a dragon, so they tried to make themselves look unappetizing.
Circling around the beer hall, the dragon let out a thunderous roar that bent the tops of evergreens and shook the forest floor. It was clear that she meant business.
Her emerald eyes were glazed with anger, and the setting sun outlined her slate-gray armor in gold. She was more beautiful than a unicorn, and deadlier than a blind narwhal.
Patches of the forest were ablaze now, and the heat was all around Goom, Murt, and Dennis who remained in the tinder building. Murt and Dennis tugging at Goom.
He knew that he couldn't leave without the heartstrings, and he knew that he couldn't walk out with a bag full of them either.
"Goom! Leave them," Murt yelled above the sound of a forest fire growing by the Fairyland-minute.
Goom didn't respond, he was still wracking his half-drunk brain for some kind of plan. In a frenzy, he looked around for anything he could use.
Perhaps one of the patrons had left behind a bottle of dragon repellant or a bazooka.
All he could find was one sword, a pile of stones, and the fake-Ulimni-phony-minstrel-string-stealing scoundrels' stupid instruments.
All he could find was one sword, a pile of stones, and the fake-Ulimni-phony-minstrel-string-stealing scoundrels' stupid instruments. Then he had an idea.