Short Story; One of the Bad Guys; Redux

"Oh get stuffed you thin-whiskered little twit; there ain't a chance in fat heck that Petra, the legendary demon hunter, would ever end up with a demon, no matter how repentant he was."
"I swear, it's true.  Heard it from one of them Yellsdana out on Cantrell."
"A Yellsdana?  Next you'll tell me that Empress Thalia, the destroyer, isn't dead, but rather has been left without memory or any recognizable feature."

Typical tavern trash; thought the elegantly dressed maid.  Washed up adventurers, and the wantabe young twerps who hoped to learn from them; not a single one amongst them able to do battle with any real enemy.  Of course, the villains on the other side of the room had neither the gall nor the grace to deserve even the pathetic efforts of this gutless band of refuse. 
She felt a twinge in some deep part of her being as she thought of how much better things had been under the Pax Gravaga.  In the days of the necromancer, when even the powers that be wouldn't have dared send their militaries to dispatch of a local tyrant without first consulting with the High Necromancer herself.  Ah now those were the days when a tavern like this would have been filled with the sort of rip-roaring tales that rattled bones and lifted spirits both liquid and metaphysical.  Real tales, tales by the sort of adventurer who knew the value of a decent healer, some eye shadow, and a little bug spray. 
"Hey,you spilled my drink!"
"OH! My mistake, I'm very sorry."
"And all over my armor.  Do you know how dangerous rusty armor can be?  Someone could drive a spear right through that and kill me.  That spilled drink could kill me!"
"I'm sure it can be replaced; how much would you like for it?"
"I'm going to want a little more than money to pay for you risking my life."  He grabbed her by the arm.  She barely noticed the change, but something in her seemed to react instantly. 
"Very well, if that's what you require please step into the alley.  I will follow."
"No, you'll go first.  How stupid do you think I am?"
"Very; however, if word of this reaches my mistress I may lose my job for endangering the life of one of our visitors.  As such, I am obligated to comply,"  She licked her lips for effect.  "Fully."
He grinned cruelly and stood up.  "Alright then, you've got ten minutes."
"I understand."  She watched him leave.  As soon as the door closed she scowled.  Filthy pig would get what he deserved.  She reached into the folds of her dress and plucked a kukri, a wicked looking knife designed by ancient Humans, out of them.  She opened the door into the alley and found the man waiting, fully prepared for the expected act.  As soon as he saw the knife though he snatched his axe from his haphazzardly discarded belongings and proceeded to defend himself with more expertise than she had given him credit for. 

Just as the man began to overpower her, he stumbled and howled in pain.  As he fell to his knees, dropping his axe, she saw a towering man with a crystaline long sword standing behind him. 
"Weakling.  I barely broke the skin.  If you want to be a real adventurer then you're going to have to deal with far worse then a mere nick like that."  She could see his chestnut beard in the dim light that came from the sword, but the rest of his face, and much of his body, was hidden by a dark brown cloak.  "Not that you'll have the chance now, you've gone and angered the Lady.  Son, if I were you, I'd apologize and pray to God she was in a good mood." 
"The (&#$ old man!  Why'd you have to cut my legs?"  She heard his shoulder pop, and then crack, as the man twisted his arm and then applied devestating pressure to the joint.  The man began crying audibly in between groans. 
"Watch your language, or else I'll have to watch it for you."  The man looked up and she could make out his eyes.  There was something in them that smoldered; loss, or maybe just anger.  "Are you ok?"
"Yes."
"Should he live?"
She thought for a second.  Her mistress had, in truth, given her the right to dole out justice as she saw fit within the district.  And as she could think of few more heinous crimes, it seemed only fitting that she dole out an appropriate justice. 
"He should be turned over to the authorities.  The Blood Guard will attend to him."
"Is that what you wish?"
"No."
His blade was silent as it did its work.  And no sooner was it done than he had departed.  Liss departed soon thereafter.  After all, a maid's work was to clean up the mess.