Nils slammed into the wall as the gypsy brute backhanded him. The impact knocked the air out of him and he gasped with pain, feeling his ribs crack from the impact. His lightning quick reflexes saved him from the next blow as he ducked under the big man’s fist. The fist barely missed his face and slammed a hole into the wall behind him. The big man pulled his hand free and staggered back, the effects of the drugged wine finally taking hold. Nils punched forward and caught the gypsy in the sternum, knocking the wind out of him.
“Murdering scarecrow,” the gypsy cursed through clenched teeth, staggering backwards.
Nils was tall and lean, but his years of training made his muscles rock hard and gave him strength that belayed his rangy frame.
“Murder,” Nils said. “No, my dear Rafner, you have it all wrong. This is an execution in grand design.”