Fifty Word Fantasy: Rough Busk

The busker continued his street-show of axe-juggling and acrobatics as the stiletto hovered under Mitta’s chin.

Skullis prepared to thrust. “No gemcutting dwarf crosses the Death Guild!”

A thrown axe lopped off his hand.

“No?” the dwarven busker said pulling Mitta into a run. “Well then, how about an entertainer?!”