The Tower of Clavius Boon

Lee Williams

You are in the Crooked Eel Tavern in Smallhaven, unwinding after a long day spent bragging and drinking ale in the same venue. The tavern is small but cosy, its patrons mostly familiar to you, and for the last hour you have been chatting to a gnome called Giblith. When you tug on his beard, his head bobs up and down like he’s nodding. You think that’s hilarious. You’ve drunk a lot of ale already, but you fancy another.
You lean back in your chair and toss a coin towards the bar with a sort of lazy animal grace. It hits Kelea the serving wench between the eyes, right between her beautiful blue eyes.
‘I love you,’ you tell her. ‘Can I have another ale, please?’
You sense that you may be rather drunk.
You are interrupted by a sudden noise just behind you. It is the whisper of metal against leather, like a sword being drawn from its scabbard.
Do you:
Get the drop on your would-be assassin by toppling off your stool backwards, rolling upright and delivering a haymaker to his presumed location.
Roll off your chair to the right, at the same time unsheathing your own blade and thrusting it in the direction of the sound.
Dive to your left, grabbing your stool by its leg and swinging it at the source of the noise.