Silas could sense his distaste and this seemed to make him even more antagonistic.

He started leering at the women, touching them inappropriately and all the while making sure the barman was in full view.

He delighted in pushing peoples buttons and the more he drank the more truculent he became.

Things were heating up in the tavern and getting pretty wild.

The men had been in battle for close to a year now and it was hard to just switch off from that mentality.

Testosterone fuelled their actions and it began to get ugly.

Silas would demand things from the barman, with no intention of paying for anything.

He was abusing his power and exerting his force and the poor little barman was helpless to stop him.

Silas was cunning and deceitful he could tell that just by looking at him.

Silas had worked out how to irk the little barman and took great satisfaction in doing so and all of a sudden his attention fell upon the barman’s sweetheart.

Acutely aware of his presence and his allure, he started on her.

He motioned for her to come and sit on his knee.

The barman was keeping a very close eye on things.

He was flirting and whispering in her ear – she thought it was harmless fun. Silas used it as a means to bait his enemy.

Silas looked directly at him and with a smirk on his face gently moved his hand up her skirt.

The barman couldn’t move fast enough.

He leapt over the table and had his hands wrapped around Silas’s neck in half a second.

He was livid and you could see it in his eyes.

It was on for young and old.

Punches were being thrown, glasses smashed, women screaming,

“Fuck you Silas.” the barman shouted, blood spilling from a cut above his eye and an open lip.

They were right in each other’s faces.

“I’ll turn into a monster for you, if you pay me enough”

Silas roared laughing,

“Oh, did you hear that everyone, a monster, who’d like to see that? I know I would”

“Get the fuck out of my tavern” he spat.

“I could have your head, you pathetic excuse for a man”

He turned and walked away, spitting at the barman’s feet.

“I’ll ruin that little shit one day – find out his name”

“He’s an Irishman Sire, Eamon’s his name”.