The smaller man shakes his head in annoyance.

“See, here’s the thing.  We could kill you.  We do kill.  With some degree of frequency.”

He shoots a glance at his compatriot.

“But we don’t want to.  It’s not our most favorite way for this to go.  See, our most favorite way is that you leave here happy.  You leave here happy and we leave here richer.  And next time you come through, we make it even quicker.  Once we come to terms, it’ll be a breeze.  A regular thing.  Like dropping a few coins on the bar top for a cup of daffy in the morning,”

“This body has no coins. They do not serve.”

His face darkens.  He draws a long dagger.  “That won’t do at all, see.  You’re going to have do a lot-”

A feminine voice rings out, much louder than they have been speaking and accented with some kind of foreign patois.  “Would you look at the size of that prick?” she says, and then whistles.

A tiefling woman in bright red leathers steps into view from the courtyard, brushes past the smaller man and steps directly up to The Nameless One.

Her movements are easy and sauntering.  A tail a yard in length and resembling that of a giant rodent twists and curls behind her.  She has visible tattoos on the neck and forearms, and her outfit has clearly been chosen to accentuate a good figure.

Evidently the leader of this trio.

And there may be more of the gang on the perimeter to catch him if he slips round the larger man.

He prepares himself. Her forearms look small enough that he could probably snap one quickly. The sequence should be woman, then small man, then large man.

She paces back and forth in front of The Nameless One, scrutinizing him.  

“Bet he’s got a strong back.”

Then she smiles, and standing up on tip toes beside him, speaks into his ear.  “Here’s how it is, love. When we’re born, we’re very small and stupid.”

Reading some pre-movement intent in The Nameless One she quickly steps back, perfectly calculating the edge of his reach, and staying just beyond the boundary. She holds her arms akimbo at their sides.

“Then, we grow up.  Most of us get bigger.

“Some of us - also get smarter.“ 

Midway through the last sentence her hand makes an almost imperceptible movement and launches a small spike or dart, resembling a pen knife, into the Nameless One’s abdomen. 

It pierces the skin and remains embedded, quivering.

“And some of us don’t.  So I’ll explain it to you.  You walk out of here without paying, it isn’t about you.  In your eyes, me making an exception for you makes it easier.  But it costs me.  There aren't any exceptions. Someone sees you walk out of here unharmed and without paying… That’s a huge problem. That costs me dearly, as sure as you took from my own pocket.  It costs me in any number of bloods I have to paste into the paving stones just to maintain the reputation of a respectable lady of business in these parts.”

She sighs.

“Now you’ve got about five minutes before the little nip I gave you knocks you flat on your ass for a good long while.  So we'll get paid one way or another. You’d best have squared with me and gotten yourself to safe kip by then, or else there’s really no telling what manner of indignities might be visited upon your person.”

She smiles cheerfully at him.

His face has remained relaxed and vacant throughout this entire encounter, not reacting even to the dart. The “errant outsider” persona was a total miss as far as avoiding the fight, but it still might make them more cautious about rushing him.  

He slowly shifts the scalpel into his off hand, and then pulls the spike out from where it protrudes from his abdomen with his right.  He cocks his head to the side like a bird, making as if to examine it. Then, without looking up, he launches the dart with a flick of his wrist at the small man.

He reaches out and seizes the woman by the wrist.  

“No.” he says.  

She leaps backwards, avoiding the grab, and lands in a crouch, already beginning to draw a weapon from a sheath in the thigh of her leathers.

The large man takes one step forward and swings the spike end of his axe in a great horizontal arc, aiming somewhere between the Nameless One’s throat and sternum.

He ducks under the incoming blow and allows it to strike the alley wall behind him. He rises and drives his palm upwards, striking the large man hard at the elbow with a blow driven by the full strength in his legs. It makes a satisfying crunch.  

He makes a backhanded sweep of his scalpel, drawing it up and across the large man’s throat with his left hand. The short blade might not be deep enough to sever the major bloodway, but it will at least buy him time.  

Then he turns to face Anna and the smaller man. They’re both at the edge of the courtyard and the narrow passage. They won’t be able to easily flank him within the limited space.

If they rush together, a quick jump backwards on his part might cause them to become entangled with one another.

What actions do they take in the next half second?

Anna is sizing up an opportunity to strike with a nasty looking curved blade.

The orange-haired man has apparently parried the thrown dart with his forearm.  He's now making a fencer’s balestra lunge towards The Nameless One.

STUN NOW

His interior mental voice shouts into his consciousness.

On instinct, The Nameless One raises his right hand and makes a precise counterclockwise gesture with his thumb and two fingers. 

Whatever the effect was supposed to be, it didn’t work. The Nameless One now has a thin blade running through his palm and sticking out the other side.

That was his dominant hand.

Question: How tightly is the orange haired man gripping his knife?

Quite firmly.  He wasn't lying about having killed with some frequency.

He lets forth a bellow of pain and draws his hand back, pulling the man in towards him. 

With his left hand he drops the scalpel and immediately uses it to seize the man’s dagger arm. He pulls him close, taking a half step with his back foot to position the man’s body between his own and Anna, and then headbutts him hard. He aims his own forehead at the bridge of his adversary’s nose.

It's a forceful enough blow that the man drops to the ground.

Seeing that the blade still protrudes from his right hand, he grits his teeth and wrenches it free. 

His eyes cloud with starbursts for a moment as he clasps the blade and faces Anna. 

She did not see an opportunity to strike.  She is shifting her feet continuously, in a slightly crouched position, eyeing him up.

She apparently respects his capacity for harm considerably more than she did a few seconds ago, and she now looks indecisive.

She turns her head and glances at the active Sigil portal in the crate behind her in the courtyard, then conspicuously shoots a look down at the orange-haired man.

Without breaking his focus on the position of Annah’s hands and feet, The Nameless One raises his right heel and brings it down with as much force as he can on the orange-haired man’s face.

Annah winces.

She opens her mouth as if to speak, then closes it.

She turns and sprints away, ignoring the portal and instead heading back through the courtyard.

Okay. How long has it been since the wound from the tiefling's dart? Thirty seconds? A minute?

He’ll quickly wring the necks of each man. He’s going to strip both corpses naked to see what valuables they may be carrying.  

What was the large man wearing? Will any of it fit The Nameless One?