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Internet Message Format | 1995-09-21 | 14KB

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From: [e-mail] (Jeff Simon)
Newsgroups: rec.games.frp.archives
Subject: STORY:  The Outlander  Chapter 2
Followup-To: rec.games.frp.misc
Date: 19 Sep 1995 13:17:19 -0400
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************************************************************
The story so far:  A mysterious outlander has arrived in
the city of Generica.  He carries a unholy weapon of unknown
providence.  The story now turns to the lives of two young
thieves struggling to survive in the slums of the Low City.
************************************************************






     Chapter 2:  The High Price of Silver



     From the mouth of the alley, Yvette watched the bazaar
intently.  The nineteen year old girl had the patience of
an experienced hunter.  She knew from experience that
impatience was likely to be rewarded with failure.

     From time to time a member of the City Watch would
pass by.  When that happened, she would drift further back
into the concealing shadows.  No point in being recognized.
A watchman might recall later just who had been seen loit-
ering in the area.

     The sun was directly overhead, and still there was no
sign of her partner.  Sweat crawled slowly across her scalp
like a liquid centipede; winding its way with irritating
slowness through her jet black hair.  Ten paces away, Big
Leorn hawked his fruits to the afternoon passersby.  His
bald pate shone in the hot sun.

     Then she spotted him.  A young boy of fourteen or
fifteen staggered up the main street of the bazaar. He was
either dazed from the sun or high on Cha-weed, it was hard
to tell.  It was Winder, her younger brother.  Yvette
gathered herself as he approached the fruit vendor's stall.
She drifted forward out of the alley.  When it happened,
she was prepared.

"Hey!  Watch it you snot-nosed little punk!" Big Leorn
snarled in anger as the boy, overcome by either drugs or
sunstroke, collapsed against the side of his stall. A large
pile of dates collapsed and avalanched to the ground.
Leorn bellowed in outrage.  "You little bastard, if you had
a father I'd . . ."

     Yvette shut out the torrent of vituperation as she
focused on her target. With the grace of a dancer she
brushed by the fruit-seller's stall; quickly enough that
nobody witnessed her theft, slow enough to avoid attracting
attention.  She had almost made it back to the alley with a
melon in either hand when she heard Winder's cry for help.

    Whirling, she saw that Big Leorn had seized her brother
by the front of his ragged tunic.  The beefy merchant shook
the youth until his teeth rattled. Yvette stood frozen,
unsure what to do.  Then Leorn balled one ham-like hand into
a fist, and Winder bawled in terror.

     Yvette moved with the speed of thought.  The melon
had almost left her hand before she realized the course of
action she would take.  Big Leorn staggered as the melon
splattered against his bald pate with considerable force.
He lost his grip on Winder, who fell sprawling into the
dust.

     Big Leorn spun around, mopping his head with one hand
while trying to identify his assailant through a sludge of
melon juice and pulp.  Yvette shrieked abuse at him, adding
insult to injury and keeping his attention planted firmly
on herself.

"You bald bastard!  If you had any balls at all you'd pick
on someone your own size!"

    Leorn growled, and produced a nasty looking cudgel from
underneath his counter.  "I'll show you who's got the balls,
little she-bitch."

    The big fruit-seller vaulted his counter, spilling even
more of his wares to the ground.  Yvette hesitated only long
enough to make sure Winder had made his escape.  She spotted
him pelting up the street, thin legs churning up dust.  Then
she turned and fled down the alley,the fruit seller in hot
pursuit.

     With the grace of a gazelle, Yvette dodged down the
alley hurdling slumbering derelicts and piles of garbage
alike.  She quickly put an insurmountable distance between
herself and the angry merchant.

     She kept to the back streets and alleys, avoiding any
route upon which she was likely to encounter a member of the
City Watch. Even following this twisted and maze-like path,
she was able to cover the distance to their hideout within
half an hour.  She scanned the area quickly before going in,
checking for the Watch.

     Winder was so happy to see her he almost leapt into her
arms.  "Hey, Sis. Nice Throw!  Maybe you should try out for
the Generican hurtle-ball team!"

     His blue eyes shone with glee. "For a minute there, I
thought I was a goner!" he shouted.  He continued to bounce
around the burned out bakery they called home, the adrena-
line released by his narrow escape turning him into a
whirlwind of exuberance.

"As it is, that throw cost us half of tonight's dinner."
Yvette groused, dividing the remaining melon with a dull
knife they had found in the rubble.

"Ahhh, don't sweat it, Sis."  Winder giggled, snatching up
his half of the melon and taking a huge bite.

"And why is that, you little mook?" she asked wearily.

Winder grinned at her, his face shiny with melon juice.
Yvette resisted the urge to wipe his face.  He was too old
for that now.  Anyway, she wasn't his mother, was she?

"I scored us a little bonus while Leorn was busy cleaning
melon off his head." Winder said proudly.  He produced a
leather pouch, its cut strings still dangling.  With a grin,
the youth scattered the contents on the ground between them.

"Oh, Winder."  Yvette said sadly.  She collapsed onto a
sagging bench and held her head between her hands.

"What the hell's the matter with you, Sis?" Winder demanded
angrily.

     Yvette said nothing, her eyes hidden behind a curtain
of raven-black hair.  Despair threatened to overwhelm her.
If she or Winder had been caught stealing food . . . well,
that was one thing.  Cutting the purse strings of a local
merchant was an entirely different type of crime.

   If Big Leorn were mad enough to take it to the Merchant's
Guild, that could bring some serious heat down upon them.
Not to mention what the powerful Thieves'Guild might do to
them if they learned who had been poaching on their turf.
This was a big step.  It was not one she had been prepared
to make.

      Winder wasn't going to let up on her.  "Don't get all
uptight on me, Yve." he admonished his older sibling. "I'm
tired of being one bad day away from starvation.  We need
this money bad.  You know that with mom...." her brother
trailed off, not wanting to bring up the painful subject.

     Yvette said nothing, just rocked slowly back and forth
on her haunches,eyes far away. Not knowing what else to say,
Winder poked idly at the small pile of silver coins.

"Hey, what's this?" he asked, pulling something from the
pile.


                    ******************

                    ******************


"What the hell do you mean, you lost it?"  the man with
straw-colored hair shouted.

    Big Leorn sweated profusely as the man circled him.  He
was in a dark room, sitting in a small circle of light cast
by a single lantern hanging above. A number of men leaned
against the walls of the room, concealed by shadows.  Bound
hand and foot to a heavy oak chair, he was unable to turn
his head to see them.

"What I meant to say Mister Falchion, was that it was stolen.
I didn't lose it."

Falchion, the leader of these dangerous men, continued to
stalk the room, his brow furrowed in thought.  His straw-
colored hair looked almost white whenever his pacing brought
him close to the circle of light.  After a while, his pale
blue eyes turned toward the fruit-seller again.

"By two street-rats?" he asked with increduality.

"That's right sir."

"Who you never saw before in your life?"

"Never." the fruit-seller agreed vigorously, obviously
having decided that the best way to get out of this with
his skin intact was to be as cooperative as possible.

Falchion paused in his interminable pacing and glared at
the frightened merchant.  "Let's go over it one more time,
shall we?  We sent you to the Dothasian ship to pick up the
talisman.  You made the exchange with Grauth as planned.
You didn't take the package directly to Malfaedor like we
told you, instead you decided to open up your shop as usual,
and collect a day's profits.  Am I correct so far?"

Leorn nodded in confirmation, his piggy eyes darting back
and forth.  He tried once again to discern the expressions
of the men standing in the shadows but failed.  Falchion
let out a sigh.

"Describe these two gutter-snipes for me again, Leorn."
he ordered.

Big Leorn did so in as fine a detail as he could manage.
When he finished, Falchion looked over the merchant's
shoulder at one of his men.  The man shook his head in
the negative, meaning that the two thieves Big Leorn had
described were not well enough known to be identified.
Falchion closed his eyes briefly, rubbing at his forehead.

"Okay Leorn, you're sure that you've told me everything?"
he asked gently.

"Yes sir." Leorn said humbly.

"Nothing that you might clarify for us, no details that you
might recall later?"

"Sir, I've told you everything." the big merchant leaned
forward, dripping with sincerity.  His eyes beseeched
Falchion to believe him.

"There's nothing more I can tell you."

Falchion let out a sigh.  "I believe you Leorn." He patted
the big man on his shoulder. "I guess we're done with you."

   Relieved, Leorn sagged in his chair as much as the ropes
would allow, the tension running out of him like water.

"Thanks Mr. Falchion,you really had me worried there for a
moment."

Falchion looked at one of the men standing behind the
fruit-seller.  "Kill him."

    The man stepped forward out of the shadows and slid a
loop of wire around the merchant's neck.  Leorn's eyes
widened in abject terror as the cruel metal noose bit
deeply into the flesh of his neck, cutting off all oxygen.
The big merchant struggled wildly against the ropes that
bound him, desperate to claw that noose from around his
throat.  His face darkened; first to red, then to purple.

     Falchion watched as Leorn's struggles became weaker
and weaker.  Finally the big man went limp.  The man with
the wire was cautious, continuing to hold the wire tight
for another minute or so.  Falchion nodded his approval.
If Big Leorn had been equally cautious, he would probably
still be alive.

     One of his men stepped forward.  "What do we do now,
boss?"

     Falchion rubbed his forehead.  He could feel the onset
of a migraine.

"Put the word out.  Let all our 'changers' know that these
two might be trying to fence the artifact.  Get some men
down to the slums, and also the bazaar.  See if they can
find a bump and snatch team that matches the description
Big  Leorn gave us.  I want men out there until we find
these two, is that understood?"

     His men nodded respectfully.  Falchion rubbed his head
again, cursing the pain throbbing in his temples.
"Meanwhile, I'd better go talk to Grace." His tone of voice
made it plain that it was not an idea he relished.



                    ******************


"It looks like a talisman of some kind." Winder said wonder-
ingly. He held the talisman up to the light that shone in
from a hole in the bakery wall.  The talisman spun slowly
on its thin silver chain, reflecting the evening sunlight
in its sinuous coils.  "I wonder if it's a good luck charm?"

     Yvette made no reply, still shut within her nearly
autistic world of depression.  Winder sighed.  His older
sister had not been the same ever since she had been caught
stealing by a Watch Lieutenant the year before.  She had
eventually escaped, but something was different now.  Yvette
had never confided in Winder exactly what had happened, but
the fifteen year old was mature enough to have some suspicions.

    The coals of a long-banked fire began to smoulder again as
Winder thought of the Lieutenant's smirking face.  The teenager
choked his anger down, nothing could be done about what had
happened.  Not yet anyway.

     Needing to blow off some steam, Winder grabbed up his
share of the coins and stood, heading for the door.  He
looked back and saw  his sister sitting silently in the
shadows.  She looked vulnerable and alone.

     Winder went back and knelt down next to his  sister.
He put the talisman around her neck.  Somehow, it looked
right there. Satisfied, he straightened up and went outside.
He had people to see.

     The light of day had long since faded from the sky when
Yvette finally stirred.  She looked at the ten silver coins
gleaming by her feet.  She took them up and hid nine of them
in her secret spot behind one of the ruined ovens. The tenth
she slid within her belt pouch.  She unfolded a threadbare
cloak and wrapped it around herself, then stepped out into
the cool nighttime streets of Generica.

     She walked for a long time.  Finally she stood before a
sign that said:    FUTURIA CRYSTALSHARD: FORTUNE TELLER.
For a long time she stood there, gathering her courage. Then
she took a deep breath, and went inside.



*****************************************************
All characters in this Jake Shade story with the
exception of Futuria Crystalshard are copyrights of
Jeff A. Simon, 1995.  All rights reserved.  The use of
this story for profit is strictly prohibited without
the express permission of the author.
*****************************************************

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