View Full Version : Return (Open)
Return
The surrounding alleys lit up with the sudden bright light of the fire, it's orange intensity and sudden heat all the more apparent in the cold night air. The fire burst from the ground or seemed to. More accurately it began at the ground but the three men who had flung themselves away from the fire when it first began neither knew nor cared, they merely looked on in shocked fear as the fire began to scream. A moment later the fire ceased as abruptly as it had begun as a man, tall, skinny and stark naked was flung bodily from the fire and it became apparent why the fire had seemed to scream. To his credit the man landed more or less on his feet and stood up his brown curls still smoldering slightly. He looked at the men and then up at the stars and then back at the men. "Nights get pretty cold in Radasanth even this time of year. Could I?" he asked the man closest to him indicating his heavy coat. Wordless and stunned the man handed his coat over eyeing the viper wrapped around the left forearm of the newcomer. "Much obliged friend." the stranger said sincerely putting the coat on and restoring his modesty. “Now then, if I’m here...” he muttered to himself looking at the stars again, “That would put Wormwood Savings and Loan... Thataway!” And without further ado the stranger set off toward what had been a bank when he had made his deposit so long ago.
Renewal
“Key sir?” the goblin clerk asked again looking the the man up and down dubious of his appearance. “I told you I don’t have a- look, just get your manager and then I’m not your problem anymore. It has to flow uphill sometimes am I right?” “Right away sir.” The goblin said, too professional to let his relief show and went to get his manager. So the stranger waited, taking in the bank’s fluted columns, which were new, and the burly guards, which were not, and concluded that Wormwood’s legacy had done well for itself in the interim. To the old goblin’s credit the branch manager arrived quickly, though that probably had more to do with the strangers aroma scaring away paying customers rather than an actual sense of duty. “Can I help you sir?” the new goblin asked. “Yes.” The stranger said. “I don’t have a key to my box because I use an authorization instead. Box No.1.” The goblin paused trying to decide whether or not to humor the obviously batty human. No one that the manager knew of had ever opened box No.1 and as far as he knew it was the only box in the bank paid in perpetuity. Many a late night shift had been spent with his friends in security idly guessing at the contents of box No.1. In the end professional ethics and simple curiosity won out and the manager retrieved the ledger containing the records for the bank’s deposit boxes feeling the familiar cloak of obfuscation hiding the sounds of he and the stranger from prying ears and blurring their lips as he opened the book. “Name and authorization?” the goblin asked. “Eli Butcher. Fallow field.” said the stranger. The goblin couldn't believe it. It matched. Box No.1 was going to be opened on his watch! Just wait until Jerry in accounts receivable heard this! “Right this way sir.” the goblin said returning the massive codex to it’s place beneath the desk and leading Eli toward the back of the bank and the vault past several burly guards who did not seem the least bit comfortable with the idea of this grubby stranger being allowed anywhere near the vault but were kept at bay by the managers shooing.
After passing through several security checkpoints and upon reaching the vault, the manager approached the elderly goblin seated behind a small clerk’s desk in front of a wall covered in pegs hung with hundreds of keys to the left of the vault’s open door. “Box No.1 if you please Mr. Gand.” The manager said crisply. The ancient goblin, presumably Mr. Gand, didn't even look up at the manager instead producing an extendable wand with a hook on one end, sharpened, under goblin tradition, more than was strictly required for the retrieval of keys. He then shuffled over to the far right of the key wall and retrieved the very first key from eye level without even bothering to use the wand. Wordlessly he shuffled back to Eli and the manager and handed the younger goblin the simple Damascus key. “Thank you Mr. Gand.” the manager said already turning back towards the vault. Inside the vault the manager turned left very sharply leading Eli to box No.1 and handing him the key. Eli put the key into it’s hole with his left hand and shook it slightly. “Oi! Snakey! Do the thing!” Eli whispered. The small viper stuck it’s head out of the sleeve of Eli’s borrowed coat just far enough to take the key in it’s mouth and l allow itself to be used to turn the key. “Much obliged.” Eli said as the snake returned to it’s resting place in his sleeve. As Eli opened the door of the mid sized box the manager leaned forward unable to contain his curiosity. He was sorely disappointed. As box No.1 opened releasing the scent of sandalwood he caught sight of a simple set of linen clothes with a strange black gem resting atop it’s folds and a leather satchel whose contents he could not divine. Eli got out the clothes and satchel, whispered “Fallow field” into the box, shut and locked the door, and began to change into the linen. The manager averted his eyes. Slinging the satchel over his shoulder and placing Snakey in the front left pocket of his shirt Eli asked “Any good taverns around here?” The manager directed him to the Frowning Landslide a few blocks away as Eli grabbed the coat, cleaned it with a few whispered words and left the bank tossing the key onto Mr. Gand's desk on his way out.
Beginning
After returning his borrowed coat with many thank you’s and no explanation given or asked for Eli went to the Frowning Landslide. It was a nicer tavern than he was used to, he thought, surveying the interior and patrons, but that was to be expected in this part of town. “Right!” he said in the silence caused by his entrance, “Who wants to buy me something to eat?”
((I decided to make my first story with Eli a collaborative one. It's more fun that way.))
It certainly is :)
Hope you don't mind that I brought the platoon along. If that doesn't quite gel with any story you have planned, I'd be happy to edit my post.
Someone took advantage of the baffled silence which followed Eli's boisterous entrance, and made themselves heard.
"The midden's out back. Help yourself!"
Carrin turned back to his drinking partners, all four of their faces now plastered with wide, tipsy grins (though none wider than his own). Each man wore the guardsman's red, but there the similarities more or less ended. William was the tallest of the group, a little older and rougher-faced than the almost boyish looking Carrin. He was also the tallest of the group, although, the title could be contested by the next fellow, a slightly hunched, grey-skinned orc. Otto had a physique which was often described in a similar vein as that of draft horses, or bulls, or mountains. He wasn't speaking much, but much of what he was saying was directed to the violet-eyed half elf opposite him at the table, a chap by the name of Orlannes. And still there were more who bore the scarlet, walking around the tavern from group to group. Occasionally, they would cross to Carrin's table and lay a fresh mug down in front of the lad, perhaps with a friendly slap upon the shoulder.
The publican was kept busy with his patron's thirst, ambling up and down the bar as he refilled glasses and shouted to the kitchen. The man had a nervous smile frozen on his face, as though he were thankful for the business, but extremely concerned that the majority of his customers were watchmen. It was an effect well known to those in the guard.
A waitress - heavens forbid a tavern such as this call them wenches - bustled out of the kitchen with a couple of platters, and did her best to manoeuvre her way towards the table. Although the odd wandering soldier managed to pinch something from the plates here and there, the majority of the food found its way in front of the group of four. Carrin and William gave her a warm smile. Orlannes let his eyes wander. Otto also tried to smile, failed, and ended up leering. The waitress replied with another anxious grin, and bustled away.
"It's about bleedin' time", remarked Carrin, eyeing off the piles of food with an expression of simple, ravenous joy.
Ell sighed. Like he’d never heard that one before. Not like he’s never done that before he reasoned, but one look at the food set before the boisterous guards changed his mind. He thought for moment shooing away the bartender about how exactly to get his hands on their food, thought a moment longer and decided that a well placed illusion would do the trick.
The guard who’d made what in his drunken state he considered a brilliant effort at wit, now seemed to have found half a maggot in his sandwich. He blanched and set the sandwich down, raising his hand to call the waitress. His friends however began to guffaw. The large orc, or as Eli thought of him, the smallish house trapped the smaller man’s arm to the table with probably more force than he meant to. The bar shook slightly, or Eli imagined it did, when the boulder masquerading as an orc spoke. “Dare you to eat it Carrin.” He rumbled. More guffawing from the assembled fraternity. The younger man looked around at his comrades and, seeing no sympathy in their faces and giving into their light hearted pressure, picked the sandwich up with the hand not currently being crushed by his jolly hearted friend and began to eat.
“Oh for the love of...” Eli thought bitterly. “Stupid bloody Orcish obsession with stupid dares.” Like that was ever a good way to test one’s mettle. “Sod it.” he thought, “They’ll have to feed me in jail.” Eli began to concentrate. Not on the illusion making him look exactly like the guard standing behind the mountain and his friend who had just finished his truly disgusting tasting sandwich and was now being raised nearly off the floor by the Orc’s enthusiastic victory hand raising to the cheers of the peanut gallery. No, that was easy. Instead he concentrated on the other rapidfire illusions he would unleash around the bar when he enacted plan: Blitz. Idly pulling a chair out from under a random non guard patron, yelled something in orcish he hoped translated to “Weak blooded” but was probably more accurately translated as “He of Elvish lymph fluid” and swung the chair up and over the back of the Orc’s head shattering the flimsy chair and causing the orc to grunt in surprise. Like any good orc, he responded with violence first, violence later, especially when his mother's heritage was so blatantly besmirched. He took a wide swinging backfist towards where he was reasonably sure the blow had come from and sent a very confused guard flying. Eli, having taken the better part of virtue and hidden beneath a table the second the chair made contact with the orcs skull paused to chortle at the sight and let loose with the rest of the planned illusions. A rude gesture here, an “I’m just saying man, if she wasn’t your sister...” there, combined with the liberal amounts of beer (Beer! Real beer! Eli couldn’t remember the last time he’d had real beer. Well, he could but he’d rather not. It hadn’t ended well either.) quaffed earlier in the evening, and it was on. Chairs flew, mugs shattered, Carrin was used as a bludgeoning weapon, all was primed for a relaxing meal in the now abandoned kitchen. Using stealth, illusion, and cowardice Eli made it to the kitchen with only a few bruises and an almost full beer. He made himself a sandwich and settled down to watch adding illusory insults and blows where the fighting looked like it wasn’t intense enough and conjuring small obstacles in the paths of those who looked like they might be winning. “Dinner and a show” he thought as the orc was dogpiled by six of the other guards, “Who says this town ain’t classy?”
Here ya go. Let me know if anything needs editing!
The gaggle of guards bobbed up and down as Otto struggled uselessly against the stained floorboards.
"Thaynes, Bastard, settle down!", yelled Carrin. "What's gotten into you?"
The orc managed to free one long, black-furred arm. It unfolded slowly until one finger stuck out, pointing towards the kitchen.
"That man", said Otto, somewhat muffled underneath the heap, "stole your sandwich."
The other six watchmen turned as one to look at Eli. The newcomer stood in the kitchen, smiling devilishly out at the chaos, with two incriminating slices of bread clasped in his hand. The staff were working around him, piling up another platter of food for one of the other guardsmen's tables. When he saw them looking back at him, he raised his mug at the disheveled group in salutation.
Then he grabbed the platter, and darted out the back door.
"Oi!" The scuffle slackened off, its former participants looking to where the shout had originated from. Carrin pointed a finger towards the exit, angrily. "That bugger stole our grub!"
* * *
The night had that cold, crisp edge you get when the skies are clear and a stinging breeze blows gently, but persistently. A near-full moon flooded Radasanth's streets with soft, alabaster light. It was just uncomfortable enough to drive most people indoors, and so the streets were calm and silent, save for a mild, whistling wind.
Until the rear door of the Landslide crashed open, and a score of bruised and battered guards spilled out onto the cobbles. One at the front caught sight of a figure disappearing down the road, and gave a yell.
"There 'e is!", he cried out.
The mob surged forward. Otto could hear the barkeep screaming angrily behind them, and immediately saw why; the fellow to his left had been in the middle of a game of billiards when the thief had made off with their food, and it appeared that he had been loathe to relinquish the cue. Other guards still carried assorted paraphenalia - mugs, bowls, a couple of chairs, etc. One of the burlier guards was jogging along with a small cask on each shoulder. Otto caught up to him, and grabbed his attention.
"Here", he said, gesturing at one of the small barrels. "Give us one of those."
The man shrugged - an impressive feat under the circumstances - and rolled one off into the orc's open arms. Otto sprinted forward to the front, managing to pilfer a tankard along the way from some other inebriated keeper of the peace, before catching up with Carrin, William, and, funnily enough, Fadime. She hadn't struck Otto as the type to get caught up in this sort of thing. Then again - judging by her expression, she hadn't joined them out of a sense of rough-housing adventure, so much as one of almost maternal responsibility.
Shouts and curses filled the sleepy city as the horde stampeded on like some mildly intoxicated wave, intent on swallowing the madly darting figure ahead of them.
This was not going as planned. First, Eli had been totally unable to evade the guards even tipsy and, Eli checked over his shoulder in a straightaway, still drinking. The guards were gaining on him. Especially the skinny one. Not the elf, the one with the girls name. Karen or some such. That must have been a traumatic childhood. Eli checked over his shoulder again. Yep. The orc was indeed carrying a barrel and gaining on him. Blast that was unfair. Eli began to think that perhaps he had misjudged and that the orc was not an orc but rather some sort of demon or troll. Distracted he promptly tripped, rolled, lost even more ground, and came up running listening to the crows of triumph from his tabard toting pursuers. Why had he taken a straightaway? It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. He needed a plan. A good plan. Well, a not terrible plan. Eli darted down a side street, still far enough away from the snatching hands of perfectly justified comeuppance to have time to try to lose them in the back streets, and hoped it didn’t lead to a dead end. It did. Anytime that plan wanted to surface would be great. Just any old time.
---
“Sucker.” Carrin thought, “Fishburn ally is a dead end. Must be new in town.” His guard sensibilities working even in the middle of a semi-official drunk rumpus. He’d make inspector for sure. He skidded to a halt in front of the ally, thought to be fair it was really more of an alcove and, being well ahead of his comrades, decided to proceed alone. “Heck with backup,” he thought, “maybe this rutter will resist arrest. That could be fun.” Stepping into the alley he noticed the two enclosed doorways. Rolling his eyes he walked as silently as he could towards the one which seemed to be trying to muffle it’s heavy breathing. Jumping out in front of it and easily deflecting the clumsy punch he had expected he quickly subdued the stranger holding his face against the wall of the alley. His comrades arrived in short order.
“It’s alright sir! I’ve got him!” Carrin called to Otto.
Arriving at the scene and surveying the struggling fugitive of sandwich justice, Otto laughed.
“Carrin you idiot.” He said chortling and tossing aside the mug he had needed during the run and taking a pull directly from the now considerably lighter barrel.
“What?” Carrin asked having exhausted his reserves of guard-think a subdued fugitive ago.
“When do you catch an illusionist?” Fadime sighed patiently.
“When he wants you to!” crowed the stranger from the rooftop above as the illusion Carrin had subdued faded away seeming to look over it’s shoulder with a positively draconic grin plastered on it’s face. Looking up, the assembled bringers of justice just caught sight of the stranger seeming to split in two before two identical men began to run opposite directions along the rooftop.
Aaron Coppercut was not having a good night.
Lieutenant Orman's platoon had hit the town to celebrate the milestone birthday of one of its members, which left Aaron's squad to pick up the slack and pull a double shift. Currently, this consisted of taking inventory for their company. He and a couple of other privates were somewhere in the bowels of the fort, huddled together in a feeble pool of yellow light and ticking items off a checklist. Just a few metres beyond the reach of their lanterns, the darkness regrouped and defied any attempts at illumination.
"Bugle?" Aaron enquired, in a monotone voice. One of the other men rummaged around a cluttered shelf and extracted a dented, slightly verdigris-coated instrument. Aaron tutted, ticked it off from his list, but added a disparaging comment about the maintenance of the item in question.
"Alright", said Aaron. "Drum."
Before they had a chance to find their next decrepit piece of equipment, they heard the door to the storeroom rattle open. The three of them peered back into the shadows, towards the sound of approaching footsteps, until a grizzled, bearded face finally focused in the lamplight.
"Evenin', lads", said sergeant Turner. "Drop this, and kit up - we're heading into town. Aaron, go rally the rest of the platoon and rendezvous out front of the barracks."
"What is it, sir?" Aaron asked.
"We're getting a lot of complaints - there's a large group of drunks using the rooftops as a thoroughfare, causing trouble, trespassing. We're going to need to round them up before they break in some poor bugger's roof, or one of them has a slip and winds up with a broken neck."
"That's a new one, sir." Aaron sounded slightly amused. Turner, on the other hand, snorted sharply in response.
"Then you haven't been around very long", he growled. "Get moving."
* * *
"Get moving!"
Otto shook his head at Carrin's slightly slurred command. "Oh, no. Not again", he said, defiantly. He had a long history full of even longer drops, and had begun to suspect that his poor track record had moved beyond mere coincidence and into the realm of particularly vindictive divine intervention.
"He's got our sandwiches!", yelled Carrin. Otto wavered; it was a pretty convincing argument...
The large man who had the other cask brushed past Otto and began boosting watchmen up to the lowest lying rooftop. Otto settled his barrel on the ground and did the same, then climbed up with the aid of the other fellow once they were the only two left on the street below. The man passed up both casks, and Otto reached down two long arms to help him up. Many of the other guards had already departed, chasing after one or the other figures they had seen dart off with their food. The burly fellow grabbed his own barrel and followed after them. However, Otto saw that Carrin, William, Fadime and Orlannes had hung back to wait on him. Otto took the bung out of the cask and began filling their mugs.
"So, which way do we go?", asked William.
Otto glanced in both directions, at the disappearing backs of moonlit guardsmen. After some deliberation, he nodded to his left.
"You can smell him?" continued William. Otto shrugged.
"I can smell him going in both directions", he said. "But the sandwiches went that way."
"We should catch up", Fadime suggested. The others nodded in agreement, and drained their ales.
Otto grinned. He didn't know about the others, but he could run all night. What little gap that Eli had managed put between himself and them was sure to dwindle as the chase dragged on. And then...
... then, sandwiches.
Smell! That had to be it! The Orc was following the scent of the sandwiches in his pocket. Orcs could do that right? Or was that trolls? Probably both Eli guessed. Eli let his double dissolve into the air. What next? More illusions? No. Way too hard to keep a convincing one up while running over rooftops. Besides, he was getting hungry. Being a fugitive from justice tended to do that. And like that the solution, and his earlier imbibitions, hit him like a flash: “I’ll just eat the sandwich and then he’ll have nothing to track!” Eli thought. Then Eli did the second dumbest thing he had done all evening; He tried to eat a rather large sandwich, on the run from the guards, across rooftops, at night, while slightly sauced.
To his credit Eli only tripped twice and wiped out completely once before Otto and his compatriots caught up with him. Eli was was busy trying to extricate himself from an extremely unreasonable cat and bucket when the guards caught up to him Carrin in front and Otto bringing up the rear. Carrin skidded to halt in front of Eli. “Uhhhh... Parley?” Eli asked knowing the answer.
“Oh scr-”
The summer before last this particular roof had been re shingled. Being that shingling is dangerous and difficult work, the landlord had hired a random teenager to do the job. Now James Malk was a healthy young man with a healthy young man’s proclivities and was understandably, albeit momentarily, distracted by the Fadime's furious and sparsely attired pursuit of the East Street Goblin’s Great Guard Panty Raid ‘06. Either that or there really is a god of pratfalls who has it in for Otto. Either by coincidence or malicious divine intervention, Otto attempted to stop on the only loose shingle on the entire roof. It did not hold firm as any self respecting shingle would have. In the course of his attempts to maintain his balance Otto threw his arms wide. He would have succeeded in staying upright where it not for the fact that the shingle prevented him from stopping and sent him careening into the others and with them, off the roof.
---
Otto’s head hurt. Someone was being loud. “Otto!” it sounded like. They weren’t stopping. Otto grunted, hoping they’d go away and let him die in peace. They didn’t. Otto thought about opening his eyes but decided that would be awful and went for one eye instead.
“Otto!” Fadime called again.
Otto found her. There were bars between them. When did she get locked up?
“Good. You’re awake.” growled sergeant Turner. That woke Otto up. If he was on the other side of the bars that meant Otto was the one locked up. And then it all came back to him, Carrin’s birthday, the drinking, the illusionist, the more drinking. At least the headache was explained. He groaned. “You remember. That’s good. Mess is in ten. I’ll be back then to get you. In the meantime try to make yourself presentable. The Colonel is here.” Said Turner. As the sergeant left the cell block Fadime handed Otto a clean uniform through the bars of his cell.
“Breakfast?” Otto rasped through his parched throat.
“Big ole’ greasy bacon fry up, courtesy of the Colonel.” Fadime replied apologetically over her shoulder as she left.
“Sheesh, I thought they’d never leave.” Said Eli from the cell across from Otto’s. Otto groaned again. “Listen mate, I’ve done the prison thing before and it’s really not my scene ya dig? I don’t see your buddy girls name about. I think he got banged up worse than we did.” Otto began to protest. “That’s nice. Look, I kinda almost feel bad about crashing his party or whatever. Give him this,” Eli tore a small stip of cloth off of his tunic and hummed a few bars of strangely spine tingling music into it.. “ and tell him it entitles the bearer to one free reasonable favor from me on redemption in perpetuity. He might want to hang onto it for a bit.” Eli then conjured up a cell key, unlocked his cell, tossed the strip of cloth into Otto’s cell and absconded from view, ignoring Otto’s protestations. Otto sat stunned for a moment. He didn’t have time for this. He put on the clean uniform and, after a moments thought, pocketed the cloth. It’d make a good souvenir at least and besides, who knew, mages were weird like that. Regardless, he had a banquet to not throw up at.
"There aren't any panties in Radasanth."
"Well duh. The goblins got 'em all."
And I think I'm done. Unless Otto has some edits, this thread is ready to be judged. Fun little vignette even if I did take too long cause of school and even though I was wildly outclassed as a writer by my partner. Anyway, I wanted Otto's guys to get something out of this, hence the cloth. Otto, PM me for the details if you want to keep it.
JUDGEMENT!
Quentin Boone
06-04-14, 12:55 PM
Thread Title: Return (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?25650-Return-%28Open%29)
Judgment Type: Basic
Participants: Eli and Otto
Feedback
Otto:
Strengths:
Your writing is very strong, especially in the realm of Mechanics. There were no noticeable spelling or grammatical errors and you demonstrate comfort with your style.
Your communication was very good and felt consistent and accurate for the characters you portrayed.
You do a great job of portraying your characters, even with minor NPCs they all felt alive and real.
Weaknesses:
There was a lack of description in terms of the setting which made it difficult to picture the environment your characters were in.
A few more metaphors would have helped to add colour to your posts; though they weren't bland, they felt a little on the clinical side.
There were a couple of instances where perspective of your narrative changed from omnipresent which were slightly distracting. When describing the night air, you switched to 2nd-person, and later on you took a character-based perspective in your narrative. Though neither were recurring issues, it's worth keeping in mind to maintain consistency.
Eli:
Strengths:
You did a good job of moving the plot along by providing prompts for your partner to respond to.
You have a knack for portraying your character well, and his brashness and arrogance really shone through.
The use of internal dialogue helped with your character and felt real.
Weaknesses:
You also struggled on setting here. Remember that you need to describe the setting so that your readers can get a feel for where your characters are.
Although this improved as the thread went on, you had some issues with structuring your writing properly. Remember that when a new person starts to speak, you should start a new paragraph.
Be wary of controlling another person's character without their permission. Your bunnying of Otto in the third post felt very out of character for him, for example. Bunnying is fine in quests if you have the other person's permission, but make sure you double-check with them what their character would do in a certain situation.
Eli (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?17044-Eli) receives:
280 EXP!
40 GP!
Otto (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?16653-Otto) receives:
308 EXP!
30 GP!
Congratulations!
Please reference this judgement in future Basic Judgement requests so you can be considered for bonus rewards.
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