River City Ransom

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Solo. I'm reworking my previous attempt, here's to actually finishing it this time.

When one travels on the long road between Underwood and Radasanth, they can happen across many a fine establishment. These places serve many purposes and can cater to just about any of your needs; whether you need a bite to eat, a place to stay, or a hard drink to help you forget about that voluptuous elf you dated for a year or two who cheated on you with your half-breed best friend, that bastard.

In particular, roughly two days out of Radasanth sat a pub named The Steel Trident. On the outside, this tavern appeared to be your run of the mill, two-storied place of business; with smoky windows that had green shutters, small cobblestone steps leading up to the old oak door, and a roof thatched out of hay. There was even a sign with the tavern's name burned into both sides of the wood that hung from--what else--a steel, three pronged trident. Inside the bar, one could expect to find more of your average bar fare. Behind the bar, there was an even mix of fine wines, ales, and hard liquors lined on five shelves that stretched from wall to wall. Along the other three walls, there were small, glass encased torches that lit up the place, casting dancing shadows every which way. The numerous patrons were seated at their round stone tables, gleefully intertwining ego and half-truths into tales about the treasures and adventure they had along their travels, each one hoping to out-do the previous storyteller. The people themselves were also an even mix of Coronian races: Humans, elves, dwarves, and the odd orc interspersed here and there. However, there was a small rift in the otherwise positive energy that whizzed around the place.

I quietly sat in the corner of this noisy roadside pub in the Coronian countryside. I've been having a particularly bad day, and I required complete social isolation. But then, common sense dictates that I shouldn't seek solitude in your average watering hole, right? Well, I had discovered when I was sixteen that alcohol helped me achieve a state of mind where I can easily block out the world and its happenings. And so, there I was, drowning myself into a state of blissless ignorance in the darkened corner, while the patrons went about their business of making complete asses out of themselves.

A barmaid cautiously approached my table, careful as to not disturb her customer as she set the fifth drink of the night on a damp napkin in front of me, promptly turning around and disappearing back into the crowd without a word once her job was complete. A small amount of condensation was forming on the glass which contained the Bloody Mary as I slowly reached inside my satchel, pulling out a small glass vial that contained a deep crimson liquid. Suffering from a slight buzz, I popped off the cap and poured its contents into her drink. My lips tingled in excitement, yearning once more for the taste of blood.

I was definitely in one of my moods again; not just any ordinary brood that could've been spurred by a high-priced and low-quality drink, or maybe a torn hem in my purple velvet dress, but this was a whole new level of self-loathing and depression. Everyday over the past week or two, I had been suffering from the same nightmare. And every time, I woke up in a cold sweat, screaming loud enough to wake anyone unlucky to be within a three inn room radius from me. I closed my eyes as the drink touched my lips, the mixture of vodka, tomato juice, spices, and blood swirling around in my mouth, sending my taste buds ablaze; one of the few joys I felt that I had left in life. My thoughts wandered once more to the recurring nightmare.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

I'm in my parents' house again, standing all alone in one of the dimly lit hallways--I think it's the one on the second floor. There are doors all around me. My room is behind one of them. But, every time I turn the golden knobs and swing the door open, all I see is mutilated bodies. They are all faces I recognize, for they were all people that me and my brothers have murdered. The people were in the exact conditions as we had left them; several had cuts across their throats, blood still oozing from the open wounds. Others were missing various appendages from the fights they picked with us. Their clothes were torn and rotting, their faces were contorted with anger and vengeance as they sprung at the open doorway to enact their revenge upon me.

I slam the door right before they can reach me, and I make my way to the next door over. Every time I open a new door, it's the same spectacle over and over. The faces of all those people who lost their lives at my hands... And then, I reach the last door in the hallway, expecting to see the same damn faces. But this time, when I turn the knob, the door reveals my three brothers standing in my old bedroom. Justin, Michael, and Trevor, too. They all have sick, twisted grins on their face except for the deceased Trevor, who still had the sword of the person who had slain him jutting out from his chest. It's kind of hard to see what look he was wearing, for he had his crossbow brought up to his face, looking down the sights--directly at me.

Before I can slam the door shut, my dear brother pulls the trigger of his weapon, firing off a thick wooden bolt that penetrates my chest. I stumble back through the doorway, and my back hits a wall. I can feel my life slowly slipping away as I fall to a seated position on the floor. When I look down, all I can see is my blood streaming out from the chest wound. With whatever strength I have left, I lift my head to look at the family that had betrayed me. With another loud click, Trevor sends another crossbow bolt aimed squarely at my forehead. But before the projectile can hit me...

I snapped back to reality, letting a small gasp escape between my black lips. I was having some serious trouble breathing, taking a few moments to attempt to steady myself and calm down. I quickly tore through my satchel once more, looking for another vial of blood.

Wait! Shit! I poured the last of my stash into my now-politically correct Bloody Mary. My hand shout out like lightning to pick up the drink. Several seconds later, a rush of liquid invaded my mouth as I guzzled down a good portion of the glass' contents, the slight metallic taste that my own special ingredient added to the mix bringing a small wave of calm along for the ride.

I quietly set her drink back down on the table, leaning back in my chair to let out a deep breath. It's only a dream, I repeated to myself. It's only a dream.

It was only a matter seconds before I realized that someone had joined me at the table; my little slice of isolation.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

From the looks of it, the guy must've been a few years younger than I am. He still had a hint of a baby face, although he was futilely trying to age himself a few years by growing a stubbly beard. Behind the three day growth were well defined features and a smile that implied that he could've been one of the good ol' boys from back home. He had a crop of smooth brown hair pulled into a ponytail hidden underneath a black bandanna, his hazel eyes sizing me up like an old acquaintance. He wore a black cloth shirt underneath a tan leather vest. He wasn't a big person, but by no means thin like I am.

In short, he looked as if he perfectly blended in with the rest of the noisy bunch of inebriated slobs at the Steel Trident. I glared at him for another second, annoyed at the intrusion, and returned to my drink without a second though. And yet, I could still feel his overly friendly yet piercing gaze burning a hole in my forehead, only serving to unnerve me further.

"What," I spat at the man, my voice cold and sharp like the winds of Salvar.

His eyes widened at my outburst. "What, don't you remember me? We met briefly in Underwood a week ago."

I continued to stare at the man. I can't recall ever seeing him before, not in Underwood, not anywhere. I tried to rack my brain for any hints of a previous meeting between us, coming up short. Maybe another sip of my drink'll help speed the process up... Or was it because I'm on my fifth glass that I'm having problems remembering the encounter? Impossible. I was barely buzzing--I must have a supernatural tolerance to alcohol or something.

The man's smile slowly disappeared. "You really don't remember, do you..." He shuffled through his pockets, producing a piece of parchment. It lightly landed on the table, where I picked it up and read it.


Help wanted!
My little sister was kidnapped and is being held for ransom which my family is unable to afford!
We need you to rescue her! Pay is negotiable.
Please stop in at the Herald Inn and ask for TB for more details.


Reading the note teased out a few details of the meeting. I remember having an innkeep in Underwood pull me aside and hand me this notice about a week ago. Later that night, I stopped in at the Herald and was shown to--"What was your name again?"

The man across from me pointed a finger quizzically at himself. "Me?"

"You're the only other person at this table, aren't you?"

He blushed slightly. "Oh. Uh, Taylor Baggins."

Right. So I was shown to Taylor's room, where he didn't hide his joy that I answered his cry for help. In his spastic rush of a greeting, he told me to meet him here, in the Silver Trident, in one week's time--which was obviously today. There, he promised to give me all the details and the like, and we could discuss pay then. Taylor left for Radasanth the next morning to try and scrounge up a reasonable sum for my services.

I returned from my trip down memory lane, blankly looking at the kid. "Right, I remember now. Kidnapped sister, family too poor to pay ransom, blah blah blah." I grabbed my glass again and raised it to my mouth. However, I stopped short, realizing that I had already downed the entire thing. Dammit. I made eye contact with the barmaid that had served me so faithfully and silently throughout the night, making a hand gesture to signal that I wanted another round.

She shouted across the crowded, noisy tavern, "Another Bloody Mary?"

"Surprise me," I hollered back.

She smiled, nodded in acknowledgment, and proceeded to mix me another drink. From the way she was furiously reaching for different bottles off the back shelves and pouring them into a shaker, her arms a blurry mess but well co-ordinated in their movements as if bartending were in her genes. I could tell that she was preparing something that she hoped would knock me out cold. I smiled in grim anticipation of the unspoken challenge.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Taylor coughed. "Ms. Freebird, if it's alright with you, I'd like to talk about this outside."

I glared at him in response. "In case you haven't noticed, I have another round coming up. Get yourself something to drink, sit back, and relax."

The poor kid's eyes widened as he tried think of something to say in protest. He was very impatient; I could already tell that we weren't going to hit it off very well. My hand moving like lighting, I removed one of my kris from its sheathe strapped to my lower back and slammed it point down into the table, splintering the wood as the shining steel waved in the air. Taylor immediately shut his mouth and slouched back into his chair.

"If you wasted the time to travel all the way to Underwood to look for someone to rescue your sister, I'm sure you can wait ten more minutes for me to finish my drink."

Taylor scratched his stubble, looking dejectedly over at some of the other patrons. I removed the dagger from the table and slipped it back into its sheathe as the barmaid approached my table, drink in hand. The brunette replaced my empty glass with the new one with one swift, effortless motion. I immediately grabbed it and took a cautious sip. The amber liquid was bitter like all hell, but nothing I couldn't handle.

"What's this?"

"House special," she said with a wink. In my experience, house special usually meant an uncoordinated mixture of whatever they had that wasn't piss and water. The barmaid looked over at Taylor. "How about you, hon? You want anything?"

He didn't look up. "I don't care. Just a beer, I guess."

Good boy.


***

It's dark... So very dark... The girl lay on the floor of the hut, tears streaming down her face. She was tracing shapes with her finger on a small patch of dirt that was illuminated by moonlight that was filtering through a small hole in the wall. Someone will come soon... They have to! She began to sob, clenching her eyes shut and fiercely digging her fingernails into the hard packed dirt.

Hope was the only thing keeping the little girl from biting her tounge off and bleeding to death. It was ten days ago when she was out in the shopping district of Radasanth--looking around for a new dress in which to waste her money on. The girl remembered stopping in front of a window displaying a beautiful blue and white lace dress when the owner of that particular shop caught her daydreaming and invited her to come in to try the dress on. As she giddily went towards the fitting room, she could feel four hands constrain her: Two around her thin waist, one tightly gripping her arm while the last covered her mouth to muffle her screams. She heard a loud whap, felt a sudden jolt of pain, then blacked out.

The girl's hand moved to her forehead, lightly touching the cut that was above her right eye. It still hurt, as such a blow to the head will, but it was beginning to heal quite nicely.

The girl squeaked in surprise as the sound of the padlock keeping the door shut shattered the silence. Someone was removing the lock that kept her caged up like an helpless animal, and she immediately knew who it was.

Iron hinges creaked as the door opened, revealing two men. The first one had slick black hair that fell to his shoulders in a mess, with thin hazel eyes and a grin that hinted that he would love nothing more than to hang you with your own entrails. The second one resembled your everyday hired help; a crop of shaggy blond hair and a vacant yet rough look plastered on his face, one that would enjoy nothing more than to watch his boss hang you with your own entrails. A torch held by the second man illuminated them, giving them a ghastly appearance in contrast to the moonlit sky outside.

The man with black hair entered the hut, slowly advancing towards the girl. Frightened out of her wits, she scampered to a corner; curling herself into a ball and sobbing uncontrollably from fear.

His voice was raspy and thin as he spoke. "Whattsa' matter, girl? I'm not going to hurt you..." He paused for dramatic effect. "Yet, anyways. See, your family has three more days to give me what I want before I start sending them little reasons to hurry the fuck up." The man delicately took one of the girl's thin hands, pinching her forefinger. "I'm pretty sure that this one right here'll make them speed up the process, don't you?"

The poor girl hoarsely screamed, snatching her hand back and hiding it in her side. Nobody wants to lose an appendage. The man evilly chuckled to himself as he stroked a lock of the girl's blond hair. "Don't worry, though. I got faith in your old man. He'll pay up before then."

He drew his hand close to her mouth. As quickly as she possibly could, she bit into his flesh, drawing blood and a painful scream that pierced her ears. The man immediately pummeled her in the stomach with his free hand, causing her to let go and double over in pain.

His voice filled with fury, he screamed, "You fucking bitch! I'll kill you for that! I'll fucking kill you and your entire fucking family!" The man repeatedly kicked her in the stomach as she lay on the ground, until the second man restrained him and pulled his boss out of the small, dark hut.

The girl was left lying there in a puddle of tears, crying out in pain and misery for the rest of the night. Her stomached sent wave after wave of unbearable pain through her body as she clutched herself with her arms.

Please... Mother... Father... Taylor... Save me!

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

***

A perfect Coronian night is something to truly behold. One could look up and gaze upon a vast, black nothingness frequently dotted by small white stars. A moon in the Western sky illuminated the empty fields of the countryside; I could almost pick out the individual blades of grass as they swayed in the light breeze. It was a quiet night; there were no sounds except for the moving waters of the nearby Niema River and our footsteps. I kept my eyes locked on the road ahead. About a mile down, I could see the faint outline of a small town, Molivus.

Taylor broke the silence, eager to talk about anything just for the sake of talking. "It's a nice night out, isn't it?"

"So, about your sister..."

"Oh, yes." His tone dropped back into unhappy territory. "Where shall I start?"

"The beginning, obviously."

"Of course." He dug his hands in his pockets, searching his storyline for a good place to start. "My father... He's a gambling addict. Like, really hardcore. Every night, after closing up the shop, he'd run off to some tavern or club and spend that day's earnings. More often that not, he'd come out a loser; come home empty handed to a family that have suffered enough from his habits. He was driving us down even further into debt."

It's a story I've heard many times before. "What about your mother?"

Taylor's face remained ice cold. "She used to work in the shop as well, but she's been ill for the better part of three months now. We can barely afford her medication--I've taken up odd jobs around Radasanth, and my little sister has been selling her needlepoints for whatever she can get. She's gotten a lot better, but it's still not enough to help out.

"My father... He had this crazy idea in his head that would hopefully eliminate our money problems. He learned one night about a card game held in secrecy every Friday night, a sort of high-rollers exclusive thing. The first night, he went in with two thousand gold and left with three. The next night, he went in with three and came out with seven. That was more than enough to get my mom the medicine she needed, but he couldn't stop playing. And then a month and a half ago, he lost."

But of course. I instinctively raised an eyebrow, opting to keep my personal opinions on his clichéd story out of this. "And then what? He kept on playing?"

"Yeah. He turned to a loan shark for more money to win back his own gold, and he kept on losing. Borrowed some more, lost some more. My father was given a week to come up with the money to pay off his latest debt: Or else, of course. He couldn't, and surely enough my sister disappears and we get a ransom note for twenty thousand gold--which was twice of what he owed that bastard."

I nodded in acknowledgment. "And what about your sister? How do you even know she's alive?"

A small amount of color returned to Taylor's face, as if telling his story lifted a small amount of weight off his chest. "She's alive, but I don't know for how much longer. When I returned home after the night that I met you, my father had received another note from the loan shark with a lock of her hair attached. The note said that they had ten days to pay up if they wanted to see my sister alive."

"What's her name?"

"Huh?"

One small glance at the kid told me that he was stressing out over this whole situation. I almost felt sorry for him and decided that a small change of subject was in order. "Your sister. What's her name?"

"Megan."

"What's she like?" I didn't ask to quell my own curiosity; I could've actually gave two shits less about the girl that I was being hired to rescue. I asked for Taylor's sake. Getting his mind off the kidnapping would do him wonders. I could tell by the tone of his voice and gradual spring in his step that he loved his sister more than the world. He began to spin tales about their childhood shenanigans, about how--well, actually, I don't remember what he said. I tuned out his verbal onslaught as we made our way into Molivus.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

As we entered the sleeping town, Taylor directed me towards the inn that we would be staying at. "We'll be staying here tonight... It's a long way back to Radasanth; we'll need to rest up for the journey."

It struck me kind as strange, however... If his family was over their heads with this ransom, why would he be putting us up in a pricey inn instead of saving money by sleeping under the stars? And what on Althanas spurred him to search for hired help in Underwood, of all places on Corone? Some of the pieces weren't adding up, but frankly, I was getting to tired to care. I'll play along until morning comes, then I'll start asking questions.

The inn was a quaint establishment; a bit homey for my tastes, but I wasn't the one paying, so I had no right to complain--out loud, anyways. We made our way to our separate rooms. "Good night, pleasant dreams, Ms. Freebird," he said before closing his door.

Pleasant dreams, yeah, right. I knew the nightmare was going to come tonight as well, and I dreaded it. I knew exactly what was going to happen and when, and it still frightened me. As I entered my new temporary home, I relied on the moonlight to outline the surroundings. In front of me lay a small bed, big enough for one person. Off in the corner sat a chair and a desk--surely, the innkeeper didn't have much gold saved up when he built this damn place.

I was starting to feel tired as I sat down on the bed. Lack of sleep and nourishment was starting to catch up to me. I unstrapped the belt that held my twin kris daggers, slinging that and my satchel over the chair. I took my boots off, laying them haphazardly on the wooden floor. Allowing gravity to do its job, I fell back, my head lightly hitting the pillow. I could feel the weight of exhaustion dragging me into a dreamland that I had no intention of visiting.

I'll spare you the details, since I already mentioned what this recurring nightmare of mine was. Needless to say, I suddenly woke up, a small gasp escaped my lips. I was covered with a cold sweat, my dress clinging to me in the humid Coronian night. I lay in bed, trying to return my breathing to normal. What does the nightmare mean? I'm already aware that my brothers hate me and all, but... Will my ultimate fate be in their hands?

I tried to put those thoughts out of my head as I attempted to fall back to sleep. I was about ready to doze off when I could hear a slight noise from somewhere in the room. I couldn't quite but my finger on it, but I could've sworn it sounded like the window opening. Then again, it was probably me being overly paranoid over tree branches brushing against it in the wind.

Then a floorboard had to go and creak.

Instinctively, I rolled out of bed just as a steel dagger swiftly came down, slashing the mattress and sending feathers into the air. Looking up from my crouch on the floor, I could see the silhouette of a man, his weapon glinting in the moonlight. Wasting no time, the bastard leaped over the bed, intending to cut me a new air hole. I rolled to the side, delivering a kick to his midsection as he landed. He flinched, grabbing his side, but was quick to try and attack me again.

Whoever this guy was, he was poorly trained. He rushed in, swiping his dagger without taking time to pick a spot to aim for. Effortlessly, I ducked underneath his erratic motions and reappeared behind him. I stood up, kicking out one of his knees in the process. He cried out in surprise, giving me the opportunity to grab his arm and twist it behind him in a hammerlock. I quickly disarmed him, snatching the dagger and giving it a place to rest between his ribs. An arm around his neck prevented him from making too much noise.

"Quit your whimpering," I said, my tone venomous. Didn't this guy's mother teach him not to bother a sleeping woman in the middle of the night? "I'll let you live long enough to tell me who, why, and where I can find them." Several seconds passed, the nighttime air filled with nothing but the pained gurgling of the man as he struggled for breath. Sick and tired of playing the waiting game, I gave the dagger a quick twist. A groan let me know that he was still with me.

"Next one counts. Who sent you?"

A few more seconds passed. My hand was slowly reaching for the dagger again, until I felt a small chunk of flesh hit my elbow. Before I could react further, the sleeve of my dress was saturated with a thick, dark liquid. The man slumped forward, offering no more resistance. He was dead, choosing to bite his tounge and bleed to death rather than confess.

I can't say that I felt bad for him--I probably would've done the same thing, except put up more of an actual fight before pulling the plug. There's a sort of code of honor for us assassins, I guess you could say. Client confidentiality is key, or at least that's how I was raised. I slowly let go of the assassin. His body fell to the floor with a heavy thud, his blood collecting in a small pool near his mouth. Just what I needed: First night on the job, and my body count has already hit one. Oh, well, might as well make the best of it... I'm fresh out of blood anyways.

I stood up and walked over to my satchel, snatching an empty glass vial and making my way back towards the corpse. Out in the hall, I could hear footsteps. Before I could jump to any conclusions, I heard a familiar voice shout, "Hey, is everything alright in there?"

The iron knob turned and the hinges creaked, announcing Taylor's arrival. He glanced around the room until his eyes fell on me and the dead assassin. Even in the low light, I could clearly see the look of shock on his face. "Oh... Uh... Umm..." He continued to stammer as I returned my attention to the body. I removed the knife from the poor man's ribs and slashed it across his wrist, creating a new stream of crimson liquid. I quickly maneuvered the vial underneath the dripping blood. My tounge tingled in anticipation of tasting my foe's blood.

When the vial was full, I placed the rubber stopper back on and tossed it onto the bed. The wound was still fresh and oozing... I couldn't let such an opportunity go to waste. I moved his arm to my mouth, licking and sucking the laceration until the flow slowed down to a slight trickle. I closed my eyes and leaned back as a wave of pure euphoria pulsated through me. This was one of those moments that I actually felt alive--even though I'm not quite sure why. I guess my lust for blood is one of the many things wrong with me that I cannot explain.

I could feel Taylor's fearful gaze burning a hole in the back of my skull, and I could probably guess as to what he was wondering about. "If you haven't pieced it together yet, some fucker tried to kill me in my sleep. He committed suicide before I could find out who he was or who sent him."

A quivering finger rose in my direction. "Y-you just... Drank his b-blood, d-didn't you?"

Sigh. It never fails.

Shaking my head, I stood up. "Help me get this body out of here. I've got some questions for you, but they can wait until morning."

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Morning came early--at least, for me it did. I wasn't able to sleep after what was a piss-poor attempt on my life; every creak in the old floor, every gust of wind blowing on the window kept me from drifting away. But it was either needless paranoia or that damned nightmare again.

So when the sun rose, I was perched on a barrel outside the inn, wearily staring down the glowing orb of fire as it began its journey through the sky. My body was exhausted, yet my senses were as alert as ever. I could hear the small river town of Molivus awaken; the blacksmiths, tailors, and merchants preparing to do business, fishermen ready to make their daily catches in the Niema River. I could practically taste the fresh bread that was being baked next door from the inn--which reminded me, it was breakfast time. I could probably con or at least threaten Taylor into buying me something to eat.

Several minutes later, my latest client stepped into the bright morning. He appeared to be a bit more joyous than the previous night, considering that I forced him into helping me dump the assassin's blood-soaked corpse downstream. Taylor stretched, yawning the last bit of sleep out of his system. He squinted in the bright light and ran a hand through his mop of hair while he spoke. "Morning, Ms. Freebird!"

I acknowledged his presence with a small nod. My bored fingers drew out a length of my choke wire from underneath my sleeve and began to fiddle around with it. The coldness of the flexible metal thread felt nice against my skin in stark contrast to the muggy summer morning. Still playing with the wire, I promptly stood up. "Come. I need to get a bite to eat."

I hopped off the barrel, quickly strolling down the dirt road that served as Main Street. The people didn't pay us any mind as we passed them and their unremarkable shops. None of the swords or clothes looked remotely as interesting as those displayed in the superior shops of Radasanth.

Taylor, blissfully ignorant to the fact that I had to have a serious word with him, spoke. "So? Where are we going?"

I pointed to an alleyway up ahead, one hidden from the normal line of sight of any of the villagers out and about. "There's a restaurant through there. I scouted around this morning."

"Okay! Sounds good!"

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Moron.

As we turned down the alley, I quickly grabbed Taylor by the arm and pinned him against the wall, making sure to cover his mouth so nobody heard him scream. I locked my eyes onto his, speaking in a low, harsh tone. "You're going to answer some questions right now. Got that?" Bewildered gasps tried to creep out of his throat as he rapidly nodded his head. I uncovered his mouth but kept him pinned to the brick wall.

His eyes were wide with surprise, his voice high and quivering from the suddenness of my actions. "What's the big idea?"

"That's what I'm asking you. The assassin who came into my room last night--how did he know I was at the inn?"

"What?"

With one hand, I grabbed the collar of his leather vest. "Nobody just sneaks into an inn in the middle of nowhere to kill somebody. That son of a bitch clearly had it out for me, but the only other person who knows I was there was you."

I think he knew what I was implying, because I could see the terror in his eyes. "W-what?!"

Taylor's head rebounded off the bricks as I threw him across the alley. I lifted him back up to his feet, swiftly pulled out one of my daggers and lightly pushed the tip into his abdomen to show him that I was dead serious. I leaned in close and harshly whispered in his ear, "Say 'what' again! I dare you!"

"Remember last night when I said I'd rather talk about it outside?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Taylor started to regain his composure as I slowly released my hold on him and sheathed my steel kris dagger. "Well, I was afraid that somebody might have followed me into the tavern. Ever since I left Radasanth, I've felt as if I was being followed. That's why I wanted to talk outside--I was sure that if my suspicions were correct, that you'd be able to find out who it was and take care of them."

My blue eyes narrowed at him. "So I suppose the mess back at the inn was my fault because I just had to have that last drink, which gave the assassin time to leave and prepare for the attack, right?"

"Yes! Uh--I mean, no! Of course not!" He was beginning to panic again. I eyed him for a few seconds longer, then stormed out of the alley. What did it matter? I was still alive, and he wasn't. I squinted in the brightness as we stepped back onto the main road. "Radasanth is a good distance away from here. We better start walking."

Taylor cocked his head to the side. "Walk to the city? Don't you think it would be easier to rent horses to make the trip quicker?

"Fuck horses. They're smelly beasts that are only good for making glue and gelatin deserts."

As we continued walking towards the edge of town, a raspy voice cut through the air. "Taylor Baggins! I thought that was you!" I turned my head to see a man with slick black hair and hazel eyes grinning joyously at my client. Taylor jumped at the sound of the man's voice, spinning around quickly to face him. Perhaps I was too hard on the kid back in the alley...

"Oh, uh, hey there!" Taylor's voice was wretched with nervousness. He began playing with the hem of his shirt. "How's it going?"

"Eh, you know how it is. Working on the farm, raising the kids, keeping the girl happy..." The man in dark clothing looked at me with raised eyebrows. "Whoa, did you actually manage to get a girlfriend?"

Taylor's voice cracked. "No, she's just... uh..."

I jumped in to save face. "Traveling companion."

The black haired man place a friendly hand on my shoulder, which I was quick to brush off. "Does this traveling companion have a name?"

"Touch me again and you'll be pulling a severed limb out of your ass."

He wisely stepped away, putting his hands up defensively. "Such hostility, milady. It's uncalled for." Leaning in towards Taylor he whispered quietly, "I thought you had better taste than this. I mean, seriously. Look at that flat chest of hers." I balled my fists, trying to suppress any urges to cause permanent physical damage to this guy.

"Well, I have to get going. If you're ever in town again, stop on by, will 'ya?"

Taylor muttered, "Yeah, sure." A thin layer of cold sweat lined his forehead and he was shaking. There's something odd about that guy, I thought to myself as the man with black hair waved good-bye and took off in the other direction. My client and I continued on our trek towards Radasanth. However, after a while I began to feel sick. I began to have trouble breathing, and I felt as if I would hurl any minute now. I raised a quivering hand to my forehead--I was burning up. Everything was starting to blur--one giant blob of green and brown was all I could see.

What was happening to me?

Taylor looked over at me. "Ms. Freebird, are you alright?" I fell to my knees and coughed up blood. My entire body was in pain--I wanted to cry, but could only whimper. Taylor rushed to my side, trying to hold me up. He shouted my name, but I couldn't hear it. I was already unconscious.

[Lye]

You barely meet the "full thread" minimum at around 5,900 words (5k min) so you get the fill allotment for a no judgement score.

BlackandBlueEyes:

997 XP
88 GP

[Lye]

EXP & GP Added!