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Message: <blockquote data-quote="takyris" data-source="post: 1739463" data-attributes="member: 5171">Well, since the proposal is closed, I don't see much preventing folks from sharing.  And if this doesn't sell with WotC, it ain't selling anywhere else, so I don't see copyright or story-theft as a realistic concern.  Therefore, in the spirit of putting my money where my mouth is -- here it be, typos and all... <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" />Traveler's Gift: First Ten PagesThe argument started at about mid-day in the market square in Alvirad in front of plenty of potential witnesses."By the Silver Flame!" Skil declared, turning to the hulking warforged behind her.  "Must you make such a dreadful racket?"  They'd just gotten off an arriving coach from Merylsward.  Skil was, at the moment, a lightly built young woman with short blond hair, dressed in simple brown traveling clothes but speaking with a voice several ranks higher up on the social ladder."My apologies, Mistress," the warforged said in a flat voice that betrayed his apathy.  He was carrying traveling packs and had a blade belted at his hip.  "The luggage is quite heavy.""I don't care how heavy it is!"  Skil waved the apology away.  "You were created to serve, you lumbering brute!  Can you not carry a few simple packs without rattling like a dropped kettle?"  The citizens of Alvirad were watching the scene with interest and, in some cases, amusement -- and one young man in a floppy brown hat was eyeing Skil speculatively."I was created for personal protection, not menial labor," the warforged corrected without evident emotion.  "My duties would be simplified considerably if the young mistress would carry more than just her purse."  The young man in the floppy hat became a bit more interested."How dare you attempt to shirk your duties like some common vagrant?" Skil demanded, apparently aghast at this behavior.  "Why, were we back in Karrnath, your master my father would never tolerate such audacity!""However," said the warforged, "we are not currently in Karrnath."  He turned and surveyed the crowd.  "I believe that here in the Eldeen Reaches, my people have significantly more freedom.  I wonder if any would stop me if I simply abandoned you here.""You wouldn't!"  Skil stepped back, one hand clutched to her breast.  "You could not leave me here!  You'd... you'd never see your home again!  My father would... you'd have nothing!""I'll live."  Despite his expressionless face, few in the crowd could doubt that the warforged was smiling as he turned and began to walk away.  Some laughed, and a few shouted encouragement to the warforged or insults to Skil.  One enthusiastic gnome whistled his approval and offered to buy the warforged a drink -- and then drink it for him, of course.The young man in the floppy brown hat, however, made his way forward, jostling the warforged in his haste to get to her.  "Ma'am," he said, his voice a rough country lad's drawl but friendly nevertheless, "I'm so sorry about your warforged.  Are you alright?""I don't understand."  Skil's voice wavered as her warforged disappeared into the crowd.  "How could he?  How could he leave me here alone... unprotected?"  Her eyes began to tear up, and she added, "I... I don't think I can ever get word to my father to get home.  My servant handled all the travel arrangements!""There, now, miss," the young man said easily, gently taking Skil's arm.  "Let me take you to the mayor.  He can get one of the druids here to get a message to your father.  You'll be home before you know it."Letting the young man lead her from the market square, Skil sniffled and wiped her nose carefully with a small silk handkerchief.  She leaned on him ever so slightly as she said, "I'm ever so grateful.  I'm certain that my father will be most generous in his appreciation, and..."  She blinked as they left the square, not by one of the large streets, but through a narrow alley whose walls were permanently locked in shadow.  "Is this a local shortcut?" she asked in confusion."Something like that, miss," the young man said, smiling in the now-dim light.  They came around a corner to find four unsavory men lounging against the wall in the narrow intersection where several alleys connected.  They came to attention as they saw Skil and the young man, and even in the near darkness, Skil could see that each wore a rusty chain-shirt and a long dagger at the hip.  They were grinning."What's going on?" Skil asked, pulling her arm from the young man's grasp and taking a nervous step away from him.  "Who are these men?"  Her voice rose sharply in pitch on the last words, querulous and timid. "These men," the young man said with that same easy smile, "are my business associates.  And as long as you've got enough in your purse to make us happy, our business is brief and nonviolent."  He tugged on his floppy brown hat in a mock bow, and two of the armored thugs moved to flank her."This... this was all a trick!" Skil exclaimed.  "Talking to me kindly, luring me here into this dark alley... you planned to rob me the whole time!"  She looked at each of the thugs as though expecting confirmation."Well, yes."  The young man gestured impatiently.  "I'd more or less thought that was understood at this point.  Now, if you'll hand over your purse peacefully--""Where's the hook?" Skil broke in.The young man sputtered, momentarily at a loss.  It was not just Skil's strange choice of words that threw him, but also the fact that her voice seemed suddenly calm and collected despite all her earlier hysterics.  "I... what?""The hook," Skil said crisply, making an airy gesture with her left hand.  "You were the bait, luring me into the alley, but if you're going fishing, you need both bait and a hook."  Her fingers pantomimed a fishing-hook shape in the air, and the thugs followed her movements curiously.  "For example, in my con, I'm the bait, and the hook..."  She stepped in and drove the heel of her right palm up into the jaw of one of the thugs, who'd been so busy watching her intricate gestures that he'd failed to notice her other hand winding up for the strike.  "...would be a solid right hook."  Skil grabbed the thug's dagger as he crumpled to the ground, and then she dove around a corner and started running."Damn!  Split up and find her!" the young man muttered behind her, and then raised his voice.  "You'll never get out of here!  You might as well come out now and make it easy on yourself!"Skil chose randomly at an intersection, headed deeper into the maze of alleys, and then slowed her pace.  The shadowy alleys would leave the thugs half-blind -- they'd all been human.  Skil, on the other hand, could see just fine.  She ducked into a narrow crevice between two small shops, settled into a comfortable position, and then forced herself to relax.  That was what Garix had always said.  A tense man sends out thoughts that raise the hair on the back of his enemy's neck, but a calm man can walk right by a guard and never be noticed.  A shifter's scent or a kalashtar's mind-magic, it makes no difference: either will sense the spy whose mind shouts "Don't look at me!" before they sense the spy whose mind says nothing at all... One of the thugs crept by, his long dagger out and his eyes alert.  His eyes passed over the spot where Skil hid without pausing, and she studied his face quickly.  Strong jaw, scar along the right cheek, and a broken nose that had been set sloppily.  When the thug was gone, moving around a corner with a stealthy grace that Skil admired on a professional level, Skil shut her eyes, focused, and let the change come.Garix hadn't had to train her in this.  Skil's parents had made it a game as she'd grown up.  Who could she be today?  Could she put on the baker's face?  What about the foul-tempered half-orc who guarded the tavern down the road?  It had always been done in secret, never shown to the townsfolk except to make silly faces as a joke.  This is our home, Little Skil.  We live with these people, and we need to keep their trust.  You must never use it to trick the people who live here... not until you're good enough that they'll never catch you.She twitched the beautiful and intricate web of changeling muscles and slowly felt her shoulders and hips expand while other parts of her contracted.  The shiny coloring of the scar was difficult, but she could make a minor indentation without too much trouble, and she darkened the skin around her jaw as makeshift beard stubble.  The nose flexed into its new position, and a moment later Skil crept out, her dagger at the ready, and headed back toward the young man in the floppy brown hat.She came upon one of the thugs a moment later, and he paused and raised a hand in question.  "She must've circled around," Skil whispered roughly, since she hadn't heard the voice of the man she was mimicking.  The other man nodded and headed down an alley to the left.  Skil smirked at his back.  It was dark, but there was no excusing the sloppiness of hired help that didn't even notice her lack of armor.She shifted back to the face of her blond helpless-woman disguise and came around the corner at an easy saunter, her dagger raised.  The man in the floppy brown hat gasped and took a few steps back as he saw her come out of the shadows.  "I must have been the perfect mark," she said casually, "a naive traveler, all alone and helpless, no friends to notice my absence, my purse practically a gift laid out just for you."  She grinned.  "But then, you know what they say about accepting gifts from the Traveler.""Very resourceful," he admitted, and then raised his hands, fingers splayed.  "But back in the Last War, I was one of Breland's finest battle sorcerers.""Really?" Skil asked, cocking her head and squinting at him.  "You'd think I'd remember you."The young sorcerer glared and took another step back.  "I have magic that can strip the flesh from your bones, lady.""Had."  Skil smiled and leaned against the wall.The young sorcerer blinked.  "What?""You don't have magic, you had it."  Skil pointed at his waist with her new dagger.  "Unless you can cast that big flesh-stripping spell without your bag of spell components."  The young sorcerer glanced down at his belt and saw only a cleanly sliced cord.  "Remember when my warforged friend bumped into you?""Son of..."  He turned, and, as if on cue, Reliance's solid metal fist caught him across the temple.  The young sorcerer crumpled bonelessly to the ground beside the thug Skil had surprised earlier."Took you long enough," Skil muttered to her warforged partner."That gnome really wanted to buy me a drink," Reliance said smoothly, rifling the young sorcerer's pockets.  "And there aren't many of my people here.  It's hard for me to blend.  Ah, here we are."  He held up a thick pouch.  "Just like you said.  Too much money for his own good.  Why don't they ever quit while they're ahead?""Question for the deathless."  Skil's well-trained ears caught approaching footsteps.  "Take the purse.  I'll catch up."  Reliance nodded and departed with far less clanking than he had displayed back in the market square, and Skil grabbed the young sorcerer's hat, set it on her head at a jaunty angle, and then let the change slide across her features again.When the thugs arrived a moment later, they found their leader standing over an exact duplicate of himself, smiling grimly.  "She was a changeling," he explained.  "Thought she could fool us, filthy creature, but I taught her otherwise.""She got anything worth the trouble she's caused?" one of the thugs asked."You tell me," the young sorcerer explained.  "Search her.  I'm going to make sure that warforged of hers isn't waiting around somewhere.  Oh, and don't be too gentle," he added.  "I hear that if you beat them hard enough, they change back into their true shape."Then, tugging on his floppy brown hat in a mock-bow, the "young sorcerer" left the thugs to do their business.END</blockquote>

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