Michael Morris
First Post
I'm going to try my hand at writing some short stories here. I hope they aren't too boring...
It was a clear and cool autumn day. Perfect weather - for a hanging. Or so Teresa grimly thought to herself. Lynch mobs don't like rain too much as it tends to dampen the proceedings.
She shook her head at the ludicrousness of the thought as she stepped out onto the porch of the inn and looked down the street towards the gallows. Despite the hour left before the event a crowd had already gathered.
"What?" came a mock protest beside her. Teresa shot a sidelong glance at the voice and into the eyes of Timmon. He put up his hands in defense, "Whatever it was, I didn't do it."
"You going to go through with this?" she asked.
"But of course," he answered in mock bravado.
"Keep your voices down you two," came a command from just inside the inn's taproom. Footsteps followed, then presently a gruff dwarf stepped out onto the porch. "You know they'll be watching us most closely for trouble."
"Why, who would think that we would..." Timmon began, but a stare from Devon cut him short.
"Rather who wouldn't? Let's go."
The three began moving down the street towards the gallows and a deliberate pace.
"Damn Trishdare. He's such a show off," Timmon complained.
Teresa smiled wrily, "Yes. This will be a new experience for him. Not like you eh Tim?"
Timmon didn't reply other than to gingerly feel at his neck.
"At least it isn't me up there," she added.
"How does that make a difference, or are you saying they'd let you off cause you're human?" Timmon asked.
"I doubt it. I'm Hone Raean, and besides, the ordinance is against heathen magic in general. " Teresa answered, glancing about slightly.
"So?"
Teresa rolled her eyes in annoyance. Timmon spat out, "What?"
"What do I have that Trishdare doesn't?" she asked.
"Breasts?"
Teresa stopped cold and stared at Timmon so balefully that he flinched lest some spell strike him down. Then, almost in a panic he began offering other answers, "Beauty? Charm? Wit?"
Teresa sighed, "You're hopeless."
Devon shook his head and looked around warily once more, then offered, "Teresa here needs those scrolls of hers for power lad - Trish doesn't. So if we can free his hands, he'll be ready to go."
"Oh." Timmon replied, paused, then continued, "I knew that."
"Yes, of course oh master of the obvious," Teresa replied.
Timmon stuck his tongue out at her. Devon ignored his juvenille antics and told him, "Get on with you part of the plan boy, before she smacks your teeth out."
Timmon gave him a sidelong look then obeyed. After he was gone Devon and Teresa continued toward a nearby alley. Teresa looked at him nervously, "Are you sure this is going to work."
"Hey, how many times has Timmon put us through this drill now, four?" Devon said grimly
Teresa's answer was nervous, "Yes, but it's not Tim up there this time. Trish hasn't been in this situation before. If the rope doesn't break clean I don't think he knows how to take the fall without breaking his neck."
"To be honest, Tim doesn't either - he's just been lucky," the dwarf replied with a grin.
"Oh, that's hardly comforting."
"Hey he's the one that decided to throw magic missiles in a bar room brawl."
"But they pulled weapons Devon. You was there."
"Yes, but you know how scared these yokels are of magic."
"Don't I ever," she said with a sigh. She fumbled in her scroll purse and pulled out a yellow parchment, "I'll go tell Trish what we're up to."
"Fine, but don't waste too much time. They won't."
She smiled despite herself, "I know." A few mumbled words later she vanished from sight.
[to be continued....]
It was a clear and cool autumn day. Perfect weather - for a hanging. Or so Teresa grimly thought to herself. Lynch mobs don't like rain too much as it tends to dampen the proceedings.
She shook her head at the ludicrousness of the thought as she stepped out onto the porch of the inn and looked down the street towards the gallows. Despite the hour left before the event a crowd had already gathered.
"What?" came a mock protest beside her. Teresa shot a sidelong glance at the voice and into the eyes of Timmon. He put up his hands in defense, "Whatever it was, I didn't do it."
"You going to go through with this?" she asked.
"But of course," he answered in mock bravado.
"Keep your voices down you two," came a command from just inside the inn's taproom. Footsteps followed, then presently a gruff dwarf stepped out onto the porch. "You know they'll be watching us most closely for trouble."
"Why, who would think that we would..." Timmon began, but a stare from Devon cut him short.
"Rather who wouldn't? Let's go."
The three began moving down the street towards the gallows and a deliberate pace.
"Damn Trishdare. He's such a show off," Timmon complained.
Teresa smiled wrily, "Yes. This will be a new experience for him. Not like you eh Tim?"
Timmon didn't reply other than to gingerly feel at his neck.
"At least it isn't me up there," she added.
"How does that make a difference, or are you saying they'd let you off cause you're human?" Timmon asked.
"I doubt it. I'm Hone Raean, and besides, the ordinance is against heathen magic in general. " Teresa answered, glancing about slightly.
"So?"
Teresa rolled her eyes in annoyance. Timmon spat out, "What?"
"What do I have that Trishdare doesn't?" she asked.
"Breasts?"
Teresa stopped cold and stared at Timmon so balefully that he flinched lest some spell strike him down. Then, almost in a panic he began offering other answers, "Beauty? Charm? Wit?"
Teresa sighed, "You're hopeless."
Devon shook his head and looked around warily once more, then offered, "Teresa here needs those scrolls of hers for power lad - Trish doesn't. So if we can free his hands, he'll be ready to go."
"Oh." Timmon replied, paused, then continued, "I knew that."
"Yes, of course oh master of the obvious," Teresa replied.
Timmon stuck his tongue out at her. Devon ignored his juvenille antics and told him, "Get on with you part of the plan boy, before she smacks your teeth out."
Timmon gave him a sidelong look then obeyed. After he was gone Devon and Teresa continued toward a nearby alley. Teresa looked at him nervously, "Are you sure this is going to work."
"Hey, how many times has Timmon put us through this drill now, four?" Devon said grimly
Teresa's answer was nervous, "Yes, but it's not Tim up there this time. Trish hasn't been in this situation before. If the rope doesn't break clean I don't think he knows how to take the fall without breaking his neck."
"To be honest, Tim doesn't either - he's just been lucky," the dwarf replied with a grin.
"Oh, that's hardly comforting."
"Hey he's the one that decided to throw magic missiles in a bar room brawl."
"But they pulled weapons Devon. You was there."
"Yes, but you know how scared these yokels are of magic."
"Don't I ever," she said with a sigh. She fumbled in her scroll purse and pulled out a yellow parchment, "I'll go tell Trish what we're up to."
"Fine, but don't waste too much time. They won't."
She smiled despite herself, "I know." A few mumbled words later she vanished from sight.
[to be continued....]
