(another?) Fantasy Story Thread

In the spirit of other story threads, I felt like starting one for a fantasy story. I’m not a writer, so I’ll probably be heavy handed and amateruish in setting up the characters. Please forgive me.

Sarah was naked and wet. That was okay with her, what with her taking a bath and all. It was the first bath she had taken in a long time, and she needed it. Since coming to this place she had learned that soap was a rare commodity. Urban adventuring, and by urban she means any crowd larger than just herself, often required a scarf drenched in perfume just to keep from passing out from the odors.

This was also the first safe place she had been in for some time. She took the opportunity to relax and ruminate on her situation. It was a weird situation. She had been out turkey hunting with her trusty twelve-guage when the feeling of being severely anesthetized overtook her. Next thing she knew, she was watching the Soldier and the Thief being attacked by a large mob of, ugh!, goulie-thingies. They were disguisting. All her shot-gun shells and a critically bent barrel later she had two loyal friends and a distinct feeling that she wasn’t in Kansas anymore, so to speak.

The Soldier made an interesting study. A consummate professional who had worked his way up to the officer class, he was a captain in the Rhuman army before the empire was destroyed. Evidently, the barbarian tribes to the north of Rhum, in an effort to break the empire, cast a Spirit Conjure spell of epic proportions. This had the effect of using a hand grenade in a phone booth. The barbarian tribes were wiped out; the Rhumans, having the organization, disclipline, and, let’s face it, bureaucracy that would have made Rome herself envious, managed to come out of it with a handful of semi-connected and viable city states. The Soldier hiked through the wastelands in search of his own demon to slay – literally!

The Thief is the Soldier’s partner and travelling companion. They met somewhere along the way and stuck together: he providing protection; she providing income. A girl of about sixteen and beautiful by any measure, the Thief does not fit the image of an accomplished pick-pocket, lock-smith, and cat-burgler. Sarah suspected that the Soldier was a family man; the Thief seems to have have filled a familial hole emptied in the Spirit Holocoust. The girl could not have hoped for a better protector and guide.

As for Sarah herself, how should she be described? As far as looks go, she wasn’t ugly. Some think she’s attractive; some think she has a great personality. She had been an accomplished student of mediocracy in her former life. A mediocre history student in college, a mediocre outdoorswoman, a mediocre member of her college fencing team. Not from lack of native ability–excellence just didn’t seem worth the effort. She did wonder why she was there, as opposed to anybody else. A few hundred hours practicing with an épée had been better than average preparation for a new world of pre-gun weapons technology. Almost all of the vestiges of the modern world that she had owned have been stolen or lost at this point. All that remains are her hiking boots, bra, and her permanent match.

On the other hand, she had gained (stolen) a rather fine sword, a bit of magic therein. To look at it, you’d think she had Indigo Montoya’s sword from The Princess Bride. But it moved like her old épée from the fencing team. She had it in the tub with her…just in case.

She wasn’t too worried though, the Otesh was guarding the door. He was the last member of the group. Picture something half-human, half-ogre, and instead of a club it has a bow the size of a small tree. It was next to impossible to hire an Otesh mercenary, but if someone could put together a brigade of them, with a couple hundred thousand arrows, they would be unstoppable. This one had been choking on a hunk of mutton. An Atomic Heimlich with Sarah’s foot earned his eternal loyalty.

There was a knock.

“Come in!” She called out. The Soldier entered. “Oh, hello William, what’s up?”

“Elizabeth ‘obtained’ some information I thought you’d like to see.”

“Hmm. Anybody see her?”

“No. But it was risky. I wish she’d play it safer,” he said. “It seems that there have been reports of one Edward Kochla, Wizard, Alchemist, & Vivisectionist, has been spotted lurking around the town of Elkor.”

“Where’s that?”

“Northwest, over the Opine Pass.”

“What’s your opinion on that?”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled. “Why is he moving around so much? I thought wizards liked to settle down into a nice laboratory to do research.”

“I’m assuming somebody serious is after him. But he just might be searching for material–you know, eye of Godel Mountain Newt and that sort of thing.” She decided to skip the math pun. “Regardless, we still need to find him.”

“Yep.”

“I’m sure Elizabeth is well on her way to wearing out our welcome here. I’m beginning to think she’s a kleptomaniac.”

“A what?”

“Kleptomaniac,” she said. “A person who steals compusively.”

“Mmm. Yes. She says that she needs to practice, and she’s the professional in that area. So far I’ve just taken her word.”

“This border town is giving me the creeps, anyway. Suspiciously quiet.” She rose from the tub and began to towel off. William stood there looking at nothing.

“Should I tell Bill to get ready to move?”

“Yes,” she said. “I think that’s a good idea. Unless you think it is too late in the day to start. One more night won’t kill us.”

“Let’s move out. It’s still early and we’ll be able to get a few miles behind us. Elizabeth earned enough money in the last town for me to buy a clydesdale and saddle for Bill this morning. Two clydesdales actually, just in case he rides one into the ground. He’ll have to learn to ride the hard way. Bill: the world’s first Otesh calvary man!” William added with amusement.

Sarah had dried off and William helped her into her leather & mail armor. She was suprised at how easily it moved. It was suprisingly light, had a suprisingly tight weave, and looked like titanium.

“That is a fine suit of mail you’ve got there, young lady,” William commented. Sarah blushed. William had disembowelled five men with his gladius to get that armor for her. It was the sweetest thing anybody had ever done for her. “I’ll get everything ready,” he said as he bolted out the door.

Sarah went the window. It faced north. She leaned out to try to see Opine Pass off to the left. She knew that she had no idea what lay ahead. This was neither the first, nor the last, time that she would wish that she still had her shotgun. And some shells. Only time would tell what lay ahead.

Two days have passed without incident. Something was bothering Sarah. She normally didn’t pry into Elizabeth’s affairs vis-à-vis her chosen career. But she couldn’t help wondering how she had obtained enough money for two expensive and fairly rare horses, with plenty left over by the looks of it. It was simply not reasonable.

They had been skirting the border between Kur and Ket for almost a month now. The region was barren, broken, and brutal. Maybe not that bad, but it could support no agriculture or horticulture or livestock. Where the ecosystem could support settlements, the politics couldn’t. This strip of land has been in dispute for centuries and was subject to frequent raids and reprisals. The two sides had fallen into an uneasy equilibrium where the only established human habitat was a string of occassional border towns that catered to trade in slaves, information, and assassinations. None of this spoke of a cache of loot of the size Elizabeth must have taken. She could take it no longer. “Say, Elizabeth,” she called out.

“Yes?”

“I’ve been wondering…do you remember that town before last? I think it was called Ut?”

“Yes.”

“That’s where you made that big score, right?”

“Yes. Some guild. ‘The Fraternal Sportsmen’s Society’ I think it was. It was that big, walled compound we passed when we first came into Ut.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that building. What sort of guild is it?”

“I don’t know. Security was actually pretty good, so I didn’t have a chance to look around too much.”

“How did you find the cache?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “Dumb luck.”

Sarah looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Really,” Elizabeth said. “Some guild member was just opening the lock box. It was well hidden. I just happened to be there at the right time. So I knocked him out with my blackjack and emptied the box.”

Sarah chuckled to herself. “Quick thinking.”

William turned in his saddle and looked at them. “Do you think there is much hunting in this territory?” He asked.

“Sportsmen, you mean?” Asked Sarah.

“Yes,” he said evenly. Sarah and Elizabeth contemplated this. Finally William said, “They’re not exactly sportsmen. Or perhaps more accurately, they’re sportsmen, but they don’t hunt animals. It is the assassin’s guild.”

“You’re joking,” Sarah said with sudden seriousness.

“Not at all,” William replied.

“Ain’t never been hunted by assassins a’fore,” Bill interjected.

“I wouldn’t think so,” said William. “What do you all say to riding in a more defensible manner? Bill, you on the right; Sarah, you on the left; Elizabeth, you in the middle with the horse lead.”

They complied. William rode in front of Elizabeth. Bill readied his bow. He didn’t need to string it since it was made of Bruce’s Yew. Being on the right took advantage of the fact that he was a left-handed archer. Sarah was left-handed as well, which made shooting clumsy for her. Since this was their agreed upon marching order, however, she had been practicing her right-handed archery and was lethal at a short, but non-trivial, range. William retained his Rhumian war bow; Elizabeth, with some effort, cocked her crossbow.

“Do you suppose they know that it was me?” Elizabeth asked.

“Better safe than sorry,” William replied. He swung his horse around and broke into a gallop in the direction they had come from.

Elizabeth looked guilty. “Do you think he is angry?”

“Not with you.”