Post by Sir Haymar Glen on Mar 29, 2016 11:17:43 GMT -8
Hey all, here's the latest installment in Skye's story, and my unrestricted entry for the GC, under the extortion category; Chronicles of A Spy; Lair of A Spy
Chronicles of A Spy; Lair of a Spy
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As the sun rose over Durrough, bathing the city in a warm golden light, I beheld a welcome sight; my home.
Three stories high, counting the attic, it sat on a wide thoroughfare, flanked by a smaller avenue on the right, and another house on the left.
The bottom level of my house was solid sand-green brick, with dark green at the corners, and a single stripe of nougat to break up the monotony.
Attached to each ground-floor windowsill was a planter, in which several different kinds of flowers grew.
The second and third levels were waddle-and-daub, tan with brown wood.
The roof was made up entirely of shingle the color of olives.
Striding down the street, I noticed my neighbor’s house, which was pink-and-white waddle-and daub, now had a sign hanging from the second floor.
Stopping, I looked at the sign, which had a depiction of a flower-shaped sweet on it, with words underneath that read; Susan & Sons Gourmet Sweets&Treats.
It seemed my neighbor and her sons had finally opened their confectionary, which they’d been planning for some time.
I made a mental note to drop in later, when I had the time, then continued down the street, stopping in front of my house.
Stepping up to my plain but elegant door, I reached into a pocket and pulled out the key.
As I was inserting the key into the lock, angry sounding, muffled voices from around the other side of my house drew my attention.
Withdrawing the key, I stepped lightly to the corner of my house, and peered around it.
Three large planters dominated the avenue beyond. Two had various elegant arrangements of flowers, and the third had a large birch tree in the middle.
Just past the first planter, at the end of my house, was a young, well-dressed merchant, a look of distress on his face, pinned against the wall by two scruffy-looking, poorly dressed Outlaws.
The first Outlaw, a mean-looking brute with wild blond hair, was holding a knife to the merchant’s chest. In his other hand Wild Hair carried a small axe.
The second Outlaw, who was obviously the leader, was standing with his back to me, so I couldn’t see his face, but I could tell he wore a turban, and carried a short sword. He was gesturing with said sword, and seemed to be making an offer to the unfortunate merchant.
“It’s uncertain times. The roads aren’t safe. Caravans get robbed all the time now, and none of the city garrisons can spare any men to protect travelers. We, however, can protect all you goods and wagons. We can keep away any attacks, and deal with those that still insist on attacking.” Turban Guy spread his hands expansively. “For all that, half of all the profits you make on any one trip seem rather fair, don’t you agree?”
The merchant shook his head.
“I’ve told both of you several times, and I’ll say it again: I don’t need any protection for my wagons. My drivers are capable fighters in their own right, and can take care of any trouble they run into. Besides, I don’t make enough on any trip to pay what you’re asking for.”
I raised an eyebrow. For a guy being held at knifepoint, this merchant had a lot of nerve.
The Outlaws seemed to think so too.
“You got some nerve, talking to us like that,” Wild Hair said, digging the knife a little deeper into the merchant’s ribs.
“I don’t think you really want us as your enemies, do you?” Turban Guy said, in a dangerously silky-smooth voice.
“If you don’t accept our overly generous offer, we might just get angry enough to make you, shall we say, disappear.” He continued.
Wild Hair laughed menacingly.
The merchant gulped, but responded defiantly,
“If you kill me, you’ll never make it out of the city. Someone, the guards more than likely, will catch you before you even reach the gates.”
“Want to bet on that?” Turban Guy snarled, moving closer and raising his sword.
I had seen enough. If I didn’t intervene now, this poor merchant was going to lose his guts.
Stepping out from behind my house, I answered him.
“Sure.”
Turban Guy spun around to see who had answered. When he saw me, a disturbing smile crossed his face.
“ Good ladies shouldn’t interfere in business that doesn’t concern them. They might get hurt.”
I smirked. This buffoon obviously didn’t see the crossbow in my hand, or the katana over my shoulder.
“Are you actually threatening me?”
He took another step.
“Why, yes. You thought you could stick your nose in our business? Well, now you pay the price.”
I grinned, and set my crossbow down next to the nearest planter.
“Bring it on.”
My attitude seemed to daunt him for a moment, and I took advantage of that.
Opting to disarm rather then kill, I closed the distance between us in a flash, giving him no time to recover before I slammed my open palm into his nose, breaking it, and causing him to lose his grip on his sword, which went spinning away.
As Turban Guy reeled, I grabbed the front of his shirt, hauling forward, into the left hook I had waiting for his face. The blow threw him against the wall of my house, were slumped to the ground moaning.
Wild Hair backed up as I approached, a stunned and scared look on his face.
It was only now that I noticed several civilians watching our confrontation in shocked silence, keeping a good distance from us. Behind Wild Hair, I saw a squad of guards rushing up the street.
Wild Hair saw them too, and realizing he was facing me or jail, he chose to attack me.
Easily sidestepping his clumsy axe swing, I hooked my right foot around the back of his left leg, sweeping it out from under him.
He slammed to the cobbles, the breath knocked out of him and his weapons scattered.
I nodded to the merchant, who looked as stunned as the Outlaws.
As I retrieved my crossbow, he seemed to recover, and offered his hand, saying,
“Alan. Thank you so much miss. I’m in your debt.”
I shook his hand.
“Skye. You’re welcome, Alan. Glad I intervened when I did.”
After turning the Outlaws over to the guard and explaining what happened, and accepting an invitation from Alan to stop by his market stall later that day, I headed back to my door.
Unlocking and opening it, I paused to admire the cosy interior I had missed so much.
Expensive paintings, fancy statuettes, carved wood furniture, unique weapons, and other treasures such as rugs all greeted me as I moved from level to level of my house, glad to be home again.
———————————————
After unpacking my stuff, and taking a much needed, luxurious bath in my bronze washtub, I ate a semblance of lunch, composed of what little food I had left in the house, changed to a clean, more comfortable outfit, grabbed my wicker shopping basket, and headed out the door, bound for Durrough’s famous markets.
----------------------------------------
Hope you all like it!
Cheers,
Joshua
Chronicles of A Spy; Lair of a Spy
-------------------------------------------
As the sun rose over Durrough, bathing the city in a warm golden light, I beheld a welcome sight; my home.
Three stories high, counting the attic, it sat on a wide thoroughfare, flanked by a smaller avenue on the right, and another house on the left.
The bottom level of my house was solid sand-green brick, with dark green at the corners, and a single stripe of nougat to break up the monotony.
Attached to each ground-floor windowsill was a planter, in which several different kinds of flowers grew.
The second and third levels were waddle-and-daub, tan with brown wood.
The roof was made up entirely of shingle the color of olives.
Striding down the street, I noticed my neighbor’s house, which was pink-and-white waddle-and daub, now had a sign hanging from the second floor.
Stopping, I looked at the sign, which had a depiction of a flower-shaped sweet on it, with words underneath that read; Susan & Sons Gourmet Sweets&Treats.
It seemed my neighbor and her sons had finally opened their confectionary, which they’d been planning for some time.
I made a mental note to drop in later, when I had the time, then continued down the street, stopping in front of my house.
Stepping up to my plain but elegant door, I reached into a pocket and pulled out the key.
As I was inserting the key into the lock, angry sounding, muffled voices from around the other side of my house drew my attention.
Withdrawing the key, I stepped lightly to the corner of my house, and peered around it.
Three large planters dominated the avenue beyond. Two had various elegant arrangements of flowers, and the third had a large birch tree in the middle.
Just past the first planter, at the end of my house, was a young, well-dressed merchant, a look of distress on his face, pinned against the wall by two scruffy-looking, poorly dressed Outlaws.
The first Outlaw, a mean-looking brute with wild blond hair, was holding a knife to the merchant’s chest. In his other hand Wild Hair carried a small axe.
The second Outlaw, who was obviously the leader, was standing with his back to me, so I couldn’t see his face, but I could tell he wore a turban, and carried a short sword. He was gesturing with said sword, and seemed to be making an offer to the unfortunate merchant.
“It’s uncertain times. The roads aren’t safe. Caravans get robbed all the time now, and none of the city garrisons can spare any men to protect travelers. We, however, can protect all you goods and wagons. We can keep away any attacks, and deal with those that still insist on attacking.” Turban Guy spread his hands expansively. “For all that, half of all the profits you make on any one trip seem rather fair, don’t you agree?”
The merchant shook his head.
“I’ve told both of you several times, and I’ll say it again: I don’t need any protection for my wagons. My drivers are capable fighters in their own right, and can take care of any trouble they run into. Besides, I don’t make enough on any trip to pay what you’re asking for.”
I raised an eyebrow. For a guy being held at knifepoint, this merchant had a lot of nerve.
The Outlaws seemed to think so too.
“You got some nerve, talking to us like that,” Wild Hair said, digging the knife a little deeper into the merchant’s ribs.
“I don’t think you really want us as your enemies, do you?” Turban Guy said, in a dangerously silky-smooth voice.
“If you don’t accept our overly generous offer, we might just get angry enough to make you, shall we say, disappear.” He continued.
Wild Hair laughed menacingly.
The merchant gulped, but responded defiantly,
“If you kill me, you’ll never make it out of the city. Someone, the guards more than likely, will catch you before you even reach the gates.”
“Want to bet on that?” Turban Guy snarled, moving closer and raising his sword.
I had seen enough. If I didn’t intervene now, this poor merchant was going to lose his guts.
Stepping out from behind my house, I answered him.
“Sure.”
Turban Guy spun around to see who had answered. When he saw me, a disturbing smile crossed his face.
“ Good ladies shouldn’t interfere in business that doesn’t concern them. They might get hurt.”
I smirked. This buffoon obviously didn’t see the crossbow in my hand, or the katana over my shoulder.
“Are you actually threatening me?”
He took another step.
“Why, yes. You thought you could stick your nose in our business? Well, now you pay the price.”
I grinned, and set my crossbow down next to the nearest planter.
“Bring it on.”
My attitude seemed to daunt him for a moment, and I took advantage of that.
Opting to disarm rather then kill, I closed the distance between us in a flash, giving him no time to recover before I slammed my open palm into his nose, breaking it, and causing him to lose his grip on his sword, which went spinning away.
As Turban Guy reeled, I grabbed the front of his shirt, hauling forward, into the left hook I had waiting for his face. The blow threw him against the wall of my house, were slumped to the ground moaning.
Wild Hair backed up as I approached, a stunned and scared look on his face.
It was only now that I noticed several civilians watching our confrontation in shocked silence, keeping a good distance from us. Behind Wild Hair, I saw a squad of guards rushing up the street.
Wild Hair saw them too, and realizing he was facing me or jail, he chose to attack me.
Easily sidestepping his clumsy axe swing, I hooked my right foot around the back of his left leg, sweeping it out from under him.
He slammed to the cobbles, the breath knocked out of him and his weapons scattered.
I nodded to the merchant, who looked as stunned as the Outlaws.
As I retrieved my crossbow, he seemed to recover, and offered his hand, saying,
“Alan. Thank you so much miss. I’m in your debt.”
I shook his hand.
“Skye. You’re welcome, Alan. Glad I intervened when I did.”
After turning the Outlaws over to the guard and explaining what happened, and accepting an invitation from Alan to stop by his market stall later that day, I headed back to my door.
Unlocking and opening it, I paused to admire the cosy interior I had missed so much.
Expensive paintings, fancy statuettes, carved wood furniture, unique weapons, and other treasures such as rugs all greeted me as I moved from level to level of my house, glad to be home again.
———————————————
After unpacking my stuff, and taking a much needed, luxurious bath in my bronze washtub, I ate a semblance of lunch, composed of what little food I had left in the house, changed to a clean, more comfortable outfit, grabbed my wicker shopping basket, and headed out the door, bound for Durrough’s famous markets.
----------------------------------------
Hope you all like it!
Cheers,
Joshua
