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Avice
The Insult
I was strolling thru the streets of Britain when I came across
two gentlemen who began shouting, “Thief! Look! He’s a
rogue, don’t let em near you!” (This was back when Lord
British’s magic power was so great that everyone was blessed
with the ability to ascertain the profession and skill of another
with a simple glance.) I felt that this unnecessary outburst
deserved some attention. I casually strolled up to one of them,
looked him in the eye, and then jumped behind him.
“HELP! Guards! Thief! Guards, Help!” His friend
joined in with raucous cries of ‘GUARDS!’ as well.
I had done nothing.
They began running down the street, screaming at the top of
their lungs that they required the guards’ attention. I
followed, staying right on the heels of the one that I had first
intimidated. Eventually, they tired, and had to stop. I remained
directly behind HaPPy, the fool that had first accused me of
being a thief.
“Are you done yelling?” I asked.
“F*** YOU! GET AWAY FROM ME!” was his response.
I heard him organizing his pack. Since his friend had run off,
there was nothing to stop me from taking a quick peek at his
belongings. While he was organizing, he failed to scream for the
guards. I looked carefully at the various regents, gold, and
other items worth “requisitioning” from this jerk. His
pile of gold, amounting to 400 GP (A goodly amount for the time)
was being buried under pieces of leather and chain armor. I
figured it would be difficult indeed to get at the gold. However,
I had a plan.
“GET AWAY OR I’LL F***ING KILL YOU!” he
whimpered, and took off running again.
“It will be difficult indeed to attack me, since the
guards disdain that sort of thing.” I explained.
I continued to follow this mortal, who seemed so in love with
his possessions that my mere presence scared the wits out of him.
The seed I had planted in his mind about the guards stopping
violence began to mature. He crossed the bridge that would lead
out into the wilderness, just as I had wanted him to. Apparently,
he thought that this unarmed, unarmored rogue would be easy
pickings. As soon as we crossed into the wilderness, I grabbed. I
was the proud owner of a chainmail tunic. I quickly slipped it
over my head. As soon as he noticed me do this, a string of
insults that would make a drunken sailor blush flowed out of his
mouth between the shouts for guards. I was not idle, however.
While he was swearing and running, I grabbed at the gold. Perhaps
it was that he was moving too fast, because I was unable to get
my hands on it.
HaPPy whirled and took up a fighting stance. Nonplussed, I
grabbed some studded leggings, and slipped them on. “STOP
THAT, YOU F***ER!” was his response.
“Why should I stop? You yourself said that I was a thief.
Is this not what thieves do?” My response was given while
dodging his blade. The fact that he was not particularly good
with his scimitar indicated that he must had been lucky indeed to
gain the status of Journeyman. I decided to find out just how
lucky he was. My fencing was not up to par, but I pulled my
dagger on him anyway. His swings were wild, but I managed to get
some good hits on him. My life waning, I uncapped a drink that
brought back life. I felt the best strategy now would be a hasty
withdrawal to the city. Never did I guess he would follow me into
the realm of the demented Halberd swingers. As I ran thru the
streets, bystanders noticed HaPPy’s less-than-benign
stance and called for guards. They were on him in an instant. I
had run too far from the site of his death to hope that the gold
could still be mine, but felt that I had check just to be sure.
As I pushed thru the crowds, I looked upon his body, now stripped
of all its belongings, and wondered if he would be so quick to
shout insults at passing rouges again. As I turned to leave, I
noticed that the five or six “Carrion Crawlers” that
had rushed to the site of HaPPy’s demise were all busy
organizing their new
belongings. Realizing that I might still walk away with some
gold, I grabbed blindly into first one pocket, then the next.
After 2 successful swipes, I made haste from the crime scene.
Sadly, the mortals either had too many useless items, or my luck
had run sour, for the items that I had gained were mere
metalworking tools and an empty leather bag.
Discouraged that my costly search for immortality would have
to wait yet again, I began to absently stroll down the streets,
keeping an eye out for a mortal that wished to donate to my
endeavor.
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Stratics Central
