The stories so far, Edited and ready to roll. Options

[Troika]

OK, this thread will contain any and all stories that are posted on the geocities site and labelled as edited. These babies we don't have to worry about until it actually comes time to stick em in the game.

I will sort out this thread... in other words, please do NOT post up stories yourself... it could lead to multiple copies which could prove problematic later.

Also, please keep posts in this thread to a minimum. This is mainly just a place where people have quick and easy (although not necessarily organised) access to the stories already finished with.

[Troika]

Section: Stories

Written by Ferrin Trieteip (Michael Edwards)

Written by Michael Edwards

Fate and Fortune

Ferrin Trietep


Rain pattered on the roof, it's rhythm growing and fading as the storm let off for a bit. The hooded traveler would have burst out laughing with glee, had he not been running for his life. Apparently, guards didn't take to well to having their mothers compared with women of ill-repute. Or to being spit on by a wanted man. And so, here he was, hiding in the upper floor of the nearest house he could sneak into, listening intently for footsteps. Or at least he would have been if the damned rain hadn't been making such a racket. As it was, he sat listening for telltale signs of entry . . . such as a key scraping in the lock, or someone swearing at the sight of his muddy boots on the floor.

"Pity I didn't notice them until I was halfway across the floor . . ." Giladar shrugged off the thought as a useless wish. As it was, the owner of the house would come home to find his lovely, expensive, deerskin rug tramped over in boots, slick with mud from the rain outside and soaked besides. But, as always, Giladar had made this piece of misfortune into a helping hand, tramping over the rug and opening the window just beyond in an attempt to fool the authorities into believing he had gone out the window. The wizened dark elf laughed to himself, imagining the consternation his most recent 'acquisition' must be causing. He fingered the jeweled amulet in amusement, having just stolen it from the manor on the high side of town.

"This must be worth at least six-hundred drakes . . ." Giladar could almost make out his reflection, even in the dark of the crate in which he currently resided. He would sell it for a fair amount to a friend of his, who took care of such matters. It saddened him to think that he might have to give up his profession soon, being so well-known. After all, who could trust a man whose face was on wanted posters in at least six different towns? His smile twisted into a frown.

"It is a pity to have to give up such an amusing sport in so short of time. Price of being too lucky. Ah well, I've made enough out of it so far . . ." The thought made him chortle with amusement as he recalled various escapades where his good fortune had just barely seen him through.

"Old Jaden . . . I would love him to see me now . . ." The wood-elf and he had been . . . rather bitter rivals. Never violent, but always scheming against one another. There differing styles had clashed many times, most of which had put Jaden just a few steps behind the thieving dark elf. Where Jaden was slow, but thoughtful, Giladar was rash but quick. Where Giladar was inexplicably fortunate, Jaden was seemingly cursed with bad luck. He smiled in amusement at their last conversation, held in a crowded bar in a town long-forgotten.

"It appears my luck is better than your skill yet again, wood-elf."

Jaden had smiled, partly in amusement, partly to keep up the appearance of two old friends. It wouldn't have done to call the town guard on them both for brawling.

"You trust too much to your luck Giladar. It blows with the wind, you know." And with that, Jaden had finished his drink and left. Giladar had never heard of him again until a few days ago, he was reported dead after rather uncharacteristically missing a poisonous trap in a nobleman's home.

A scrape came from the door, jerking Giladar out of his reverie. He tensed, fingering his dagger in his nervousness.

". . . time delay . . . of thing." The conversation was quiet, and he couldn't hear it all. "Amulet . . . stolen . . . luck . . . Jaden" So, they were discussing his find, and his rival. Giladar nearly laughed at the irony. Footsteps, slow and thumping, came across the downstairs floor.

"Son of a miserable imperial heliopause!"

Giladar fair shook with laughter, and holding it down was perhaps his hardest task of the evening. His handiwork with the rug had indeed been discovered.

The blade against his throat, however, caused him to stop. Thoughts of escape flashed through his brain, and he pushed his arm up to parry the blade away. Except his arm wouldn't move. He realized in horror that his entire body was frozen, the amulet now glowing malevolently in his right hand.

"So you are the thief, aren't you? Not that you can talk, of course." The mysterious man laughed as the town guard tramped into his home. "Guards! Up here." Again the man laughed. "Jaden, come in here."

Jaden . . . but he's died . . . Giladar thought, his breath escaping in what would have been a moan.

"You were right Jaden, that amulet's done the trick. How did you know he would hit that house?"

"We were rivals. I was certain he wouldn't be able to let go of it without proving, once and for all, that he was better than I."

"Well, in either case, he’s stolen enough to warrant the death sentence. To be carried out in a week or so. Should we remove the amulet?"

"And be paralyzed yourself? Why don't we just let him stay that way?"

Giladar would have cursed fate and fortune, had his throat been capable of moving.