| Stand Alone | |
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| Topic Started: May 26 2011, 01:13 AM (18 Views) | |
| Draco | May 26 2011, 01:13 AM Post #1 |
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A shrill laughter filled the air accompanied by the clinking of metal coins. The con artist chuckled to himself as he admired a stack of coins, recently liberated from some rube of a farmer who had believed that vial of "magic water" would really make his ailing crops grow. A stolen tinted glass bottles filled with refuse water from a colony of insect people combined with a a robe that looked vaguely like a priest's and he found himself one "donation" richer. The people of this region seemed to be particularly dumb for part of the Order. "A few splashes of makeup and a change of outfit and I could probably ream him for even more," the con artist thought as he tucked the coins away. Unbeknownst to him however, someone had heard the clinking of coins and smelled that there was only one of him traveling down the road. He would've been the perfect prey if he'd had more meat on his bones, but this stretch of road was remote enough that any meal in the kitchen would have to do. Around the con artist, the leaves on a tree began to rustle. Immediately, he pulled out a small dagger, ornately decorated with jewels and silver. He'd stolen it from a self-important aristocrat and bathed it in more blood than its original owner had. "You don't know what you do, attacking me," the con artist called out, keeping up his "holy man" routine. "The gods show mercy to those who show restraint." The rustling continued and the con man began to grow nervous. Most local bandits and thieves had a healthy respect - or fear - of any mention of a spiritual deity due to the overwhelming variety of cultures that inhabited this world. Rumor had it there were tribes of godless creatures leaving in 'ead 'unter territory, but they wouldn't have been able to enter the Order's territory. Could they? The con artist found out a moment later as a strange reptilian figure burst from cover, brandishing a vicious axe. The con artist held the knife before him, ready to strike if need be. The lizard man stood before him in a fighting stance, sticking his tongue out to taste the air. The two stared each other in the eye for a long heartbeat, waiting for the battle to be joined. A moment later though, the standoff was broken as another lizard man burst from cover behind the con artist and brought a thick club on the smaller creature's head. With a loud crack, the man's life was released as his body fell to the ground. Several more lizard man emerged from hiding. "Good strike, Bovril," the decoy lizard man said. "Fast, efficient." Bovril grunted and admired his club. The tip was covered in blood and gore, a delicious treat as Bovril licked the weapon clean. Meanwhile, the pack had gone ahead and begun picking over the corpse, stripping it of meat and possessions in less than a minute, leaving nothing for the striker to take expect for a long bone that hadn't been taken. Bovril gnawed on the bone with frustration. The pack typically stripped their victims before he had a chance to get his fair share of loot, though it only made sense to hunt in a pack for strength. As two members of the pack bickered over the pouch of coins the prey had been carrying, Bovril looked at his own belongings. The clothes on his back and some primitive, hand-me-down weapons. He wasn't seeing the fruits of his labors and he was tired of it! With a loud hiss, he stalked off, leaving the rest of his pack to bicker over the belongings. They would likely think Bovril eaten by some local animal or killed by guards and move on with their lives, but that mattered little to Bovril. Soon, he would be the one rolling in gold and riches! |
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7:07 AM Sep 5
