# [Dusk] Adventures of the Bright Company



## Michael Morris (Jan 15, 2003)

I'm going to try my hand at writing some short stories here.  I hope they aren't too boring...


It was a clear and cool autumn day.  Perfect weather - for a hanging.  Or so Teresa grimly thought to herself.  Lynch mobs don't like rain too much as it tends to dampen the proceedings.

She shook her head at the ludicrousness of the thought as she stepped out onto the porch of the inn and looked down the street towards the gallows.  Despite the hour left before the event a crowd had already gathered.

"What?" came a mock protest beside her.  Teresa shot a sidelong glance at the voice and into the eyes of Timmon.  He put up his hands in defense, "Whatever it was, I didn't do it."

"You going to go through with this?" she asked.

"But of course," he answered in mock bravado.

"Keep your voices down you two," came a command from just inside the inn's taproom.  Footsteps followed, then presently a gruff dwarf stepped out onto the porch.  "You _know_ they'll be watching us most closely for trouble."

"Why, who would think that we would..." Timmon began, but a stare from Devon cut him short.

"Rather who wouldn't?  Let's go."

The three began moving down the street towards the gallows and a deliberate pace.

"Damn Trishdare.  He's such a show off," Timmon complained.

Teresa smiled wrily, "Yes.  This will be a new experience for him.  Not like you eh Tim?"

Timmon didn't reply other than to gingerly feel at his neck.

"At least it isn't me up there," she added.

"How does _that_ make a difference, or are you saying they'd let you off cause you're human?" Timmon asked.

"I doubt it.  I'm Hone Raean, and besides, the ordinance is against heathen magic in general. " Teresa answered, glancing about slightly.

"So?"

Teresa rolled her eyes in annoyance.  Timmon spat out, "What?"

"What do I have that Trishdare doesn't?" she asked.

"Breasts?"

Teresa stopped cold and stared at Timmon so balefully that he flinched lest some spell strike him down.  Then, almost in a panic he began offering other answers, "Beauty?  Charm?  Wit?"

Teresa sighed, "You're hopeless."

Devon shook his head and looked around warily once more, then offered, "Teresa here needs those scrolls of hers for power lad - Trish doesn't.  So if we can free his hands, he'll be ready to go."

"Oh." Timmon replied, paused, then continued, "I knew that."

"Yes, of course oh master of the obvious," Teresa replied.

Timmon stuck his tongue out at her.  Devon ignored his juvenille antics and told him, "Get on with you part of the plan boy, before she smacks your teeth out."

Timmon gave him a sidelong look then obeyed.  After he was gone Devon and Teresa continued toward a nearby alley.  Teresa looked at him nervously, "Are you sure this is going to work."

"Hey, how many times has Timmon put us through this drill now, four?" Devon said grimly

Teresa's answer was nervous, "Yes, but it's not Tim up there this time.  Trish hasn't been in this situation before.  If the rope doesn't break clean I don't think he knows how to take the fall without breaking his neck."

"To be honest, Tim doesn't either - he's just been lucky," the dwarf replied with a grin.

"Oh, that's hardly comforting."

"Hey he's the one that decided to throw magic missiles in a bar room brawl."

"But they pulled weapons Devon.  You was there."

"Yes, but you know how scared these yokels are of magic."

"Don't I ever," she said with a sigh.  She fumbled in her scroll purse and pulled out a yellow parchment, "I'll go tell Trish what we're up to."

"Fine, but don't waste too much time.  They won't."

She smiled despite herself, "I know."  A few mumbled words later she vanished from sight.

[to be continued....]


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## Kaodi (Jan 15, 2003)

*Stories*

It's  nice to see you are trying your hand at writing stories MM, I look forward to seeing your further installments.


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## Michael Morris (Jan 16, 2003)

Thanks Kaodi...

Scene II

"Trish....  Trish..."

The elf looked about his dimly lit cell cautiously.  Satisfied that the guard had not also heard the voice he moved next to the barred window and looked out.

"_Bas Tal!_" he whispered, elvish meaning "About Time."  Teresa replied to him in elvish

"_Tu Bi?_" (Are you alright)

"_I Bi. Tu Dolnes?_" (I'm fine.  Where are you?)

"Outside.  Don't Worry, we're going to get you out of this."

"I should hope so.  I'm too young to die."

"You're 182."

"I'm still too young."

"Quit whining.  Anyway, here's the plan.  Timmon's going to cause a distraction with a stampede.  I'll use a sleep spell  to make sure they don't drop you and Devon will cut you down.  Sound fine?"

"Should work until we try it."

"Come on Trish, have a little faith."

"Sorry, that's Devon's job."

"Trish...  Anyway, I have to go."

Trish smiled inwardly.  Things were about to get interesting.

[to be continued]


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## Michael Morris (Jan 21, 2003)

Sorry for the delay, where were we, oh yes.

No sooner than Teresa's footsteps faded away from Trishdare's ears did he pick up another, more ominous sound - boots upon wood.  The door flew open angrily

"All right elf.  It's time," The constable growled.

"I want to sleep in, it's my last.."

"Stuff it!"

Trishdare hoped up to his feet and eyed the guard.  Two burly men were with the fat constable.  He threw up his hands, "Do I get to eat?"

"Shut up" the constable growled as he put the key to the lock of Trishdare's cell.

"Don't you guys do anything by the book.  The condemed has _rights_ you know."

The constible roared with laughter, "Rights?  You're talking to me about rights you filthy murdering prick?"

"I didn't kill anyone!" Trishdare protested.

"You tried..  Damn, what is wrong with this lock??"

Trish giggled inwardly.  While he didn't know how to pick a lock, jamming one was absurdly easy, "Maybe you're to fat and stupid to get it open."

"Keep quiet you," one of the brutes bellowed, "Or I'll break you're neck now."

"And what of the festivities outside?  Do you really want to dissapoint that crowd?  I don't."

"And you won't either I dare say," the constable sneered, "Ryan, Dean, help me force this!"

The three gathered around the gate and Trish smiled like a fox about to seize his prey. "You know guys, you forgot something."

"Shut up damn you!" the constable wheezed.  The three men toiled at the door.  

Trish walked up within arm's reach knelt and picked up some sand off the floor, "When will you boys learn?"

"Learn?  What??" they chorused.

"That not all casters are safe to leave in a cell without books!"

The three had enough time to glance at each other before the world blurred and fell into darkness.

"Nap time." Trish snickered, then he opened the door, "Thanks, but I had my own lock.  Now, how do I get out of here??"


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