This is a quick little snippit to set the mood for the begining of my forthcoming science fiction / medieval fantasy serial RPG. Kind of a strange genre, but I'm banking on the rarity with which you see this type of story to help me out. And don't criticize me on the dialog style -- it's supposed to be modern. Anyway, on with the show:
Turning around, Carrey could see his now former employer lying on the ground with his bag ripped open and a long, nasty slash running across his upper chest and shoulder. A second injury, this one from something heavy and to the skull had ended his meager existence. Carrey barely knew the man, but he hadn't tried to skate on any contracts yet, his money was good, and it was usually up front. All in all, they had shared an honorable relationship.
But, that was over now. Carrey needed a new job. Maybe when he got back into town he could collect on his old --
"HEY! Who the hell are you!?"
Carrey looked up and slowly turned back around to face the now impatient band of miscreants that he was assuming had ended his contract with the gentleman at his feet. There were three of them. The one that had yelled at him was tall -- a little lanky, but otherwise well built. He was wearing a barely passing excuse for a leather jerkin, and carried what looked to have been a pike at some time, but was now little more than a broken walking stick with a dull blade tied to the end of it. The other two were of lesser stature, but seemed better equipped. They also looked more nervous. Carrey addressed them first.
"You two look like you were in the war. Not officers... Stable hands or infantry?" he said, ignoring the leering headman of their group.
"Uh, infantry," said the one on the left, haltingly. He looked surprised by the question. "I was in --"
"Hey, shuddap!" snapped the tall one, now thrusting his half-pike towards Carrey. "Untie that scabbard! Throw yer sword over to us!"
Carrey looked from the headman to the other two. They were fidgeting. Their swords were drawn, but they weren't really pointing them anywhere.
"No."
The headman started. "What? I'll run ye through! En' I'll get yer gear anyway, so you best do what I said, hear?"
"But if you stab me, there'll be a big hole in my tunic. No, I like this stuff. These boots were expensive, too. I think I'll hang on to them."
"SHUT UP!" screamed the headman. He inched closer to Carrey, who remained still as a rock. "I'll tell ye once more --"
"Actually, I think I'll hang on to you three as well." The thugs froze for a moment. "My employer was going to pay me good money to find you fellows, and I think I can get the township to uphold at least part of that contract." He paused, letting his words settle in. "What, you didn't know I was looking for you? Don't act so surprised -- why else would any self-respecting man wander out into this pitiful little hideaway of yours? You don't do the descriptions I was given justice though. Said you were vicious... You just look hungry."
"Damn him, he's a man-hunter!" shouted the shortest of the now worried looking men.
Carrey cringed a little. "Once in a while, yes, I am. So now you know what you're in for. Still want my gear?"
The headman raised his half-pike and cried out as he charged forward. The air crackled, and he was lying on the ground, his stomach and lungs burning from some unseen impact, before he could even take a swing. Dropping his weapon, he clutched at his chest while he gasped for air. In a moment he was out cold. His compatriots took two very large steps backwards and brought their swords up to defend themselves. They braced themselves slightly against the pressure building in the air around Carrey.
Carrey's hand tingled a little bit where he had begun his summoning motion. The skin there glowed ever so faintly, giving the impression that there was a silvery fire burning outwards from within, trying to escape the confines of his flesh. He had meant to use a weaker compression wave to knock the man down. Now it looked as though he would be unconscious for a few minutes. Starring at the hoodlum who had proclaimed himself an infantry man, he spoke:
"Put your swords away. One of you pick up your friend, one of you pick up mine. We're going back to town."
(This message has been edited by theGlueBubble (edited 06-12-2001).)