From: leducblanc@aol.com (LeDucBlanc)
Date: 22 May 2001 13:16:49 EDT
As the White Duke returned to the room occupied by his one time whiskey drummer, he was in a very foul mood indeed. Two men were accompanying him, two men who generally would only both accompany him on the most dangerous missions. However, he was angry enough not to want to hold anything back.
Percy turned his head to the two men on his left and said in a quiet, dangerous voice, "Rory, Robert, as soon as we are inside you grab the filthy cheat. Bend him over the table, backwards, and hold him there while I talk to him."
The two Scotsmen nodded. The tall, broad-shouldered redhead, Rory MacRoy, gave his usual grin. The slim, shorter, swarthy Robert Fitzcrawford simply nodded clinically. Both men were ready to do whatever needed to be done. Of that, Percy was certain.
"Alright, gentlemen, on three..." He braced himself properly, making sure the leverage was right... "One."
"Two."
"Three!" At this moment, he kicked forward with all his strength, a little mental push against the door assisting the force of the kick. The door was rather forcefully torn from its hinges, and fell inward. Percy hung back a moment, giving his henchmen the oppurtunity to do their part, then followed quickly.
Robert seized the drummer's left arm before the man even seemed to know what was happening, and Rory quicky grabbed his right. Each man drove a fist into the fellow's stomach, in turn, and then they quite professionally bent him back over his own settee.
Percy now chukled to himself, slowly gliding across the floor on frighteningly quiet feet. "My dear fellow," he said to the drummer with a shake of his head, "I am gravely disappointed in you. I am now in default upon a debt because you failed to ensure a delivery. This disappoints me very greatly. A man whom I esteem highly accused me of breaking a promise because of you." At the end oft his last sentence, he forcefully slapped the drummer across
the face. "Where is the bottle?"
"I don't know Your Grace!" The drummer replied in a voice of sincere fear. "The lad I sent with the bottle was killed, I was afraid to tell you what happened! I really do not know who stole the bottle or killed the messenger!"
The nobleman frowned at this reply. "I would like to believe you, my good fellow, but I really can't right now. You see, you guaranteed delivery. Therefore, if delivery was not made, you are responsible. Were you really robbed, you would tell me at once. In order to avoid just the situation you find yourself in now."
The drummer actually, before the nobleman laid another hand upon him, broke down and cried. "You are right, Your Grace, under most circumstances. However, the most likely thief is my own brother. I truly would not want you to kill him. My soul would be stained with guilt if I told you anything that would lead to my brother's demise."
Percy sighed, shook his head once, and then drove his fist into the drummer's abdomen. "By covering up this crime, even if the thief was your own brother, you have made yourself an accomplice. You are as guilty as he is, if he really is the thief. Tell me, where would I find your brother? We have all night..."
TBC
((Author's note: Jim, you better be reading these! If you had just read the first, Seamus would have gotten his scotch on time! ;) ))
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From: leducblanc@aol.com (LeDucBlanc)
Date: 24 May 2001 12:24:39 EDT
Percy, Rory, and Robert calmly walked down the alley behind the home of the whiskey drummer's brother. The fellow had finally broken down and been honest. He had, himself, sold the route of the messenger to his brother in order to make twice the profit on the bottle. This news had truly displeased the Frenchman, who had finally left his room after stringing the
fellow up by his ankles from the rafters. After all, he had been forced by others to go back on his word to one he esteemed.
He decided, in this new case, that the risks were greater than when he had surprised the drummer. The first case had been an invasion of the public inn chambers of a lone merchant. This was an insertion into the private lair of a criminal group of unknown strength. As a result, he and his two friends and aides were better armed than was, perhaps, the RhyDin norm. He had opened his most secure vault and equipped each man with a .410 gauge, 7 shot
slug gun. This should keep them from having to engage in more sword fights than they might hope for under the circumstances. Time travel had its uses at times, one tended to collect useful trinkets from multiple eras.
He used something more orthodox by RhyDin standards to prepare the door. The little mushroom shaped box was a passwall spell held in place by a magical device. One button had armed it. The push of a second button would render the door entirely intangible for long enough to breach the target locale's security.
"Rory, Robert," he warned his two associates carefully, "We are going in blind. That means be ready to do what you need to do on a moment's notice. The objective is the drummer's brother. He gave us a solid description. We can act on that. Anyone else he may have working for him is expendable. He is not, we have to take him alive and reasonably undamaged."
The two Scotsmen nodded, and Percy pressed the trigger. The spell was activated, silently, and the three men quickly moved inside, Percy at point.
They were greeted by a surprisingly well lit, but reasonably quiet warehouse. They had chosen their insertion point well, as it appeared as if they were in the least used portion of the building. Percy could hear voices up ahead, and he slowly moved in their direction. He gave his men each a nod, and they all made sure their shells were in the chambers of the slug guns.
Percy was good at this, and he made sure that his men were as well. As a result, they were able to come up on the targets very silently indeed. The primary target was present, flanked by three fellows who looked like half-orc muscle and Two slightly better dressed gentlemen who looked as if they were here to buy something. Tough luck for them, though he wouldn't take them out if they didn't give him any reason to do so.
"Alright, gentlemen," he whispered, "We are going to go on 1. Try not to sanction the suits unless they make us, but each one of us is going to drop a half-orc and then we will shout to Messr. Tressault to keep still if he knows what is good for him."
Both men nodded, and soon Percy whispered, "One."
They moved almost as one, each zeroing in on the nearest viable target. All three guns went off almost simultaneously, and all three half-orc thugs were on the floor. Percy shouted, "Freeze, gentlemen! If everything goes well from here on, no one else will get hurt! I am just here to recover something that belongs to me!" He turned his gaze to the whiskey drummer's brother, smiling wickedly. "Mr. Tressault, we have to have a long talk..."
TBC
Date: 24 May 2001 12:24:39 EDT
Percy, Rory, and Robert calmly walked down the alley behind the home of the whiskey drummer's brother. The fellow had finally broken down and been honest. He had, himself, sold the route of the messenger to his brother in order to make twice the profit on the bottle. This news had truly displeased the Frenchman, who had finally left his room after stringing the
fellow up by his ankles from the rafters. After all, he had been forced by others to go back on his word to one he esteemed.
He decided, in this new case, that the risks were greater than when he had surprised the drummer. The first case had been an invasion of the public inn chambers of a lone merchant. This was an insertion into the private lair of a criminal group of unknown strength. As a result, he and his two friends and aides were better armed than was, perhaps, the RhyDin norm. He had opened his most secure vault and equipped each man with a .410 gauge, 7 shot
slug gun. This should keep them from having to engage in more sword fights than they might hope for under the circumstances. Time travel had its uses at times, one tended to collect useful trinkets from multiple eras.
He used something more orthodox by RhyDin standards to prepare the door. The little mushroom shaped box was a passwall spell held in place by a magical device. One button had armed it. The push of a second button would render the door entirely intangible for long enough to breach the target locale's security.
"Rory, Robert," he warned his two associates carefully, "We are going in blind. That means be ready to do what you need to do on a moment's notice. The objective is the drummer's brother. He gave us a solid description. We can act on that. Anyone else he may have working for him is expendable. He is not, we have to take him alive and reasonably undamaged."
The two Scotsmen nodded, and Percy pressed the trigger. The spell was activated, silently, and the three men quickly moved inside, Percy at point.
They were greeted by a surprisingly well lit, but reasonably quiet warehouse. They had chosen their insertion point well, as it appeared as if they were in the least used portion of the building. Percy could hear voices up ahead, and he slowly moved in their direction. He gave his men each a nod, and they all made sure their shells were in the chambers of the slug guns.
Percy was good at this, and he made sure that his men were as well. As a result, they were able to come up on the targets very silently indeed. The primary target was present, flanked by three fellows who looked like half-orc muscle and Two slightly better dressed gentlemen who looked as if they were here to buy something. Tough luck for them, though he wouldn't take them out if they didn't give him any reason to do so.
"Alright, gentlemen," he whispered, "We are going to go on 1. Try not to sanction the suits unless they make us, but each one of us is going to drop a half-orc and then we will shout to Messr. Tressault to keep still if he knows what is good for him."
Both men nodded, and soon Percy whispered, "One."
They moved almost as one, each zeroing in on the nearest viable target. All three guns went off almost simultaneously, and all three half-orc thugs were on the floor. Percy shouted, "Freeze, gentlemen! If everything goes well from here on, no one else will get hurt! I am just here to recover something that belongs to me!" He turned his gaze to the whiskey drummer's brother, smiling wickedly. "Mr. Tressault, we have to have a long talk..."
TBC