Nanowrimo - prompt writing
Prompt
Thief - stolen King's Signet ring
Sheriff - hunting thief
King's daughter - also hunting thief
Supposed to write approx 500 words, written 735.
Not spellchecked etc.
____
A tavern full of noise and a bartender full of beer, if he had not been the owner of the premises he would no doubt have been fired by now for sampling the merchandise. It was not a good combination. The bartender was supposed to keep his customers from killing each other - it made them more likely to come back.
In the corner, watching the crowd of drunks roaring out the words to one of those drinking songs with the words no one quite knows what they mean but they know it’s rude, sat a young woman. She was half-shaded by the large beams that ran through the ceiling and there was only the barest glint of firelight on her eyeballs as she took in the view.
There was going to be a fight soon, she knew that. One of the signers would forget the words or trip over the foot of the guy next to him and suddenly it would be an all out brawl. The barman, in his present state, would be unable to do anything about it and there would be a few broken bones and probably at least one corpse before the time was out.
The door creaked open, inaudible to anyone further than two feet from it and a young man came in. His step was sure and steady as though where he belonged, but the looks from the few sober patrons told her that he had never been in before today. She recognised him instantly. It did not matter that she had previously only seen him for a few seconds dashing out of the door, she knew. He had what she needed.
The knife in her hand, hidden beneath the worn wooden table, was ready, all she needed was the opening. Her smile was amused as she used her unarmed hand to lift her drink - which tasted more like a horse had thrown up in it than anything else - when she had discovered who she was this was the last thing she had expected to be doing. Princesses, after all were supposed to be polite and lady-like, not hardened killers; but then, the illegitimate daughter of a lecherous tyrant had to keep her wits about her. She had no birthright, no riches, no title, and the thief across from her had seized possession of the one thing she needed to right the sorry mess her life had become.
He was chatting to one of the local whores now, patting her thigh gently. She seemed to think he was attractive, but then if the filth that filled the rest of the tavern was anything to go by, her usual clientele were not the most handsome of men. His grin flashed a broken tooth and he flipped a lock of badly cut hair out of one eye as she tried to help herself to his wallet. But her hand was caught and held and he waved a finger in front of her face in reprimand. Never steal from a thief.
Over by the bar there came a shout and, as expected, the place fell into violent chaos. There was a roar from one side of the room as rivalries which had been forgotten thanks to the gelling influence of alcohol once more began to emerge. She set down her drink and stood up as she saw the prostitute flee to the backroom, presumably renting lodging above the tavern. He was also on his feet, watching the brawling masses with a detached wariness. The kill was not going to be easy.
She sidled up past the door as he stepped over an unconscious blacksmith and ducked to avoid a hurled glass. As she came nearer the noise level increased, yells and pained grunts coming at her from all directions. But as she pulled her arm back, preparing the strike, his fingers shot out and grabbed her wrist, applying pressure which forced her to drop it.
“I don’t think you want to do that…” he whispered as he yanked her close enough for his lips to brush her ear. “Why bother to kill me when we can work together and both get what we want?” She blinked and the pressure on her skin was gone. Looking around she saw him darting out of the side door, giving her a knowing grin over his shoulder.
A table smashed through one of the windows.
“Damn.”
______
I quite like it. As fantasy goes it's reasonable.
Thief - stolen King's Signet ring
Sheriff - hunting thief
King's daughter - also hunting thief
Supposed to write approx 500 words, written 735.
Not spellchecked etc.
____
A tavern full of noise and a bartender full of beer, if he had not been the owner of the premises he would no doubt have been fired by now for sampling the merchandise. It was not a good combination. The bartender was supposed to keep his customers from killing each other - it made them more likely to come back.
In the corner, watching the crowd of drunks roaring out the words to one of those drinking songs with the words no one quite knows what they mean but they know it’s rude, sat a young woman. She was half-shaded by the large beams that ran through the ceiling and there was only the barest glint of firelight on her eyeballs as she took in the view.
There was going to be a fight soon, she knew that. One of the signers would forget the words or trip over the foot of the guy next to him and suddenly it would be an all out brawl. The barman, in his present state, would be unable to do anything about it and there would be a few broken bones and probably at least one corpse before the time was out.
The door creaked open, inaudible to anyone further than two feet from it and a young man came in. His step was sure and steady as though where he belonged, but the looks from the few sober patrons told her that he had never been in before today. She recognised him instantly. It did not matter that she had previously only seen him for a few seconds dashing out of the door, she knew. He had what she needed.
The knife in her hand, hidden beneath the worn wooden table, was ready, all she needed was the opening. Her smile was amused as she used her unarmed hand to lift her drink - which tasted more like a horse had thrown up in it than anything else - when she had discovered who she was this was the last thing she had expected to be doing. Princesses, after all were supposed to be polite and lady-like, not hardened killers; but then, the illegitimate daughter of a lecherous tyrant had to keep her wits about her. She had no birthright, no riches, no title, and the thief across from her had seized possession of the one thing she needed to right the sorry mess her life had become.
He was chatting to one of the local whores now, patting her thigh gently. She seemed to think he was attractive, but then if the filth that filled the rest of the tavern was anything to go by, her usual clientele were not the most handsome of men. His grin flashed a broken tooth and he flipped a lock of badly cut hair out of one eye as she tried to help herself to his wallet. But her hand was caught and held and he waved a finger in front of her face in reprimand. Never steal from a thief.
Over by the bar there came a shout and, as expected, the place fell into violent chaos. There was a roar from one side of the room as rivalries which had been forgotten thanks to the gelling influence of alcohol once more began to emerge. She set down her drink and stood up as she saw the prostitute flee to the backroom, presumably renting lodging above the tavern. He was also on his feet, watching the brawling masses with a detached wariness. The kill was not going to be easy.
She sidled up past the door as he stepped over an unconscious blacksmith and ducked to avoid a hurled glass. As she came nearer the noise level increased, yells and pained grunts coming at her from all directions. But as she pulled her arm back, preparing the strike, his fingers shot out and grabbed her wrist, applying pressure which forced her to drop it.
“I don’t think you want to do that…” he whispered as he yanked her close enough for his lips to brush her ear. “Why bother to kill me when we can work together and both get what we want?” She blinked and the pressure on her skin was gone. Looking around she saw him darting out of the side door, giving her a knowing grin over his shoulder.
A table smashed through one of the windows.
“Damn.”
______
I quite like it. As fantasy goes it's reasonable.