This tale takes place in the early days of the world. I will not add pictures as I cannot re-create how the community looked or felt back than. For instance, reds wandered about towns and were a portion of cities populace. The mighty grizzly bear was as red and savage as any human murdered. People were more pedestrian, walked or rode horses throughout the world. There was no colored ore. Etc. Thus, I will let the reader remember those times with their own memories or let their imaginations create visions of long ago. " The Thief , The Assassin, and The One Who Raged." THE BEGINNING Jordan did not aspire to become a thief; his were dreams of adventure, gallantry and virtue. He grew up in a woodsmans shanty deep in the forest near the Hamlet of Yew. As a child and youth, he was not allowed to go near Empath Abby, his view of the massive, enticeing structure was one of distance . Finally his parents deemed him grown enough to venture forth on his own. His pack consisted of the simple makings for a few meals, a wooden shield his father had laboriously craved for him, a bed roll woven by his mother's hands,a few gold coins, and his pride of prides, a long sword which had seen much use and had been discarded by another. Straight-forth to the majestic Abby he trod, not pausing to partake of a proper mid day meal, he nibbled on bread; his excitement too great for his stomach to hold the full loaf. Once inside, he gasped. Not only was the interior taller than he could have imaged, the massive stones appeard too large for mere humans to assemble. The silence of the pensive monks was exaggerated by the echoing foot falls and talk of people going about their business. Locating the direction of the voices, he quickly hurried up the lengthy corridor and turned right. There assembled were people, some bankers, some on mounts,some afoot, in all manner of dress. These folk did not pay him heed, as if they were accustomed to strangers in their mists. He was about to inquire how to open an account from the Bank Teller when two men approached him. Mighty warriors indeed, for they wore the coveted Plate Armor. One addressed him causally. " Fine fellow, I see your sword needs some repair." He glanced and winked to his companion . "If you wish" he continue "We will escort you out of town for a bit of adventure. Perhaps you will acquire enough gold to buy, hmm, more duable equipment."
"The Thief, The Assassin, and The One Who Ragged" The MIDDLE It was not that these two led Jordan to a most dangerous area invested with monsters. Nor was it that they encouraged him to fight the great Gargoyle, telling him "Not to worry, we are here to assist you", assist they did not, rather, they chuckled at his fruitless efforts to slay the beast.Than as he lay bleeding, they took his meager belongings,and laughed as they stepped over his body to walk away. Nor was it when he realized his spirit had not left the realm and a kind, wandering healer restored his flesh, and he looked down at the death robe he now wore.Or how sore his bare feet became as he made his way back to the Abby. None of these of themselves churned the bile in his gut bitter. Once inside the Abby, he managed to stumble to the bank. There standing, with back to him, stood a figure clad in plate armor.Meaning to ask for his bedroll and shield back, Jordan tapped him twice on the shoulder to gain his attention. Shocked by the rude insult the guard sneared at him, Jordan backed away. At the same instant, the armored man faced Jordan and hissed. "Be gone, scum." A sensation crawled through his body, one of which Jordan had never felt before. Bewildered,Jordan move back. A familiar voice curled through the fog of his mind. "If it isn't the fool." He swung about to face the two he had sought. Unaware that his fists had clinched. "Give me back my shield and bedroll." His own voice tight, each word issued seperately. "What need have we for such junk." The man chuckled. " Scurry round the forest floor, like the rodent you are." The other man added. "Perhaps, you will find those worthless items." Images of his mother and father toiling into late night on those "items" flooded his mind. Something deep inside of him changed. Jordan could not put words to it, but...in a blink, it engulfed him. He heard a snarled, and it took a moment for him to realize it was his own lips which issued the sound. The room seemed awash in red and those two...those two now edged back, than turned and with insults flinging from their mouths, hurried down the corridor. In the same moment, Jordan's feet began to move in pursuit, a firm hand clasp about his arm. "Easy,Lad." A mellow voice whisperd. "Aye, it'd be soo pleasant to wrap yaur fists about those two horse dungs' necks. Squeese 'til th'er tounges purturd from th'er mouths." The fingers loosened on Jordan's arm.."but that not be the sweet, long lastin' revenge ya be cravin'" Jordan turned to face him. A man dressed in rags stood there, a smirk on his lips and glint in his eyes. "Mark me words,Lad." The man continued. "Those two meant to be murderin' ya. Aye, th'er ilk just don't be wantin' get th'er hands dirty or be tarnishing th'er fancy repuutations. They be thinkin' it sport to lure decent folks out to die, as they tried with ya." "You have my full attention, Sir." Jordan murmured. " How does this long lasting revenge scheme work?" " Be warned, Lad. It won't be no easy life. But it sure be a dandy satisfyin' one." He chuckled. "Lad, I'll train you in the art of thievin' ". Jordan gasped. The man laughed louder. "Lad, did ya watch those horse dungers, they be struting around in th'er shinny armor? It be th'er possessions they be most proud of. Ya take what they own, ya put a hole in th'er arrogant hearts. The fun be Lad, ya can do it over and over again." "Yes." Jordan grinned. "Long lasting revenge." "Aye. Just so ya be knowin', I be called Marvin." "And I, Sir, am Jordan" "Jordy Lad, time be a wastin' and ya got lot to be learnin'. Come along, we best be at it." Marvin rubbed his hands together, added with a smile. "Aye, this goina be fun times." "Yes, Sir." Jordan grinned back. Jordan followed Marvin to a house not far from the public portal. The cabin he grew up in could fit on the houses' patio. ( he must be very rich) Jordan thought as they entered the double doors. Marvin introduced Jordan as his new apprentice, Jordy, to the group of people seated or standing about the main room. The name felt odd, as if it didn't quite fit. But he let the introduction pass. A few of these men, were dressed as Marvin, in rags, others in regular street cloths. There was one woman among them, whose long, red hair flowed unbound down the back of her plain, blue dress. Two were so evil that their auroas shone red. One of the red wore armor the like of which Jordan had never seen, it was fashioned as plate armor, but was black as night. "What are you gawking at?" The red in armor demanded. The room fell awkwardly silent. All eyes focused on the two. Jordan realized, indeed, he had been staring at the man. "Forgive me, Sir." He stammered, "It's your armor, I've not seen that kind before. Did you smith it?" "Nay." He replied. "I took it from another." With a steady gaze, he measured Jodan, before adding. "Along with his head." An image of the two who had wronged him, filled Jordan's mind. Like a dream Jordan saw them lay bleeding on the sod, while this red man causually lifted their armor. A warm, satisfying sensation snuggled in the pit of his stomach. He heard a chuckle, realized it was his own. It turned to laughter,soon others in the room were laughing with Jordan. The red man did not laugh, but kept eyes steady on Jordan for a bit. Than turned to Marvin and stated. "He'll do." And thus began Jordan's journey into the Dark Realm.
The Thief, The Assassin, and The One Who Raged. THE ENDING For many months Jordan lived in Marvin's house; he found it to be a welcoming home, embracing all of low repute who entered with easy comradeship. Many came and went. A few,like hisself, stayed to hone their skills. Mostly, he kept quiet, but listened intently to all the tales of the visitors. How many people hated them for their craft. True it was, this hatred, for many times the house became under seige by those of good repute. He learned to heal his brothers with bandaids, to assist them in their battles. If nearby, fellows of the red would join in the battle against attackers. With each invasion, Jordan's own aversion to those high and mighty citizens which threatened his home deepened; until he realized that the person who was Jordan was no more. That now he was truly Jordy the thief. He learned of the Honor of Thieves and the BrotherHood of Thieves. That for each act of evil, one performed it damaged your auroa, until it could actually glow red. But, you could pay healer monks to repair this damage. He found that reasons for living a thieves' life were as many and varied as there were thieves. Some like himself, felt to target certain classes of people, while others cared not if murder was performed to complete the steal. When he felt confident that his skills where enough to make his lively hood by stealing, Jordy decided it was time to leave this sanctuary. It was with both saddness and excitement he choose West Brit to be his new home. Once at the City, he found it to be even more than the story's he had heard. Emense, bustling with people of all walks of lives. Even late into the night crowds met around the bank. Perhaps best of all, many were the arrogant High and Mighty, showing off their plate armor and bragging about their deeds of glory. Prefect and now these lords and ladys were not so grand as they became his prey. His delight in lifting their valuables worth the price of the occassional punishment by the city's guards. The insults and curses people snarled or shouted at him, substance for his hate. He choose not to disguise his person, but proudly wore the traditional rags of a thief while he worked. He became well known as West Brit's Bank Thief. Although many were leary of him, when he approached, many also learned it was only the High Class he targeted. Of these,Jordy did not make friends, but would occassionally indulge in light conversation with them. At times he would allow his auroa to go red, at others he would pay a small fortune to the healer monks to cure it. But even a thief must rest from work. At these times Jordy enjoyed East Brit. The population around the bank less. He would dress in trouser and shirt, leaving his feet bare, as he enjoyed the sensation on his feet of the sand at the little beach at ocean's edge. He took up music, and would often set at the beach playing his lute. It was during one of these visits, Jordy was about to put his lute in the bank, but noticed the man standing next to the door,he wore commoner's clothes did not move away from him. "Hail" Jordy greeted. The man said nothing. Jordy decided to peek into his bag. Perhaps take one item to teach the fellow not to nap at the bank. A bad practice indeed. Just as Jordy was about to lift a bag of food, the man said "Hello", "Hmmm," Jordy thought "no anger or dislike, but a tentative tone, unsure of it's acceptance. Carefully Jordy removed his hand, than responded with a smile. The man's sigh was clearly audible, his voice even more so. "Oh thank you. Thank you. You are the only one who will speak to me, I am so lost and all these people, no one will say hello," his voice growing more frantic with each word. "I am so lost. I don't know where to go or what to do. I've asked for help, not for charity, just advice and no one will answer. I don't want their gold. I just want to know what to do." Menories of his first visit to Empath Abby and how awed and naive he was came to mind. This man will not have the same experience as I, Jordy vowed to himself. Keeping his tone as soothing as he could, Jordy began. "Calm down. Take a few deep breaths and listen." Seeing that the man was trying to comply, Jordy continued. "First off, never nap at the bank. Always put your items into your bank vault as soon as possible. Otherwise someone like me.. Jordy could not finish the sentence, he fell bleeding to the ground. An arrow buried deep in his side. Shocked, amazed and in pain, Jordy managed to gain his feet. As he scrambled off to the healers, the the man's loud, priecing cry filled the world. His flesh healed, Jordy returned to the sence of the mysterious attempt on his life occurred. The man's screams could be heard before even the bank roof was visable. But these screams were not ones of anquish, oh no, they were screams of anger, raging words directed to a man of the red hue. The red man was attempting, without success to get a word or two out, before another onsought flooded him. The Red man saw Jordy approaching. "Thank the gods you are back" he blurted, yelling above the others words. This drew the other's attention to Jordy. Jordy thought for a moment he was going to be embraced with unwanted hugs. Instead the man calmed down enough for Jordy to speak. "I am in good health now, My friend" Jordy said. The man grinned as a school boy. Jordy turned to the red man. "Why and how did you manage to harm me, without guards punishment?" "I am a licensed Assassin," The red man explained. "Lord British gives his premission for me to kill in town. Although he does express that assassins only kill for reasonable causes." "What possible reasonable cause." the other demanded in a shrill tone." For hurting my friend? He was the only one to help me. He talked to me. He... "One cause," Jordy intervened before the rant continued..."I am a theif. Lord British considers me a bad person." "Last night he stold from my wife." The Assassin added. "so, you see, he had reason to try to kill me." Jordy inserted, but not mentioning that the Assassin's wife was more than likely a stuck-up snob. "But you are not bad. You are good." The man cried,"You wanted to help me." "Fellow,listen".Jordy decied. "I will tell you how the big, bad, world works." "And I, ways to avoid the bad." The Assassin added. Over the mans shoulder and above his flow of gratitude, The Thief and Assassin, two of the worlds most hated people, smiled at one another.
I really liked that story and I absolutely transported myself back to the days of old! You must write more of the thief they call Jordy!
