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I guess I should give you guys the point up to which I’ve written, since i already had more done before i had to move the writing. here it is
They shared a wince as the man hit the ground, failing to rise.
“Come on!” She spun on her heel, and followed Lloyd across the rooftop. They leapt the distance between buildings until they were on the opposite side of town. “I think we lost ’em.” Lloyd stopped on the roof, and hoisted himself up onto an adjacent tree branch. Erianne followed, and together they picked alternate routes down. Stepping into the street, they were immediately confronted with the City Guard. Before the exhausted pair could react, they were beaten, bound, and walking towards the Marrohaven Hall. They were ushered through the door, up two flights of stairs, and to the end of a hall. From there, the team of officers accompanying them shoved them through the door to land on their knees before none other than the mayor himself. He glanced up at the crew and spoke sharply.
“Explain.” One of the men immediately stepped forward and issued a report.
“When you first came into office, sir, you stated that ordinary punishment would not undergo upon severe repeat offenders, and that they would be brought to you for personal analysis and jurisdiction from you.” The mayor’s face darkened.
“Ah.”Farewell, I was hoping to get farther than I did while mom kept letting me post my writing on someone else’s site, but she changed her mind. thats why i have to move. sorry.
They spotted their target at the corner of a tavern named Your Royal Hotness that was popular among the men of Marrohaven. He kept looking around nervously, almost as a bird. He relaxed a moment, and began to declare his wares as ‘the most popular pastries in all of these streets’.
“Should we do this quietly, or just throw it from here?” Erianne asked.
“I’d like it to take him a moment to figure out what’s in the sack.” he replied. She laughed.
“Alright, then we need to go around the pub and hit him from behind.”Ellis was a pastry merchant. He hated his job. The wares were terrible. The people were arses. And all he could eat all day were pastries. He was pencil thin, constantly had uneven stubble, and wore an old torn hat he had pulled out of a rubbish pile. And the worst of it all were the thieves. Two individuals, constantly gnawing at the back of his mind, eating at his pastries without he even knowing. He was sweating, his slightest movements jerking too far. His thoughts were interrupted by something heavy striking the back of his head. He turned around, and accidentally stepped on a sack, hearing the crunching of bones. He looked up, and saw them. Watching him from across the street, seemingly smug with themselves. He began swearing at them as the stench reached his senses, and he gagged. He didn’t really have much of a choice than to flee from the sickening sour-sweet stench. He screamed for some sort of enforcement, and they seemed to leap from the shadows. Erianne and Lloyd had generally the same thought at the same time.
Ballucks. They ran to the booth, crammed at least a dozen crumpets in their series of storage devices. Then, they bot fled in the same direction, that from which they came. They cut into a familiar alley to the right, and climbed onto rubbish heaps and windowsills until they got to the roof. They looked down on the police and began taunting them. Suddenly Erianne heard a muffled scream, and whirled around in time to see an authority with Lloyd in a chokehold. She grabbed the officer’s hands and crushed them in her muscled grip. He screamed and released Lloyd, who proceeded to shove a pastry in the man’s mouth before booting him over the edge of the building.
They travel to Marrohaven, Lloyd’s hometown, in silence. For the next ten years, fitful images of impish serpents and the screams of the damned would fill her dreams. Four years pass, and they meet a 13 year old named Derrik Chiptree, a vibrant young lad who aspires to follow in is father’s footsteps and become a Priest serving Pelor. Erianne silently darkens within herself, but remembers it is not what one is, but who one is. She allows for the next six years to pass, and Derrik discovers he has an uncontrollable alcohol addiction.
Now, Erianne is seventeen, proficient with her mother’s old bow, and a deadly, deadly young woman. She has been trained in two-arrow shots, properly firing an arrow at point blank range, and how to safely use an arrow as a melee weapon without damaging the projectile. She has also learnt the precise technique of swordplay, preferring the longsword in melee combat.On one of the darker of clouded days, Lloyd found Erianne twiddling with one of her arrows in the middle of one of the many cobbled alleys of Marrohaven.
“The pastry guy’s got his booth back up now. I’m gonna run some errands, and was hoping you might want to join me?” She looked up at him scornfully.
“His biscuits yield no flavor, artistically nor literally.” She stood, sliding her arrow back into her quiver. “But, I suppose bland beats hunger. Sure.”
Lloyd smiled, and held up a small pouch. It honestly smelled like death.
“Oh, believe me, this time,” he tossed the disgusting bundle of rot to her, “it’ll be entertaining.” Erianne held the pouch by its string and sniffed it.
“Is that a raccoon?” She handed it back to him with a crack in her composure. He cocked an eyebrow.
“Actually, yeah. I was planning on slinging it into the merchant’s face and shoving as many pastries as I could into various pockets and bags while he was doubled over vomiting.”
“I figured. You should still do it, despite the fact that it won’t be a surprise to me anymore.” They stepped into the street, and began to walk towards the marketplace.
“Of course I am. I wouldn’t waste a dead ‘coon when there’s pastry guys to throw them at.”
