[Mkguild] Untitled Intro Story CONTINUED!

[Michael Bard]

And we have more!

Michael Bard

Get a bath across THIS line
-----------------------

It was night when Sarpandon awoke.  The basement was black, the only light
being the glow of the witchstone that had fallen from his grasp.  The
''Sword of Songs'' was still in his grasp as he blinked his eyes opened.

''His'' eyes, or so was thought as Sarpandon work up.  Looking around,
blinking, seeing only the dim glow of the witchstone.  Hand fumbled for it,
but before they could get ahold, the basement filled with a warm glow.

Sarpandon stared, for the glow was coming from between Sarpandon's eyes.
>From a horn on the forehead.  Along the muzzle of something no longer human.

It illuminated the fur of an animal, the breasts of a girl, and the ivory
hooves of a dream.  She stared at her clean white pristine body, at her
ivory hooves and ivory nailed four fingered hands, at the softly glowing
ivory of her horn, the golden white of her mane that hung over one eye, and
at the silver white tuft at the tip of her tail.

The tail of a myth.  Of a unicorn.

Above all a thief learns ''silence''.  Silence is the first and the most
important rule, the one rule that is never broken.  Of course, every rule
has exceptions.

Sarpandon screamed, when ''she'' realized that ''he'' was no longer
applicable.  Nor was the word human.  She screamed, a loud nasal sign,
almost a neigh rather than the sound a human would make.

She screamed and cursed and damned every god and entity and person she knew,
and ''especially'' the one who had hired her.  The one who had set her up
for this trap.

The only thing that made her stop was the sound of the trap door above
opening.

Darkness flooded into the room around her, the witchstone went out, her
alicorn went out, the ''Sword of Songs'' went out, and then the flickering
light of a lantern gleamed down.  A face looked down, the barkeep.

"Who the hell are you?"

Think fast.  Think ''very'' fast.  Sarpandon could feel that her clothes
were still on her, though the pants were torn, and the shirt was painfully
tight where ''those'' pushed it out, revealing the mounds of furry bounty.
Best rule was to act as though you belonged there.  She needed a name, she
needed a name fast, and right now.  "Yvarra--"  She pushed herself
unsteadily onto her-- hooves, holding the sword in one hand.  "And just how
in all the heavens did you bring me ''here''!"

"What--?"

"You will help me out, and you will tell me ''what you did''!  ''Where'' am
I?  ''Why'' have you brought me here?"

The trapdoor slammed shut plunging Yvarra into darkness.  It was as good a
name as any.  A moment later a soft glow lit the room and she could feel a
warmth, a slow drain, up and out of her forehead and into her alicorn.

A part of her wondered how much he could sell a ''real'' alicorn for, but
then the rest of her commented on the fact that alicorns were rare and
precious, and that this one was ''hers''.  Just the thought of somebody
touching it filled her with horror.

She'd bought a little time.  Ignoring the state of her dress, no ''way'' was
she going to put on anything down here, she grabbed her pack and pulled out
the sheath.  Putting down the ''Sword of Songs'' she tightened her belt,
drew her dagger, and checked the sheath against the sword.  Too short
indeed.  It didn't take long for her to hack the bottom off and slide the
gleaming sword into it, and put the strap over her shoulder.  Inside the
pack she pulled out a belt -- she'd had to grab the important stuff and run
before and was always prepare -- and secured the pouches to her belt.
Money.  Some rations, though she didn't know if she could eat it, a pair of
throwing knives.  She kicked one of her boots off her one hoof just as the
trap door creaked open again, thudding to the floor above.

Same lantern, this time a different face.  A male face with the curled horns
of a ram, and the stench of one.  She could smell it even over the stench of
the crap and waste she was standing in.  He was uniformed, and she
recognized the badge.

"And what are you doin' down there?" he asked.  "Trying to rob poor Ms
Angathan, are you?"

The watch member was more right than he knew.  But, no sense in letting him
know that.  "I have ''no'' clue who you are, or who she is, or where I am.
I just know that ''she'' brought me and I ''demand'' to be released!  Now!"

"Now you just shut up and--"

"''You'' listen!  If I was robbing the place, would I be down ''here''?  I
am Yvarra, and I am on a quest, and I want to know why you're not arresting
''her'' for bringing me here and yanking me away from--"

"I don't care who you are, but you're in ''her'' tavern, and you have no
''right''--"

Yvarra, as good a name as any, grabbed a rung of the ladder, and began
carefully climbing.  That was when she learned that hooves were a ''demonic
pain'' at certain things, and those things included climbing a ladder.  She
shoved a cloven ivory hoof down, feeling the work round rung twist and turn
her leg, forcing its way between her lobes and pressing against the
sensitive skin between them.  Gritting her teeth, ignoring the soft glow of
her alicorn, she dragged herself up, step by step.

"''You'' listen to me!  Ignoring the fact that a ''unicorn'' would ''never''
stoop to armed banditry, if, and I say ''if'' I was robbing this so-called
establishment, in Eli's name, ''why'' would I be down in this cesspool?"
She poked her head and the guard backed away and she saw that the barkeep,
presumably Ms Angathan, was there too, holding the lantern as it sputtered
and hissed, the thick cloying odour of the oil thick in the air.  "Better
you should ask why ''she''," she motioned with her alicorn, "would ''drag''
me here by forbidden sorceries, than what ''I'', a ''Follower'', am doing in
that rat's nest!"

The lantern shook.  "Sorcery?  I never!"

The guard took a step back.

Never give them a moment.  She glared at the barkeep and snorted her disdain
and noble arrogance.  "Well, ''obviously she'' couldn't have done it--"

The pigwoman hissed.

"--so somebody else did.  And, I ''will'' find out ''who'', and Eli will
make them ''suffer''."

"Now you listen here--" began the town guard.

"No, ''you'' listen!  I'm willing to accept that neither of you have the
''capacity''," she let the disdain drip off her voice, "to do what was
obviously done.  However, I think that one of you ''might'' have enough of a
brain to tell me where the nearest ''bath'' is.  I refuse to stink like a
common ''slave'' any longer than necessary!"

By now she'd clambered onto the floor, the sound of her hooves loud on the
old wood.  She could feel a warmth, a supportive pressure, against her
back -- must be the damn sword.  No time to worry now.  And, besides, this
was fun!

"Now, do I have to ''repeat'' myself in ''small'' words?  Why the seven
hell's not!  I want a ''bath''.  I want to find a ''bath'' ''house''.  I
want to ''walk'' to the ''bath'' ''house''."

The town guard broke first, but then she had been concentrating on him,
though she could see the barkeep lowering the lantern out of her far wider
vision.  "You-- I--"

"Spit it out!"  She shoved her muzzle against his, and glared down its
length at his distant eyes.

"It's-- out-- right, towards the keep.  Turn at third street.  Sign of a
water fountain."

"About time!"  She shoved her way past him, ignored the sputtering of the
innkeep, and went out the way she'd snuck in.  Shoving the open door to the
common room out of her way so hard that the wood ''banged'' against the bar,
and a glass wobbled and smashed on the floor, she glared at the few patrons
and stalked across the room, hooves clicking, tail waving back and force
agitatedly, bent painfully by what was left of her pants, and poking out the
top underneath the belt.  The wooden shutters were open, the sun shone
brightly and the fall air was crisp, assuming it was the same season she'd
arrive in.  From the angle it was morning, and that would explain the lack
of crowd.

Don't worry.  Don't think.

She spun right in the cold mud, the slime oozing between her lobes.  She cou
ld smell the rain in the air, and it must have just passed.  Now-- third
block.  Walking a brisk pace fueled by adrenaline, she made her way down the
street, shoving people aside.  This wasn't a good persona to be unnoticed
in, but even in this rat's nest how could ''anybody'' fail to notice the
gleaming white unicorness with ill fitting clothing?

She didn't even cut any purses because of all the notice she was attracting.

In the distance she heard the barking of dogs, could smell the frying of
meat and doe and vegetables, and hear the rumble and rattle of wheels
through the streets.

Then she stepped in it.  Literally.

She couldn't help but cock her muzzle and look down, and see her dainty
ivory hoof almost in the exact centre of a slab of horse crap.

She could feel her body begin to shake.  Damn this!  Damn Metamor, damn
Tarathana, and damn this muzzle that kept her from looking down!

She kicked at the pile of hot stinking goo and stalked down the street,
almost missing the third corner.  Thank Kelpnos the Sigh of the Water
Fountain wasn't far.  She stopped, skidding and almost falling in the slime
and the shit, and banged on the door.

"We're not open!"

"I don't care!  Get me a bath, get it now, and you'll get an extra silver!"
Normally she'd have skipped the bath, the excuse had worked, she'd be gone,
but she ''needed'' some time.

There was loud grumbling inside.  "It'll take time!"

"Hurry it up!"

"Damn nobles--"

She paced back and forth in the mud, watching the traffic go by as it stared
at her with one eye, watching the door with her other.  Finally,
''finally'', her ears heard footsteps behind the door and she had turned as
it creaked open.  At the other side was a boy, maybe eight, so where-- but
then she remembered that this was Metamor.  Damned bastard.

"You wanted the bath?"

"About time!"

He stared, and she stared back.  "Fi-- five silver."

Highway robber, but she need this, and was in no mood to argue.  She fumbled
in her pouch and pulled out a handful of coins and counted out five silver.
He watched sullenly.  "The water had ''better'' be hot, and I want
''privacy'', you hear?  For what you're charging I'd better get it!"

He bit at one coin, and clenched it in his other hand.  "This one's been
shaven."

"You think ''I'' care!  I know what the rates are like, and you're already
getting triple--"

"It's shaven!  Another two copper!"

She snorted, and reached for her dagger.  No!  This wasn't the time, and she
really ''really'' needed this.  Fine!  She counted two copper and tossed
them on the floor.  Now get out of my Eli-damned way!

She was twice his height, and he stared, eyed the copper, and then stood
aside.  "First door on right."

"About time!"  She shoved past him, and yanked the door open and slammed it
shut.

"You damage anything, you'll pay for it!"

Ignoring him, she spun around and shoved the bar on the door.  Then she
dropped the sword with a clunk, undid the belt and dropped it, the money
clanking, and almost tore off the shirt and pants which were all that
remained of her clothes.

The bath was small, rough wood around it, big enough for her to get into
though she'd have to fold up her legs.  She didn't care.  She almost jumped
in, the water hot and sloshing, warm waves of relief soaking into her body
as she stretched her tail and waved it back and forth to work out the kinks.

Kelpnos-- Klepnos--

Her body started shaking as the tension finally burst and she sobbed.

What in the nine ''hells'' had happened?

And why had she been ''stupid'' enough to come to Metamor in the first
place?

----