[Mkguild] Plain & Simple part 7

[Chris]

Some people reported issues with Parts 7 & 8 coming thru as gibberish so
Imp resending them.


***********



“George!” Misha called through the closed door. “Time to get up.”

 

   When he got no answer he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

 

   He found George on the bed nude but not alone. Sleeping next to him
in the bed was a beautiful, lady jaguar morph keeper her head resting on
George’s shoulder. Both his arms were wrapped around her. She was as
naked as he was.

 

   “I didn’t know you like cats George,” Misha commented calmly to the
two in the bed.

 

   “MISHA! Sir, I . . . We . . .” the jaguar stuttered as she reached
for her clothes.

 

   “Relax Sarah,” the fox said waving his hand. “This isn’t the first
time I’ve found George in bed with someone. But you’d best go anyway. He
has a lot of people to meet this morning.”

 

   The feline relaxed noticeably. She licked George on the cheek and
nuzzled him tenderly. “See you later?” she asked softly.

 

   “Of course,” he answered and kissed her on the muzzle.

 

   Misha watched the still seminude lady leave. He enjoyed the view of
the tail attached to her shapely rear, both swaying seductively with
each step.

 

   “How was it?” Misha asked after she had left.

 

   “Fun, the biting on the neck and the yowling was new,” the bandit
answered.

 

   “What about all the fur?”

 

   “She wasn’t the hairiest woman I have ever had.”

 

   Misha shivered. “Now THAT is a story I do NOT want to hear.”

 

 

**************************

 

 

   The first meeting of all of Metamor’s scouts was far from good. It
took three days to gather all those people who claimed to be the scouts
and hunters of Metamor keep. It was a motley group of just under 100
people. George saw men, women and a score of different animal species
including an eagle and a griffon. The group was gathered in the middle
of a small hall that had appeared just for the purpose.

 

   George was dressed in a loose fitting shirt of red cloth edged with
gold thread, both his cutlass and dagger hung in scabbards from his hip.
He walked the entire length of the hall moving through the group with an
air of confidence and authority. He didn’t speak but all conversation
stopped anyway as he moved past. 

 

   He stood on a chair that rested at the front of the group and
surveyed the group arrayed in front of him for a long moment. “My name
is George,” he said in a calm voice that rang with command. “Duke Thomas
has given me command over you all.”

 

    From the front row came a loud, rude noise.

 

   The scout stepped down from the chair and moved to the source of the
sound. There he found a small ferret morph who stared up at him
defiantly.

 

   “You’re not going to give me any orders,” the ferret announced
angrily. “No one orders me to do anything.”

 

   George lashed out suddenly with his fist knocking the ferret to the
floor. “Any other complaints?” he said harshly.

 

   “Misha,” George called calmly. “I’ve got the second recruit for your
little group,” he said and pointed to the ferret.

 

   The ferret glared at Misha and then snarled at George.

 

   “Relax,” Misha said cutting off any comments the ferret might have
had. “It’s not a bad thing. George has a special job for both of us. How
good are you at killing Lutins?”

 

   The ferret didn’t answer but the woman next to him did. She laughed.
“Finbar can sneak up on anything and kill it.”

 

   Several others in the group nodded in agreement.

 

   “And I don’t need some big, clumsy axe to do it,” the mustelid added
proudly.

 

   “What do you use?” George asked.

 

   Finbar held up a pair of long and very sharp daggers in each hand.

 

   “He’s almost as crazy as you are Misha,” a voice called out from the
group.

 

   “Oh?” Misha said and cocked his head to one side.

 

   The ferret picked up a bag that had rested on the floor next to him
and pulled a Lutin’s head from it. “I killed this one on the way here.”

 

   Misha noticed that as quickly as the ferret had produced the daggers
he made them disappear, quietly and with no fuss. This ferret was a
knife man. A rare thing. Most people preferred bigger and more powerful
weapons. To most a dagger was too small and perhaps a bit too personal.
You had to get very close to use a dagger properly. Close enough to see
the pain and fear in your opponent’s eyes as you drove the blade into
his heart. Few used daggers but those who did master the dagger were
both feared and highly respected.

 

   The fox nodded his head. “Good. I need a few good people to help me
do some special tasks. The pay is good but the work is very dangerous.”

 

   “Does it mean I get to kill lots of Lutins?” the ferret asked.

 

   “Yes.”

 

   “Sounds great!” Finbar answered. “I’m in!”

 

   “I am not some stupid, pretty looking boy who got this command
because my mother fucked some nobleman. I’ve spent my whole life
fighting, scouting and being a bandit. The fact that I’m still alive
tells you I’m good at it,” George said in a booming voice.

 

   George started walking slowly though the assembled crowd. “You all
are good at killing Lutins. I’m here to make you even better at it. I am
going to organize this motley crowd into a group so good that not even a
mouse can take a dump in this valley without us knowing about it. From
now on not one lutin gets in without us knowing about it. From now on
there will be no more raids on our homes. From now on any Lutins that
enters this valley never leaves it alive.”

 

   Several people in the crowd cheered and clapped their hands. Others
nodded.

 

   “First, you will be grouped into teams of five,” George held his
right hand up with all the fingers extended over his head for all to
see. “Each with a team leader who will report to me personally. You will
remain with those people from now on. Whenever you go out on patrol it
will be with them. NO ONE GOES OUT ALONE! EVER!” he shouted.

 

   “Where and when you patrol will be ordered by me so that the entire
valley is covered by an ever changing schedule and pattern of patrols.
This is to keep the Lutins from guessing the pattern and slipping past
us to raid a town.”

 

   The bandit walked back to the front of the group. “But first I need
to know how good you all are. So each team will be going out on patrol
with either me or Misha.”

 

   “Any mages in the group?” Misha asked. His question was answered only
by silence.

 

   “To be expected,” George commented. “Mages rarely want to get their
shoes dirty in the woods.”

 

   “Mages don’t walk through woods they just burn them down,” Misha
added. “And then blame it on a conjunction of the planets.”

 

   The whole group laughed at the fox’s joke.

 

   “From now on you will take orders from me alone and no one else,” the
old scout ordered. “It is that simple. No one but me can give you
orders. Period. No excuses. The only one who can give you an order
besides me is Misha,” he said and pointed to where the fox was standing.
“And he takes his orders from ME!”

 

   “Each one of you will make your way to that table,” he said and
pointed to where a woman sat behind a small wooden table. “You’ll give
Diane your name, where you live and what skills you have. Do not lie or
exaggerate. That is my second rule; You can say whatever you want to
others but NEVER lie to a fellow scout. Lives depend on the exact
truth.”

 

   “My third rule TELL NO ONE NOTHING!” he shouted waving his hands
around. “Never discuss a mission, with anyone but your team mates. Not
the smallest detail. Never tell anything about us or your team to
anyone. Not even your family or friends. The less information that gets
out is that much less that can make it’s way to Nasoj. Even the
stupidest and most simple fact can lead to someone getting killed.”

 

 

***********************

 

 

   A group of twenty scouts stood uneasily in a line at one end of the
archery range.

 

   “This is easy,” Misha said standing behind them. “We want to see just
how good your aim is. What we are looking for is speed and accuracy.”

 

   “We’ve been doing this for three days,” Finbar countered.

 

   “And when your aim improves to where I’m satisfied we’ll move on to
your favorite part – the sword and knife fighting. And after that we’ll
move on to hunting and stalking.”

 

   “We know how to stalk and hunt,” someone complained. “And Finbar is
probably better at it then you are!”

 

   The ferret puffed up with pride.

 

   “I know he is,” Misha answered and looked at the ferret. “And he’ll
be TEACHING the rest of us.”

 

   Finbar’s ears and tailed drooped. “Me?” he stuttered.

 

   Misha patted the ferret on the shoulder. “George wants his people to
learn from the best and you ARE the best stalker in the Keep.”

 

   Finbar stood straighter, his pride recovered but there was a trace of
doubt in his eyes.

 

   “Relax, just be yourself and you’ll do fine. Just don’t kill anyone.”

 

   “I only kill Lutins,” he answered coldly.

 

   Misha’s tail wagged in delight. “I like how you think!”

 

 

************************

 

 

   George was standing in front of a small group of scouts. The old
bandit was dressed from head to toe in black, loose fitting clothing.
Any part of his body that was not covered with the clothe was covered
with a black dye, even his hair. It made him look very intimidating
which was one point of dressing like that.

 

   “What you’re seeing is the new camouflaged uniform for all night
work,” George explained. “If you are going out at night you WILL be
wearing this. All of you will be issued two such uniforms. And never
mind the cost. The duke is buying!”

 

   “Does the Duke know that?” someone asked.

 

   “Not yet!” George answered with a sly grin.

 

   The group erupted in a roar of laughter.

 

 

***********************

 

 

   To the woodcutter passing it seemed like he had stumbled upon a
madman. They saw a man dressed completely in green and brown clothing
walking across a forest clearing shouting out loud to himself and
throwing rocks at random. But to George and the rest of the people there
it was serious business.

 

   “Not good enough,” George shouted and threw a rock at small piles of
brown vegetation.

 

   The pile emitted a soft yelp and shivered.

 

   “Now you’re dead,” George told the pile. “Stand up.”

 

   The dead vegetation shifted and a young woman covered completely in
brown and green cloth slowly stood up. “That hurt,” she said rubbing her
shoulder.

 

   “Be glad it was only a rock and not a spear,” George countered. “You
did good Mabel but you forgot to change your cover and you had dead
leaves and grass over you. It’s summer and there is a pile of dead grass
in a field filled with green grass and bushes. Your worst mistake was
making noise while hidden.”

 

   “You hit me with a rock!” she countered.

 

   “So?” George asked. “If the Lutins weren’t sure you were there they
would be when you yelled out. You have to remain silent no matter what.
Even if wounded you can’t make a sound. Sounds can be your best friend
or your worst enemy.”

 

   “Yes sir,” she said coldly.

 

   “You have ten minutes to find yourself another hiding spot,” he said
to the woman.

 

   “All right. Who’s next?” he said as he turned to a small tree stump
sitting at the edge of the field. “Please tell me no one was stupid
enough to hide behind something so obvious as a tree stump.”

 

 

**************************

 

 

   George slowly lowered himself into the water. The hot water of the
bath felt good on his bruised and battered body. From his right came a
soft yip and a chuckle.

 

   “Feeling a little sore?” Misha asked. The fox had already stripped
and settled into his own bath. Only his head, shoulders and arms were
sticking out of the water. In his left hand was a large glass of wine.
On the floor between them rested a bottle of wine, some bread and a
small pile of cheese and meats.

 

   “Very sore,” he answered. “That elk really tossed me good.”

 

   “You have to remember that these aren’t people in animal costumes.
William may walk like a man but he’s got an elk’s strength.”

 

   “I am getting used to that but it’s a hard habit to break after
spending my whole life fighting men and normal animals.”

 

   “When do you think they’ll be ready?” Misha asked. “Thalberg has been
asking me.”

 

   “Soon. Another few days. I’d like to get in more patrols but there
simply isn’t the time.”

 

   “George, do you really think you can do this” Misha asked. “Retaking
that castle with what little Metamor has?”

 

   “Yes!” he answered bluntly. “Nasoj can’t openly attack so soon after
being so badly defeated during Three Gates. He’ll have to stick with
harassment and night raids. At least till he gets desperate enough to do
something stupid.”

 

    “George,” Misha said and pointed to his right arm.

 

   Puzzled the old bandit looked from his friend’s arm to his own. He
noted that his lower arm was covered with a tan fur.

 

   “The curse it seems has finally made its choice. Looks like you’re
going to be an animal like me,” Misha said and pointed to himself.

 

 

*****************

 

 

   By the time the two had finished with the wine, the food and the bath
the curse had finished changing George. Naked the old bandit stood in
front of a mirror admiring the strange body that was now his own.

 

   His canine head topped with large ears sat atop a lean, rangy body
that was covered with short tan fur. Looking behind he saw a long, bushy
tail. The fur on his back was black instead of tan like the rest.

 

   “I’m shorter and a lot thinner,” George commented and shrugged. “At
least I won’t go bald.”

 

   “You’re a canine of some sort,” Misha commented. “A jackal I think.”

 

   “A black backed jackal,” George corrected. “Southern animal.
Scavengers and hunters.”

 

   “They’re survivors George. Just like you.”

 

   The new jackal’s ears swiveled all about as his nose twitched,” So
many sounds and smells!” he said delighted. “It’s like I’ve had a whole
new world opened up.”

 

   Misha nodded. “And taste too! Food will never be the same again! And
before you ask, yes you do have a knot like all canine males do.”

 

   The jackal gave a short bark of laughter. “You know me too well. I
wonder what Sarah will think.”

 

   “You should be a goat instead of a jackal.”

 

   George ran his fingers along the teeth in his muzzle. “I like the
teeth. I’ll never have to worry about not having a weapon when I need
it. And I have a full set of teeth. Even the ones I lost are back.”

 

   “The curse seems to do that. It cures any problems a person might
have. It’s even been know to regrow body parts!”

 

   “I feel younger!” George said with a tinge of delight in his voice.
“I really feel a lot younger!”

 

   The fox shrugged. “You might have caught some of the youth side of
the curse. There is very little really known about the curse.”

 

 

****************

 

 

   Craig and Misha stood at the table, still dressed in the armor and
camouflaged clothing they had worn for the last two weeks. George stood
on the opposite side of the table. If the smell of his comrades bothered
him he didn’t show it. Spread out on the table between them was a large
piece of parchment. On the parchment drawn in black ink was a map of the
ruined castle and the terrain around it.

 

   “The area around is only lightly patrolled,” Misha commented. “We
only ran into three patrols outside the walls. But there was a lot of
activity inside. There was at least one large group a night carrying
supplies that arrived. Some nights there were two or even three groups.
These groups were large, thirty or forty Lutins all laden down with
supplies.”

 

   Craig nodded. “Twice they brought in wagons.”

 

   “Any patterns?” George asked.

 

   “All the groups came in after midnight and departed a few hours
later. All were long gone by dawn. They all entered and left through the
east gate. Quite a few of the Lutins stayed behind because only half to
a quarter of those who came left,” the prairie dog morph commented.

 

   Misha pointed to a line on the map that represented the north wall.
“This section of the wall has a large breach in it. The wall is down
completely along a twenty five foot long section running from here to
here,” he said and pointed to two spots on the map.

 

   George took a pen and using red ink drew a thick red line between the
two places Misha had pointed to. “Guards?”

 

   “Two and both in the same place,” Craig answered. “In the center of
the breach itself.”

 

   George took another pen and drew a green dot on the center on the red
line he had just made. “What about the flanking towers?”

 

   “Left one is intact up to it’s full height and there is usually an
archer stationed there at nights,” Misha answered. “But not every night.
It seems to be random when someone is there.”

 

   “Right tower is badly tumbled,” Craig explained. “Highest part is
about ten feet high.”

 

   The jackal marked the map with more red ink.

 

   “The north gate is gone,” Misha commented. “The tower is there but
the gate itself has been filled in. It’s a solid wall now.”

 

   “Filled in with what?” George asked as he marked the map with black
ink.

 

   “Stone and whoever did it did a really good job. The stones were
carefully laid and mortared well. It looked like it had been done years
ago.”

 

   The jackal morph nodded. “Probably one of the Duke’s ancestors.”

 

   “The tower itself is in fair shape. The walls are solid but the
floors and roof are gone,” the fox scout added.

 

   “Good. Next trip out you’re to concentrate on the interior. I need to
know what the Keep itself looks like along with what’s left of that
town.”

 

   “When do we go out?” Craig asked.

 

  “Relax a little, get cleaned up and catch up on your sleep but be
ready to leave in a day.”

 

  “One day?” Craig asked surprised.

 

   George nodded. “Time is getting tight. We can’t delay any more.”

  

End part 7


No virus found in this outgoing message.
Checked by AVG. 
Version: 7.5.524 / Virus Database: 270.10.17/1931 - Release Date:
2/2/2009 7:21 PM