From alt.pub.dragons-inn Mon Jun 20 20:14:44 1994 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:7419 Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Path: netcom.com!mrhyde From: Christian Buhl Subject: [Boston] Part 1 Message-ID: Sender: mrhyde@netcom.com (Mr. Hyde) Organization: The Great Library of Generica Date: Tue, 21 Jun 1994 00:31:39 GMT Return-Path: Lines: 345 [ADMIN: this is being proxy-posted for Christian Buhl] "Silver eh?" A'arden looked up, a smile on his face at the prospect of another customer. "Yes, yes, we buy stories for silver, good, bad, short, long, false, true, we buy them all!" "Yeah I know, I can read." The other man said, motioning to the sign on the table with those exact words. "Ah yes, very well." A'arden readied his parchment and quill. "Now, what manner of story might this be?" "How much?" "Excuse me?" "How much silver?" "Oh, uh, five pieces, and free ale, we find that alcohol helps loosen the tongue." "And foddle the mind, making one forget payment, I'll pass on the ale." "Err...yes, now, what manner of story is this?" "History." "Ah yes, and the history of what?" "Of whom." "Of whom?!" A'arden was beginning to get visibly annoyed. "Boston, the elf." "Good. One last thing, your name?" "My name?" "You may remain anonymous if you wish." "I will." "Very well, feel free to begin at any time..." "In the year 39 b.p. (before present) Boston was born to a noble elven family, the Tiels of Nexus. Boston was raised to become a knight, and during his years of squireship, his lord saw that the young Boston possessed the skills and the honor to become one of the elite white knights, the Paladins. Thus Boston's training was altered to include more rigorous tests of both body and spirit. The young Boston was lithe and agile in both, and quickly surpassed the two young boys training alongside him, and they quickly grew jealous. The first boy training with Boston was a human, Bak'lor of the clan Lor, the second, a dwarf, Fel of the tribe of Gorman. Neither Bak'lor nor Fel were by any means weak or dim-witted, such boys were never trained to become Paladins. And yet, Boston easily out did them in any event. He was quick and strong with the sword, once defeating both the others with only two blows. He was swift and stable on a horse, able to maintain his balance under the most terrifying blow from a lance. And he was quick of mind, often amusing himself by toying with the other boys weaker intellects. For all this, they were resentful, and yet, they could do nothing. They had not the skill to injure him in jousting or in fencing and the watchful eye of their lord, the Lord Conqeur, never allowed a moment for them to hurt him any other time. So Bak'lor and Fel endured their humiliation in, longing for the day when they could strike back." A'arden broke in. "Damn, could you wait a second, my quill ran out of ink." "Why don't you get a magic one?" "Oh, er, I don't know, this is what I was supplied with." "I see." The man resumed after A'arden finished filling his quill. "May I continue now?" "Yes, carry on." "After several years, Boston, Bak'lor, and Fel, by now young men, received their knighthood at the hand of their Lord Conqeur. All three had easily proven themselves worthy, and they soon joined the notable order of Curs, Boston because he deemed the order, then the most powerful in Nexus, worthy of his allegiance, Bak'lor and Fel because they still sought an opportunity to strike at Boston. (None had any trouble joining the order, as Paladins are easily accepted in almost all orders of knighthood) Bak'lor and Fel quickly rose to positions of power in the order, Boston refusing to hold any political office. Several years later, in the year 14 b.p. The order of Curs was to hold tournament against the order of Falloway, one of several orders vying for control of the order of Knights, a political system to which the order of Curs belonged. As the day of the tournament approached, Bak'lor and Fel saw their opportunity to finally destroy, or at least, to humiliate Boston. The order of Falloway was know for its knights skilled in jousting, among them Freelong the Deadly, Pare the Red, and Glr the White. All three were respected and honored knights, yet all three were skilled with both lance and sword. Thus Bak'lor and Fel manipulated the rankings to insure that Boston would have to tourney all three in the same day, although tradition held that a knight need fight only once a day to maintain his rank. They were sure he would be defeated by at least one of them, or at least be forced to refuse a fight, a cause for great humiliation in the order of Knights. I'll take that drink now." A'arden looked up, confused. "What?!" The man repeated himself. "I'll take that drink now." "What dr- oh! The Ale. Uh, very well. Barkeep!" Littlefair walked up to the table. "Ah hello A'arden! Another ale for your customer I suppose?" "Yes, er.. please." Littlefair grinned. "You know, I don't know how *you* make money off these stories, but I sure know do!" A'arden looked back at his parchment. "Er...yes, could you bring my customer the ale?" "Of course, of course, I'll be right back." The other man spoke up. "I'll continue now." "Very well..." "The week of the tournament arrived, and Boston eagerly donned his armor, as of yet unaware of the challenge facing him that day. His first fight, with Pare the Red quickly approached, and Boston readied himself for the fight. Boston's page, a young boy named Zaq, helped him mount his saddle and ready his lance as the first charge began. Boston struck the first blow of the first charge, but Pare skillfully, blocked the blow with his shield, and both readied themselves for the second charge. Pare struck on the second blow, but the strike to the shield failed to even faze Boston, skillful as he was on his mount. Again and again they charged, Pare sometimes striking, Boston sometimes striking. It was clear that neither rider had an upper hand, and yet, none were waning. After some sixteen charges, Zaq informed Boston that he had noticed a weakness in Pare's defenses. Pare, he informed Boston, seemed to waver a bit more when Boston struck his shield near the top right corner, almost as if he could hardly keep hold of his shield. Thus, on the next charge, Boston struck with all his might on this spot, and true enough, Pare's shield went flying to the earth. Pare was now forced to charge without his shield, as the rules held. On the next charge, Pare wisely let Boston's blow glance of his side as he fell to the ground, giving the jousting portion of this battle to Boston, while sparing serious injury to himself." "Your ale!" Littlefair approached the table, a cup of ale in his hand, and handed it to the storyteller. "Many thanks." The storyteller responded, then proceeded to drain the glass in one deep drought. A'arden waited patiently. "You may proceed." "The fencing portion of the tournament now began. Pare took a two handed broadsword from his page to use, while Boston selected a one handed sword and a large Kite shield from Zaq. The fighting began, and both contestants exchanged a few exploratory blows as the spectators cheered from above. Their interests had been raised at the unhorsing of Pare, they were well aware that no knight would so easily give up the jousting part of the tournament unless he had great skill at swordplay, and were eager for a good fight. They were not to be disappointed. Pare was surprisingly quick with his two handed sword, blocking or deflecting most of Boston's blows while managing to place a few strong blows himself. Boston was also extremely skilled, while unable to muster the power Pare commanded, he was extremely lithe, his speed and agility enabling him to block Pare's blows with his shield. The two exchanged blows for well over ten minutes, neither losing control of his weapon, a rarity indeed as most sword fights lasted but a few minutes. A testament to the skill of both contestants. Boston, however, knew that unless he changed something, Pare would prevail, as the power of Boston's blows did not equal the power in Pare's blows, and though Boston had a shield to protect himself, the shield was beginning to splinter under Pare's onslaught. Finally, Boston requested a short reprieve, at which time he exchanged his sword for a morning star, hoping that by throwing the ball around to the side or back of his opponent he could catch him off guard. He was not, however, allowed to exchange his Kite shield, as the rules did not allow for an exchange of shield. As the fight was resumed, Boston made several quick advances, throwing the weight of the morning star around Pare's sword, and striking several heavy blows to Pare's back. On the third or fourth such blow however, Pare caught the chain with his sword, and smashed the chain, the ball, and the sword into Boston's Kite, cracking it in half. Another strong blow completely destroyed the shield, and Boston was left defending a two handed broadsword with only a morning star. Although he landed several more blows, Pare landed several himself, and eventually caught the chain with his sword, yanking it out of Boston's hands. Weaponless and without defense, Boston gave up the fight." A'arden broke in again. "Damn it! I am sorry, but my pen ran out of ink again." "Maybe my story's too long?" The storyteller offered. "Oh no! Not at all, we buy them all, good, bad, long, short - " "Yeah, I know the pitch." "Oh, sorry." "May I continue?" "Go ahead." "The match would end in an archery contest, with the contestant winning two out of three rounds declared the winner. The first round would consist of three shots with the shortbow, the second, three shots with the longbow, the third, one shot with the crossbow. Boston, winner of the first fight, led the first round. Boston drew his shortbow and took careful aim at the bullseye one hundred yards away, the arrow flew, landing with a seven inch sin. His next shot was better, only three inches off the bullseye, but his last shot, misjudged in the wind, went awry and flew off the mark thirteen inches, Paladins were not renowned for their skill with the bow. Pare took the stance, and confident in the knowledge that he needed only mediocre shots to win the round, took aim. His confidence did him well, as his first shot was less than an two inches away from the bullseye, with Boston's sin at 23, the round would almost certainly go to Pare. Again Pare shot, and his arrow missed the mark by eight inches, not a good shot, but still, Pare needed only a thirteen or less to win the round. A sin of six, a total of 16, the first round easily went to Pare. Boston readied his longbow as Pare took aim with his, the target standing at two hundred yards, the longbow shoot was normally the most decisive part of any archery event, as few warriors have but a cursory knowledge of the longbow, and both accuracy and strength are essential with the longbow. Pare's stronger physique would be an obvious advantage, as he easily managed the one hundred pound pull, sending the arrow, fleeting on it's way. His accuracy, however, was wont for improvement, as a fifteen inch sin is poor even for one inexperienced in the longbow. Pare however, did not appear concerned however, as he drew his second arrow, indeed, he had cause not to be, as the arrow landed a mere eight inches away. Calmly drawing his breath and his bowstring, he pulled the third time, and let the arrow fly, and with his shot again at eight inches away, he stood well with a sin of 31. Boston stepped up, and notched his arrow, taking aim and taking steady eye, he carefully assessed the target before letting fly his arrow, and with good cause, the arrow landed at six inches, an excellent shot. Again he pulled and let fly, a sin of ten the mediocre result. Boston fired a third time, and again the wind played havoc with his arrow, this time the shot landed fourteen inches away, fourteen was low enough however, as he barely defeated Pare with a sin of 30 to 31. The crossbow would decide both the archery match, and the tournament match, each contestant would be afforded only one bolt, and both would pull at the same time. The target's standing three hundred yards away, this was arguably the most difficult part of the contest, as it was rare that a bolt landed on a target when the contestants where not skilled with the crossbow. Boston, however, was not worried, he had handled a crossbow before, and was well accustomed to the feel. Pare, while having had one demonstrated him, had never actually used one, and it was allowed that he be given a short time to learn the weapon. When the time came, Pare and Boston stood, ten yards apart, each aiming at a target three hundred yards away, and only one yards wide. As the signal was given, both raised the sights to their eyes, leveling on the dot nearly a fifth of a mile away. Both set their jaws grim, both aware that the fate of the contest rested, as it rarely did, on this normally insignificant event. The hand was raised, and both men pulled the trigger, sending a pair of bolts hurtling their way away, then, the sound of ripping was heard, and it became clear that one of the arrows had found their way to the target. The men approached, and the hole only five inches away from the bullseye on Boston's target made clear the winner, Boston had won his match." A good night's sleep." A'arden was puzzled. "Excuse me?!" "I need a good night's sleep. Barkeep!" Littlefair approached the table. "More ale I suppose?" "No, how much are your rooms?" "A silver piece, for a nice room." "Four silver..." The storyteller broke off. "Excuse me? It's only one - " "No no, I'll only have four silver left." The storyteller turned to A'arden. "Give me ten for my story." "I'm sorry sir, standard fare is five, I can't change the rules." "Very well, I'm done with my story, tomorrow, after I've had my rest, I will tell you another story for another five gold, which will just happen to be a completion of this one. Good night A'arden, until tomorrow." "But, but, uh, er, very, um, very well...sir." Littlefair, a wide grin on his face, led The Storyteller to his room. Copyright June 1994 by Christian Buhl.