New story!
Now, I know that this is a bit farfetched with the whole girl pretending to be a guy and looks like a boy thing, but I'm sure plenty of people did it back then. If not, oh well. My story, I can do what I like. :) Also, I'm trying to fashion this new female character to be a bit of a pirate style girl.
My apologies if I don't get the characters right, feel free to correct me.
Anyway, I'm giving the musketeers a try. Tell me if you like it!
ST
I couldn't help but stare at the cell opposite of mine in slight confusion. Were these two complete morons? They were in the clutches of a torturer, and they were snarking back and forth stuff like 'Had you not scared the pheasants, they wouldn't have spotted us.' 'Well if you hadn't tripped me with your musket, I wouldn't have scared the stupid birds.' I think they were speaking French. Did I somehow manage to go from England to France? Wouldn't be unheard of, but unlikely.
I wanted to bang my head into the wall. Maybe I could knock myself out. Might be better than listening to these two idiots. Then again, if I did that, I wouldn't finish picking the lock on my manacles. Then I would die in this stupid cell because of blood loss and never see my horse again or continue the wonderful life of being a rogue.
With a definite click, the manacles unlocked.
The sound silenced the two men in the cell, and one of them, the one who had a very nice voice, said, "Hello? Is there someone actually in that dark thing they call a cell?"
I laughed in answer and stood up. My black cloak billowed around me, and I pulled the hood up.
Thankfully, I had not been divested of my clothes. Just my weapons. Or at least, the ones they could see without doing an extensive search. Despite being mercenaries, they still had enough honor not to inappropriately touch a lady. Yet they still found it in them to stab me repeatedly in the abdomen. How charming.
Anyway, back to the subject of clothing.
I wore black trousers that were tight on my hips but loose everywhere else, and they were tucked into the calf high leather boots. I had on a black long sleeve shirt that was tight on my wrists and hips, but loose everywhere else. Like my trousers. And I had black leather gloves and a black traveling cloak trimmed with dark blue.
No, I wasn't wearing a dress. How unladylike of me, right? Well screw that. I was a rogue and I could do what I bloody well pleased. Dresses were cumbersome, so were those awful shoes, and don't get me started on the uncomfortable corsets that ladies were forced to wear if they wanted to be respectable.
Then again, what did I care about respect from those kinds of people?
I kind of looked like a boy. A very fair faced boy. But besides being slightly bigger in the hips and the chest, I really would look like a boy if you didn't know better. I had short black hair that barely brushed my shoulders, easier to fight with and manage than long hair, piercing dark blue eyes, pale skin, high, icy features that made me look like I had been cut from marble, and a lean frame. I was tall, about 6'1, and looked like I was built for running.
My voice was musical and fair, but it was a bit deeper than your average high pitched lady. So if I tried, I could pass for a boy. Besides, it wasn't that hard. My father taught me to be a fighter, not a damsel in distress, from the time I was old enough to hold a dagger.
I also bound what little of a chest that I had, it made it easier to ride and to move about. And it was much simpler than putting on a damn corset.
To put it simply, based on the way I acted, the way I dressed, and the general way that I carried myself, I passed for a very impish boy.
Fine by me.
I walked towards the cell door, ignoring the way my stomach protested in pain at the movements.
I knelt down, pulled the lock picks up again, and got to work on the door. Within moments, another click rang through the air.
I crossed the walkway to the two idiots' cell and quickly picked that lock too. I walked inside and stood in front of them. I tilted my head and gestured to their manacles.
"May I?" I asked in flawless French. Thanks to my father, I was fluent in many languages.
Without a word, both of them held up their manacles. One of them was injured. The younger one. He had dark brown hair that hung over his shoulders, big brown eyes that were scrunched up in pain, olive skin, and a lean figure. He was bleeding heavily from his shoulder, and a stab wound was making itself known on his torso.
The other one looked relatively unscathed except for a few bruises. He also had dark brown hair and rich brown eyes. He skin was a bit lighter than the younger ones.
I knelt down next to the younger one and began to pick the lock on his manacles. Soon, the first one popped off. Releasing his injured arm. I grabbed it before it could fall to his side and create more pain, and gently eased it down to his lap.
I quickly released his other arm and moved on to the next man. Soon, he was released. As soon as he was free, he moved over to the injured boy.
He quickly checked him over and sighed, "I don't have anything to stitch it up with. Your arm definitely needs stitches, and it wouldn't hurt to stitch this too." He poked lightly at the stab wound and the boy hissed.
I turned on my heel and began stalking to the main door.
The uninjured one leapt to his feet and called after me, "Where are you going?"
I turned around slightly and gave him a crooked grin, "To get our things back. If I remember correctly, they'll be in the room across the hall to this one. All that I have to do is take out the guard. I have medical supplies in my bag. Give me a moment and I'll return."
He looked conflicted, then looked at his injured friend and nodded. "Alright. Do it quickly please."
I threw a salute at him.
I may not know who the hell they are, but I was always partial to strays.
I cautiously opened the door, and it thankfully didn't creak open. I looked out to see one guard posted at the door. I bent and retrieved a knife from my boot. I drew in a deep breath, then lunged out of the door. I quickly took the guard out and lowered him gently to the ground.
Once he was down, I dragged him to a corner and moved a threadbare blanket over him after drawing the keys from his belt.
That done, I crept through the dank hallway and to the door I remembered my sword being tossed into. With a quick glance left and right, I unlocked the door and hastened inside.
I looked around the small room and found a small pile of things. Two other cloaks rested in a heap on the ground, and on these two piles rested two swords, two muskets, a hat, a few pistols, a few saddle bags, and thick leather pauldrons. Said pauldrons had fleur de lis on the side. Wonderful. The two strays I was taking in were Musketeers. Yay me.
Beside their belongings, rested mine. I grinned at the black rapier and quickly put it back in its scabbard on my hip. I replaced the numerous knives back to their rightful positions and slung my bag over my shoulders. I also put my pistols where they belonged. That done, I repositioned my cloak and picked up the Musketeers things.
I stuck my head out into the corridor again and checked that no one was coming, then crept back to the cell block.
I opened the door quickly and shut it, locking it again just in case someone decided to pay us a visit before we were ready. Hopefully, my horse was still in the stables, and not dog food. Nah, he wouldn't let them.
I turned back around, only to get a knife in my face.
