A Falling Hourglass is a collaboration between six authors; each with their own designated character. Some of the characters will live. Some of them may die. After eight rounds, the story will come to an end. As always, be sure to let us know what you think and leave a review!
Need Money
By: Laurence Copeland
Snowfall.
In every direction Laurence looked there was the enveloping white, raining down from above.
It had been like this ever since the caravan left from Hastings Hall four days prior.
This weather. This is insane. What surprised the otter more than anything else about this kind of weather, was how bitterly could it could be. Chilled, right down to the bones. No matter how many layers of clothing he wore the feeling just would not go away. The wind whistled relentlessly in his ears.
"Don't forget t' shake your shoulders every now and again!" muttered a hoarse voice. It was his friend Bertram. "Trust me, ye don't want to get buried in a heap o' snow out here."
"Are we almost there? I don't think I can take much more of this Fates-forsaken weather!" Laurence adjusted the balaclava obscuring his face as another wave of cold belted him. He was reduced to breathing through the mouth since all the mucus inside his nose had turned solid. Can't believe we all haven't frozen to death.
"Not far now. Mayhaps another three miles to go."
The otter tried to complain at the undesirable answer Bertram had given, but he couldn't find his voice. Instead he was reduced to another coughing fit.
"Give your voice a rest, comrade. Hard enough to speak over this howlin' wind."
Speak for yourself. Your voice sounds ready to give out. Where Laurence was originally from, it never got this bad. The worst storm he'd ever seen in his homeland finished only five inches of snow high. For only two months out of the year it would persist, before warmer weather returned.
Laurence Copeland managed to keep weary eyes fixed on the cart inching along in front of him. He and a couple other able-bodied mercenaries had volunteered to march behind it, each of them armed. It wasn't often that these caravans would make it from one city to another in one piece without armed guards. As unpleasant as guard duty was, anything was better than having the misfortune of being chosen to pull the cart to its destination.
Ten more minutes drifted by, before the faint sound of a horn came from the front of the caravan. "Well what d'ye know? One of the scouts must have caught a glimpse o' the city," said Bertram.
Laurence squinted his eyes, and sure enough he could see a pair of tiny bright dots through the endless white before him. The wall grew in size with every unified step taken in the right direction. Everybeast in the caravan felt a renewed vigor at the sight of their destination and quickened their marching pace. Thank the Fates.
"Looks like I was wrong for once... Marshank, in all of its glory!" The town was completely obscured by a collapsing stone wall that looked to be very old- with a few holes in the framework that had been patched over again with cloth or planks of wood.
The imposing wall gate creaked wide open when the caravan drew near. Once each of the newcomers made it inside the sentries on the parapet furiously turned a crank, and the gate closed shut.
"For the record, I'm glad you were wrong Bertram," said Laurence after a sigh of relief. The cold might have taken a lot out of him, but it would not rid him of his good humor. He gladly ripped off the balaclava and tucked it into his jacket pocket.
One of the first things Laurence really noticed about the settlement was the scattered clusters of structures. Apothecaries, shops and the like were built right beside each other. Then a few dozen yards apart, would be another structure, like a watchtower. Beyond that, a collective of shoddy tents where villagers lived.
Interestingly enough, what connected all the official structures together were a series of towlines. Laurence figured it was probably a great way to prevent any beast wandering out late at night from getting lost in the harsh wintry darkness.
Not many creatures looked to be out this late in the day, with the sun having set only minutes prior to their arrival. The leader of the caravan, a middle aged hare named Gervaise, jumped off the cart and landed in a drift of snow. "Bertram! Start a roll call... Well? Hop to it, mate!"
At the urging of his employer the mouse began rapidly counting each creature huddled together beside the caravan.
"I'm counting seventeen creatures present, Mister Gervaise," announced Bertram after double checking his numbers. "Looks like we lost pore ole Cuffy somewhere out there."
We lost somebeast out there? Not on my watch. Laurence turned toward the imposing gate.
"Fates help him. I can only imagine what he must be experiencing. With that said, only one creature lost out on the trail isn't bad. Not bad at all."
Laurence stepped twice, then stopped. He bit his lip thoughtfully. If he'd seen the city lights, Cuffy the old mouse would have shown up by now.
"Shouldn't we send somebeast out there? To go and help him?" asked a stuttering, young voice. Laurence recognized it as the unseasoned squirrel that had accompanied them. "Cuffy won't last very long on his own."
Laurence's grip tightened around the hilt of his sword until the sinew around his knuckles hurt. That means he must be at least four miles out.
He heard the stomp of the hare's paw against the snow. "Are you volunteering to go an' fetch him? Are you? Hmm? I didn't think so. Nay, I shall not lose another creature to this accursed weather!"
"B-but, what if-"
"No." All eyes turned back to Laurence as trudged back towards the group, face fixed in a scowl. "He's right. As much as I hate to admit it, we've already lost him."
"If we just let him die, then we're just as guilty in causing his death." said another woodlander, this one a hedgehog.
Laurence responded first with a glare. "If you went back out there, you would only seek to give winter another corpse. You saw how bad that storm was. It will only get worse once the sun sets."
The hedgehog's jaw tightened, but he said nothing as a grim silence settled over the group.
"Nothing to do for it but move on," Laurence said, pushing past the rest of the caravan and walking closer toward the nearest city watch brazier.
His paw remained tight around his sword. Years of warring had taught him many hard truths. When self-preservation trumped the good of others was just one of them. Laurence stood beside the nearest brazier and warmed his freezing joints by the roaring fire as he reflected on the events unfolded.
No, he did not plan on dying today. Or anytime soon. He had unfinished business back home.
~.~.~.~
For his valiant efforts in escorting the caravan to its destination, Laurence was paid in full: two measly silver coins. It had taken every ounce of the otter's self-control to not throw the coins into that cheap jerk's pretentious face. Originally the job had promised five silver coins.
When confronted about the broken promise, the hare tried to explain that it was in Cuffy's contract that should a life be lost on the road, some of the proceeds would go to his family. It was in Laurence's contract too. So in the end, everybeast received a small pay cut. Not just Laurence.
Laurence groped at the pair of silver coins jingling within his coat pocket, whiskers twitching once more at his predicament. He turned down a pathway into one of the nicer districts of Marshank, searching for signage leading him to Arbington.
He'd parted ways with the mercenaries and his friend Bertram when they opted to stay at a rickshaw inn on the far outskirts of the city. If he was going to sleep for the first time in a new town, it would be in a place with some real class. He was going to live a little.
Upon finding a wooden placard hanging from the side of a multi-tiered building - the words "Arbington" intricately carved upon its face - the young mercenary marched forward to the inn that Betram had recommended to him. Laurence flashed a smile at a pretty female mouse darting past him. She did not return the friendly gesture.
Upon reaching the door, Laurence took a moment to compose himself. He turned the doorknob and entered the inn. The interior of Arbington definitely did not disappoint. The stairwell was made from sculpted marble, stairs themselves were stone.
There was almost nobeast in sight. Just a drunken mouse pouting in the corner of the room with a half-empty flask, and the maiden otter behind the counter, readily polishing a flask of her own. Once Laurence reached the counter, he placed himself in a leisurely pose.
"So you own this old place, lass? Nice. Good to see a fellow otter around these parts doing well."
"Do you really expect the owner of this place to be standing behind the counter?" Laurence noticed the younger female had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She put the mug away and spoke in a much less condescending tone. "I'm sorry. What can I help you with, my lord?"
"I would like your finest available room," Laurence placed one of the silver coins on the table. Then he held the other out toward the maiden, "And how much to drink can a creature like me get around here for one silver?"
"Two bottles of your choice. Want me to have them sent to your room?"
"Aye. Firefleck Mead, if you have it. Mulberry Wine if you don't." Laurence handed her the last two coins in his possession.
"I hope you enjoy your stay, master...?"
"You can just call me Laurence. Laurence Copeland," said the mercenary with a wink.
The walk to the bedroom was short and lonely. Inside the chambers there were silk curtains and a cozy-looking bed; the best part of the entire suite was a lovely view facing in the direction of the ruined fortress. He leaned out against the railing and could see torches illuminating the ancient place. New buildings had been constructed into the walls, and extensions added to the spiraling towers. Laurence made a mental note to check the place out before leaving the settlement.
The otter hung his oversized jacket on the bedpost, then took off the dark gray scarf around his neck. Following this he unbuckled his belt and with it the family sword inside its scabbard.
After completely settling in, Laurence eyed the bottle of Firefleck. Using his claws, he gently removed the wrapping protecting the cork and popped it open. He took in the smell and the memories of his home life came swarming back to him.
Father, still in one whole piece and standing tall. Little brother childishly playing games in with his army of friends. Back then Laurence himself had not a care in the world, before he had a mountain of responsibilities. Before the great war had changed everything. The peaceful times which had taken place so long ago.
No. He could not think about home anymore. It would only make him cry again. He carefully placed it back into his pack. The otter resolved to save the Firefleck for a very special occasion. Right now, he would enjoy Mulberry.
The rest of that night would end up mostly forgotten by the otter in the following morning.
~.~.~.~
Laurence awoke with the feeling of his brain sloshing inside his skull. It was unpleasant, but not enough to warrant any real concern. Sluggishly he clothed himself again. Shouldn't have drank so much last night. He waited a moment sitting on the edge of his bed, letting himself wake up before standing to his footpaws.
I'm broke again. There was no way around it now. Laurence would need to find a job here in Marshank. Like everywhere else in the world food and water here was surely not going to be free. He looped the belt around his waist and stared at the sword propped against his bedside. I'll come back for it later.
To his surprise, he encountered the same female otter from last night behind the front counter again... albeit more tired and disheveled than before. After taking a moment to make sure jacket collar was on right, and his headfur was neat, Laurence approached the counter with a spring in his step.
"Fancy seeing you again." Her feminine voice was far too loud for this early in the morning, but he did not mention it. "Didn't think you would be getting up this early."
"I was raised to sleep early, wake early as a young cub. I guess old habits truly die hard. Ye seem like a smart creature, where could I go to find a job around these parts?"
She looked up toward the ceiling and her snout twitched incessantly. "Hmm. I know there is a news bulletin a few streets downtown from here. It also doubles as a place where creatures will post info about odd jobs they need done..."
"Excellent, that's exactly what I am looking for! Could you show me where this bulletin is?" Laurence leaned a little closer than before, eagerly awaiting a response.
"Err... I don't know about that. It's kind of in a dangerous part of town. But I could always write directions down for you to follow!" She opened up the guest registry and turned it toward an empty page. She swiftly wrote down the directions, then tore it out from the old book.
Before she finished, Laurence hastily added, "You should probably write your name down... and the name of this place on there. Um, just in case I... you know, forget where I got this from."
With a knowing smile, the worker added both the name of Arbington Inn and her name. Once she was finished, she delicately tore the page from the ancient book and handed it to the mercenary. "I hope you enjoyed your stay here, master...?"
"Laurence! I'll be sure to pay ye another visit before I leave. That's a promise!" He winked at her again and headed toward the door without another word. How did she forget my name already?
Her voice followed after him, "I would certainly hope so! You still need to check out of your room!"
The mercenary, who was already halfway out the door, was too embarrassed at the honest mistake to answer right away. So in the end he simply acted as though he didn't hear the comment.
Outside it was bright and chilly. Many more creatures were out and about today. The majority were vermin types: weasels, ferrets, foxes, rats. But if Laurence squinted his eyes and looked across the small crowds he could see a pair of hedgehog vendors peddling their wares.
Laurence looked down at the paper and read the otter's name. Wander. A beautiful name for a lovely lady. She likes me. She certainly does. The way she smiled as she traced her name on the paper was a sure tell, figured Laurence. Ah, well. First things first.
The otter's breath visibly preceded him while he traipsed in the direction the instructions said to go. The paper was leading him back toward the crumbling wall defenses on the west side, away from the nicer districts in town and in a more downtrodden area. Here on the ground in a particularly narrow alleyway between two shanties, was a small and ominous bloodstain that had been partially scrubbed away.
It was around this point that Laurence began to wonder if it was going to be worth it to head back to the Arbington and getting his sword from the foyer. What, and make an idiot of myself in front of Wander? No, he would rather chance it.
Another minute was spent walking through a narrow alleyway. The bulletin was finally in sight. Only a moment after the otter crossing through the exit of the alleyway, a sound made him glance over his shoulder.
Blocking the exit was a pair of weasels in threadbare jackets. Coming from another direction was a small rat with beady eyes. Laurence knew exactly what was about to happen, but since the newcomers had yet to directly threaten him, the otter decided to keep it light hearted. "Hello, lads! Here to help a poor fellow find his way around town?"
"Just give us all the moneys on ya, and we'll letcha walk away in peace!" the rat pulled a rounded club from out of his frock coat and brandished it.
"You three are out of luck... Just so happens I ran out of all my money last night. In fact, I was headed to that bulletin over there to find a job. So let me advise you that you'd be better off on trying your luck elsewhere." To magnify the statement, Laurence emptied all of the pockets in his avant long coat. Only a carved stone and lint toppled to the ground.
"Do ya really expect us t' believe that? We saw where ya came from- the Arbington is da nicest inn on this side o' town!"
The otter audibly sighed and began cracking his knuckles. He could tell that these thugs just weren't getting the point. He turned back to the rat. "Look here. I'm going to give ye all one more chance to leave: turn around and go home or I will be knockin' ye flat on yore backs."
Out of the corner of Laurence's eye he caught sudden movement. He jumped back in time and avoided a devastating blow from the club-wielding weasel. The attacker lost his balance from the hefty swing and fell to the stone floor.
Before the weasel got back to his feet, Laurence kicked him hard in the side of their chest. The enemy recoiled in pain while the otter snatched up the club and brought it up to deflect a blow from the second weasel. Once he saw an opening Laurence smacked the enemy's claws. He gave them a shove to the ground as they tenderly held the injured paw.
Not forgetting about the rat, the mercenary gave a quick look behind and saw that they were making a run for it. Without a moment to waste, Laurence lined up his shot and hurled the club. The weapon banged the back of the rat's leg and they fell.
Turning his attention to the second weasel, the otter brought the full force of his leg down onto the weasel's exposed knee. He was rewarded with an awful crunching sound and a bloodcurdling scream. Laurence strolled over to where the rat laid on the ground and flipped them over. The otter received a nasty shock when a tiny kitchen knife buried itself into the skin just above his footpaw. He gave a strained grunt before falling to one knee.
The rat tried to pick himself back up but Laurence gave one solid punch and the victim did not rise again. Laurence was in the process of digging out the knife when he noticed the first weasel was slowly coming back to their footpaws.
"Stay on the ground, mate. If ye know what's good for ye." said Laurence with a growl. To the otter's anticipation the weasel did not respond and blindly rushed at him once again. Laurence pulled the knife out just in time and he allowed the weasel to run right into it. The enemy fell and this time they did not get up again.
Laurence turned to flee the area but a voice from behind him spoke, "That. Was. Amazing."
The witness was a shrew dressed in a dark blue tunic with a matching colored cap. Their mouth was agape with total surprise at the unfolding events. In their right paw was a spear. Laurence had a sinking feeling in his gut that he was an executor in this marsh city.
Before they had a chance to speak again, Laurence quickly stammered out a reply, "They rushed at me first, mate. I'm not the type to go around pickin' fights..."
"What is your name? I must know your name!" interrupted the giddy shrew. Laurence was perplexed at the newcomer's excitable behavior but he humored him.
"Laurence Copeland. I'm not from around these parts, so I apologize if I broke any of your city's laws. But let the record show that they attacked firs-"
"You can cool it with the apologies, I'm not telling anyone what took place here. The name's Higgs." The shrew held out their paw and Laurence hesitantly shook it. "And I have an interesting proposition for you. But let's talk somewhere with less... prone bodies nearby."
The bluejacket creature led him away from the lower class and toward the finer districts again. Here the buildings were not compact or tiny in the slightest. Here, creatures actively roamed the streets.
"You're in luck. My master has just begun hiring new recruits, and I guarantee he'll love you. He will pay you more gold than you could have ever possibly imagined. All that he requires from in return is your mercenary skills. You are a mercenary, are you not?"
"Aye, I am. Who is your master?"
"Lord Cain Seftis, ruler of Marshank Fortress! Surely you've heard his name. Every creature from here to Illmarsh knows who he is!" There was a telling gleam in the shrew's eyes that he thought the world of his master.
Laurence shook his head vigorously. The name sounded familiar but not recognizable. He had heard so many names throughout the countless seasons of exploration. And most of them did not stick. "I'm not from around here, remember?"
Higgs wrapped a paw around the taller creature's arm and led him in the direction of Marshank Fortress. "Doesn't matter. Come with me to The Crucible, and I'll see to it that you get a one-on-one meeting with Lord Cain personally! Just follow me an' I will make all your wildest dreams come true..."