~ Running the Gauntlet ~
By TheRogue
Author's Note: Thanks a WHOLE lot for reading this! It's the first fic I've posted, and I can't tell you how much it means to a writer when someone takes the time to read their work-even if they didn't like it! And if you review, it makes you doubly special (hint, hint).
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, except for the characters you don't recognize. So I own next to nothing.
~ ~ ~
As Puck walked out of the Dancing Dove, she stood there for a minute, scowling at the sky. Another, gray, dismal day. Just once during the winter, she wished there was a sunny day. Forget it, she thought to herself. Ain't gonna happen. Besides, time to get down to business. She was tall and a bit stocky, wearing plain commoner's clothes with a large battle-axe hanging from her belt. She leaned against the outside wall of the Dancing Dove, looking up and down the street for her partner, Ripley. They were more like partners in crime, even though that sounded extremely cliquey. They both were followers of The Rogue, the King of Thieves for all of Tortall. They did his bidding, and by profession were thieves, spies, fighters, and strong-arms. Puck and Ripley loved being on the questionable side of the law, and were basic, loyal followers of their 'King'. Some considered it odd how the Court of the Rogue considered the King of Thieves their real leader, thought him above all including the actual King of Tortall, King Jonathan.
"Hey, Screwtape!" came Ripley's familiar voice behind her. She spun to face him, an annoyed expression on her face.
"How many times have I told ya not to call me by my last name?" she said exasperated but good-natured.
"Too many, lass, but ye know I just love to tease ya," he replied with a grin and an extra burr in his northern-Tortall accent. Her partner was an interesting contrast to her. He was short and lithe, with an artist's hands and messy dark red hair.
Puck rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her short brown hair. "It's not my fault that I have the most doffed named in Corus. Whoever choose my name at the Royal Records Archive musta been ale-happy the night afore. Anyhow, what's our assignment for the day?"
"Ta-day we are doing some spying an' some breaking-an'-entering. His Lawd-ship wants us to rifle through the cart of an artisan that sell magic goods and whatnot," Ripley answered, glancing over the street crowded with tradesmen and their wares and buyers haggling with the tradesmen.
"What's his name?"
"I believe it is Pan Traffik. Or something equally as doffed."
"Oh, I know where that is. C'mere, it's this way," and Puck set off down the street, dodging the crowd, with Ripley in tow.
~ ~ ~
"But I don't want to come!" Kel complained to her friend Neal. She was flopped down on her bed and he was standing with his arms crossed, looking amused.
"A little fresh air will do you good. Much more then being stuck in this stuffy room for another day can do, and we both have an afternoon off, anyways" he replied practically.
"I am not going anywhere! I've been stuck here for two days coughing up flem! I feel horrid!" she protested louder, crossing her arms as well.
"Aw, poor pookie," Neal said with fake pity. Kel groaned.
"I hate it when you say that," she grumbled, burrowing deeper into her bed.
"Poor pookie," Neal yelled loader this time, grinning.
"Fine!" Kel surrendered, flinging her covers off and across the room.
"That's my girl," Neal said, giving her a hand up. "It'll be good for you. Get some of that air in your lungs that Wyldon always says is so good for us. Besides, I only want to pick some healing materials up at Pan Traffik's cart."
~ ~ ~
To be continued, soon. Please r/r!
By TheRogue
Author's Note: Thanks a WHOLE lot for reading this! It's the first fic I've posted, and I can't tell you how much it means to a writer when someone takes the time to read their work-even if they didn't like it! And if you review, it makes you doubly special (hint, hint).
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, except for the characters you don't recognize. So I own next to nothing.
~ ~ ~
As Puck walked out of the Dancing Dove, she stood there for a minute, scowling at the sky. Another, gray, dismal day. Just once during the winter, she wished there was a sunny day. Forget it, she thought to herself. Ain't gonna happen. Besides, time to get down to business. She was tall and a bit stocky, wearing plain commoner's clothes with a large battle-axe hanging from her belt. She leaned against the outside wall of the Dancing Dove, looking up and down the street for her partner, Ripley. They were more like partners in crime, even though that sounded extremely cliquey. They both were followers of The Rogue, the King of Thieves for all of Tortall. They did his bidding, and by profession were thieves, spies, fighters, and strong-arms. Puck and Ripley loved being on the questionable side of the law, and were basic, loyal followers of their 'King'. Some considered it odd how the Court of the Rogue considered the King of Thieves their real leader, thought him above all including the actual King of Tortall, King Jonathan.
"Hey, Screwtape!" came Ripley's familiar voice behind her. She spun to face him, an annoyed expression on her face.
"How many times have I told ya not to call me by my last name?" she said exasperated but good-natured.
"Too many, lass, but ye know I just love to tease ya," he replied with a grin and an extra burr in his northern-Tortall accent. Her partner was an interesting contrast to her. He was short and lithe, with an artist's hands and messy dark red hair.
Puck rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her short brown hair. "It's not my fault that I have the most doffed named in Corus. Whoever choose my name at the Royal Records Archive musta been ale-happy the night afore. Anyhow, what's our assignment for the day?"
"Ta-day we are doing some spying an' some breaking-an'-entering. His Lawd-ship wants us to rifle through the cart of an artisan that sell magic goods and whatnot," Ripley answered, glancing over the street crowded with tradesmen and their wares and buyers haggling with the tradesmen.
"What's his name?"
"I believe it is Pan Traffik. Or something equally as doffed."
"Oh, I know where that is. C'mere, it's this way," and Puck set off down the street, dodging the crowd, with Ripley in tow.
~ ~ ~
"But I don't want to come!" Kel complained to her friend Neal. She was flopped down on her bed and he was standing with his arms crossed, looking amused.
"A little fresh air will do you good. Much more then being stuck in this stuffy room for another day can do, and we both have an afternoon off, anyways" he replied practically.
"I am not going anywhere! I've been stuck here for two days coughing up flem! I feel horrid!" she protested louder, crossing her arms as well.
"Aw, poor pookie," Neal said with fake pity. Kel groaned.
"I hate it when you say that," she grumbled, burrowing deeper into her bed.
"Poor pookie," Neal yelled loader this time, grinning.
"Fine!" Kel surrendered, flinging her covers off and across the room.
"That's my girl," Neal said, giving her a hand up. "It'll be good for you. Get some of that air in your lungs that Wyldon always says is so good for us. Besides, I only want to pick some healing materials up at Pan Traffik's cart."
~ ~ ~
To be continued, soon. Please r/r!