Who Made that Mess in the Scribe's Office

Mercy returns to the Scribery after a day that was longer than expected. He and his brother Saitin had gone to Minus to share a paga or two and perhaps a few slaves that might provide a little sparkle to a long day. As they walked north from Vosk Valley Port they were chatting away like two FW and took a wrong turn. Staring across the river from them was the Village of Minus.

"Can you swim my brother?" asked Mercy

"Aye...like a bag of stones!" replied Saitin as he jumped in the water.

Emerging on the other side wet and even more thirsty they saw a group of warriors in a confrontation with panthers. All they knew was that at the moment their proximity to a chilled paga was a lot farther away than it looked. Finally, the warriors moved with speed and quiet execution and capped all but one of the panthers who ran off across the bridge and into the woods as fast as a racing tarn. Saitin and Mercy looked at each other grinning and walked with deliberate speed to the Big Cock Inn to meet their goal.

Still dripping from their swim and just beginning to sip their paga the need of a Scribe for a FC took on a sense of urgency from the citizens of Minus. Unable to drink his paga with a hood over his head, Mercy placed his paga on the ground and stepped blindly into the tarn's basket for his ride to Treve. Officiating over the FC was his honor and duty and brought a smile to his face even at the cost of a paga.

Returning late to the Scribery Mercy collapsed in the chair at his desk in the darkness and fell asleep.

He awoke this next day only to find his arms and face lying in what appeared to be bird shit. And then everywhere he looked...his scrolls....his books....his maps...his rugs....each had a familiar marking and stench. In his mind came only one word...... "BeGone!"

Picking himself up he rushed down the stairs to head to Lady Bets brewery with the hope that the Priest-Kings would grant him the pleasure of sticking a scroll up the arse of that damn bird! And if not the bird....welll....that would wait for another day!

Wiping his face clean with his hands he walked quickly down the docks..... his anger blocking him from seeing the three strangers on the dock where the ships come in. As he turned towards the brewery his focus on Begone was broken only by the zipping sound made by the steady stream of arrows from behind that brought him to his knees. He drew his bow to hit one of the three bandits but not enough before the next barrage of arrows that nearly killed him. He awoke to find his wrists and feet bound...boots taken...his bow snapped and his sword no where to be found though most likely tossed in the Vosk River.

With one bandit standing near him, Mercy whistled for his tarn to land hoping that it would kill at least one of the bandits with his talons. While the tarn hit the one man hard his partners quickly directed their arrows at the tarn. The tarn's training would not allow it to leave without hearing the command to do so and its training was rewarded with a swift death.

As the bandits moved quickly about Mercy realized that they did not see the daggar strapped to his leg and was able to pull it out enough to cut the bindings on his wrists....and then his legs. He jumped up to smash into one of the bandits...slashing at him as quickly as possible but knowing that a daggar would do little against three bows of such men.

Mercy ran to the blacksmith's shop to grab a sword still being hammered into a weapon and upon returning to the docks found that the men had already left with their four captives. As other warriors responded to the call much thought went into seeing what clues if any were left by these men to see where they were from and where they took our Free and slaves. Before anything could be figured out a ransom note was delivered by the boatman with the demands for the hostages release. Only two FM could negotiate the release and so Mercy accompanied the warrior Raggs. Raggs would negotiate and Mercy....a Scribe by training but a lover of tarns and member of the Tarn House of Lady Dove - would fly overhead and be ready to swoop in to do whatever was necessary.

Fortunately with both the negotiating skills and ability with his sword Raggs was able to get the hostages freed without any loss of their lives. Mercy flew back to Vosk Valley Port on his tarn...tired...and still covered with bird shit.

"No wonder they agreed to their release", he thought to himself as he took in his own stench. "They probably thought the Priest-Kings had filled the skies over their camp with bird shit that they would drop on them cursing their bones and children for all eternity unless they gave all the hostages up!"

Upon flying back to Vosk Valley Port and enjoying the sense of relief at the release of the hostages, Mercy returrned to the Scribery...tired and in darkness...only to fall asleep in his chair at his desk. In the morning he will awaken once again to a word that had become all too familiar to him "BeGone!