Session 1: The Boulder by Roy

Our story begins at a large festival in the town of Nordale. There are many tents and attractions set up, with travelers and locals alike flocking to the larger events.

Inside one particularly impressive tent, guarded by two half-orcs, a suave man in a large cloak stands next to an immense boulder, weighing perhaps upwards of 600 lbs. Behind the giant rock is a 20-foot stone ramp, leading up to a large, elevated hole in the middle of the room. The suave man shouts to the crowd with enthusiasm, "Step right up, step right up! The challenge is simple. You must get this boulder into the hole, but with a catch: you may not physically touch the boulder. There is a prize of fifty gold pieces for anyone able to accomplish the task, plus an additional prize. Do we have any takers?"

The crowd is silent. Many glance amongst each other, wondering how such a task could be accomplished. Even without the caveat of being unable to touch the boulder, it would take a man of great strength to be capable of rolling it up an incline. Eyes glance over to a blond elf, a rather ordinary fellow sporting a backpack and a quarterstaff, who is standing closest to the boulder, but he doesn't seem willing to volunteer.

The suave announcer asks again, "Do we have anyone bold enough to attempt this task?" There's a bit of disappointment in his voice, like he had expected an immediate response. Finally, a young, frail traveler steps forward, and the suave man's eyes light up. "It looks like we have a challenger, ladies and gentlemen!"

A few people in the gathered crowd scoff. The challenger does not look the part of a spellcaster, nor does he look physically impressive at all: just under 6 feet tall, with mahogany hair and eyes of blue, the late teen seems to be almost malnourished if anything. The traveler stands close to the announcer. "I have a couple questions regarding this challenge", he says. "First, must the boulder remain in the hole after successfully being placed?"

The announcer thoughtfully answers, "Well, we will certainly need the boulder to be moved back to its original position once someone has succeeded. If you would be willing to help with that, it would be much appreciated!"

The traveler nods in agreement. "Now my other question: who is the one here to determine if the challenge has been successfully completed?"

The question seems a bit incredulous to the announcer. "I... suppose I would be the one, as I'm the one handing out the prizes to the winners", he answers after a bit of hesitation.

The traveler smiles. "Excellent. Well, as you have just witnessed while we have been talking, I have moved the boulder into the hole, and moved it back to its starting position!"

The announcer freezes, processing the words that have just come out of the traveler's mouth. "You have?", he starts. He glances first at the boulder, then at the traveler, and finally back at the boulder. Had he witnessed these events transpiring? Where did the time go? After some internal deliberation, he finally remarks, "Why... why yes, it seems that you have. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!" The crowd excitedly applauds and talks amongst each other on the amazing skills demonstrated by the unexpected traveler. The only one who didn't seem impressed was a hooded figure standing near the back of the crowd. The announcer, still reasonably in a bit of disbelief, hands a small purse of gold and a small golden ticket to the traveler. "How, exactly, did you perform this feat?", he has to ask.

The traveler quickly throws a bit of fluff to his lie. "During my time of traveling, I've met and learned from many people, including a group of wizards who taught me an ability to telekinetically move spherical objects. I'm not sure of the weight limit myself, but it seems to be upwards of fifteen-hundred pounds."

"Fascinating, truly fascinating", replies the suave announcer. "Well, congratulations on your prize!" He looks back upon the crowd. "We've just witnessed a very... interesting display. Are there any other challengers capable of moving this boulder?" The crowd eagerly scans the room for another contender to replicate the action they could have sworn to just bear witness to, and again their eyes fell upon the lone wizard. Perhaps feeling excitable himself by the amazing display of the former man, the staff-wielding elf boldly steps forward, with inspiration gleaming in his silver eyes. "We have another challenger, folks!", the announcer exclaims with energy.

The elf stares down the boulder. A minute passes. He shifts his weight to his other foot. Another minute goes by. The crowd begins to feel a bit uneasy, and the announcer looks at the man with an impatient curiosity. Finally, after nearly five minutes, the elf sighs, "I got nothing." With a bit of shame and embarrassment, he slumps his head and backs away.

After a bit more coaxing and pleading for challengers, the original crowd finally dies down and clears out, while a new wave of people enter. The suave announcer gives his spiel and looks around to see if anyone is up to the task. This time, however, there is no pause, as a determined man with jet black hair, bright blue eyes, and a fiddle resting on his back steps forward and indicates his interest in winning the prize. He says, with a bit of concern and innocence, "Before I attempt this, I'd like to see the prizes. Both the gold and the hidden prize."

The announcer looks a bit offended. "I assure you I am no cheat", he defends. "However, I'm afraid I cannot show you the prized ticket, for obvious reasons. The gold, of course, you may see", as he gestures to a small pouch filled with gold pieces.

The man offers a convincing smile and replies, "I'm not asking to hold the prize; I'd just like to see it, is all."

The announcer looks over the man. He gives a signal to his guards, who immediately start watching the would-be challenger closely. Then he reveals from under his cloak and clutched in his hand a small golden ticket. "There you are", he says. "Now, are you going to perform the task at hand, or are you simply here to waste my time?"

"Excellent. You may put that back in your pocket now", the man says. The announcer, much to the dismay of the challenger, keeps the ticket clutched in the hand as he moves it back under his cloak. The man briefly looks at the boulder, and then back at the announcer with a smile. "First, allow me to play a beautiful song I wrote for you." He draws his fiddle and plays an awe-inspiring tune, much to the delight of everyone in the vicinity, announcer included.

"Wonderful performance, truly wonderful", the announcer remarks. "You are very talented. Now, to the task at hand..."

"How about you give me the prizes, and I'll stop by to grace you with a second performance instead?" The musician offered.

The announcer chuckles at the idea. "I'm afraid," he said with a bit of impatience in his voice, "you need to complete the challenge to get the prizes."

"Alas, I cannot complete the challenge right now," admits the musician, "but I'll be happy to return to play you another tune regardless, and perhaps make an attempt then!" With enthusiasm, he approaches the announcer to give a hug goodbye. As he closes in on the hug, his hand snags onto the purse of gold, but the announcer is quick to grab his wrist. The musician offers a shy grin and says, "Sorry, my hand slipped. I suppose I was excited to hold you."

The announcer isn't entirely convinced that he just stopped a thief, so he gives the performer the benefit of the doubt. "Do come back if you decide to attempt the challenge", he says in a melancholic tone.

----

Further into the festival, several competitors are shooting arrows at four targets (staggered at various distances), in what could only be described as a pitiful display. The event host leans back in boredom, beginning to accept that he may not hand any tickets out. Finally, two more professional-looking contenders step forward: both half-elves of significantly different heights. The shorter one, a slightly muscular blonde with deep blue eyes, draws her bow with confidence. She aims at the nearest target and lands a solid hit, putting a slight crack into it.

The host immediately sits upright. "A fantastic shot by the ranger!", he exclaims. "Unfortunately, in order to win a prize you must completely destroy the target, so you haven't won quite yet!"

All other contestants have backed down, save the taller half-elf, a lean yet rugged man with hazel eyes and a scar on his left cheek. He brushes aside a bit of his dark brown hair and draws his bow. Aiming at the same target, he releases an arrow, which promptly soars way over the target and off into the distance. The host looks as though he expected as much of the man, who seems almost uncomfortable handling the bow but maintains his posture.

The girl finishes what she started with a quick draw, splitting the target in half. The host promptly hands her a golden ticket, and then reminds everyone of the jackpot prize. "Remember," he says, "there is a monetary prize for destroying the most targets as well!"

The rugged man steps forward and selects the next-nearest target. He fires an arrow with such force and accuracy that the target shatters immediately. The host, and most everyone else nearby, looks astonished. "Well, looks like we have some competition after all", he mildly remarks as he gives yet another ticket away.

The other half-elf is unfazed, and without a word she selects a target sixty feet away. Perhaps from anger, or maybe the desire to not be outdone by the other competitor, she not only lands her shot perfectly, but uses enough strength to send parts and splinters of the target scattered for at least a dozen feet beyond where it once stood. The crowd roars with excitement from the unexpectedly perfect hit.

One final target remains, a solid ninety feet from the firing line. The rugged man takes a clean shot, only to hear a very soft thud of the arrow sinking into the target: the range was simply too far for him. The blonde steals the show with another solid and destructive hit, sparing the man from another attempt. In the end, the shorter half-elf girl bested all other competitors, and the host joyously hands her a prize of 200 gold pieces. Just like that, the event is over, all without either half-elf saying a word.

----

The musician waltzes into the large tent, fiddle in hand, and greets the suave announcer with a tune. There isn't nearly as large a crowd this time, but a small handful of people have returned, not excluding the staff-wielding elf. While the announcer is entranced by the musician's melody, the elf circles the room frantically, looking for a way to possibly best the challenge.

"I'm here to collect your coin purse as payment on my performances", the musician says to the announcer with a courteous smile. The announcer, clearly entranced by the man's talents and charm, agrees and absent-mindedly hands over the entirety of his money, a solid 2000 pieces of gold. "Oh, and a ticket, of course", he quickly adds.

The announcer quickly regathers his thoughts. "Gold, of course, I can give you. But these tickets... I can only give these tickets to those who have completed the challenge. Or are you saying you'd like to try? We've only had one winner thus far: a rather... interesting traveler."

A cloud forms across the performer's face, but is quickly changed to a quippy smirk. "Ah, but have you forgotten?", he asks rhetorically. "I completed the challenge when I was last here!"

"I do remember", started the announcer. "I remember last you were here, and I'm afraid you didn't actually complete the challenge."

"Oh, I suppose you're right", the musician slyly shrugs. "Well, I suppose I'll be seeing you later", he cheerily says as he goes in for another departing hug. The announcer, recalling the last hug, instinctively guards the side of his body where he normally keeps his coin, but that's not what the man was after this time. With a flick of the wrist, the musician palms off one of the tickets held by the announcer without even a tug, and promptly makes his leave, giving a friendly nod to the guards on the way out.

Perhaps the fifty pounds of raw money is a bit too conspicuous to carry under a cloak, however. The musician quickly seeks out a way to alleviate his burden. First he searches for a money exchange by hitting up the town library. Finding the building proves an easy task, but upon his arrival, the man discovers the exchange to be closed for the festival. The next best thing is to stow away the money, so he goes inn to inn, but runs into hardship as most places are booked for the festival.

After numerous failures, the musician approaches an inn near the outskirts of the festival, where he is kindly offered the luxury suite for 25 gold pieces. "You must be joking", he replies to the outrageous price.

"It is our best room, sir", begins the innkeeper. "Though, truth be told, we do have trouble filling it. Why, even with this festival it proves to be a challenge. I am willing to offer it to you for... let's say 20 gold instead."

Considering the score he had just made, the musician is disinterested in lowering the price further, and accepts the innkeeper's offer. He makes his way to the room, where he spots a chest to store his personal belongings. After filling the chest with gold, he locks the chest and hides the key on his person. He goes over to the bed and relaxes, holding the golden ticket in one hand.

The ticket reads: "Go to the large oak tree in the center of town at midnight tonight."

-- End of Generia, Session 01 --

* This is Roy's work. Posted with permission. *

Session 2: The Thief by Roy

Men and women from all over gather to the colosseum, situated near the center of the festival, as the first match is being prepared. Peering down from the seats, they could see the two warriors on the field already. The first, a hulking half-orc barbarian with black hair and brown eyes, does some practice swings with his massive great axe. He wears his chainmail over his rags like it does not affect him, and being a head taller than his competitor, he seems unconcerned by the prospect of fighting. The second fighter couldn't be more different: with no protective armor, he wears quality clothing and a light coat. While he doesn't appear weak (in fact, he looks like a fairly capable gladiator), his muscles pale in comparison to his opponent. His weapon is modest in size: a short sword with almost no hilt, with the blade in a symmetrical design and coming to a point. Despite the humble appearances, his firelit eyes of violet gleamed with confidence, and more so arrogance. He whispers something to the announcer that the crowd doesn't quite hear.

"Hand you the prize now?" The announcer laughs back at him. "No, the fight will go on." He signals for both men to get into position. The sharp dressed man draws his sword, and his opponent releases a loud and bellowing laugh at the difference between their weapons. The man takes the time to show off some fancy swordplay, ignoring the barbarian. His hands move very fluidly and with surprising agility as he starts with simple tricks and progresses with more dangerous swings. This demonstration of skill surprises many in the crowd and visibly startles the barbarian, who previously assumed this fight would be one-sided.

"The first fight is between Krom of the North", shouts the announcer, referring to the large barbarian, "and Sieghart the Brave", signaling to the swordsman.

Krom the barbarian immediately transforms his worry into fury as he charges forward, foaming from the mouth. He swings his axe down with enough force to split a rock, but Sieghart sees it coming and calmly sidesteps. From the side, Sieghart quickly strikes the back of Krom, pushing him forward and causing him to stumble forward. Krom uses his axe to stay on his feet, but Sieghart takes the opportunity to strike. He swings his sword with great speed, only to see it clang against his opponent's armor, which proves to be more durable than expected. Krom turns about just in time to be kicked in the chest by the quicker Sieghart, causing him to stagger back. Krom takes another chance with a wild swing, this time horizontally, but Sieghart is ready for it once again. He steps back to avoid the attack, and pulls the greataxe with his sword to increase the momentum, causing Krom to spin about ever-so-slightly. Not making the same mistake twice, Sieghart takes the flat side of his blade and smashes it hard into Krom's skull, causing the barbarian to collapse onto the ground.

There was a short gap of silence before the announcer had realized the fight was indeed over. "The winner is Sieghart!" he yells out, and the crowd erupts in cheers. The unconscious Krom is dragged out of the arena, and Sieghart takes his leave relatively promptly as well. The second fight is scheduled to take place immediately after the first, and so many rush to the concessions to claim their previous bets and place their next ones. A young, frail traveler asks the teller if there are any alternative bets for the next match, to which the teller responds that there is not, and the traveler leaves without placing a bet. Most bets seem to be going toward the favorite of the next match, but a charismatic musician is unsatisfied with the odds. He walks up to the teller and negotiates even odds between the two competitors, and then places a pricey six gold bet on the favorite as well.

"The second fight will be Fi the Unbreakable", blasts the announcer to the audience, "against Marr the Human Weapon." Both contenders give puzzled looks to the announcer: it is the first time they had heard of their titles, which had been completely fabricated by the man in charge only moments ago. The crowd, however, is ecstatic, and cannot wait to see how the Human Weapon and the Unbreakable fare against each other.

Fi, the favorite for the match, is a half-elf with a short sword on either side of her. She is short but appears strong, and the various scars on her body show she is no stranger to combat. Her dark clothing contrasts with her white hair, and her red eyes glare across the colosseum to her opponent. Marr isn't much taller, but he is equally muscular, and he emits an aura of calm confidence. As an ex-monk, he has rid his head of hair since the day he left the monastery, and has focused solely on the art of fighting. The tattoo markings around his blue eyes accentuate the cold expression on his face, and his light clothing shows he has no fear of being struck.

Marr raises both fists as Fi draws both swords and engages. Fi swings quicker than Marr expects, and lands a hit to his abdomen. She goes for the hit with her other arm, but Marr manages to move away in time, and smoothly switches to the offensive. He does a flashy jumping uppercut, which seemingly proves to be more for show than anything else, as Fi manages to dodge in time. However, Marr transitions the move to skirt his way around the half-elf, and Fi futilely turns and swings only to miss him, and her secondary weapon clashes into the first, causing her to lose her grip on it. As she tries to retrieve the sword, Marr quickly does a flying spin kick, knocking the wind out of Fi and sending her backward. Marr wastes no time and charges forward, ready to unleash another attack. Unfortunately, he had forgotten about the downed sword, and as he steps onto it and pushes off, the sword slides back, causing the former monk to faceplant in front of the recovering Fi. Fi immediately takes her sword and strikes Marr as he's down, causing incredible pain to the man, and then delivers an equally menacing kick into his chest. She then quickly retrieves her other sword, as Marr does a fancy maneuver to get back onto his feet. With a look of desperation, Marr focuses all of his strength into his arm, and dashes for Fi. She reacts just in time, using one sword to push the fist away and the other to strike Marr in his side. Marr staggers back, but Fi doesn't give him a chance to recover, and immediately brings down her other sword, forcibly cutting Marr down to the ground. He lay moaning for a while, unable to get up, before the battle was ultimately called.

The crowd cheers with overwhelming enthusiasm. Many people rushed to collect their winnings. So many had bet on the half-elf that the teller is a bit flustered handing out returns. The young traveler seizes the opportunity and claims a winning bet of five pieces of gold, which the teller quickly obliges as he moves on to help other betters. The musician, of course, claims his winnings, receiving back twelve gold on the original six he had invested.

----

Eager to spend his new winnings, the musician hits up local vendors. "I'm particularly interested in anything that can help me carry things", he explains to each one. He receives mixed responses at first, and is offered unsatisfactory potions that could temporarily provide a solution to his problem. Along the way, he spots a companion of his, whom he heartily greets: a young, stunning brunette with tranquil blue eyes and a toned body. Together they search for the musician's item, until eventually they are guided to a merchant specializing in belts.

"Do you have any belts that may permanently increase my carrying capacity while equipped?", the musician asks.

"That's quite the vocabulary you have there", quips the merchant. "But let me see... Ah yes, I do believe I have something. It is a belt that is very difficult to make, and therefore very hard to find, but I happen to have one here. It is a magically-imbued belt that shifts the weight of your load, so that you can manage to carry roughly three times your normal capability! Alas, I doubt you would be interested, as it costs 2500 pieces of gold."

The musician smoothly begins to negotiate. "That is quite a hefty price for such a niche market", he starts. "If you try to sell it for that much, you'll never find a buyer. I would, however, be willing to pay a very generous 1500 gold for an item with such a specialized feature."

The words of reason seem to agree with the merchant, but he is still hesitant. "I suppose the price is a bit high," he begins, the words coming out of his mouth without much thought, "but I absolutely cannot part with it for less than 1700 gold."

"That's a fair price; I'll take it", the musician immediately replies, before the merchant could change his mind. He privately hands a small key and whispers instructions to his companion, who then runs off into the distance. "This will just be a moment", assures the musician to the merchant. After a while, the companion returns, and she hands a large sack of money to the musician, who proceeds to hand it over to the merchant. The merchant is a bit startled to see that he's literally being paid with a giant sack of gold pieces, but he weighs the contents of the bag to confirm the amount and hands over the promised belt. The musician examines the belt briefly before giving it to his friend. Surprised and delighted, she puts the belt on immediately and finds it to be a perfect fit. The two of them bid farewell to the merchant and return to the inn containing the remainder of the musician's stash.

----

As there isn't a match to be had for a while in the colosseum, people are heading out to see other attractions in the festival. The young traveler begins telling a story near the exit, holding out a bag for donations, which many people generously give as they pass. Nobody seems to notice that the story is essentially a rehashed version of the first fight they had witnessed just moments ago. Upon finishing the story, an elf with a quarterstaff on his back approaches and gives an extremely generous donation, to which the traveler is taken slightly aback.

The traveler sincerely thanks the man. "Thank you, sir, you are perhaps too generous." After being met with silence, the traveler remarks, "Ah, I see you are not a man of many words. But perhaps you'd like to hear many more of my words instead?"

The elf responds, "Yes, I'd love to hear another story of yours."

"Excellent. Er, hmm... Ah yes, this is an old classic", the traveler says, deciding to embellish the second battle in the arena as a unique tale. "In a... dense forest, a monk stands before a... full-elf. Both are capable warriors: the full-elf, also known as an elf, wields two long swords, one in either hand! The monk, of course, has years of extensive training, fighting fierce creatures such as bears, and even druids who think they're bears! The monk swings first with a quick punch, but the elf is too quick and dodges the move. The elf then swings with both swords at the same time, and the monk is only able to dodge one. This injury is not enough to stop the monk, however; after all, he is the man who fought druids that thought they were bears! Wounded, the monk gets desperate, and he prepares for his ultimate attack. He runs up to the full-elf and does a dropkick, with both feet (as opposed to a dropkick with one foot)! Unfortunately for him, the full-elf predicts the move, and she takes both swords and thrusts them through the monk's feet and into his abdomen. Needless to say, the monk was quite displeased with this outcome. In the end, both warriors went their separate ways: the full-elf to the north, and the monk to the afterlife."

This retelling receives overwhelming praise from the small crowd around the traveler, and he receives large donations from several people, including the dual-wielding half-elf of his story. "Thank you for your generous donation!", he tells Fi. "You know, I can tell that you have the capability to one day be as great a fighter as the full-elf in my story."

The staff-carrying elf gives another donation as well and turns to leave. A few dozen feet away, however, he ponders over something, and then returns to the traveler. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask you something", he begins. "I saw you earn that ticket earlier in the large tent."

The traveler exclaims, "Ah yes! Could it be... were you the person standing right beside me as I accomplished the task?"

"Yeah," says the elf. "that was me."

"Hmm, sorry, I don't remember", admits the traveler.

"Anyway, I'm particularly interested in that spell you performed. Could you perhaps teach it to me?"

The traveler smiles. "I would certainly be willing, but unfortunately only a capable wizard would stand a chance at learning such a complex ability such as telekinetically moving large spherical objects."

The elf replies happily, "Well, fortunately, I happen to be such a wizard! If I could just have a look at your spellbook, I'm sure I could understand the logistics behind it."

The traveler tries his best not to look uncomfortable by this news. "Ah yes, the spellbook! That trusty book that wizards always have on hand. I, uh, don't happen to have mine on hand; I've misplaced it, you see."

"Misplaced... it?" The elf seems unconvinced. "I see..."

"It is, of course, a curse of my traveling so much", suggests the traveler. "I tend to hide valuable things - such as spellbooks - so well that oftentimes I cannot easily locate them myself." The elf looks disappointed, and the traveler is eager to transition the topic away from spells. "It looks like there may be something else on your mind, though."

The elf thinks for a moment. "Well, about the ticket, then", he decides. "Would you be willing to part with it?"

"Ah yes, the ticket! Part with this ticket, you mean?" The traveler reaches into his pocket and holds aloft a golden ticket. "Why, I suppose I could be rid of it, sure, but how much is it worth? It seems to be made of gold, so perhaps it is worth its weight in gold!"

"How much do you think it weighs?"

"Well, I'm certainly no good at judging weights", admits the traveler. "If I had to estimate, though, perhaps it weighs as much as twenty pounds!"

The elf looks a bit incredulous. "There is a slight magical aura on the ticket, but nothing to suggest it is artificially weighted. Surely something that small weighs less."

"Perhaps you are right", the traveler concedes. "Like I said, I often struggle telling the difference between one pound and twenty. But as for the price of the ticket... I suppose it would be fair to price it at seventy pieces of gold."

The elf considers the offer. "Yes," he admits, "that does sound like a fair offer. Unfortunately, I cannot afford it."

The traveler racks his brain. "Well, how much money do you have?"

"I have only twenty-five pieces of gold", states the elf, slumping his head.

The traveler seems exceedingly willing to exchange the ticket held in his hand, however. With some faked deliberation, he responds, "Only twenty-five, huh? Well, let's see. You know what? You have been so generous to me, and I see no reason not to extend my generosity to you. Just for you, I would be willing to part with this valuable ticket for the price of twenty-five gold pieces. And in fact, you may discount the gold you have already donated for my performance from that price!"

The wizard's eyes light up. "That sounds fantastic", he declares, agreeing to the exchange. However, as he is preoccupied grabbing his coin purse, a blur rushes past the two, snatching the ticket from the traveler's hand and pushing his way through the crowd.

A handful of people witness the thievery: the traveler and the wizard elf, of course, along with Fi and a blonde archer with blue eyes. The archer immediately fires an arrow at the thief's leg, which falls short and skates across the ground. The traveler, after seeing the demonstration, decides to try his luck with an arrow as well, and quickly draws his bow to fire one. The shot is terrible: the arrow soars above the thief, and above the entire crowd for that matter. At this point, the crowd is in a panic, seeing arrows fired left and right, and they begin to disperse. Fi rushes up and attempts to grab the thief, who manages to shrug her off and continue his escape. Fi, ultimately deciding it's none of her business anyhow, stops her pursuit.

The wizard abruptly summons a horse, which appears in a cloud of smoke before him. "Anyone may use this horse", he declares, almost implicitly declaring that he cannot ride it himself. The archer ignores the horse and takes another shot at the thief, who is able to avoid it yet again. The traveler, on the other hand, takes interest in the horse, and he hops on and charges the horse toward the thief, knocking down or pushing aside bystanders in its path. The wizard visibly casts yet another spell, though there seems to be no effect from it. The thief tries to outrun the horse but is quite reasonably unable to, and the traveler grabs a whip from his side and snags the thief's foot, causing him to trip. The archer takes another potshot at the thief, but happens to hit the horse standing in the way instead. As the thief is on the ground, the traveler strikes him with the whip as insurance for keeping him there. The horse gets spooked by both the cracking of the whip and the piercing of the arrow, and it immediately bucks and darts away, causing the traveler to fall off and collapse next to the thief. The wizard and archer run up and surround the thief, but the thief is agile enough to quickly get up and bolt to the north. The traveler has had just about enough of it, however, and draws his bow yet again, this time with a clean shot to the thief's body.

Guards immediately rush to the scene. Their captain shouts, "Drop your weapons and surrender yourselves!" to the party.

The archer puts priority on stopping the thief, and she immediately runs up and grabs him. The wizard as well is so focused on the thief that he makes sure to cut off the escape route to the north. The thief, however, is no longer attempting to run, and he cries out for help. "They're trying to kill me!"

The traveler is much more compliant with the law. He drops his bow and raises his hands, but not without countering the thief's cries. "Guards, arrest this murderer", he proclaims.

"Silence!" shouts the guard captain, clearly uninterested in what the traveler has to say. Several guards rush to apprehend the wizard and archer, while one guard and the captain approach the traveler. The two culprits by the thief offer resistance, but they ultimately become pinned by the law enforcers, whereas the traveler is merely grabbed by the guard standing behind him.

"I'd like to speak with your superior", the traveler mentions to the captain.

"Oh, you'll meet him soon enough."

-- End of Generia, Session 02 --


* This is Roy's work. Posted with permission. *

Session 3: The Noble by Roy

A crowd begins to gather around the three troublemakers. Among them is the gladiator Fi, who tells a nearby guard that she has seen the events that went down. The guard seems disinterested and asks her to stand back from the scene. A half-elf - the only other competitor in the archery range that won a prize - decides to make a move toward the guard captain, but is quickly stopped by one of his men.

"Not so fast, half-elf", the guard says to the man.

With a determined expression on his face, the man replies, "You dare stop a superior officer from approaching this crime scene?"

The guard laughs. "Hey captain," he hollers behind himself, "we've got another one here."

As the captain approaches, the half-elf continues. "I insist you let me through."

The captain wastes no time and says, "Arrest this one as well." His words barely leave his mouth before the guard throws manacles on the new captive. Together, the party is escorted to the barracks and placed into the holding cells within.

----

The traveler is called into the interrogation room first. Despite his circumstances he seems relatively calm and collected, and the captain, perhaps remembering the compliance from earlier, seems to have calmed down himself. The captain speaks first: "Tell me exactly what happened."

"Alright", the traveler responds. "I was approached by the elf wizard and asked about a golden ticket he saw me earn earlier in the day, and I offered to sell it to him on the agreed price of twenty gold. When I was about to exchange the ticket, however, a thief bumped into me and snatched the ticket away. A few people saw this happening, and before I knew it, an arrow flies past me toward the thief, but it hits the ground instead. I take this opportunity to tell the thief to stop, and I use my bow to make a warning shot-"

"A shot fired directly into the crowd, is that correct?" the captain interjects.

"Well, no, not exactly: the arrow flew above the crowd", reasons the traveler. "It was not my intention to put anyone in the crowd in danger."

"You did, whether it was your intent or not", the captain states. "An arrow fired must land somewhere, after all. Continue."

The traveler smiles. "Well, suddenly, a horse appears out of nowhere. The wizard I was bartering with said something along the lines of, 'Anyone may use this horse.' Now, the person firing arrows behind me - the half-elf you detained - she continues trying to shoot the thief as he makes his escape. I decide the best course of action would be to follow the thief on the horse, however, so I hop on, and to my surprise, it takes off almost as though with a mind of its own! Perhaps because horses do have minds of their own. I had practically no control over the creature's movements, as perhaps you could observe by my attempts to ride it."

"Yes, about that", the captain responds. "Do you have any experience riding horses?"

The traveler hesitates. "Well, no," he replies, "my experience is actually limited to riding cows out in the farmland-"

"And yet you thought this was a good idea?" the captain asks. "To trample a bunch of bystanders and pursue this alleged thief?"

"At the time it seemed like the safest course of action", the traveler reasons. "I had not expected the horse to charge without regard to any obstacles before it." The captain sighs, and the traveler continues his story. "Once I approached the thief, I used a whip and snagged his leg, causing him to fall. As he tried getting back up immediately, I made a lash at him in an effort to keep him down. It was at this time that the horse suddenly bucks and throws me off: apparently it had been struck by an arrow, and that combined with my efforts to stop the thief seemed to spook it. At that point I was violently thrown off the horse and I lay next to the downed thief. I told him again to stop, but perhaps due to me being collapsed on the ground, he wouldn't listen to me. We were both surrounded by the two other people making an effort to stop him, but he quickly makes a dash to the north. Finally, in a cleared-out area, I made a last attempt to stop the thief by firing an arrow into his back. This is when I heared your instructions, to which I immediately complied."

The captain leans back and thinks for a while. "You seem to carefully choose your words", he remarks. "Very well, that will be all for now." As the traveler is sent back to the cell, the half-elf archer, wearing slight concern on her face, is brought in to be questioned. The captain's demeanor shifts rapidly. "State your name for the record."

"Eamhair. My name is Eamhair", she quietly replies.

"Right. Now then, let's hear what you think happened."

Eamhair draws a breath. "Well," she begins, "I was listening to the young man telling a fascinating story and talking to the elf. He pulled out a ticket, and as they were negotiating, that thief ran up and stole it from him."

"Why did you even get involved?", the captain asks.

"I guess I felt compelled to", Eamhair notes. "You could say I felt inspired to help him." She then retells the story to the same relative degree that the prior prisoner had. "While I was aiming for the thief," she remarks, "a horse came out of nowhere and took the hit instead." With no remark from the captain, she continues up to her explanation for not yielding when the guards arrived. "I really didn't want the thief to get away," she continues, "which is why I ran up and grabbed him."

The captain asks the question he had intentionally held until now. "What compelled you to fire arrows directly into a crowd of people?"

Eamhair looks down. "I guess... Well, it was a time-sensitive matter, and I was confident enough in my ability to stop the thief. The crowd didn't seem too dense, and I had a clear and straight shot for stopping him."

"That's all I had to ask", the captain promptly says, seemingly disinterested in her reasoning. Eamhair is returned while the elf wizard is brought in. "Name for the record", the captain starts immediately, before the elf even has the chance to sit.

"Uh, Aaron," the wizard replies. He looks extremely uncomfortable, and isn't particularly making an effort to maintain eye contact with the interrogator. "Aaron Celebrimbor."

"Now then, Aaron, I'm quite interested in how you intend to explain what happened", the captain sneers. "Do start from the beginning."

"The- the beginning? Well, alright." Aaron thinks back while shifting slightly in his chair. "Well, it all started at a large tent at the festival. There was a large boulder and a hole. The guy - the um, traveler - does this amazing spell to move the boulder into the-"

"I'm sorry, but how is this relevant?" the captain says impatiently.

"It's relevant, I assure you", the elf replies. "Because by moving the boulder into the hole, he won the ticket that he would later try to sell to me."

"Just get to the part where you're talking to him."

"Oh, a-alright. I thought by beginning you meant... the beginning. But okay. I ran into him later outside the colosseum and offered to buy the ticket off him. That's when the thief ran up and stole it from him." The captain leans forward as Aaron continues explaining the scene. "As other people are firing arrows, I summon a-"

"A horse, yes", the captain interrupts. "Now this is what I'd really like to know: why in your right mind would you summon a horse in a crowd of people?" The wizard doesn't know how to respond, so the captain continues, "It's inconceivable to me that you would think it a good idea to have a horse charge down bystanders." He pauses for a moment. "But that wasn't the only spell you cast. One of our mages noted you casting something else: is that correct?"

"Oh, yes", Aaron admits. "After the traveler got on the horse, I prepared a spell that would boost my strength to help me run faster-"

"Hold on", stops the captain. "What's the name of the spell, exactly?"

"The spell name? Uh," the elf hesitates, "it's called Keen Edge."

"Now, I'm no expert on magic spells," the captain admits, "but I've been reliably informed that Keen Edge doesn't make you run faster."

"You are correct," Aaron agrees. "I had intended to use it for a similar purpose, though. I'm sorry; it was a bad idea for me to lie about that."

"Right you are," the captain coldly remarks. "Now then, would you care to tell me what this spell actually does?"

"Well, it makes me hit more accura-"

"Nope."

"Uh", Aaron nervously says. "Alright. It improves the caster's ability to deliver a mortal blow..."

"So you admit, then," the captain presses, "that you were intending to kill this alleged thief?"

"No!" Aaron insists. "No, it's just... well, I had thought it would help me run faster..."

"We have a few spellcasters of our own", the captain states. "They all agree that Keen Edge does not provide any such benefit, and that any wizard would know this."

"Well, it was very bright out", explains the elf. "We elves can't think properly under bright lighting."

The captain gives a guttural laugh. "You said it was a bad idea to lie, and yet you continue to do so!"

"Bright lights make me stupider", Aaron repeats. "It may not be true for all elves, but one of my lineage-"

"I don't care about your lineage!" the captain nearly shouts. "And I advise you to stop lying to me." There's a silent pause, and then he continues. "You also had a crossbow out, correct? While the others were shooting, were you firing as well?"

Aaron defends, "I did have my crossbow drawn, but I did not load it, nor did I even point it at the thief."

"Of course," the captain mutters, "you were probably planning on killing the guy with your bare hands." He glances at his notes and then continues, "One last thing: you had cast yet another spell while disobeying my orders to surrender."

"Uh, okay," Aaron replies, "I'd like to first say that I did drop my weapon after going to cut off the thief's escape route."

"That doesn't change the fact that you disobeyed the command", the captain retorts. "Now, the spell."

Clearly uninterested in lying further, the elf wizard confesses, "I summoned an unseen servant in an attempt to retrieve the ticket from the thief."

The captain sighs. "Well, oddly enough I'm actually going to believe you there, as we observed the same thing." He dismisses the elf, and then quietly says to himself, "I hope all elves aren't as troublesome as you." As the captain of the guards is about to take his own leave, a guard runs up to him and informs him of a witness to the scene. The captain is then greeted by another half-elf girl. "And who are you?" he asks.

"My name is Fi", she replies. "I'm here because I thought you would like an unbiased opinion on the events that went down."

"Very well, very well", he replies. "So, what did you see?"

"I saw a man steal a ticket from another man, of course!"

"Can you describe the man taking the ticket?"

"Well," she said. "I didn't get a good look at him. He was wearing a dark cloak. But after he took the ticket, he was getting shot at. One of the arrows went through the crowd but didn't hit anybody, and another arrow was shot way too high. Then a horse appeared out of nowhere! I had tried to stop the thief at first, but after all the chaos I decided it would be better to wait for the authorities."

"Alright, can you explain what the others looked like?"

Fi pauses. "Well, not really." The captain gives her a scowl, and she quickly corrects herself. "I mean, there was a half-elf girl in the back firing, and there were two other people chasing after him, too."

"Let's talk about you for a moment", says the captain, shifting his curiosity. "Why were you there at the time?"

"Oh, I'm one of the gladiators in the colosseum," Fi explains. "I was just hanging around after winning a fight against some monk."

"Really? You were just... 'hanging around'?", the captain asks, suspicious.

Fi sits up straight. "Oh, right," she said, "the man who had the ticket, he was telling an interesting story. I had stopped to listen to him speak."

"Could you describe the man for me?"

"Hmm, well, he looks... like a nice guy, I guess," she says. Judging from the captain's expression, Fi realizes that isn't the answer he wanted to hear. "I mean, he has brown hair... and blue eyes!"

"Was he an elf?"

"Mm... no, I'm pretty sure he's a regular human."

"Alright, and did this man appear to perhaps be a traveler?" the captain asks. Fi nods, and he continues. "Did this man fire any arrows into the crowd of people nearby?"

Fi thinks. "I'm not too sure. I think he may have been the one that fired an arrow above the crowd..."

"Right, well, that's enough information," the captain states. "Thank you for your... thank you."

"I'm just glad I could help!" Fi cheerily replies.

She begins to take her leave, and the captain makes a final question. "Hey, would you know anything about... elves becoming less intelligent when subjected to bright lights?"

Fi looks back, surprised. "I have heard nothing of the sort."

"Of course not", the captain agrees. "Good luck on your next match."

----

The colosseum is packed for the finals. Only Sieghart and the announcer stand in the arena, however. Sieghart suggests that his opponent may not show up at all. "It would be easier if you just give-" he starts, but is interrupted by the roaring of the crowd as the half-elf warrior storms the field. Panting slightly, as though she had just ran across town, Fi stands tall and confident, ready for battle.

The announcer shakes his head at Sieghart's attempt to claim the prize without fighting. He then addresses the crowd. "The final match is between Sieghart the Brave," he bellows, "and Fi the Unbreakable!" He quickly steps back and allows the contestants to start the fight.

Sieghart boasts the same easygoing attitude he had during his last bout. He moves forward by a few steps and lowers his center of gravity ever-so-slightly, and then signals his opponent to approach with a wag of his finger. Fi closes the gap without hesitation, drawing both swords and bringing them down with a single swing. Sieghart reads the move and pulls his own sword up, using the palm of his off-hand to push against the blade and properly block the attack just inches from his face.

"You think two swords are better than one?" Sieghart mildly remarks. With remarkable agility, he shifts the weight of the connecting blades, pushing Fi's arms off to the right of him. He continues the motion fluidly into a strike on Fi's rib cage. "You must be here to learn", says he. "Well then, class is in session."

Fi absorbs the hit rather unexpectedly, and makes a counter-swing that grazes a quite surprised Sieghart. His demeanor turns a bit more serious as Fi increases the distance between them. Sieghart closes his eyes and slows his breathing as Fi repositions herself. She kicks off the ground and takes a swipe with her primary, which Sieghart sidesteps blindly. Fi follows it up rapidly with her second sword, greedily aiming for the head, but Sieghart effortlessly ducks as he senses the blade approaching. His eyes open, alight with violet flames. "This is how you swing a sword!" he says as he rises and holds his short sword above his head. Fi does a quick side-hop to avoid the hit, which tears through the air making what could almost be described as a whistling sound before crashing into the earth, sending dirt and debris flying. This does not make Fi hesitate, however, and as Sieghart attempts to bring his sword back up, she lands a solid hit on his shoulder.

Fi begins to move her other weapon for an attack, but Sieghart pulls back and smoothly transitions the dodge into an ideal counter-thrust, one shoulder tucked in with the other extended. He raises his weapon to chest-level with an intense speed. Fi immediately leaps back, but she is only partially able to avoid the attack as Sieghart pierces forward, causing a shockwave of wind and dust to trail along the thrust of the steel. The attack is enough to knock Fi over, though Sieghart is impressed she avoided taking significant damage. A smile forms across his face, and for the first time since participating in the tournament, it appears as though he is having fun. He allows Fi to stand back up, but this merciful act only angers the half-elf. She rebounds, closing the distance between them almost instantly to only a couple feet, and swings one sword across at waist-level: a nearly unavoidable attack.

Nearly, of course, because Sieghart is able to avoid it using his remarkable agility; he pushes off the ground and pulls his knees toward his chest, elevating himself above the swing and rotating smoothly into a backflip. Fi's pride doesn't let her attack completely fail, however, as she uses the momentum of her swing to pivot forward and slice open one of Sieghart's legs before he can land. Sieghart completes the flip and plants his feet like he hadn't been struck, and he holds his sword in front of him almost like one would with a rapier. Fi doesn't relent her attacks as she continues pushing forward and making many swings at the man. Despite the recent wound, Sieghart avoids and blocks the attacks effortlessly, waiting for an opportunity. Fi pushes aside his blade with her secondary sword and moves in with the sword in her primary hand. Sieghart spots an opening and feints an attack toward Fi's stomach. Reflexively, Fi transitions her strike to a block, which Sieghart gladly allows as he changes the grip on his sword such that it is held pointing downward. His sword gently pushes against Fi's as Sieghart moves his fist forward and punches the half-elf squarely in the face, knocking her over backwards and onto the ground. Her short swords clatter softly as she loses her grip and lays in a complete daze. She faintly hears the announcer call the winner before passing out.

----

The traveler is brought back in for questioning. The captain opens with, "I've heard you were able to earn your ticket by performing a magical feat. Do you actually possess magical abilities?"

"Ah, yes," the traveler affirms, "I do have a few skills up my sleeve, as it were."

"But I also understand your feat took place in a tent here at the festival", the captain continues. "Could you describe this for me?"

"Right, yes, of course. Well, it was one of the larger tents with a larger crowd of people. There were a couple guards outside, and a suave announcer standing next to a large boulder and a ramp leading up to a hole."

"What kind of guards?" the captain asks, curious if it could have been one of his men.

"Uh, well, they were half-orcs, seemed to be hired", the traveler says. "I didn't really interact with them. I earned the ticket from the announcer."

"I see", the captain says with a bit of disappointment. "Well, there is no tent that fits your description in the festival. We've verified the location, and there isn't a trace of any large boulder or any such event. We can't use any of this information as evidence", he concludes.

"While I don't understand the circumstances for the tent's disappearance, I can certainly prove I had acquired the ticket you'll find on the thief", the traveler calmly responds. He then tells the captain exactly what was written.

"There's another problem", the captain confesses. "We searched the man you accuse, and he has no such ticket on him. We do, however, have a ticket that matches your description, but, well, see for yourself." He pulls out the ticket acquired from Eamhair, the half-elf archer, and hands it over to the traveler.

To the traveler's surprise, the ticket is completely blank. "I don't understand," he says, "how can this be considered a ticket? Without any writing, it's essentially just a gold-colored scrap of paper."

The captain nods and considers the words. "We recognize that there's magic that's perhaps hiding the writing on the ticket, but we're unable to verify your claim if we cannot read it."

The traveler looks glum for a moment, and then returns to his optimistic self. "Well, sir, I am confident in your abilities to find out the truth behind my words: the proof is behind the magic." The traveler hands the ticket back to the captain and is escorted back to the cell.

The captain thinks for a while. He doesn't want to let a thief go, and he's inclined to believe the traveler's words. Then he quickly comes up with a plan, and has a guard bring Eamhair into the interrogation room. He hands her ticket over and says with a serious face, "Could you read exactly what is on this ticket of yours?"

Eamhair is confused by the question: why did she have to read a ticket? Surely the captain knows how to read. But she obliges, and reads the exact words the traveler had said to the captain moments ago. The captain smiles and, without a word, takes the ticket back and sends a befuddled Eamhair back to confinement. He then leaves the barracks for a short while before returning, and orders the traveler to be sent back for interrogation. "Luck seems to favor you", he starts. "We were able to confirm the words you read on the ticket."

"Ah," the traveler says excitedly, "so you figured out how to defeat the magic protection around it?"

"In a... manner of speaking", the captain answers vaguely. "Furthermore, on a secondary search personally conducted by myself, we were able to find a ticket on your thief." He pulls out a golden ticket and hands it to the traveler.

"Ah, yes, yes, this is it", the traveler confirms. "I can see the message written on here, clear as day!"

"But... while this certainly convicts the thief," the captain reminds him, "that's not exactly why you're locked in here. Your charges are around endangering the public." He sighs with some disappointment, as though he is able to rationalize the inexcusable behavior. "We will have a lawgiver come in and review your case, likely later this evening. That will also be your trial."

The traveler thinks for a moment about the situation. "I understand. You have done a superb job, captain, and I appreciate all the help you've provided."

The captain nods and has the man sent back.

----

It seems as though the interrogation process has come to an end. A half-elf in the corner scowls at the fact that he was the only one not questioned. Tensions grew high as Eamhair, Aaron, and the half-elf realized they may not be leaving.

"Hey," the half-elf man says to Aaron, "you're a wizard, right? If we work together, I bet we could get out of here."

"Well, yes, I am," Aaron replies, "but if you want to see a truly remarkable spellcaster, you may want to be asking that man over there," indicating the traveler, who seems the only one unconcerned with his imprisonment.

"Oh? So," the half-elf whispers to the traveler, "what could you do to get us out of here, huh?" He looks around. "I can bust open a lock, or swipe the sword off that guard over there. How about you?" As he says it, one of the guards glances over, and then rests a hand on the hilt of his sword.

The traveler looks at the shifty half-elf for a moment before thinking of a reply. "Well," he said, "I suppose in theory my best option would be to distract a guard, or perhaps sing a lullaby to calm the senses. But, to be honest, I have no intention of obstructing the law and due process."

The scheming is brought to an abrupt halt as the door opens and a small group of soldiers march in. With them, the captain is walking alongside a well-dressed noble. His mere presence causes the guards on post to stand straight and serious, a contrast to the lax attitude they normally have. Among those in the cells, however, nobody seems to recognize the man, save the traveler, who knows him to be one of the most powerful men for miles.

The noble scans the cells with disgust, until he spots the traveler. "Bring me that one", he commanded, and the guards move quicker than anyone has ever seen before as they retrieve the man from the cell. He looks the traveler over. "I understand you're the one who trampled a crowd of people to catch a thief in this whole ordeal", he remarks. The traveler seems wise enough to remain silent, and the noble gives a devious smirk. "Well, I have no interest in the fate of peasants too clumsy and slow to get out of the way of justice." The noble's expression turns cold again as he deliberates his understanding of the story. "You shot the thief in the back with an arrow, is that right?"

The traveler answers honestly. "Yes, my lord, that is correct."

The noble judges the expression on the traveler's face before continuing. "It's a shame he did not die." He looks at the captain, and then back at the traveler. With a threatening tone, he says, "Don't let it happen again." While the traveler ponders if he meant breaking the law or failing to kill the thief, the noble signals for a guard to escort the man away. "Get him out of my sight", he says dismissively. After the traveler leaves, the noble calls out Aaron. "Bring me the elf."

Aaron stands as straight as the guards, fearing the worst. The noble looks at him, and then the two remaining half-elves in the cell. "You should have stayed in your forests, elves", he scornfully says. "Can you even comprehend the disdain I have for being forced to personally come down and resolve this matter?" He glances at Aaron, and then asks the captain, "Can this one comprehend?" The captain gives a stout shake of the head. The noble moves close and locks eyes with the elf and says in a low, menacing tone, "Let me make it simple for you, elf. You're lucky to be getting this courtesy: you have precisely one hour to get as far away from this province as you possibly can, as you will be killed on sight thereafter." While a guard takes Aaron's arm and leads him away, the noble follows with, "I suggest you run."

Now just the two half-elves remain: the same two that competed against each other in the archery competition. The noble addresses both of them: "But alas, I can take some solace in this debacle. For, unlike that scum protected by the elven nation, there are no consequences for issuing your immediate execution." He pretends to contemplate for a moment as the two prisoners grow fearful. He turns to the captain and asks, "How fast can you set up the gallows?" Before the captain can answer, the noble does instead, "I'll give you a challenge. These two half-elves are to be executed by sundown today."

----

The traveler sees that he is not the only one released from the guards. The elf, Aaron, walks nervously toward the shops nearby, and the traveler silently joins him. Aaron immediately buys a thick hat that covers up much of his head, and the traveler is quick to remark on it: "That hat looks like it was made for you!"

"Thanks", Aaron replies meekly. He looks around and sees some workers hastily putting together a large scaffold nearby.

"Boy, what an adventure today turned out to be", the traveler says, keeping conversation going with the quiet elf. "It's incredible that after all that chaos, they let us walk free, in a matter of hours."

"You, perhaps", corrects the elf. "I've been told to leave town within the hour."

"Ah, that explains the hat, then", the traveler quips nonchalantly. "That is unfortunate. I suppose we'll be parting ways, then. You know, it's remarkable that we've been through so much already, and yet I don't even know your name."

"Aaron", the wizard says, extending a hand. "Aaron Celebrimbor."

"Aaron, huh?" The traveler repeats, shaking hands with him.

"My friends call me 'Elfy' though", Aaron explains. "I was the only elf from my village, and the name kinda stuck."

"Interesting. It seems so... impersonal. But Elfy it is!" the traveler says with enthusiasm. "My name is Beau Brindille. Despite the circumstances, it's been really nice to meet you. I do hope we meet again someday."

"As do I", Elfy replies. He turns his attention again to the scaffold, which begins to take shape. "What is that they're building? Gallows?"

"A play, maybe?" Beau speculates.

----

While Eamhair seems to have resigned to her fate, the other half-elf is intent on deciding it for himself. He sucks in his gut and lunges sideways into the cell bars, and manages to slip halfway through. The two posted guards are alerted by this, but their concern turns to amusement as they realize an unfortunate truth: the man is stuck. He squirms between the bars to no avail, and the guards gather around to admire and laugh at his accomplishment. The captain overhears the commotion and enters the room, only to begin laughing himself. "How did he even manage that?" he asks one of the posted guards, who does a ridiculous impression of trying to squeeze through a narrow space in response.

It seems the only way to free the man is to pull him through, which the captain orders the two guards to do. After some effort, the half-elf is removed from the cell wall, and the captain turns around to fetch the keys to put him back into the cell. However, the captive has other plans: with an unexpected and aggressive jerk of his arms, he breaks the hold both guards have on him and makes a dash for the door. The guards stumble into each other as the captain turns around to see the man running past him. He draws his sword and makes a swift swing to the man's arm, which is grazed and begins to bleed. As the man fumbles with the door, the guards all draw swords and surround him. The guard to the man's right strikes at his waist, causing another cut to form. The guard to the left attempts a swing, but the man opens the door and uses it as a shield to stop the attack. He then looks for an exit path through the door, which he spots on the other end of the room (which is unfortunately populated with even more guards). Before he can make his move, however, the guard captain shoves one of the guards aside and does a furious thrust, piercing through the man's side. He shouts in pain, startling the guards in the room, who don't understand what's going on. The half-elf presses forward, causing the captain's sword to slip out of his body and spill a considerable amount of blood. The wounds don't slow him, however: he is running on pure adrenaline, and he books it beyond the guards in the room and crashes into the exit door. The captain is shouting orders and pursuing the man, but none of the guards can keep up with the half-elf's speed, especially with the armor they're wearing. Soaked in blood and heavily wounded, the half-elf makes his way to some brush and eventually escapes the pursuit of the law.

----

A crowd gathers in front of the gallows. Three nooses are tied and hang from wooden columns. Under the first two are hapless guards, and under the third stands the archery winner, Eamhair. There's nearly a battalion of guards stationed at various positions, with the guard captain and a wizard standing on the middle of the platform. Joining them is the noble that had arranged the execution in the first place. His expression is one of pure discontent, and his eyes bear neither mercy nor forgiveness. Off into the distance, a lone figure stands scouting atop a roof, cloaked in the darkness from the setting sun and wielding a sturdy crossbow. Within the crowd, a commoner begins spreading rumors of indebted half-elves repaying their savior with lifelong love and loyalty, and although what he says is compelling, the intimidation seeping from the noble's presence quells any influence the words have on the audience.

The noble takes a breath to speak, and any talking amongst the townsfolk stops immediately. "Today a great tragedy has occurred", he begins. "We have witnessed repeated failures in the upholding of justice. Today also marks an opportunity: an opportunity to prove that we cannot, and will not, tolerate disorder. No man is free from the call of justice."

He gestures to Eamhair. "We have half-elves running through this town, doing as they please, thinking this is their forests. They are savages. They demonstrably are incapable of understanding the laws of man. These creatures should return to the dirt pits from which they came." He pauses for a moment, stepping toward the crowd for his next words. "I have personally witnessed the injuries incurred by such reckless behavior. Further, to add insult to my domain, two of my men have disgraced me, and let a prisoner escape under their watch."

His voice grows more invigorated, and the fury of his words project fear and respect to the listeners before him. "How am I to live under such an insult?! How am I to tell my father that two of my men failed to complete their duties- how does that make me look? How does that make us all look?! What good is a kingdom for those who cannot enforce the law? Those who break the law must be brought to justice: that is a fundamental rule of our society. I will prove that justice is not dead, that we will not tolerate disorder!"

The noble's words resonate with many in the crowd. Angry shouts and jeers targeted toward Eamhair start building up. The noble raises a hand and they fall silent once more. "Captain," he says, turning to the man, "it is also your responsibility to bring justice to this travesty. You must prove, here and now, that you are an upholder of justice, and share in the sacrifice of your men's mistakes."

The guards standing by move aside, clearing a path between the captain and the levers wired to his two noosed guards. He approaches slowly and places his hand on one of the lever. He looks at the lever, then at the noble, and finally at his subordinates. Just before he pushes the switch, however, the noble demands him to stop. The noble approaches him and says, "Do you have a problem with this, captain? It was under your watch that these men have failed in their duty. And now you hesitate to punish them?! Perhaps you are not worthy to bring them punishment; I shall bring punishment instead."

The noble draws the sword fastened to his side. With one clean motion, perfectly demonstrating the lack of hesitation he desires, he slices through the entirety of the guard captain's throat. The audience stares in shock as the soldier's head rolls off the stage like a cabbage, and the body falls lifelessly to the floor. "If you cannot uphold the law without hesitation," the noble speaks, "you have no right to wear that uniform." He then completes the task previously assigned to his underling, and pushes the levers that hang the two hapless guards. The nooses are set properly such that the drop snaps their spines instantly, and they don't get so much as a kick before the deed is done. One lever remains, wired to a platform beneath a loose-fitted noose around Eamhair, ensuring that her hanging would be prolonged. All eyes fixate on the half-elf, and the crowd remains completely still, save two cloaked figures who begin their approach.

Two guards block the stairs, and one warns the men to back off, raising a hand to push one of them. The cloaked man, however, grabs the guard's arm, pulls him down, and effortlessly pushes him over to the side. The other guard immediately reaches for his sword, but is stopped by a blade to the throat. "I wouldn't do that", the cloaked figure assures.

The noble sees this and becomes enraged. "What is this disturbance?!" he demands.

The second cloaked figure removes his hood and steps up onto the gallows. The crowd immediately recognizes him as the crown prince of the kingdom, Prince Roland.

The noble is taken aback by this. "You're a long way from home, prince", he says disparagingly.

The prince replies with an equal lack of respect. "You have an interesting way of doing things here, Morren."

Lord Morren says viciously, "I have jurisdiction here; I will rule this region as I see fit. You can go back to your king and complain if you have a problem with that."

At this point, the cloaked figure accompanying the prince also removes his hood. It is Sieghart, the champion of the colosseum tournament. His eyes burn so bright that everything on the stage is engulfed in a faint violet tint; those around him express discomfort. "Give me the chance and I will end him, my prince."

The prince shakes his head. "I may not be king yet, Morren, but I still have power over you. If you choose to disobey me, I will strip you of your title and throw you in a dungeon to rot." He and Sieghart approach Lord Morren as he speaks; the noble's personal guard and wizard complacently yield to the prince. The prince then turns his attention to the crowd. "Go about your business. There is nothing more for you here."

Sieghart takes his drawn sword and cuts down the noose above Eamhair's head. He then places a hand on Lord Morren (which infuriates the noble) and guides him to the side. The guards previously stationed around the gallows are now assisting with dispersing the crowd, while the prince tells Eamhair to go over to his personal guard.

Lord Morren storms out, shoving aside commoners with reckless abandon; his wizard follows close behind. The figure on the rooftop in the distance disarms his crossbow and stows it away. Prince Roland, Sieghart, and Eamhair put on cloaks and disappear into the night.

----

The wounded fugitive sneaks toward the barracks jail while the majority of the guardsmen are handling the executions. He doesn't make it very far before he's spotted by the guard standing just outside the building. The guard looks at the man with concern. "Are you okay?" he asks, looking at the bloodstains and cuts on the man.

"Oh, this?" the fugitive says. "Don't worry about it. It's just red paint. I was doing a play of sorts before the executions take place, to get the audience in a lighter mood."

The guard raises an eyebrow, but ultimately decides that nobody would have reason to lie about critical injuries being fake. "It must have been quite the party."

"The reason I'm here is because I'm actually the errand boy for the captain. He's requested I gather the prisoner items currently being held and bring them to him." The fugitive speaks with confidence, and the guard acknowledges the plausibility of the scenario and lets him pass.

The one guard stationed within the barracks expresses the same concern. "Whoa, you look seriously injured; shouldn't you be heading toward the infirmary?" he asks the man.

"Oh, this? Don't worry about it. It's just red paint. I was-"

"No, no, no," says the guard, "I have some combat medic training, and I can damn well tell when someone is bleeding. You look awfully pale, for one", he explains as he pulls out some gauze and begins basic treatment on the wounds. "How did this happen to you?"

"I'd, uh, rather not talk about it", the fugitive says. "Let's just say it's related to the executions taking place."

"Ah, say no more", the guard replies knowingly, imagining Lord Morren deciding to have some fun with the poor half-elf.

"Speaking of which," the fugitive segues, "as I was telling the guard outside, I'm the errand boy for the guard captain, and I really need to retrieve the stored prisoner items for him."

"No problem", the guard says as he finishes patching him up. "You should return to the infirmary as soon as you're done, though; bandages won't do much for the blood you've already lost."

The fugitive thanks the man and collects his items from storage, as well as the entirety of Eamhair's inventory. He makes a quick retreat before more guards show up and goes through the spoils of his bounty.

----

Eamhair, accompanied by the crown prince and Sieghart, eventually arrives at a tent, situated underneath the tallest oak tree in the town. The tent looks rather ordinary from the outside, but as soon as she steps in, she is greeted with lavish decorations and expensive royal food. She looks over at Sieghart: his eyes have dimmed down to a faint glow. He glances back at her and says cynically, "You're a bit early, archer."

-- End of Generia: Session 03 --

* This is Roy's work. Posted with permission. *