Original Submissions by Dyrinis

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  Spice Run
  Added on Feb 2, 2005

  Vaske, an elvish youth, ends a bad day with one of the most dangerous assignments that House Kurac has to offer, a Spice Run.

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  Vakse peered down Caravan Way nervously, watching from a secluded alleyway for signs of any approaching templars. It had been a rough day for the elvish youth, hinging on the fact that a House Agent had caught him flirting with one of the Al Kere women back in Luir's Outpost. He had been punished for "threataning relations" as the woman obviously had no intrest in the dark-skinned elf, and sent on one of the more dangerous assignments that the House had to offer, a spice run in Allanak. Vakse uttered a series of curses in Allundean for ever coming near one of the natives. The elf glanced out at the Way one more time, then slunk out of his cover, walking down the wide avenue while trying to look inconspicuous. As he passed into Meleth's circle and by the Temple of the Dragon, he glanced inside nervously - breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that they were all occupied, and crashed head-on into a glaring blue-robed templar. Vakse bolted, his long legs carrying him faster than the three lumbering half-giants that accompanied the overturned templar. The elf sped by a bustling inn and onto Merchants' Road, where he sprinted east, following the road past the bustling bazaar and straight to his destination - the Merchants' Quarter. As he came to the sidestreet leading to the area, Vakse remembered what he had done to pass the gate-guards and thought to apply it here. He spied out a rich-looking merchant wearing the sash of House Salaar, and as the merchant passed through the gate; Vakse followed at the distance of about three cords, head bowed. The brawny mulish mercenary set to guarding the quarter payed the elf and his adopted master little heed, and went on to stop a half-elven gladiator from entering.

  The Salaari followed the Road of Commerce to Salaari Way, unheeding and uncaring of his new servant. Vakse dodged into a paved backstreet and glanced both ways for templars, a natural reflex that had been taken up in the past three hours under Allanak's walls. Vakse fished out a scrap of tandu-hide vellum from a pocket in his carru-hide pants. After scanning the document and confirming his orders, Vakse snuck down the dusty side-street, avoiding red-robes and soldiers, until he came up to a large dwelling made of a dark red stone. Vakse knocked twice, then thrice on the baobab door, creating a small noise that he was not comfortable with judging by his predicament. After a few moments, a man in a crimson aba answered the door, and spoke in the common tounge, Sirihish, "What foul winds bring you to this dwelling, elf?"

  Vaske replied, using the password that the agent had given to him, "The whirling sands blow me into your home."

  The human arched an eyebrow, and ushered Vakse into a sparsely-furnished front-room. The elf eyed his surroundings with a keen eye, noting a discolored panel on the wall, probably a hidden catche for storing valuables...and spice. The elf raised a deeply-tanned hand in a brisk salute, saying, "The sandstorms bring you a delivery, Lord Hujat."

  The apparent Hujat snorted disdainfully, replying,"I can only hope that it is what I have been waiting for for three months, courier."

  Vaske nodded, retrieving a small hide bag brimming with a crumbly yellow powder - Krentakh, one of the more powerful spices to be found in the Known World. Hujat's eyes widened in anticipation and greed, and he walked over to the discolored panel that Vaske had noted earlier, releasing the lock by pulling on a stone statuette perched on a cylini shelf nearby. The panel popped open with pressure, exposing a small trove of obsidian coins and a diminuative amount of spice, mainly Melem-Tuek from what Vaske could tell. The human nobleman pulled a large pouch brimming with coins from the darker recesses of the wooden acalove, handing it to Vaske with a regretful expression. The elvish deliverer smiled thinly at the pale-skinned human, then turned to leave. Hujat sneered to himself, cursing the House for sending an -ELF- to deliver.

  Vaske hopped out into the street, dashing back to the main road, his thoughts full of the obsidian in his pack. His thoughts were clouded with avarice and greed, and as he turned the corner he failed to notice the blue-robed templar approaching him, flanked by three muscular half-giants, and rubbing a freshly-collected bruise upon his forehead. The templars eyes were the color of his robe as they alighted in reciognition of the elf, who still failed to notice him. What Vaske did notice was a set of huge hands that clamped over his shoulder, and the feeling of being dragged a few feet to his left. The elf immediately shot out of his dreams of obsidian palaces, and his eyes flew to the glaring templar in front of him. The templar spoke a few words to his soldier, and the huge man ripped the pack off of Vaskes back, causing no small amount of pain as the straps dug into his shoulders. The templar retrieved the pack and rummaged around in it. Vaskes face turned white as he realized that there was a pinch or five of Zharal in one of the pockets. Fearing for his life, Vaskes hand flew to the obsidian shortsword hanging on his belt, breaking free of his captor with sheer quickness alone. Vaske flew at the templar, blade exposed. He was nearly there, and the templar was just beginning to look up.

  When he hit something as hard as stone, the chest of a half-giant.

  Vaske looked up from the ground, dazed - and met a swinging axe made of obsidian, nearly the sharpest material upon Zalanthas. Vaske's dazed eyes followed the axe, wondering where it was going - until his thoughts cleared, but by then - it was too late. The templar grimaced as a crimson shower sprayed the already red sandstone cobbles, and muttered something under his breath,

  "Damn Kuracis.."

  The End.
  
  Compiled by the Sage Dyrinis,
  On the eighty-second day of the Low Sun,
  In the Year of Lirathu's Defiance,
  Year Thirty-Three of the Nineteenth Age
  

  Vakse peered down Caravan Way nervously, watching from a secluded alleyway for signs of any approaching templars. It had been a rough day for the elvish youth, hinging on the fact that a House Agent had caught him flirting with one of the Al Kere women back in Luir's Outpost. He had been...

  
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