Beginnings...
It's well after midnight here, so my oil's all burnt. Here's the first chapter/scene of my assignment, for what it's worth. As you can see I've altered the outline already. Oh, and I have ordered one of your books. Do feel free to comment:
The man was sitting in front of a camp fire, the glow of the flames playing over his leathery face and hands, as well as the blade that he was sharpening. His hand moved slowly, methodically as he ran the stone up first one side of the sword, then the other. Nothing could be heard apart from the crackle of the fire and the swishing noise produced by pumice on steel. Outside of the circle of light that the flames cast, there was only dark, silent forest for miles and miles.
It was a good blade, and it had served him well in more battles and skirmishes than he cared to remember. When he was done honing both edges, he tried it with a calloused thumb, making sure that it was as sharp as he wanted. Others might make do with inferior weapons, but they were the tools of his trade, and it didn’t do to get sloppy. Of course, things might have been very different if the gods had wanted it, but that didn’t do to think too much about. If there was one thing Regan had had to learn, then that was it.
He stood and looked along the edge, satisfied that there were no notches. Then he sheathed it in the plain scabbard that hung from a low branch. Regan grimaced a little. There were some specks of rust on the inside of the metal opening at the top, and that was no good. More than once had he seen fighters get cut down because their weapons had stuck when they tried to draw them, and he had no intention of joining their ranks. But some sheep fat would soon take care of that.
He was feeling jittery, which was unusual for Regan. You didn’t survive long in his business if you couldn’t keep your nerves in check, and he had worked as a freelance for years now, taking his money from whoever was willing to pay for his services. Regan’s horse, tethered near a couple of bushes, obviously felt it to, its proud head moving nervously back and forth. There was probably a storm coming, he thought. Clouds were gathering, bulbous and dark even in the night. That’s all it was, he told himself. Just mother nature, even though she could be a real mother from time to time, he added silently. He forced a smile, trying to shake the omnious feeling he had.
Ever since he had had to leave that last town he had had felt as if he weren’t alone, as if he was being followed, but that was nonsense. No one could track him without him noticing, he knew, and yet… Oh, well. Best to get tucked in for the night. It’d be a long day tomorrow as well. Regan walked over to the stallion, talking quietly all the while to calm it down, but the animal could sense his owner’s uneasiness and snorted and danced. regan would just have to leave it alone and get the rest of his chores done. The saddle and his armour were already taken care of, piled against a huge tree. All that was left for him was make sure there was enough firewood to last until morning. He ventured to the edge of the circle of light where he had seen a couple of good, dry fallen branches earlier on, when all of a sudden he froze. There was definitely something wrong!
Regan turned around to get his sword, cursing under his breath for not having it closer to hand, and looked up to see a man in studded leather armour standing across the clearing, brandishing a cocked crossbow, aimed straight at his face.
“Regan of Doonsbury, I presume? Such an honour to meet you. I’m a great admirer of yours.”
“Bloody strange way of showing it!” Regan spat. There was nothing he could do. The distance between them was too great to cover, and besides, the fire was right in the middle of his way, preventing a full-on attack. He had to play for time. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“Tut, tut.” The other man was smiling, obviously enjoying himself. “Sir Ganvorn didn’t appreciate you leaving without saying goodbye. And you have something that belongs to him, don’t you?” Both men glanced over to where the saddle bags were lying, clearly visible underneath the chain mail that was draped over them.
“What’s it to you?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing. Only we’re in the same business, you and I. He’s got a contract out on you. Must really want that little souvenir you took, I guess,” the assailant shrugged. The crossbow didn’t so much as waver from its target.
Regan said nothing. This was worse than he had thought. The man was obviously a professional. The mere fact that he had managed to trace Regan unnoticed was unnerving enough, but if he was as good with his weapon as Regan suspected, then he was really in trouble.
“Surely we can make a deal?” he said, trying to sound confident. “Whatever Ganvorn’s offered you I’m sure I can match it.” Regan moved cautiously forward, taking care to show his outstretched hands.
“That’s close enough,” the attacker said, tensing a little, but not backing away. Good, Regan thought. Confidence can be a wonderful thing, but it can also get you dead.
“Well, I can’t show you my appreciation unless you let me take out my purse, and unless I show you where it is, there’s no way you’re ever going to find it. I hid it in amongst the trees, see?”
“Nice try, Regan, but we both know you’re bluffing.”
“Am I? It’s just over there,” Regan said, pointing to an imaginary spot slightly behind his attacker. It was a move borne in desperation, but it was all Regan had got. As the unknown attacker’s eyes glanced in the direction Regan had indicated for the briefest of moments, Regan kicked the burning logs and dove for cover. The other man cursed and hopped backwards to avoid the logs, but didn’t shoot as Regan had hoped. A true professional, indeed, Regan thought, rolling and coming up next to the tree where his sword was hanging. He grabbed the hilt, familiar and comforting, just as the price hunter regained his balance, but he was faster, and smiled triumphantly as he yanked to get it out of its scabbard.
Nothing happened.
The blasted thing was stuck! Rust, was all Regan had a chance to think before the stranger took aim and shot. The bolt buzzed like an angry insect and hit Regan in the eye. The last thing he was aware of was a blinding flash of pain as the world spun around him, and then there was darkness.
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G'night y'all!
Sucking a short story like this from your little toe. When i was roleplaying back there when i was a kid i found out storys slike this many times just right then whn we started.