CARAAMON: moved Night in Jail, A (book) to Night in Jail (book)

2011-09-20T18:20:00Z

moved Night in Jail, A (book) to Night in Jail (book)

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			{{cat\|Book}}[[page type is::book\| ]]
	[[Category:Book]]

CARAAMON: A Night in Jail (book) moved to Night in Jail, A (book)

2009-01-28T18:34:29Z

A Night in Jail (book) moved to Night in Jail, A (book)

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	==A Night in Jail==		==A Night in Jail==
	-''by Torenai Vyrdimion''		-''by [[Torenai]] Vyrdimion''

	"I DONT LIKE DWARVES!" yelled the large Human.		"I DONT LIKE DWARVES!" yelled the large Human.
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	him. The barbarian gulped. It leaned forward threateningly...and		him. The barbarian gulped. It leaned forward threateningly...and
	resolved into the size and shape of a middle-aged male Halfling.		resolved into the size and shape of a middle-aged male Halfling.
	"Hi," said Citharon cheerfully. "I'm a pickpocketing bard. What		"Hi," said [[Citharon]] cheerfully. "I'm a pickpocketing bard. What
	brings you here?"		brings you here?"

Maintenance script at 07:56, 22 May 2006

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New page

==A Night in Jail==
-''by Torenai Vyrdimion''

"I DONT LIKE DWARVES!" yelled the large Human.

Maur was inclined to let it slide. He knew his own worth, and he
wasn't about to lower it in a drunken brawl. "Lad, sober up," he
said, glancing grimly into the face of the tall, belligerent
youth. "Should you want to take me on later, I'll whittle your
mother a smaller son." And he turned to leave.

Then he felt a heavy hand clasp his shoulder, heard the rasp of a
blade being drawn behind his back. As it descended Maur evaded
more swiftly than anything that compact had a right to-- and the
sword bit off a portion of a tabletop. "Hey!" grumbled Majeau.
"I just paid Sebitzki good gold for those."

The red-faced giant paid no attention. He raised his broadsword
again and brought it down where Maur was glaring up at him. The
weapon missed the agile Dwarf, but rendered the back of an
ornately carved chair into kindling wood. The innkeeper moaned.
"You can't claim that was new goods, Majeau," Maur said.

"It wasn't. But it still means one sitting customer less until
it's replaced." Majeau scowled at the lanky Human barbarian.
"You'll pay for what you've ruined, you hooligan, and you'll
apologize to a good patron of mine who's drunk more in the past
than a hundred times his weight in Dwarven ale."

"I WONT!" roared the red-faced barbarian. He raised his
broadsword once more, and Majeau snapped his fingers.

Suddenly a troupe of guards charged into the tavern. "So we've
found you, Hroopne!" growled their leader. "You've caused enough
damage to our city -- time to pay the price!"

Before he could blink the barbarian found himself manacled, all
his goods removed, his body dragged and dumped in a gloomy cell.
The door slammed shut with booming emphasis. Still in a state of
shock, Hroopne glanced around.

A darkly massive figure in the shadows waved a menacing talon at
him. The barbarian gulped. It leaned forward threateningly...and
resolved into the size and shape of a middle-aged male Halfling.
"Hi," said Citharon cheerfully. "I'm a pickpocketing bard. What
brings you here?"

"I DONT KNOW," yelled the barbarian, "I WAS--"

"Please give your voice down," cautioned Citharon. "The judge
isn't especially partial to loud prisoners at this hour of the
morning."

"Well, I'm not partial to being locked up for no reason. How
long have you been waiting?"

"About three mugs' worth." The bard peered quizzically at the
barbarian as the latter sat down. "You truly have no idea why
you were arrested?"

"The bartender called me a hooligan and snapped his fingers.
Next thing I knew, I was like this." Hroopne clanked his
manacles and snarled.

"Ah, hooliganism," said Citharon. "That's it, you see."

"What is?"

"Hooliganism. That was probably what you were arrested for. The
guards hang around Majeau's a lot, and they're used to picking up
some of his livelier clientele for that. I've never been thrown
in here for hooliganism," he added.

"So what in all of Dergati's hells is hooliganism?"

The bard's face acquired a thoughtful cast. "My friend, I can
see from your expression that you have no knowledge of our
judicial system in this fair city -- and I'll wager in none of
the other cities of Elanthia."

"That's true," granted the larger felon.

"Tell you what. I'll acquaint you with the different crimes that
can get a person arrested here. In turn, you'll stake me to a
drink after we both find better accommodations. Maybe two, if
you find my information especially useful. Deal?"

The barbarian considered for a moment, then grinned broadly.
"Yeah, sure. Talk. I'm listening."

Citharon settled himself back into a corner of the cell. "Well,
first, there's hooliganism, as mentioned. That's being a general
annoyance, a pain in the right lobe to anyone and everyone you
encounter. If you punch and kick folks, attack people without
provocation, kiss without permission-- in fine, rile things up,
you're regarded as a hooligan in the eyes of the law."

Hroopna frowned. "I only wanted a little fun."

The bard nodded. "I don't know what happened, but usually Majeau
is pretty discerning about the difference between fun folks and
the other type. That being the kind which have too much expense
on everybody else's tab."

"It was just a typical brawl, for Hodierna's sake! What's the
big deal."

"A public brawl? My friend-- you have a name, by the way?"

"Hroopna Retm."

"Well, friend Hroopna, a public brawl, that's another warrantable
offense."

The barbarian stared at the bard. "No brawling? Anywhere?
Anytime?"

"I didn't say that," Citharon replied. "I said brawling in
public. And the authorities are pretty lenient. They usually
get involved only when plenty of people get upset in town at
the broken crockery, screamed insults and mangled bodies
impeding local commerce."

"In the land I came from," reminisced Hroopna, "you got up at
dawn, insulted the first person you saw, and started fighting
right away. Saved time."

Citheron smiled sympathetically. "Few people get up at dawn in
urban Elanthia, and they usually save their energy for battling
monsters loaded with treasure."

"Wimps."

The bard nodded as though this was self-evident. "Doomed to
extinction under the heel of invaders like yourself, I agree.
Now, another offense which is taken just as seriously as
hooliganism or public brawling is vulgarity. There are a lot of
children in Elanthia."

Hroopna snorted. "I like this place less and less. Cursing a
lot is the sign of a real man, as any real man can tell you."

"Yes, that makes a certain sense," confessed Citheron, "but the
only person I know in this city who curses fluently is Majeau's
favorite bouncer, and her manhood has never been in question.
Other folks usually don't bother. -Not that they aren't sorely
tempted from time to time, mind you, especially when they get
their pockets picked."

"Is pickpocketing a crime here?"

"But of course. So is pilfering, stealing items off the shelves
of our honored merchants. Unlike those other crimes I've
mentioned you may not get arrested right away for pilfering or
pickpocketing. Personally--" Citharon leaned forward and dropped
his voice to a low, conspiratorial level-- "I suspect some
thieves in town have a deal going with the authorities to look
the other way on those warrants as long as you keep a low
profile. Of course," he said, reverting to his normal tone,
"when you finally do get arrested, you're charged with all your
outstanding warrants. Not just the last straw that broke the
yak's back."

"Good," the barbarian said, slamming a fist the size of a bread
loaf into a palm the size of a serving platter. "I hate
pickpocketing, lowlife scum. They shouldn't be fined, though.
Just killed. Kill 'em all." He laughed unpleasantly.

"I'm afraid we don't have capital punishment here in the
Crossing, or in Riverhaven or any other fair-sized town I'm aware
of," said Citheron. "The best we can offer are fines or some
time in the stocks. Pay up, and you recover your goods
confiscated by the guards. Otherwise, they're auctioned off to
lessen the fines."

Hroopna's eyebrows would have come together if he'd had more than
one. "Your judge better not try to auction off my broadsword, or
she'll be dead in seconds On the Oath of a Retm."

"I'm sure the ground trembles wherever you step, fierce warrior,"
the Halfling reassured him. "However, you mention killing, and
that brings to mind the most serious crime on our books-- murder.
You can kill somebody pretty far out of town without fear of the
authorities intervening, generally, though if you make a habit of
it, they may track you down. However, murdering somebody any
place near or in a town runs a strong risk of instant
imprisonment.

"Of course, if you're looking to get imprisoned after killing
somebody far, far out of town, there's no better way to ensure
success than graverobbing the body you just emptied of life.
There's something about the combination of murder and
graverobbing--" Citharon shuddered.

A thought struck Hroopna. "What if I, you know...just assist
somebody out of your city gates when their mind's preoccupied?
Then they accidentally die, and I wait for the body to decay.
That's not murder, because I didn't kill anyone, and it isn't
graverobbing, because there's no body left to graverob." His
smug smile fell before the bard's headshake.

"No," said Citharon. "It's very illegal. And the folks around
here don't look kindly on people who do things like that,
either."

The burly barbarian scowled. "Seems like people around here have
their priorities confused. What other crimes can you get
arrested for?"

"Well, there's endangering the public, that's a pretty serious
and expensive offense. It can be anything from casting a harmful
spell to deliberately opening dangerously trapped chests in
public areas. Anything done in public that's perceived as
constituting a danger at large."

"Sounds like your hooliganism."

"Oh, much more dangerous than that. You might as well compare a
public enemy to a public nuisance," said Citheron. "And here's
another crime that's taken very seriously: aiding and abetting."

Hroopna frowned. "You mean, gambling?"

"Not betting-- abetting. It's secondhand crime. Say I supply
you with poisoned wine from one of Majeau's competitors to give
away, and we're both waiting for people to die so we can collect
items from their corpses. You're the person actually doing the
deed itself, but I'm guilty of aiding and abetting you in it. If
one Elanthian knowingly assists another in performing a crime,
that's abetting.

"Have I mentioned trafficking in guild secrets?" Citharon licked
his lips. "I hope the judge gets to our cases, soon. Talking
and singing are very thirsty tasks, you know."

The barbarian shook his head.

"Well, some guilds have passwords, secret rituals, private
locations where their members commune with the Gods or whatever.
Whether you're guildmember or outsider, if you pass along this
information to others and that guildleader finds out, matters can
go very badly for you.

"Then, there's littering."

Hroopna stared unbelievingly at the bard. "Oooo, I'm scared."

"I can't say I've ever heard of anybody succeeding in that,
though," admitted Citheron. "You'd have to work very hard at it
in order to get warranted. Would be some sort of achievement.

"Have I missed anything? Ah, yes, disturbing the peace."
"But that's still another hooligan thing."

"Not really. Hooligans disturb the peace physically. But if a
visitor is hawking their wares in Hodierna's quiet Temple-- or
screaming something over and over in an area set aside for
healing, that's disturbing the peace. In fact, you may be
arraigned for that, too." Citharon pondered thoughtfully.

"What a stupid place! Why don't they just replace every one of
their little stupid laws with one big one that says, Don't Do
Anything? It'd save time." Hroopna spit in disgust.

"I'd suggest," said Citharon, "that the basic law underlying much
else is simply not to rile too many people too much of the time.
It's sort of an unwritten code. Live and flourish by it, rot in
here against it." He would have explained at length, which is
the way of bards and Halflings both, but a guard chose just this
moment to demand the appearance of both prisoners in court.

The judge was more lenient than her glaring demeanor suggested.
Citharon was let off with a short warning; and Hroopna received a
small fine for hooliganism alone, since it was his first offense.
The latter wasn't too pleased, however, since he had to pay his
full debt at Town Hall to get back his goods from the Guard
House; or risk losing them to charity after an hour had passed.

"Now, my friend," said Citharon, as they exited onto Commerce
Avenue, "it's time to celebrate our honored judge's wisdom-- and
you owe me a brew. Or two. Let's celebrate!"

The barbarian shook his head. "It's time for me to celebrate,
maybe. But I don't remember inviting you along."

Citharon blinked. "No? What about our arrangement?"

Hroopna's lip curled. "I lied. And there ain't goblin grut you
can do about it." He grasped the hilt of his broadsword and
grinned maliciously at the Halfling. "I got enough coins to beat
a first murder rap. You better leave before I carve you into
even tinier pieces, you little freak."

Citharon chuckled. "Oh, that's okay," he said, hugging Hroopna.
"I never really expected to collect. People who destroy taverns
haven't got much moral sense in my book. Bye, now." And he
waved, turned, and quickly sauntered out of sight and into the
shadows.

It was only fifteen minutes later, as Hroopna reached into his
purse to purchase an ale at one of the Crossing's seedier
backalley pubs, that he realized he was minus all his remaining
silver.

[[Category:Book]]