Coyote's Story

[papacoyote]

With a wistful look at the warm bed and sleeping figure beyond, he shut the door, slipped into the corridor, and ghosted down the rickety stairs. Past the the smoldering hearth and sodden patrons in the common room, Coyote emerged into the cool grey light of pre-dawn. Pausing at the hedge and again at the gate he moved only after a careful survey of his surroundings.

"They shouldn't know who I am, but you never know who'll take an interest and follow me." With barely a rustle he was over the gate and down the lane. "I think I can handle any thug, but it's best not to ruin my reputation as useless in a fight."

Of medium height, build, and age, Coyote could hale from any of the Border towns with his dark but sparse, curly hair, grey/green eyes, and rakish smile... were it not for the two horns curling from his head. A sign of his infernal ancestry, they lent an air of mystery, earned more than his share of scrutiny, but mostly just itched a lot after a hard night drinking.

It had been an ordinary night at the Green Potato Inn. The Tavern Keep let him sing for his room and meals. Coin and drink were easy enough to woo from patrons with a rousing chanty or lovers ballad. The drinks he shared, it was the secrets he kept for himself.

It was the drink that loosened the lips of Dip, the local roustabout. If the Cabal got wind of his drunken natterings, he would be silenced forever, but the damage had been done. The Cabal was moving supplies this very night! They would be vulnerable and their lair could be finally exposed! If he could get a sign to his contact they could plan a nasty surprise, but only if he could be there and back before he was missed. That would mean a climb up the cliff to set the beacon.

With a sigh and a grunt, he started loping down the path, it was going to be a long hard day...

[Loren Wade]

Welcome to the Rebellion!