Post by Sir Caedric Moore on Sept 22, 2015 16:34:03 GMT -8
My Bignette entry for the Secrecy category of the new Global Challenge 
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-The Page and the Ranger-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
The room was well furnished, though it was clearly still a prison - well, clear to all but the boy. It was obvious from the trappings and numerous toys about that the young Loreesi still thought himself a guest. They'd given him all of the comforts of home; thickly woven rugs and carpets dyed deep red or crimson and embroidered with gold; a silken comforter emblazoned with roaring lions on every red patch. A small dog lay at the foot of his bed; they'd given it to him for company - poor excuse for a guard-dog that it was. It didn't awaken as the guards in the hall were knocked unconscious. Or as the lock on the chamber door was picked. Or when the heavy oaken slab swung inwards. It woke at the same time as the boy, as a deep voice suddenly filled the quiet of the dark chamber.
"Wake up."
"Wha... who...?" the boy asked bewildered, sleep still clinging to him. He reached out from beneath the covers and fumbled for the oil lantern he kept by his bed, but his hand found only empty space. The dog had begun growling, the fur on its hackles raised, staring straight at the shadows at the foot of the stairs just beyond the edge of the torchlight that shone through the barred window. The boy was afraid now, and he frantically leaped out of bed to face this unseen foe, brandishing a toy wooden sword in front of him. "D-don't come any closer! I - I - I'll run you through!"
"There's no need for that, lad. You're in no danger," the voice said again. As the boy's eyes adjusted to the dark, he could now make out the form of a large man sitting on the bottom step of the little staircase.
"H-how do I know I can trust you on that?"
"If I had meant to kill you, you would have died in your sleep."
"But... how did you get in here? How did you get past the guards?"
"You could say I persuaded them to let me past. I can be quite persuasive."
"What... what do you want?"
"To talk," the man replied. As the boy's eyes adjusted, he could see that the man was garbed as a Scout Sniper of Lenfald, but his large stature and heavy accent clearly gave him away as a Garhim. He claimed he meant no harm, but in his hand he held a gleaming knife, now cutting chunks off of an apple and raising them to his mouth. "You can talk, can't you lad?" the big ranger said between bites, crunching noisily in the dark room. "I had heard you had a talent for it. You are a page, are you not?"
"Well, yes, b-b-but I'm not a herald. N-not yet, anyway. How do you know me?" the boy asked, still holding the small wooden sword out in front of him, never taking his eyes off of the big man's knife.
"You were a ward of the old Baron of Stonehedge; I had heard your heralding firsthand at the mounted jousts of the tournaments he used to hold. Your name is Tytos, is it not?"
"Yes... Tytos Jorin."
"But the Baron is dead."
"I am still their guest. It's an... honor."
"There have been no tournaments for the last few harvests - and still the Lenfels hold you here. Would you not like to return to Loreos?"
"W-well, y-yes, b-b-but..." Tytos couldn't understand why the Garhim wanted to help him. Why he had gone to all of the trouble to do so.
"Then I shall help you escape. But in return..." the big man said rising to his feet, producing a parchment scroll and unrolling it, revealing it to be a map. "Tell me everything you know about these islands."
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As always, comments and criticism are welcome and appreciated!
Ronin
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-The Page and the Ranger-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
The room was well furnished, though it was clearly still a prison - well, clear to all but the boy. It was obvious from the trappings and numerous toys about that the young Loreesi still thought himself a guest. They'd given him all of the comforts of home; thickly woven rugs and carpets dyed deep red or crimson and embroidered with gold; a silken comforter emblazoned with roaring lions on every red patch. A small dog lay at the foot of his bed; they'd given it to him for company - poor excuse for a guard-dog that it was. It didn't awaken as the guards in the hall were knocked unconscious. Or as the lock on the chamber door was picked. Or when the heavy oaken slab swung inwards. It woke at the same time as the boy, as a deep voice suddenly filled the quiet of the dark chamber.
"Wake up."
"Wha... who...?" the boy asked bewildered, sleep still clinging to him. He reached out from beneath the covers and fumbled for the oil lantern he kept by his bed, but his hand found only empty space. The dog had begun growling, the fur on its hackles raised, staring straight at the shadows at the foot of the stairs just beyond the edge of the torchlight that shone through the barred window. The boy was afraid now, and he frantically leaped out of bed to face this unseen foe, brandishing a toy wooden sword in front of him. "D-don't come any closer! I - I - I'll run you through!"
"There's no need for that, lad. You're in no danger," the voice said again. As the boy's eyes adjusted to the dark, he could now make out the form of a large man sitting on the bottom step of the little staircase.
"H-how do I know I can trust you on that?"
"If I had meant to kill you, you would have died in your sleep."
"But... how did you get in here? How did you get past the guards?"
"You could say I persuaded them to let me past. I can be quite persuasive."
"What... what do you want?"
"To talk," the man replied. As the boy's eyes adjusted, he could see that the man was garbed as a Scout Sniper of Lenfald, but his large stature and heavy accent clearly gave him away as a Garhim. He claimed he meant no harm, but in his hand he held a gleaming knife, now cutting chunks off of an apple and raising them to his mouth. "You can talk, can't you lad?" the big ranger said between bites, crunching noisily in the dark room. "I had heard you had a talent for it. You are a page, are you not?"
"Well, yes, b-b-but I'm not a herald. N-not yet, anyway. How do you know me?" the boy asked, still holding the small wooden sword out in front of him, never taking his eyes off of the big man's knife.
"You were a ward of the old Baron of Stonehedge; I had heard your heralding firsthand at the mounted jousts of the tournaments he used to hold. Your name is Tytos, is it not?"
"Yes... Tytos Jorin."
"But the Baron is dead."
"I am still their guest. It's an... honor."
"There have been no tournaments for the last few harvests - and still the Lenfels hold you here. Would you not like to return to Loreos?"
"W-well, y-yes, b-b-but..." Tytos couldn't understand why the Garhim wanted to help him. Why he had gone to all of the trouble to do so.
"Then I shall help you escape. But in return..." the big man said rising to his feet, producing a parchment scroll and unrolling it, revealing it to be a map. "Tell me everything you know about these islands."
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
As always, comments and criticism are welcome and appreciated!
Ronin
