Post by Sir Caedric Moore on Sept 30, 2015 11:58:42 GMT -8
Surprise! 
My Unrestricted entry for the Steal category!
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-Preventing a Pilferer-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Orevale Hold, Southern Garheim...
"Not too cold, are ye Tytos?" the big ranger asked, breath steaming in the frigid morning air as it rose from a thick blonde beard.
"N-no, Sir. I'm quite fine," the Loreesi boy answered convincingly, smiling contently as he gazed around at the northern countryside, his breath leaving little clouds of their own. Sir Hollander Peake couldn't be sure if the lad was truly enjoying the weather or if he was just playing the part - the boy was a page, after all - but either way young Jorin seemed to be taking to the colds of Garheim well for someone from such a hot climate, bundled in a fine wool cloak and tunic, his hands covered in gloves of black velvet. Peake hadn't allowed the boy to bring many of his belongings and indeed not one of his toys had left the chamber he had been kept in, but the ornate chest of Lenfald cedar he had strapped to his horse's saddle was filled to the brim with fine clothes, leather-bound books, quills and ink pots stoppered with crystal, oddly-shaped wads of colored beeswax, and many rolls of parchment. Hollander had the horses set up in the stables just inside the Southern Gatehouse, along with the boy's chest of belongings, and the two had continued north through Orevale Hold on foot. "There are mountains back home - in L-l-loreos, is what I mean to say - and though they aren't near this size, they're known to have snow up top from time to time."
"You've not seen anything yet, Boy-o. These here are Autumn snows - Winter is coming. True winter, not like you've seen down in Lenfald. 'Tis a shame ye won't be around to see the real thing." Hollander sighed, reaching into the folds of his cloak and producing a metal flask - embossed with the likeness of a wolf's head, Tytos noticed - from which he took a long drought before replacing the stopper and stowing it back in its place. The boy would be gone by then, if things went as planned - he had promised the lad passage back to Loreos on the first trading vessel headed south from Black Loch in exchange for information on the newly found Western Isles - and he meant to make good on his word, but no ships could be chartered without leave from the Captain of the Valeguard and Sir Caedric Moore had yet to return from the caves above Northwatch Tower, leaving Peake to look after the young Loreesi for the nonce.
Northwatch was Sir Hollander's domain and that of the Wulfguard, but its remote location and the harshness of the mountain weather up there made it no fit place for those not accustomed to such low temperatures, so the two had foregone the gravel trail that wound up into the mountains past Whistlebridge and headed for the little town known as Drake's Well on the eastern shores of Black Loch and made for the inn and tavern known locally as The Stump. Run by the Njordsons, a family of fishermen and vintners, the little tavern's close proximity to the northern gate of the city and to the docks of Black Loch made it a hotspot for town guards and villagers alike and the top floors even boasted rooms that the barkeep rented out to travelers. But as the page and the ranger approached the inn, cries of, "Thief! Thief!" reached their ears.
A red blur came pelting around the corner of a nearby house, just in time to run smack dab into the butt of Hollander's spear, and the red-clad man fell to the ground in a shower of gold and silver coins, the bag he had been holding torn asunder. The town guard who had raised the cry came huffing around the corner just as Hollander lifted the thief bodily from the ground by the scruff of his crimson cloak.
"What is the meaning of this?" the big Garhim demanded angrily, venom dripping from each word as he held the southern-clad thief aloft. "You steal from the people of my city?! Who sent you?"
"No one you'd know, Sir Boulder," the thief said with a Loreesi accent much heavier than Tytos had, sneering with derision as he did so. "Just trying to get a leg up on the competition, is all - it's expensive building ships; buying lumber, hiring a crew. You know how it is."
"You'd have done better trying to commandeer one," Hollander spat, hitting the thief with the back of his gloved hand and tossing the man to the ground with a hard thud. Tytos Jorin could barely believe his eyes as he watched the scene from behind a snow drift, the tiny sword Sir Hollander had given him clutched tightly in his fist - his own people taken to common thievery, come all this way just to steal from the hardy folk of this cold land. "Who sent you?" he asked again, towering over the Loreesi as he lay groaning on the street surrounded in gold and silver coins.
"I don't remember," the thief grinned, spitting blood onto the snow-covered ground.
"Take this snake to the castle," Peake said, turning to the town guard. "A little time in one of the colder cells might clear his head and jog his memory. If not, I'm sure he'll remember when the Captain returns."
"Yes, Sir," the guardsman said, tying the Loreesi thief's hands behind his back before leading him through the streets at swordpoint.
"Now then," Sir Hollander said to Tytos, a smile returning to his face as if it had never left, his big hand pointing in the direction of the inn where a steady wisp of smoke rose from the chimney accompanied by the sounds of song and merriment. "Let's eat."
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As always, comments and criticism are welcome and appreciated!
Ronin
My Unrestricted entry for the Steal category!-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-Preventing a Pilferer-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Orevale Hold, Southern Garheim...
"Not too cold, are ye Tytos?" the big ranger asked, breath steaming in the frigid morning air as it rose from a thick blonde beard.
"N-no, Sir. I'm quite fine," the Loreesi boy answered convincingly, smiling contently as he gazed around at the northern countryside, his breath leaving little clouds of their own. Sir Hollander Peake couldn't be sure if the lad was truly enjoying the weather or if he was just playing the part - the boy was a page, after all - but either way young Jorin seemed to be taking to the colds of Garheim well for someone from such a hot climate, bundled in a fine wool cloak and tunic, his hands covered in gloves of black velvet. Peake hadn't allowed the boy to bring many of his belongings and indeed not one of his toys had left the chamber he had been kept in, but the ornate chest of Lenfald cedar he had strapped to his horse's saddle was filled to the brim with fine clothes, leather-bound books, quills and ink pots stoppered with crystal, oddly-shaped wads of colored beeswax, and many rolls of parchment. Hollander had the horses set up in the stables just inside the Southern Gatehouse, along with the boy's chest of belongings, and the two had continued north through Orevale Hold on foot. "There are mountains back home - in L-l-loreos, is what I mean to say - and though they aren't near this size, they're known to have snow up top from time to time."
"You've not seen anything yet, Boy-o. These here are Autumn snows - Winter is coming. True winter, not like you've seen down in Lenfald. 'Tis a shame ye won't be around to see the real thing." Hollander sighed, reaching into the folds of his cloak and producing a metal flask - embossed with the likeness of a wolf's head, Tytos noticed - from which he took a long drought before replacing the stopper and stowing it back in its place. The boy would be gone by then, if things went as planned - he had promised the lad passage back to Loreos on the first trading vessel headed south from Black Loch in exchange for information on the newly found Western Isles - and he meant to make good on his word, but no ships could be chartered without leave from the Captain of the Valeguard and Sir Caedric Moore had yet to return from the caves above Northwatch Tower, leaving Peake to look after the young Loreesi for the nonce.
Northwatch was Sir Hollander's domain and that of the Wulfguard, but its remote location and the harshness of the mountain weather up there made it no fit place for those not accustomed to such low temperatures, so the two had foregone the gravel trail that wound up into the mountains past Whistlebridge and headed for the little town known as Drake's Well on the eastern shores of Black Loch and made for the inn and tavern known locally as The Stump. Run by the Njordsons, a family of fishermen and vintners, the little tavern's close proximity to the northern gate of the city and to the docks of Black Loch made it a hotspot for town guards and villagers alike and the top floors even boasted rooms that the barkeep rented out to travelers. But as the page and the ranger approached the inn, cries of, "Thief! Thief!" reached their ears.
A red blur came pelting around the corner of a nearby house, just in time to run smack dab into the butt of Hollander's spear, and the red-clad man fell to the ground in a shower of gold and silver coins, the bag he had been holding torn asunder. The town guard who had raised the cry came huffing around the corner just as Hollander lifted the thief bodily from the ground by the scruff of his crimson cloak.
"What is the meaning of this?" the big Garhim demanded angrily, venom dripping from each word as he held the southern-clad thief aloft. "You steal from the people of my city?! Who sent you?"
"No one you'd know, Sir Boulder," the thief said with a Loreesi accent much heavier than Tytos had, sneering with derision as he did so. "Just trying to get a leg up on the competition, is all - it's expensive building ships; buying lumber, hiring a crew. You know how it is."
"You'd have done better trying to commandeer one," Hollander spat, hitting the thief with the back of his gloved hand and tossing the man to the ground with a hard thud. Tytos Jorin could barely believe his eyes as he watched the scene from behind a snow drift, the tiny sword Sir Hollander had given him clutched tightly in his fist - his own people taken to common thievery, come all this way just to steal from the hardy folk of this cold land. "Who sent you?" he asked again, towering over the Loreesi as he lay groaning on the street surrounded in gold and silver coins.
"I don't remember," the thief grinned, spitting blood onto the snow-covered ground.
"Take this snake to the castle," Peake said, turning to the town guard. "A little time in one of the colder cells might clear his head and jog his memory. If not, I'm sure he'll remember when the Captain returns."
"Yes, Sir," the guardsman said, tying the Loreesi thief's hands behind his back before leading him through the streets at swordpoint.
"Now then," Sir Hollander said to Tytos, a smile returning to his face as if it had never left, his big hand pointing in the direction of the inn where a steady wisp of smoke rose from the chimney accompanied by the sounds of song and merriment. "Let's eat."
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
As always, comments and criticism are welcome and appreciated!
Ronin
