Jay-Jay
05-10-2005, 18:43
Right, I posted the beginning of a story over a year ago, and to be fairly honest, it wasn't that great. So I thought I'd move onto something else, and I think that this is much better.
I would greatly appreciate any comments or critique that you all may have of the first chapter. I have a vague idea of where this story is going, but I still need to think through the next few chapters through.
Anyway, here it is. :)
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Chapter 1 - Escape from Jelein
Diadan Locke let out a heavy sigh as he sat motionless in the intimidating prison cell. Its small size and simple adornment implanted a sense of uneasiness in the young thief, who had never before found himself in a situation like this. His light green eyes trailed over the boring brick design towards the stone floor, and by now it had seemed as though he had noticed every little feature there was to notice about the cell. Refusing to suffer from another second of boredom, Diadan resigned himself to his uncomfortably rigid bed. Propping himself onto the straw-topped bunk, he lay down awkwardly and attempted to lose himself in sleep.
His predicament was his own fault – a fact that he recognised. He had been assigned a quick yet rather complex job on a governmental building on the outskirts of Jelein; a job that required maximum concentration and dedication. Yuri, the city guild’s master thief, had always held Diadan in high regard, and thought there was no one better to carry out the task than his young protégé. Diadan had many-a-time proved his versatility in thievery and stealth, and he certainly possessed a quick-thinking mind. What he lacked, however, was a cool head.
His role was to retrieve valuable documents that listed the whereabouts of various pieces of expensive artwork that happened to be passing through the city. Though he successfully got his hands on the papers, he accidentally ran into a guard on his exit, prompting a full alert in the building. Diadan momentarily lost the guards, but under the heavy pressure, he foolishly decided to break a window to make his escape. The sound of smashing glass could be heard throughout most of the tight structure, and the thief was quickly apprehended and taken to the authorities. From that point he had spent his time in the cramped cell, waiting for an investigator of some type to question him.
A full hour had passed before Diadan became restless. The combination of an uncomfortable bed and a near unbearable stench made it impossible for him to get any sleep at all. He ran his grubby fingers through his thick, black hair and rolled onto his back, moaning slightly as various bones in his body clicked. He could smell his own sweat as the humidity of the cell began to take its toll on the thief, though he realised that his black tunic along with his lightly padded armour did no favours in keeping him cool.
I need fresh air.
He eyed the tiny barred window at the top of his cell and considered whether or not to press his face against it for refreshment. Although there was no breeze in the muggy Khanduras air, the fresh oxygen would certainly be welcome. Putting it into consideration, however, it would hardly endear him in a good light should a guard suddenly pass by his cell.
Despite his distress, he decided to endure the heat.
“Locke!” The guard’s voice came as a surprise for Diadan, but he took no notice of it. He assumed it was just merely a command for the cell guard to lock up the main prison gate. However, the guard’s voice persisted, growling louder. “Diadan Locke!”
“Of course,” Diadan mumbled to himself. It seemed that he was still not accustomed to his new surname. He had quickly thought up the name when he was being taken to the penitentiary, fearing that his real name would be traced back to his family residence. The last thing he wanted was a reunion with his snobbish parents.
A chubby guard appeared by Diadan’s cell with a metal dish in hand and a flaming torch in the other. The light illuminated the entire cell, and the thief winced slightly at the amber glow. “Have something given to you for a change, you dirty little thief,” the guard scoffed. He bent down, set the food by the small exchange area and kicked it into the cell. He struggled to return to his upright position, letting out a deep breath as he regained his footing.
Diadan glanced over at the food and was unimpressed. Two pieces of bread had been ‘generously’ spared for him, though Diadan could immediately tell that they were stale. A bruised apple accompanied the bread, toppling off the dish and rolling ridiculously slowly to the other end of the cell, as if adding insult to Diadan’s misfortune. Shaking his head, he turned back to the guard. “Why thanks,” he said. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t eat it yourself.” He gave the guard a snide smile.
“Why you little…” The guard banged his palm against one of the cell bars. “You best hope your stay here is short, ‘cause you just pissed me off!”
“Have I really?” Diadan shot back, the sarcasm in his voice too blatant to go unnoticed. The guard looked like he was about to burst as his face turned an ugly, mottled red. Thinking better of it, however, he merely spat in the cell and stormed off. His cursing became muted as he left the prison block.
Caring not for the food, Diadan rolled back onto his bed. Trying to gain some sort of comfort, he closed his eyes and once again searched for sleep. This time he found it however, and as he drifted off, he could hear the sound of muffled voices from the cells around him. They soothed the doubt in Diadan’s mind, as if reminding him that he had not entered the remnants of an empty world.
* * *
“Get up, thief. An investigator’s here to speak to you.”
Diadan let out a lengthy groan before stirring. He opened his eyes slowly to the light that shone through his tiny cell window and arched his back up to a sitting position. He turned his head over towards the guard and let out a faint laugh. It was the same tubby guard who had given him food the previous night, which still lay untouched on the cell floor. “Do you ever get any time off?” Diadan sneered as he stood up.
The guard snarled. “If you know what’s good for you,” he began in a slightly sour tone, “you’d stop with those smart-arse comments right now. This inspector isn’t a pushover.”
The young thief laughed it off. “Whatever you say.” A moment of silence passed before various footsteps could be heard approaching the cell. Diadan put his hands on his hips in a deliberate pose of impatience, knowing that it would provoke a reaction. He relished the idea of testing the tolerance of authoritarian figures. Who better than a police inspector?
“Well, well, well,” said a gruff voice out of sight. “Diadan… I’m so pleased to meet you.” A figure finally appeared, striding over towards the cell door. He was stocky and lean, carrying tremendous authority through each and every one of his towering steps. He dwarfed the chubby guard who stood by the cell bars as he gave him a brisk nod upon arriving at the door. The awkward shine of light in the cell meant that Diadan could hardly make out any of the man’s facial features, but he could tell that the inspector bore a complexion boasting a blended assortment of anger and weariness. It was a combination that Diadan felt could lead to him snapping at any time, and despite the thief’s brash confidence, he sensed that testing this man’s patience would be a dreadful mistake. Two guards armed with halberds ambled along behind the inspector, almost struggling to keep up with the man’s huge paces.
Though Diadan was excited by the prospect of angering a man such as this, he decided to let this opportunity slip.
“My name is Bramon,” the inspector announced, his voice echoing throughout the entire prison block. His accent was difficult to place, though it probably originated from the southern provinces of Khanduras. A few hisses came from a number of other cells around him as he announced himself. Obviously Diadan was not the first one Bramon had interrogated. “I’ll be asking you a few questions regarding the crime you committed. Should you have a problem with that… well then that’s just tough.” Bramon produced a key from his tunic pocket and inserted it into the lock. Just as he was preparing to turn the key he paused, then let go and folded his arms. “Diadan, for this interrogation you will be escorted out of the prison block to the interview room,” he boomed. “I won’t chain you up, but know this. If you try and fight your way free you will be killed.”
Diadan rolled his eyes, as if insulted by the inspector’s warning. “Please, my lord,” he sighed in response. “I see your guards. I’m not stupid.”
Bramon let out a grunted laugh as he turned his back towards the thief. “Well I don’t know about that,” he said. “For someone who thought smashing a window would be a stealthy exit, I think your levels of stupidity score highly.” The investigator turned back towards the thief and folded his arms once more, obviously proud of his comment.
Diadan recoiled slightly in his cell, somewhat taken aback by Bramon’s sudden humour. Damn, clever bastard. He was resilient, however, and was determined not let this inspector out wit him. “Perhaps you have confused moments of stupidity with actual stupidity, good sir,” he piped up. “There is a significant difference between being consistently dim-witted and acting foolhardy under pressure.”
Bramon let out another laugh, this time more loudly. “I have no interest in bickering over how stupid you are, Diadan. I believe I already know the answer to that question.” The humour on his face suddenly vaporised, replaced with the same complexion that he carried when he first arrived at the cell.
Diadan wondered what he was insinuating as Bramon turned the key of the cell door and let his guards through. They each stood either side of the thief, ensuring that he could not escape should he try anything funny. Satisfied with the security of the situation, Bramon motioned his head to his left. “Come, follow,” he said. With that, he began striding back down the corridor towards the entrance foyer.
One of the sentries nudged Diadan on the back with his huge halberd, forcing him forward. The action was met with a heated scowl from the thief, not appreciating the guard’s haughtiness. Shaking his head, Diadan moved out of the cell, and for a slight moment he felt a sensation of freedom as he stepped out of the tiny confinement that had been his dwelling for the last twenty-four-or-so hours. But that sensation deflated somewhat when he caught glimpse of the chubby guard waving the cell key in front of him like a toy as he passed, as if reminding Diadan that he would be straight back in the cell in due course.
Diadan let out a slight snicker as he strode past the guard. You won’t be so smug for long. A slender smile spread across the young thief’s lips as he made his way down the corridor. His plan for escape was just about to enter its first phase…
I would greatly appreciate any comments or critique that you all may have of the first chapter. I have a vague idea of where this story is going, but I still need to think through the next few chapters through.
Anyway, here it is. :)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 1 - Escape from Jelein
Diadan Locke let out a heavy sigh as he sat motionless in the intimidating prison cell. Its small size and simple adornment implanted a sense of uneasiness in the young thief, who had never before found himself in a situation like this. His light green eyes trailed over the boring brick design towards the stone floor, and by now it had seemed as though he had noticed every little feature there was to notice about the cell. Refusing to suffer from another second of boredom, Diadan resigned himself to his uncomfortably rigid bed. Propping himself onto the straw-topped bunk, he lay down awkwardly and attempted to lose himself in sleep.
His predicament was his own fault – a fact that he recognised. He had been assigned a quick yet rather complex job on a governmental building on the outskirts of Jelein; a job that required maximum concentration and dedication. Yuri, the city guild’s master thief, had always held Diadan in high regard, and thought there was no one better to carry out the task than his young protégé. Diadan had many-a-time proved his versatility in thievery and stealth, and he certainly possessed a quick-thinking mind. What he lacked, however, was a cool head.
His role was to retrieve valuable documents that listed the whereabouts of various pieces of expensive artwork that happened to be passing through the city. Though he successfully got his hands on the papers, he accidentally ran into a guard on his exit, prompting a full alert in the building. Diadan momentarily lost the guards, but under the heavy pressure, he foolishly decided to break a window to make his escape. The sound of smashing glass could be heard throughout most of the tight structure, and the thief was quickly apprehended and taken to the authorities. From that point he had spent his time in the cramped cell, waiting for an investigator of some type to question him.
A full hour had passed before Diadan became restless. The combination of an uncomfortable bed and a near unbearable stench made it impossible for him to get any sleep at all. He ran his grubby fingers through his thick, black hair and rolled onto his back, moaning slightly as various bones in his body clicked. He could smell his own sweat as the humidity of the cell began to take its toll on the thief, though he realised that his black tunic along with his lightly padded armour did no favours in keeping him cool.
I need fresh air.
He eyed the tiny barred window at the top of his cell and considered whether or not to press his face against it for refreshment. Although there was no breeze in the muggy Khanduras air, the fresh oxygen would certainly be welcome. Putting it into consideration, however, it would hardly endear him in a good light should a guard suddenly pass by his cell.
Despite his distress, he decided to endure the heat.
“Locke!” The guard’s voice came as a surprise for Diadan, but he took no notice of it. He assumed it was just merely a command for the cell guard to lock up the main prison gate. However, the guard’s voice persisted, growling louder. “Diadan Locke!”
“Of course,” Diadan mumbled to himself. It seemed that he was still not accustomed to his new surname. He had quickly thought up the name when he was being taken to the penitentiary, fearing that his real name would be traced back to his family residence. The last thing he wanted was a reunion with his snobbish parents.
A chubby guard appeared by Diadan’s cell with a metal dish in hand and a flaming torch in the other. The light illuminated the entire cell, and the thief winced slightly at the amber glow. “Have something given to you for a change, you dirty little thief,” the guard scoffed. He bent down, set the food by the small exchange area and kicked it into the cell. He struggled to return to his upright position, letting out a deep breath as he regained his footing.
Diadan glanced over at the food and was unimpressed. Two pieces of bread had been ‘generously’ spared for him, though Diadan could immediately tell that they were stale. A bruised apple accompanied the bread, toppling off the dish and rolling ridiculously slowly to the other end of the cell, as if adding insult to Diadan’s misfortune. Shaking his head, he turned back to the guard. “Why thanks,” he said. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t eat it yourself.” He gave the guard a snide smile.
“Why you little…” The guard banged his palm against one of the cell bars. “You best hope your stay here is short, ‘cause you just pissed me off!”
“Have I really?” Diadan shot back, the sarcasm in his voice too blatant to go unnoticed. The guard looked like he was about to burst as his face turned an ugly, mottled red. Thinking better of it, however, he merely spat in the cell and stormed off. His cursing became muted as he left the prison block.
Caring not for the food, Diadan rolled back onto his bed. Trying to gain some sort of comfort, he closed his eyes and once again searched for sleep. This time he found it however, and as he drifted off, he could hear the sound of muffled voices from the cells around him. They soothed the doubt in Diadan’s mind, as if reminding him that he had not entered the remnants of an empty world.
* * *
“Get up, thief. An investigator’s here to speak to you.”
Diadan let out a lengthy groan before stirring. He opened his eyes slowly to the light that shone through his tiny cell window and arched his back up to a sitting position. He turned his head over towards the guard and let out a faint laugh. It was the same tubby guard who had given him food the previous night, which still lay untouched on the cell floor. “Do you ever get any time off?” Diadan sneered as he stood up.
The guard snarled. “If you know what’s good for you,” he began in a slightly sour tone, “you’d stop with those smart-arse comments right now. This inspector isn’t a pushover.”
The young thief laughed it off. “Whatever you say.” A moment of silence passed before various footsteps could be heard approaching the cell. Diadan put his hands on his hips in a deliberate pose of impatience, knowing that it would provoke a reaction. He relished the idea of testing the tolerance of authoritarian figures. Who better than a police inspector?
“Well, well, well,” said a gruff voice out of sight. “Diadan… I’m so pleased to meet you.” A figure finally appeared, striding over towards the cell door. He was stocky and lean, carrying tremendous authority through each and every one of his towering steps. He dwarfed the chubby guard who stood by the cell bars as he gave him a brisk nod upon arriving at the door. The awkward shine of light in the cell meant that Diadan could hardly make out any of the man’s facial features, but he could tell that the inspector bore a complexion boasting a blended assortment of anger and weariness. It was a combination that Diadan felt could lead to him snapping at any time, and despite the thief’s brash confidence, he sensed that testing this man’s patience would be a dreadful mistake. Two guards armed with halberds ambled along behind the inspector, almost struggling to keep up with the man’s huge paces.
Though Diadan was excited by the prospect of angering a man such as this, he decided to let this opportunity slip.
“My name is Bramon,” the inspector announced, his voice echoing throughout the entire prison block. His accent was difficult to place, though it probably originated from the southern provinces of Khanduras. A few hisses came from a number of other cells around him as he announced himself. Obviously Diadan was not the first one Bramon had interrogated. “I’ll be asking you a few questions regarding the crime you committed. Should you have a problem with that… well then that’s just tough.” Bramon produced a key from his tunic pocket and inserted it into the lock. Just as he was preparing to turn the key he paused, then let go and folded his arms. “Diadan, for this interrogation you will be escorted out of the prison block to the interview room,” he boomed. “I won’t chain you up, but know this. If you try and fight your way free you will be killed.”
Diadan rolled his eyes, as if insulted by the inspector’s warning. “Please, my lord,” he sighed in response. “I see your guards. I’m not stupid.”
Bramon let out a grunted laugh as he turned his back towards the thief. “Well I don’t know about that,” he said. “For someone who thought smashing a window would be a stealthy exit, I think your levels of stupidity score highly.” The investigator turned back towards the thief and folded his arms once more, obviously proud of his comment.
Diadan recoiled slightly in his cell, somewhat taken aback by Bramon’s sudden humour. Damn, clever bastard. He was resilient, however, and was determined not let this inspector out wit him. “Perhaps you have confused moments of stupidity with actual stupidity, good sir,” he piped up. “There is a significant difference between being consistently dim-witted and acting foolhardy under pressure.”
Bramon let out another laugh, this time more loudly. “I have no interest in bickering over how stupid you are, Diadan. I believe I already know the answer to that question.” The humour on his face suddenly vaporised, replaced with the same complexion that he carried when he first arrived at the cell.
Diadan wondered what he was insinuating as Bramon turned the key of the cell door and let his guards through. They each stood either side of the thief, ensuring that he could not escape should he try anything funny. Satisfied with the security of the situation, Bramon motioned his head to his left. “Come, follow,” he said. With that, he began striding back down the corridor towards the entrance foyer.
One of the sentries nudged Diadan on the back with his huge halberd, forcing him forward. The action was met with a heated scowl from the thief, not appreciating the guard’s haughtiness. Shaking his head, Diadan moved out of the cell, and for a slight moment he felt a sensation of freedom as he stepped out of the tiny confinement that had been his dwelling for the last twenty-four-or-so hours. But that sensation deflated somewhat when he caught glimpse of the chubby guard waving the cell key in front of him like a toy as he passed, as if reminding Diadan that he would be straight back in the cell in due course.
Diadan let out a slight snicker as he strode past the guard. You won’t be so smug for long. A slender smile spread across the young thief’s lips as he made his way down the corridor. His plan for escape was just about to enter its first phase…