User blog:Gott wisst/Tyranny's Shades

Hi, I hope you like this story, which I've taken the liberty to title Tyranny's Shades. Please do not correct spelling, only notify me (on my talk page) about what you believe to be spelling mistakes (I deliberately spelt "tiger" as "tyger"). Gott wisst  Gott Wisst's talkpage 04:49, 22 February 2009 (UTC)

Eplogue
Prologue

Stánclá, a great, black tyger, snuck with unmatched stealth through the dark streets of the City of Hass.

A patrol of guards, mostly wolves of the jungle, passed by, not noticing the dark figure crouching into the shadows.

He continued on his way up the paved hillside, and then out into a great, open space. He had to be careful here lest he be seen, and, indeed, careful he was.

He finally moved into the black shadow of a great stone wall, sighing with relief.

He crept past the two lion guards.

He crept through the courtyard.

He crept over the draw bridge and past the ten almost-sleeping, great bears standing watch at the great entrance to the castle.

He snuck down a long hallway and into the kitchen, merged into the dark jet walls as a guard passed by on patrol, and continued on his way up the hall.

He stopped, for there ahead of him stood two great, brown bears guarding two huge, bronzen doors.

He drew a razor-sharp shortsword out of its well-oiled sheath, making only the slightest sound of metal drawing across metal, but this was enough to alert the guards, who were trained to notice even little things like this.

They looked about, not seeing the dark figure creeping up on them.

Stánclá padded up to one, who had his back turned, and slid the razor-sharp, black-edged sword through his neck.

He fell dead without even a sigh.

The other bear turned, and, seeing Stánclá, moved his large, clawed paw, as if to draw his sword, but he too fell dead with hardly a sound before his paw had even gotten halfway to his sword.

Stánclá stepped forward and picked the keys off one of the dead bear’s belts. He unlocked both of the great, bronzen doors and stepped through.

He saw before him a great, spiralling stone stairway. After first listening for anyone moved around on the stairway, he bound up the stairs as swiftly and as silently as he could, so as not to be caught with no place to hide, as the stairway was somewhat lit.

He came to two more bronzen doors at the top and, realizing that this did not take the key he had used earlier, dashed back down the stairs and took the other bear’s keys. Those worked.

He pushed open the door, trying not to make a sound, but without success, for the door’s hinges had not been oiled for many a night. “My first stupid mistake, not oiling the doors,” he though to himself, angrily.

There were two more bears on either side of the door. They instantly engaged Stánclá in combat; he killed one with ease, but just before he killed the other, he (the bear) let out a loud call for help.

Stánclá rushed along the corridor willy-nilly; there was no time for stealth now, only speed would get him anywhere.

He saw a door off to the side. There were two more bears in front of it, and they were alert and looking for action. He crossed blades with the first, then killed him, but the second was far harder.

He was surprised to find that the second one was a match for him but never lost his cool. After crossing blades with the bear twice, he finally did a daring move; he dropped his sword on the corpse of the other bear, so as not to make overmuch sound and make it easy for other guards to locate him, stepped forward so that he was face-to-face with the beast, struck him in the face with his claws outstretched.

The bear was greatly surprised, and so stood motionless in surprise for a crucial moment; Stánclá took advantage of this by grabbing the bear’s own sword of his hands and ramming it through his middle. The bear fell dead, but not without a sound.

The death was messy and ill-calculated by Stánclá, and he wished he had had more time to think over the best way do the fight, but there was no hope for it now. Even now he could hear the guards’ feet pounding in his general direction. He stopped, picked up his sword, wiped it clean, and shoved it in its sheath. He also took some more keys off one of the guards, which he tried on the single, heavy, wooden door. It swung open with what seemed like a deafening creak.

He ducked inside the room. It was richly furnished with all manner of beautiful and ancient things, but these did not concern him; what concerned him was the great desk in the centre of the room facing the doorway.

It had all kinds of papers, invitations, and other important documents lying on it. Hastily Stánclá searched through them, looked for something which would be of use to him. He finally found a book that looked to him to contain what information he might desire. He picked it up and, looking around for something waterproof he could put it in, set eyes on a waterproof-looking leather pouch. He stuffed the book in the bag, and then he, seeking for a way to delay his pursuers, shut the door, lifted up the great, wooden desk with a heave, and dumped it front of the door.

He fastened the drawstring of the leather pouch and began to fumble with the catch on the shutter for the sole window in the room. After what seemed like forever, he got it open. The guards were now banging in the door, but there was still another object between him and the open-air: two iron bars. He was frantic now, and shook them with all his might. Neither of them budged. He examined the bars carefully, checking to see if there was an easy way to remove them; there it was! A padlock through a hole at the bottom of each one, linking them to some iron rings built into the window-hole.

He hacked once, and then twice, at one of the padlocks with his black sword, and even now the door was edging open. A third time he hacked, and so sharp was his sword that it sliced through.

He wriggled twisted loop of the padlock of the ring and threw it out the window, and then wriggled through, hearing, even as he began to fall, the door of the room finally bursting open.

He landed with a splash in the ice-cold water of the lake, alerted a few nearby guards.

They came running, but he was away like a flash, and they only saw his tail as he ran up the wall steps and jumped over the wall.

Quickly a runner was dispatched to the city’s garrison to make sure the city’s patrols were doubled within three minutes and the docks were heavily guarded.

Stánclá found it harder and harder to avoid the rapidly spreading guards, but he did it.

He finally reached the docks, only to see it bristling with guards.

In despair he fled to the beech, and there he saw a raft. It was by no means worthy of voyaging, but that was not what he wanted, he only wanted to move along to antoher part of the isle without being seen. He pushed the raft out into the water and then climbed on. It had a rough, white sail attached to the “mast”, a thick wooden pole built into the centre of the raft, and a wooden box at the base of the mast, which had nails driven through its bottom and into the timbers of the raft.

There was a slight breeze when Stánclá had pushed out, but suddenly the breeze became a cold wind, enough to push his craft out into open waters at an alarming rate. He, alarmed at the rate at which the raft was going, furled the sails for fear that the small craft would be pushed into the Great Current, a huge and very fast current that flowed very close to the island, but it was too late, and the island was already fading into the distance as the small craft sped along bearing its ill-equipped captain.

(To be continued if anyone likes it)