Post by Neon on Apr 17, 2010 22:41:28 GMT -5
I. You’ve got to be Carefully Taught
The morning sun blazed across the desert, over the plateaus on its edge, and into the well-hidden Tinic village. The little, cozy buildings were built of both wood and stone, right in the base of the smallest plateau, on the eastern side. From the eye level of a Tinic, the village was easy to see, but from the air, it was invisible. An east-facing window, winking unseen so near the desert, welcomed the first rays of that morning.
He awoke with a snort as a bright beam of light fell upon his eyes. He sat up slowly with a yawn, the thin quilt falling off of his bare chest. He stretched his arms, coaxing the stiffness from his shoulders. Then, he tossed the quilt aside and rolled off the bed to the wooden floor.
The room was small, but not too small for just one person. His bed was tucked into the corner, with a simple nightstand next to it. Across from the foot of the bed in the other corner rested an ornate dresser, next to the window. He padded towards it, sleepily pulling the drawers open and beginning to dress himself. He had to suppress several yawns as he did so.
Before heading out the door, he assessed his appearance briefly in the slightly warped, full-length mirror tacked to the back of his door. His dull-red shirt had two buttons missing on the top, and so it hung slightly open to reveal his white undershirt. The grey slacks were well worn and patchy. His knee-length black boots, however, were kept in great condition, though even they showed some wear and tear.
A voice from elsewhere in the house jarred his silence. “Quentin! Are you awake?”
“Yes, mother,” he replied. “Be right out.” He ran his hand back through his slightly wavy, short brown hair to fix it up. His golden-brown eyes looked dull from his sleepiness. With one hand, he went to pull the door open, and with the other, he scratched his softly-angled but well-defined jaw.
The short hallway held only two other doors besides his own, one across from him and one to the left. Beyond that one was an archway to the rest of the house. Quentin passed through the cramped living room and into the kitchen, where his mother stood.
“Good morning, Quentin.” she greeted with a smile as she sat at the rickety wooden table. “Join me for breakfast before you go off to your training, huh?” She was the only one who called him Quentin. Everyone else called him Qwerty. He nodded and sat across from her. A plate with buttered bread waited for him.
“It’s really neat to finally be able to learn some of this stuff, mum.” he commented. Now I can help when we need to all hide, instead of waiting with all the other kids.”
His mother nodded and smiled. “Yup. I know you were eager to start. Just remember to still be careful, right?” Her expression allowed some worry in.
“Of course, mum. I’ll never let a Varan get the best of me.” His tone was quite matter-of-fact and confident.
His mother sighed. “You remind me so much of your father sometimes, you know.” He looked up from his breakfast, his face a bit surprised. The comparison honored him.
After eating, Qwerty bid his mother goodbye for the day, picked up his shoulder bag, and headed outside. Their house was one of the easternmost dwellings in the village, farthest away from the wall of the low plateau that guarded the Tinics. That only meant that he had the shortest distance to go to the training ground. He picked up his bicycle from where it lay in the dust. Then, he fished his goggles and bandana mask from his bag, fastening them on securely.
His face and eyes protected from the desert dust, he mounted his bicycle and kicked off. He coasted along the tight dirt path to the east, where a low hill waited as the only near landmark a fair distance out. The wind whipped his hair back. He grinned underneath his mask, relishing the speed. He ducked as he passed underneath the branch of a rare desert shrub, which was easily twice as tall as his house.
He arrived at the training ground and skidded his bicycle to a stop, kicking up a lot of dust. The sun already beat down on the flat ground. The nearest plateaus were all back behind him, and so could offer them no shade, no matter that they were over two hundred feet tall, some of them.
“Compson, you made it on time today,” remarked the middle aged instructor from where he stood. “Impressive,” he quipped.
“No, you’re just early.” Qwerty countered. The instructor just chuckled and shook his head. They all still had to wait for the others to arrive.
“Hey, Qwerty,” called his friend from the small group of teens that had already arrived. Qwerty joined them as they waited for the rest to come.
Every Tinic, beginning at age 16, trained for one thing more diligently than any other. They practiced stealth and physical endurance and strength. The exercises went toward one skill: hiding. They were masters of it. Even the buildings in the village were hidden, most of them in a cleft in the face of the high, imposing plateau. The Tinic people had passed down deep knowledge of staying hidden for generations.
When the last few teens had arrived, the group milled into a line formation, with the instructor standing before them. There were thirteen kids of age, seven boys and six girls. They all paid their teacher rapt attention; he was seasoned and knew what he was doing.
“Alright, good morning, everyone. How are we all?” he asked in a good-natured tone. A few murmurs came in reply. He nodded. “Well, you’re all pretty quiet, that’s good. One of the better skills when it comes to stealth.” he said with a smile, earning a chuckle from his students.
“Today, I’m going to describe to you what a Varan looks like in detail. We all know, of course, that they are rather large things, but I’m assuming few of you have seen one. Has anybody besides me ever seen a Varan?” The teacher looked at each of them in turn. When one girl raised her hand slowly, he gestured to her. “Miss Asurel, when and where did you see one?”
“In my old village before we moved here, sir.”
“And do you remember what it looked like?”
She nodded. Everyone paid close attention to her as she began to speak. “They’re huge ... it was almost two-hundred feet tall. It had a big green dragon-like tail and huge wings that could block out the sky. I didn’t see any more; we all had to go into the cellar to hide.”
The teacher nodded. “It was a smart idea. Thank you.” Then, he addressed the class as a whole. “The Varani are dragon-people. They have tails and wings, as Miss Asurel said, and they can also breathe fire.” He took a moment to let that sink in. Qwerty gave a low whistle, impressed. He’d only ever heard rumors about the giants until now.
The instructor continued. “They are vicious things. They capture us Tinics whenever they can. That’s why we have this training, so their chances are weakened. Their size makes it very easy to hurt us. And they do. Few people can make it back completely unharmed, if they even make it back at all, but it’s thanks to them that we know as much as we do. An acquaintance of mine told me that one of the most interesting things about them is that they measure things with the same units as we do, but on their own scale. To them, we are all about two inches tall.” That last revelation received a few surprised gasps from the students. Qwerty felt suddenly humbled by the notion. The instructor continued: “This friend of mine has told me several stories, and most of them are too ghastly to tell here. That’s why it’s important that each and every one of you learns as much as you can.”
The class remained in somber silence on that note, unsure of what to do. Someone muttered “bloodthirsty giants” under their breath. Qwerty thought that he wasn’t so sure of that. Surely, if people had the chance to escape and return at all despite the odds, could the giants truly have so much ill intent?
The teacher broke the silence. “Okay, plans for today: I’m going to describe the Varan and what we know about them, then we’ll review the stealth and escape techniques, and we’ll finish the day with basic exercises. First, though, I want you to recite the Seven Basic Rules of Hiding. Ready?”
The class began to recite: “Rule one ....”
~~~~~~~~~~
The idea for the premise and two main characters of this story belong to masquerade. I came up with some of the finer details and the result is what you see.
I will keep up with this story as much as I can; I imagine it will be somewhat shorter than my main stories. I hope you enjoy it!
The morning sun blazed across the desert, over the plateaus on its edge, and into the well-hidden Tinic village. The little, cozy buildings were built of both wood and stone, right in the base of the smallest plateau, on the eastern side. From the eye level of a Tinic, the village was easy to see, but from the air, it was invisible. An east-facing window, winking unseen so near the desert, welcomed the first rays of that morning.
He awoke with a snort as a bright beam of light fell upon his eyes. He sat up slowly with a yawn, the thin quilt falling off of his bare chest. He stretched his arms, coaxing the stiffness from his shoulders. Then, he tossed the quilt aside and rolled off the bed to the wooden floor.
The room was small, but not too small for just one person. His bed was tucked into the corner, with a simple nightstand next to it. Across from the foot of the bed in the other corner rested an ornate dresser, next to the window. He padded towards it, sleepily pulling the drawers open and beginning to dress himself. He had to suppress several yawns as he did so.
Before heading out the door, he assessed his appearance briefly in the slightly warped, full-length mirror tacked to the back of his door. His dull-red shirt had two buttons missing on the top, and so it hung slightly open to reveal his white undershirt. The grey slacks were well worn and patchy. His knee-length black boots, however, were kept in great condition, though even they showed some wear and tear.
A voice from elsewhere in the house jarred his silence. “Quentin! Are you awake?”
“Yes, mother,” he replied. “Be right out.” He ran his hand back through his slightly wavy, short brown hair to fix it up. His golden-brown eyes looked dull from his sleepiness. With one hand, he went to pull the door open, and with the other, he scratched his softly-angled but well-defined jaw.
The short hallway held only two other doors besides his own, one across from him and one to the left. Beyond that one was an archway to the rest of the house. Quentin passed through the cramped living room and into the kitchen, where his mother stood.
“Good morning, Quentin.” she greeted with a smile as she sat at the rickety wooden table. “Join me for breakfast before you go off to your training, huh?” She was the only one who called him Quentin. Everyone else called him Qwerty. He nodded and sat across from her. A plate with buttered bread waited for him.
“It’s really neat to finally be able to learn some of this stuff, mum.” he commented. Now I can help when we need to all hide, instead of waiting with all the other kids.”
His mother nodded and smiled. “Yup. I know you were eager to start. Just remember to still be careful, right?” Her expression allowed some worry in.
“Of course, mum. I’ll never let a Varan get the best of me.” His tone was quite matter-of-fact and confident.
His mother sighed. “You remind me so much of your father sometimes, you know.” He looked up from his breakfast, his face a bit surprised. The comparison honored him.
After eating, Qwerty bid his mother goodbye for the day, picked up his shoulder bag, and headed outside. Their house was one of the easternmost dwellings in the village, farthest away from the wall of the low plateau that guarded the Tinics. That only meant that he had the shortest distance to go to the training ground. He picked up his bicycle from where it lay in the dust. Then, he fished his goggles and bandana mask from his bag, fastening them on securely.
His face and eyes protected from the desert dust, he mounted his bicycle and kicked off. He coasted along the tight dirt path to the east, where a low hill waited as the only near landmark a fair distance out. The wind whipped his hair back. He grinned underneath his mask, relishing the speed. He ducked as he passed underneath the branch of a rare desert shrub, which was easily twice as tall as his house.
He arrived at the training ground and skidded his bicycle to a stop, kicking up a lot of dust. The sun already beat down on the flat ground. The nearest plateaus were all back behind him, and so could offer them no shade, no matter that they were over two hundred feet tall, some of them.
“Compson, you made it on time today,” remarked the middle aged instructor from where he stood. “Impressive,” he quipped.
“No, you’re just early.” Qwerty countered. The instructor just chuckled and shook his head. They all still had to wait for the others to arrive.
“Hey, Qwerty,” called his friend from the small group of teens that had already arrived. Qwerty joined them as they waited for the rest to come.
Every Tinic, beginning at age 16, trained for one thing more diligently than any other. They practiced stealth and physical endurance and strength. The exercises went toward one skill: hiding. They were masters of it. Even the buildings in the village were hidden, most of them in a cleft in the face of the high, imposing plateau. The Tinic people had passed down deep knowledge of staying hidden for generations.
When the last few teens had arrived, the group milled into a line formation, with the instructor standing before them. There were thirteen kids of age, seven boys and six girls. They all paid their teacher rapt attention; he was seasoned and knew what he was doing.
“Alright, good morning, everyone. How are we all?” he asked in a good-natured tone. A few murmurs came in reply. He nodded. “Well, you’re all pretty quiet, that’s good. One of the better skills when it comes to stealth.” he said with a smile, earning a chuckle from his students.
“Today, I’m going to describe to you what a Varan looks like in detail. We all know, of course, that they are rather large things, but I’m assuming few of you have seen one. Has anybody besides me ever seen a Varan?” The teacher looked at each of them in turn. When one girl raised her hand slowly, he gestured to her. “Miss Asurel, when and where did you see one?”
“In my old village before we moved here, sir.”
“And do you remember what it looked like?”
She nodded. Everyone paid close attention to her as she began to speak. “They’re huge ... it was almost two-hundred feet tall. It had a big green dragon-like tail and huge wings that could block out the sky. I didn’t see any more; we all had to go into the cellar to hide.”
The teacher nodded. “It was a smart idea. Thank you.” Then, he addressed the class as a whole. “The Varani are dragon-people. They have tails and wings, as Miss Asurel said, and they can also breathe fire.” He took a moment to let that sink in. Qwerty gave a low whistle, impressed. He’d only ever heard rumors about the giants until now.
The instructor continued. “They are vicious things. They capture us Tinics whenever they can. That’s why we have this training, so their chances are weakened. Their size makes it very easy to hurt us. And they do. Few people can make it back completely unharmed, if they even make it back at all, but it’s thanks to them that we know as much as we do. An acquaintance of mine told me that one of the most interesting things about them is that they measure things with the same units as we do, but on their own scale. To them, we are all about two inches tall.” That last revelation received a few surprised gasps from the students. Qwerty felt suddenly humbled by the notion. The instructor continued: “This friend of mine has told me several stories, and most of them are too ghastly to tell here. That’s why it’s important that each and every one of you learns as much as you can.”
The class remained in somber silence on that note, unsure of what to do. Someone muttered “bloodthirsty giants” under their breath. Qwerty thought that he wasn’t so sure of that. Surely, if people had the chance to escape and return at all despite the odds, could the giants truly have so much ill intent?
The teacher broke the silence. “Okay, plans for today: I’m going to describe the Varan and what we know about them, then we’ll review the stealth and escape techniques, and we’ll finish the day with basic exercises. First, though, I want you to recite the Seven Basic Rules of Hiding. Ready?”
The class began to recite: “Rule one ....”
~~~~~~~~~~
The idea for the premise and two main characters of this story belong to masquerade. I came up with some of the finer details and the result is what you see.
I will keep up with this story as much as I can; I imagine it will be somewhat shorter than my main stories. I hope you enjoy it!