Creative Writing: Tyrunvern's Takeover

At the heart of the dreadfully dark land where lost socks go to be found again, grew Tyrunvern's fantastic fungal palace. Inside, under the soft glow of organic lamps, was a lad of white, curled hair and red, curved horns by the name of Pagne. He was preoccupied with the perusal of a precariously plonked pile of paperwork. There was so much of it that the stalk of his mushroom desk had started to bend under the weight, but those pieces of parchment contained the preparations he had been making for months. He was sure this would be the greatest Season yet. The tea parties would be terrific, the dances divine but most of all, his birthday party, in which he would finally be declared an adult, would ensure everyone knew precisely how important

With a determined shuffle he made for the back of the cell, but fell down after stubbing his toe on a loose floor stone. He bit his tongue to stop himself from cursing Tyvern crafts again too loudly. As he groped around in the dark for the culprit to give it what-for, it slid aside to reveal well-lit pit beneath it with a convenient rope ladder. Without thinking why it might be there, Pagne stepped down, just deep enough to move the stone back over his head with the slightest crack to peek through.

The light of the candle and his hornless, Tyvern father came into view as the door to his cell was pushed open. As the Lord of Tyrunvern's Right-Hand, he was one of the most influential fellows in the country, and not one to be trifled with, even by his own son. "Did you hear something in here?" his father asked another fellow. Pagne recognised the elderly Lord Kovrek, and carefully lowered the stone that last little bit over his head.

"I dare say it was the echo from the wings you broke off that wretched creature," Kovrek said. His voice was more nasal than a talking nose could ever hope to be. "Are you certain they're large enough to fool

Pagne was about to do the same, until he looked down.

There were two tiny, red orbs glowing in the pit beneath him. They drew his attention to his new surroundings, which were surprising to say the least. The cavern he had stumbled into was quite large and kept light by peculiar, glass lanterns. He stepped down off the ladder and crept around, finding all manner of objects unlike anything he had seen before.

It was all remarkably strange, aside from the long sofa at the centre. At least that was familiar to him, being rather like the cushioned furniture his mother's folk favoured. Directly in front of it however, was an odd box, with a glass front, a few dials, and two metal prongs coming from the top of it. It was more crude than the Amphelian devices Pagne had seen, so he figured it must have been an instrument of torture and best left alone. He turned his attention instead to the book-laden shelves around the walls. Some were hard-covered and leather bound, but most of them were quite flimsy. Whoever frequented this place certainly seemed to enjoy a series titled