The Big C-reative

Christa's heart sank in to despair. "Not every bloody one of you can be Orin!" she bellowed. Realising the volume of her own voice, she turned her head to catch a glimpse of the slumbering guard. Fortunately, he was still snoring away. As she turned her attention back to the prisoners, she saw that they were all pressed up against the bars of their cells, desperate for her attention. "By the gods, I am Orin! Set me free!" one of them wailed, his voice rising to a desperate pitch. "The gods?" Christa laughed. "Orin hates the gods." The prisoner's face fell, and he retreated into the shadows of his cell. "Damn the gods, I hate them and everything they stand for," said the other prisoner, flashing his golden tooth. Christa spun around to face him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You’re trying too hard," she retorted. She was at a loss for what to do. Never had she imagined a scenario where every inmate would claim to be Orin to secure their release. She couldn't possibly set them all free; the divine lock pick was a one-time use item, and time was running out. Suddenly the sound of a deafening explosion echoed through the prison block. She could take a guess as to what it was: The signal she was supposed to be waiting for this whole time. She spotted the guard at the end of the hallway waking up. Taken aback, he grabbed his sword and stumbled towards Christa. The guard was a large man, his armour clanking as he moved. With a grim determination, she drew her dagger from the scabbard that was tied around her waist and took up a defensive stance. Fighting was not her strong suit; she knew that better than anyone else but she had no choice but to fight. She knew that the prison cells are cursed with an energy that restricts the use of blessings. This gave her some comfort knowing that the guard, without any divine advantages would at least be somewhat on her level, but was that enough? Christa ran towards the guard and they clashed, their blades ringing out as they slammed in to each other. Christa was quick on her feet. But the guard was strong and experienced with a reach advantage that she had no hope of overcoming with her dagger. She cried out in pain as his sword sliced through her arm, drawing blood. She gritted her teeth and lunged forward, aiming for the guard's midsection. The guard saw the attack coming and parried with his sword, but Christa was too quick. The guard had only just woken up, so he was slow and sluggish. Christa used this to her advantage. She darted to the side and sliced her dagger across his leg, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. Christa kicked the guard's sword out of reach and pointed her dagger at his throat. "Surrender," she said, her voice cold and deadly. She was breathing heavily. She had won the fight, but she knew this wasn’t where it ends. She couldn’t let her guard down. She had never killed before, and although she had no intention of doing so now, she needed to show her opponent that she was capable of it. The guard looked up at her, defeated. Sensing her deadly intent, he knew he had no chance against her. With a sigh, he raised his hands in surrender. Pressing her dagger against his neck, she demanded “Which one of these prisoners is Orin.” She got nothing but silence in return. She applied more pressure against his neck with her dagger until it produced blood. “Tell me!” The guard hesitated, his eyes darting around the cells. Finally, he pointed a shaking finger at one of the cells. "He's in there," he whispered. Christa shoved the guard's face into the dirt and bound his arms with a length of rope from her pack. "You'll be staying here for a while," she snarled. "The Tressa’s will be more worried about losing their precious treasure before they even bother to come down here." She turned towards the cell, her heart pounding in her chest. With a divine lock pick in hand, she easily unlocked the door and stepped inside. A figure emerged from the shadows, revealing a thin and dishevelled man with dark skin and long, dirty hair. Despite his weakened state, there was an aura about him. Christa knew immediately that this was the man she had been looking for.

Jax landed gracefully on the ground, his feet making a soft crunch as they landed on the shattered remains of what was once a magnificent glass window. He glanced around, half-expecting the guards to come crashing in at any moment, but none came. He could hear a commotion outside, most likely a reaction to his undignified entrance. But he was lucky, for the door across from the window was massive, perfect for deterring any intruder, even the guards themselves seemed to have some trouble getting in. The Tressa family had clearly spared no expense in safeguarding their treasures. Jax knew that time was of the essence; they would inevitably break through, and he had to act fast. He hoped his entrance was at least enough to take some of the heat from Christa. If there’s anything that a noble family would value more than their prisoners, it would be their wealth. The room was a sight to behold, it was expansive, with high vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to glow in the soft candlelight. Tapestries in rich jewel tones lined the walls, their intricate patterns depicting scenes of war and power. ‘So, this is what it’s like to be rich?’ Jax was momentarily stunned by the sheer wealth on display, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at the thought of owning even a fraction of it. It was the treasure itself that caught Jax's attention. Golden bars of various sizes and shapes gleamed in the flickering candlelight, their surfaces smooth and polished. The room was full of them, piled high in neat stacks and arranged in rows upon rows of shelves that stretched towards the ceiling. He walked forward, his eyes locked on the glittering gold, but he knew that he couldn't carry it all. Instead, he retrieved a small stone with an ancient symbol etched into its smooth surface from his pocket and placed it on one of the golden bars. The stone began to glow and sank into the solid gold until it disappeared completely. As Jax moved further into the room, his eyes darted from one valuable object to the next. Precious gemstones of every colour and size glittered in ornate bowls, and intricately crafted swords and daggers hung from hooks on the walls. Jax's fingers itched to touch the wealth that surrounded him distracting him yet again, but the growing uproar beyond the door snapped him back to reality. He needed to find something light yet valuable. Something he could carry down the wall. His eyes settled on a small box on a table in the corner of the room. At first glance, it appeared to be a simple trinket box, but Jax knew better. His years as a thief meant he had the ability to determine the value of an item by simply looking. The small box was exquisitely crafted, with intricate symbols etched into the dark, polished wood. Its surface shimmered in the flickering candlelight, giving the impression of a thousand tiny stars dancing across its surface. The lock, made of iron, was engraved with a series of twisting vines and thorns, as if it were a warning to any who dared to attempt to open it. Why would someone lock a box in a chamber brimming with gold unless the box held something even more precious than the gold? Jax approached the box with bated breath, to his relief it was light enough for him to carry down the estate wall and that’s when he decided. “This box is mine”. Jax's fingers itched to open the box, but that could wait. Instead, he picked up the box, the shimmering surface glinting in the candlelight, and turned to make his escape. But not before he noticed a few gems that caught his eye, reflecting the moonlight. "It wouldn't hurt to take a little more," he thought to himself. With the wooden box in hand and a few extra gems tucked safely away, Jax reached into his pack and retrieved a stick of dynamite. He placed it carefully on the ground, lit the fuse and ran for the window. As he approached, he could see the guards beginning to flood into the room, their armour clanking as they advanced. Jax made eye contact with one of them for a brief moment, he smiled as he jumped out from the window, leaving the explosion behind him. Next Chapter

Christa stood alone in the midst of a dreary, dimly lit passageway, its icy chill seeping into her bones. She hated the cold. With a deep sense of regret, she gazed back at the fire through gaping hole she had just squeezed through. The heat of the flames was unable to reach her any more. Though she missed the comfort of her little fire, she gathered her resolve and wished it well as she continued forward, further in to the cold. The dimly lit passageway seemed to shrink around her as she continued, the darkness closing in on her like a physical presence. A musty smell of mildew and decay filled the air. The walls were damp and slick with moisture, she made sure not to touch them as she made her way through. The flickering flames from the fire outside cast eerie shadows on the walls, adding to the already oppressive atmosphere. Christa's breath fogged in front of her as she struggled to keep her wits about her. She knew all too well why she and her brother had been chosen for this task. It was because they lacked the blessings that others in their world possessed. They were the descendants of a forgotten people, ignored by the gods or deemed unworthy of their favour. But in a world where blessings were everything, their lack of them had become a blessing in its own right, making them very good at what they do. Had they borne the mark of a blessing, they would have been detected long before they had even begun their mission. Eventually Christa arrived at the cells. They were lined up along a long corridor of thick iron bars, each one enclosing a small cell. The cells were barely large enough for a single person, and their floors were littered with straw that had long since turned grey and musty. The only light came from the flickering torch at the end of the corridor, presumably for the guard who sleeping there. With a steady gaze, Christa surveyed the slumbering prison guard realising with a hint of relief that her movements had gone unnoticed. Had the guard been awake, her fate would have been sealed and the mission, a failure. The plan had been for Jax to create a distraction, drawing the guards away from the prisoner's cell while Christa snuck in to free the prisoner. She realised with amusement that since the guard was there, Jax had most likely not given the signal yet. But she had already set the fire outside, and knew that it was only a matter of time before others took notice. She turned her attention back to the cells and behind the bars, she found the prisoners huddled in the shadows, their faces obscured by beards and matted hair. Some muttered to themselves, while others stared blankly ahead, their eyes haunted by fears of the future. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, urine, and despair. She held her breath to shield her from the smell and silently walked forward hoping to find the prisoner. But she had no idea what he looked like. Christa had a habit of never asking the questions that really mattered, a trait that often left her in difficult positions. What’s the signal? What does the prisoner look like? How can I tell him apart from the others? It was different from her usual thievery, where the worth of her loot was easily determined. In these cells, however, she saw only hopeless eyes staring back at her. With no other options, there was nothing she could do but ask. So, she repeatedly whispered “Orin?” as she walked past each cell. Eventually, a hoarse and scratchy voice from the cell where the corridor began responded “Who are you?”. The prisoner was a small man, thin and frail-looking, with a wild shock of hair and a beard that reached down to his chest. He looked up at Christa with eyes that glittered in the dim light, and for a moment, she was taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. “You don’t look like any of the guards I’ve seen walk through here before?” "I'm here to rescue a man named Orin," Christa replied, her heart racing with adrenaline. The man grinned, revealing a set of yellowed teeth. He had a single golden tooth in place of one of his canines. "Well then, let's be about it." Christa was overjoyed to have finally found the prisoner she was looking for. She reached the cell door and pulled out the divine lock pick that Jax had given her, her hands trembling with nerves. However, the joy didn’t last long because from the shadows of another cell, a voice spoke up. “No, I’m Orin”. And then followed another voice, declaring “I’m Orin. I’m the one you need to rescue.” Next Chapter