Wild Streets - Fall 510 (ALL Beggars, Thieves, Criminals)

[Dusk]

OOC Explanation If you are a criminal in Syliras, it's time for you to face the music. This thread will be run much like the Shop threads, in that each person will post their scene with a timestamp in Fall 510AV and I will reply to your post individually. If you'd like to do these scenes together with another person, please arrange it before any of you post, and have the first person put an OOC note saying who will be included in your scene. This is NOT a mass scene, this will NOT be just everyone replying to everyone else's scenes. This scene reflects the level of law and order that exists in Syliras, and the fact that Knights are all over the place and will, eventually, take notice of your antics. That is not to say that this is a thread in which I will automatically beat you down - you can absolutely get away without so much as a checkmark on your reputation, but you'll need to RP it. This is also the only way that criminals can earn a Seasonal Wage in Syliras. This is not just a chance to punish you, but a chance to reward you as well! This is mandatory for everyone who has regularly used Larceny, Begging, or any kind of unsanctioned violence or illegal activity in Syliras. If you do not do a scene in this thread, I will send you a PM encouraging you to do so. If you still do not, I will interrupt the next thread in which you do something illegal and have the Knights haul you away. So what I need you to do is post a scene of you just doing whatever it is you do. Make sure you play to your skill level. Don't worry about the Knights, act as you normally would, and I'll mod the Knights. For an example of how these scenes are run, please check out the Wild Streets - Spring/Summer thread. There were some incredible scenes there, and I can't wait to see what you guys are capable of this season! As a helpful little thing, please post a note at the bottom of your post with your relevent skill levels so I don't have to go look at each person's character sheet when you post. And don't panic, as this should be a good bit of fun for all you dirty criminals out there!

[Ash'eny]

Day 45 of Fall, AV 510 Location: Rearing Stallion/Syliras Streets

Sick, so sick. Drunk, oh so drunk. Ash'eny found himself staring down the bar counter of the Rearing Stallion, and almost at eye level? That's right, he remembered lying his head down now. Something about the building shaking around him. That seems about right. Ash'eny felt a rumbling in his stomach, and it wasn't the alcohol telling him that he was hungry. It was something much more... disgusting. Ash'eny slowly lifted his head. Ever since she vanished, Ash'eny felt a very strong aching in his chest, his gut. The thief, the secret Syliran Knight contact, turned to drinking heavily. Who would have thought a mere season and a half would shift the honorable thief (ironic, I know) into a simple drunkard and depressed maniac. He had to go, if he stayed, he would drink more, and that would be worse than he already consumed. Ash'eny stood up, taking several minutes to gather and drop five gold-rimmed miza on the counter. Surely that would cover his tab. Ash'eny hit the ground, slipping on somebody's foot caused him to fall hard, though thankfully landing on his ass, and unfortunately banging his head on a nearby table. "Petch me life." Ash'eny grumbled quietly to himself as he stood up again, and managed to wobble outside of the Stallion. He was feeling heart broken. Was this what alcohol did? He could have sworn it was supposed to make him forget. He only wanted to see her more. He felt his eyes watering up. No crying, no crying. Ash'eny took a deep breath and began to move down the street, it was getting dark, but wasn't black just yet. Syna still had a slight grasp in the distance over the horizon, a nice golden red hue. Just like her hair... It was too hard trying to forget somebody like this, someone that you had convinced yourself that you loved. She was gone though, she had disappeared. Was she hurt? Could she not stand who he was? Made sense, it was probably for the best. Ash'eny continued to wander down the street when he bumped into a woman carrying a bucket of water, or at least until he bumped into her. She screamed slightly as Ash'eny backed up so quickly that he collapsed to the ground again. She was a young girl, not even a grown woman. Maybe fourteen, sixteen at most. Though, once she figured out that she indeed was not under attack or being raped, but just the victim of being in the vicinity of a drunk, she eased up a little, and even moved to help Ash'eny up. But he was drunk, oh so drunk. Ash'eny felt himself on his feet again, but was now putting a large portion of his weight on the girl who was struggling to support him. Poor thing. She was beautiful though. Ash'eny, without realizing what he was doing, leaned over and kissed her on the lips, so suddenly, out of nowhere. By the Gods, if he knew what he was doing, he would have stabbed himself. NoteI have no idea where I'm going with this yet, but I'll post all possible skills that I think could be of use. Larceny 28 Stealth 8 Subterfuge 3 Seduction 2 Escape 2 Running 1

[Grayzdo Briety]

Timestamp: Nightime 20th of Fall 510 AV Location: Syrilas Streets/Commoner's House

Mud thin to the point of looking like skin color and a gray cloak pinned up in the front with a fishhook bare feet concealed under the cloak hair tied up and hid under a turban and 5 feet of rope holding up two large stone this was the outfit Grayzdo chose to wear tonight to make him appear as a darker skinned female. As with most novice in the art of diguise at first glance you'd think he was what he was trying to appear as. He chose a random house and knocked on the door. When a woman answered Grayzdo said he was(in a more feminine voice) with a group of animal traders and if she just let him in he'd show her why he was selling them so cheap. She let him in still half asleep she rubbed her eye and cosed the door behind Grayzdo when she noticed his manly appearing hand had grasped onto the door and locked it. Then he pulled out a shortbow he had been concealing under the cloak he had a arrow in it and it was aimed for her neck "Give me all your mizas I don't care whether they are copper silver or gold but just lead me to them.

SkillsShortbow - 11 Skill Points
Impersonation - 5 Skill Points
Larceny - 5 Skill Points
Disguise - 25 Skill Point
Escape Artist - 10 Skill Points

[Gereth]

Timestamp: Fall 82, 510 AV

Location: Alleys of Sylira, outside the butcher

“Always with the guards.” Gereth tried his best to shake the evening chill. The Knights were fairly well a constant in Syliras and it was difficult at time to evade notice but if you knew the byways and the secrets of the city, the rules of that urban jungle, it was definitely possible to make your way below the radar. He rounded a corner between two shops to duck the evening patrol. The knights in armor clinked down the road as they walked in step. To intimidate people like me.” he thought.

Still, the rush of people out of the shops was the best time to pick up a few much needed mizas. Gereth had a bar tab a mile long at the Rearing Stallion and the chip on his shoulder wasn’t going to drink itself away. He staggered a moment as he leaned against the wall and stripped out of his clothes. Changing was easy enough and no one really looked for him as coyote. He ran faster as well. Running fast was important.

The butcher was going to be heading home for the night too. If he was fast sometimes he had time to snag something to eat as well as his coin purse. He could hear the fat man shambling out of the shop and shutting the door. Gereth narrowed his eyes and grumbled unhappily only hearing the coins clink and not smelling the blood of a raw cut of steak. Gereth got ready to make the charge. He had to snap at the butcher's hand and grab his coin purse, before the fat butcher could fix it to his belt. Then, be down the alley and gone before the butcher could properly react. Running fast was very important.

“Here we go.” He thought as he moved in for the kill... His instincts ran high, awaiting the thrill...

Skills:
Larceny 25
Stealth 5
Escape Artist 5

OOC: Edited to clarify a sentence.

[Ragnar One Eye]

The End of Fall 510 AV, Night

~TABLES TURNED~

The fierce wind was driving the rain horizontally now, pelting his exposed face above his cloak.The few Shop lamps that were still lit swung violently with each gust, corrupting the ever changing light that struck the walls and cobble stones of this seeder part of the city. The pavement started to veer to the left leading to the now closed market place up ahead. That's when he first caught the sounds of cheap boots behind him.

Two? no three, closer now the cut purses behind him speed-ed up.

In one fluid motion he whirled and faced the source of the foot falls. The three were solid men, with muscles bulging beneath cheap clothing. Each pair of eyes set in a cold hard stare. " Why be thee come un to me?" Less the a second after the words fell form his lips he attacked. He could tell by the shocked look on their faces this was unexpected, let alone the full height and ferociousness of the man now coming at them. At that moment as he moved, he heard two other now behind him coming up from the other way; five in all now. Ragnar knew this dance was getting bigger and deadlier. The Warrior didn't wait for the two behind him to catch up! With a swift chop, he popped the first man facing him in the wind pipe, crumpling him to the ground like a paper doll. The other two men were on him in a instant. The first man made a mistake of lunging for his head. He grabbed his hand bending it back,the crunching sound of bones breaking rang off the walls around him, screams fill the the rain soaked air. Then he flipped him up over his head on to the pavement behind cracking his skull open; tangling the two men coming up from behind. The third turned to run, began to stumble then fell face forward into a puddle, water splashing up, the warrior's dagger protruding from the middle of his back.

Quickly turning back the way he was going, he caught the first man up. Lifting him feet first up over his head and slamming his head into the cobble stones, blood and brain briefly covering his boots before being washed away by the down pour.Then looking side to side and up the street he saw the back of the last man running away for all he was worth. Reaching down to the man at his feet, he padded the body, finding the purse and hefting it in his large hand. Then turning to the other three patting them down and taking what he finds. Reaching forward and then down, he takes up and out the dagger, wipes it on the back of the dead man.

Pulling his well worn battle cloak up and around him, he again makes his way seeking out the Tavern he was told about by the Sargent at the city gate.

[Nyahna Sasin]

84th of Fall, 510 AV

Well petch.

The young Dhani hissed in frustration as the tumbler came down with a click. Again. Gritting his teeth, he resisted the urge to childishly kick the door. He was better than that. He was better than that.

Giving in, he glanced around to make certain that there was no one around, then started swearing in his native language. To anyone else, it would sound like mangled, furious hisses, and when he finally stopped, he grimaced at the way he had mangled up his own language. This human tongue made it hard to pronounce certain words. He walked back to the window, and tugged at it again. No change from before. It was still stuck. There was an open window higher up, but there was no way for him to reach it.

Returning to the door, he sighed, before starting again, inserting in the torque wrench, and pushing up the tumblers. It took him a few more tries, during which curses of all sorts floated through his mind, but eventually he got it open. Smirking triumphantly at the stubborn lock, he rubbed his hands together, reviewing what he knew about his target.

"Young male human, brown hair, lives alone. Let's hope."He muttered to himself. Sending a prayer up to whatever gods were listening, he slipped inside the house to start looking.

[Dusk]

Note to everyone: Okay, seriously. This is Syliras. I've posted it up in a million places, I don't know how many more times I can say this: SYLIRAS IS ONE BIG CASTLE. There aren't many open streets, there aren't cottages or houses, it's one huge castle with hundreds of hallways and thousands of interior rooms. There's no winding streets, the market is underground in the basement level of the castle, and there's only two or three locations that are open to the air. If you aren't sure, assume it's inside. As Leviathan says in his signature, it is a city within a castle, not a castle within a city. You should know this by now. Please, for the love of god, don't make me say it again.

Ash'eny Young she may have been, but there were very women who reached the age of sixteen who could be called a child. It was a harsh and cold world, less so in Syliras but that didn't keep mothers from teaching their daughters about the cruelties the world had to offer, even if they thought the knights would protect them from such. The poor girl, who'd abandoned her search for water in favor of doing a noble deed - for she was as good of heart as she was of figure, and came from a family just poor enough to know sympathy and just rich enough to have the luxury of it - had been trying her best to keep the swaying, drunken man on his feet at least long enough so she could set him on a nearby bench and let him sleep it off. Instead of some reward by the gods for her kindness, she suddenly found his stinking, ale-soaked mouth descending on her own. She gave a sharp scream of disgust and terror, and shoved him roughly away from her and into the solid stone wall of the hallway he'd been stumbling down - and quickly followed it by swinging the empty bucket she'd been holding in her off-hand at the side of his head. Better to be safe than sorry, after all.

Grayzdo (OOC: I'm going to assume that you meant that he approached a random door in the residential hallways.) By the time Grayzdo had managed to lock the door, pull a bow and arrow, notch it, and aim it at the woman, she'd let out a high-pitched scream of terror. When he finally took aim, it was at the back of her head as she fled across the room, screaming all the while, and trying to hide herself behind a dresser. A few moments later, there was a loud banging on the door. "Dolores?" came a rather deep and manly voice from the other side of the door. "I heard a scream, are you all right?" The door rattled as the neighbor tried to open it only to find it locked. "There's a man trying to kill meeeeee!" she shrieked, sobbing as she collapsed to the floor and tried to curl herself into a ball behind the dresser. The banging on the other side of the door intensified as the neighbor started yelling for someone to call the Knights.

Gereth OOC QuestionQuick note: Coyotes are usually no more than two feet tall - why is yours twice that big? He'd be as big as a pony. Is he supposed to be a dire creature? Dino Alban, known more colloquially as the Butcher of Alban, had gotten quite fed up with being attacked by a random coyote that he was fairly sure wasn't just a coyote since it went for his coinpurse as often as his meat. Not to mention the fact that coyotes didn't exactly run wild down the hallways of Stormhold Castle. He was tired of it, and he'd done exactly what a businessman should do when faced with repeat thieving. So only a moment after Gereth sprang from the shadows towards his prey, his senses were assaulted by the scent and low growling of another canine. Before he could stop or change direction, a large black and gold dog lept from the darkened doorway behind the butcher, who'd quickly backed out of the way, and Gereth could sense another human shape still in the shop. Your attacks end now, packless one! the dog growled in Canine, teeth bared as he hurtled towards Gereth with every plan to tear his throat out.

Ragnar One-Eye (Um... do you want to rethink this? Because you're just going to lose your character in this thread. I mean, you have read the lore on Syliras, right? Two things - A: There aren't gangs of thieves roaming the streets, and B: If your character just outright murdered them all, a hoard of knights would descend and cut him to ribbons. Please see the guy who got killed in last season's Wild Streets thread, and read the Rules for Posting Syliras. I'll run this scene if you really want, but don't say I didn't warn you.)

Sasin The sweetness of Sasin's success was all he could have hoped for. As he closed the door behind him, he would turn and see a room quite typical of those in Stormhold Castle, about twenty feet square and with a minimal amount of furniture. The dying light of a stub of a candle gave only the barest of details. From across the room, a low growl echoed out, sounding deep and dangerous. There was a rustle on the bed, and then a small white dog lept down to the floor from where it'd been sleeping. It stared at the intruder with beady black eyes - and then began barking furiously and rather loudly.

[Nyahna Sasin]

This was to be a relatively straightforward job. Get in, kill the guy, get out. That was it. There had been a slight setback with the lock, but that was supposed to be the only problem. But now...... It seemed that someone up there really hated him. That was the only explanation possible as to why there was a tiny white dog staring up at him. He froze, just for a second. This wasn't happening to him.

It was. The dog started yapping furiously. Oh gods no. Sasin glanced around the room. There seemed to be only two options here. He could either hide, or shut the dog up. Sadly for him, there seemed to be no place to hide. The cupboard was too small, the table was a big no, and under the bed wasn't even worth thinking about.

What to do, what to do!? He was sort of panicking at this point. This was very bad. He had to do something, now! Killing it was tempting, but someone might notice a dog suddenly shutting up. Even worse, there might be some neighbor who would try and come to investigate. So he did the only thing his panicking mind could think of. Ignore it, and hope that anyone around would think it fell out of bed

He moved quickly to the side, away from the dog, to the head of the bed, keeping an eye on the dog as well as his victim. Theoretically, the man should get up, not look behind him, calm the dog down, and then be killed by Sasin. Who would then kill the dog. Right. He just had to hope it worked.

Secret :

Larceny 29
Observation 5
Intelligence 4

[Ash'eny]

The scream was painful, ringing in his head and sending spikes of agony throughout the entire body. he felt as though his bones themselves would begin cracking if he didn't get silence. It came, oddly enough, after he found himself back against the wall. The pain only grew as Ash'eny found himself on the ground on his hands and knees, the bucket she had had, either on its own or with assistance of the girl's arm, crashed into the side of his head. This experience, though not new to him, brought about some level of sobriety, not that he was completely coherent or regained composure or balance, but enough to know what he needed to do... RUN! Ash'eny began to crawl with all his might, his hands and knees dragging him away as fast as could be, and once he had obtained at least an arm's reach away from the young girl, he stumbled to his feet and began to run. Run where? Like he knew that answer. He assumed he would run towards the gates of Syliras, he assumed he would escape into the openness of the outdoors, as least for the night. No beasts would dare come close to Syliras, he could probably even settle next to a wall, wrap himself in his cloak, and hope to get a few hours of sleep to rejuvenate the body. Ash'eny didn't expect for the young girl to follow him, attack him further, but he did expect her to find some patrolling knights and tell them about what had happened. Ash'eny didn't want to get caught. Options, options. What could he do? Where could he hide until his petty crime was no longer of importance? What shops were open at night? Or better yet... who would look for a drunk inside a closed shop? Ash'eny looked around, he wasn't sure just where he was, where he had run off to, but he found himself staring at a building, the sign above/beside it reading "The Feathered Shaft." It would have to do. Ash'eny wasted no time, digging into his vest and retrieving two lockpicking devices from his set. Kneeling by the door, Ash'eny inserted the rod-like tools into the key hole, and listened intently for any sounds of steel armor banging against stone flooring. If nothing was heard, Ash'eny would begin his attempts to unlock the door. Prodding and jiggling, twisting and slight pressure here or there, this angle or that. Ash'eny had done this many times, but never while under the influence. He felt as though he was doing well, but until the thing unlocked, he was still in the open, and most likely sought for by the authorities. He didn't want to see Tucesi tonight, and he was fairly confident that she didn't want to deal with him either. Breaking and entering was the best plan at that moment.

[Dusk]

Sasin Unfortunately for Sasin, while he was fairly good with a dagger he was not very good at moving around with any sort of stealth. His footsteps gave him away, as did the bang! when he tripped over a low stool in the dark. The dog continued to bark, and even before Sasin bashed into the stool the figure on the bed turned over and gasped to find someone stumbling through his bedroom. Oddly enough, though, he didn't seem that surprised - which meant that he'd probably known someone was after him, and might in itself explain the particularly yappy dog. "What the--" he rumbled, leveraging up on one arm and blinking, and then he gave another hoarse cry and grabbed the first thing off the table beside his bed - a clay jar of some kind - and threw it with surprising accuracy at Sasin. It hit the snake man square in the chest and broke apart, sending a puff of some awful, burning powder that lodged itself in Sasin's nose and on his clothes, and smelled an awful lot like pepper.

Ash'eny The woman didn't follow him, of course, much more concerned with staying away from the drunkard than she was with hitting him in the head any more. He was able to make it to the Feathered Shaft without any trouble, and as he sat working the lock there was no tramp of boot in his direction. His intoxication made using his tools a particularly difficult task, and he dropped the left-hand pick a half-dozen times before he finally fumbled his way into hearing the familiar click of the lock. As he slipped inside, he would find the shop dark and deserted, the only light coming from the moonlight pouring from the courtyard behind the shop. There was the soft sur-surrah of feathers, quiet calls of dozens of birds asleep outside in their cages. As he peered around, an obscenely fat gray cat waddled out from under the mahogany desk in front of the wall of arrows and looked up at him with bright green eyes. "Mrrowrl?" it said, head cocked to the side as if to ask what he needed.