Completed Just Another Day

[Taris Orlanith]

Winter 39, 518 AV

Taris Orlanith woke to a rustling noise. He blinked at the dresser and small table legs that were mere inches from his face.

This isn’t the Drunken Fish, he thought. Where am I?

There was a thud and a woman started humming. Taris rolled over. Green blankets thrown carelessly on a bed came into view. He looked down and found he was laying on the floor in the narrow space between the bed and dresser. A yellow blanket covered him from chin to ankles.

Tairi, his older sister by five years, came into the room and it all came rushing back to Taris.

He had been bedding down in the Drunken Fish’s common room, where he regularly spent his nights. Then the sailor had come up the stairs from the first floor. He was a brute of a man, over six feet tall and with arms as round as tree trunks. Taris had watched as he’d stamped his way up and down the floor, muttering and swearing angrily the whole way as he looked for a place to sleep. He had finally found space only a few feet from Taris.

Taris had turned away as the sailor looked at him. The man was huge! He was easily twice Taris’ seventeen years of age. Beside him, Taris was a skinny sapling, all five feet, seven inches of him. He had no doubt the sailor could break him like a twig with those muscles born of years of hard labor aboard ships.

Taris had forced himself to breathe. He hadn’t been able to let the sailor see him, not in the Fish. Not that close. The sailor had been drunk and angry and he’d had every right to be.

Taris had stolen his purse not three bells earlier.

That was why he had slept at Tairi’s house. She was his refuge, the one person he could go to when he had no one else to turn to. He could return to the Fish tonight though; the sailor would be gone by the end of today. Taris had seen him make his mark on the crew sheets on the Fish’s first floor, hence why he had even dared to pick the pocket of such a man.

“Taris, you got to get up,” Tairi said.

He moaned. “Ten more chimes.”

“No, I have to go to work.”

“I’ll lock up,” he said. He pulled the yellow blanket tighter around him. “Promise.”

The blanket suddenly flew out of his grip and he startled awake at the sudden bite of the cold morning air. His sister stood at his feet, hair brush in one hand and blanket hanging from the other.

“No,” Tairi said in her sternest voice, the one that reminded Taris of their long dead mother punishing him for some transgression. “I am happy to have you spend the night. You know you’re welcome here anytime. But if you’re not going to live here, if you’re going to continue stealing, then you are not going to stay in my home while I go to work.”

His jaw dropped. “I-I would never steal from you! You’re my sister!”

Tairi shook her head, her thick brown locks waving over her shoulders as she did. “I never said you would.”

“But that’s what you’re suggesting!”

She dropped the blanket and sighed. “Taris, I love you. But get out.”

Her manner left no question in Taris’ mind. The discussion was over. Scrambling to his feet, he gathered his things and left Tairi’s house.

She could have given me breakfast, at least, he thought as he trudged away from her house in the Sunset Quarters. The Seaside Market wasn’t far, though. He could find something to eat there. An apple swiped from a stall or a roll of bread. He could go for that.

[Taris Orlanith]

Taris weaved through the Seaside Market. He had been here just the other day and there had a bit of food. He had hoped to find more food stalls today, but it was the one thing that was lacking from the Market’s stalls.

He paused at a knife stall. He surveyed the short and long and medium blades on offer. Some had obviously seen use in their day, their grips worn stained with sweat. There was one, however, that drew his attention above the others. Medium length, the blade was sharp and glinting in the morning sunlight. Its grip was black leather which looked almost new.

Taris swallowed. A knife would be so handy. When he got in fights, he could just stab and slash. If only he knew how to use one. Really use one. The most experience he’d had with knives was slicing fruit, spreading butter on bread, and trying to keep out of reach of the knife his opponent was brandishing. He had only held a knife during a few fights and, in all of them, he had struggled to keep his grip, let alone attack with it. And the times he had tried to attack had resulted with him flailing like some mad man and losing the knife, either having it batted out of his hand, torn from his fingers or, in the case of the last time, it simply flew wildly and bounced off the wall.

The merchant gave Taris a hard look. The boy blinked at the merchant, then forced himself to turn away. Best to stay with my fists, he told himself.

Taris continued through the Market, keeping his eye out for potential marks as he went. He found one in a gray haired old man talking spiritedly with a jeweler. Taris wandered up beside the man and surveyed the jewelry. Leaning past the man, he reached for a bracelet with his left hand while his right drew out the man’s purse and slid it into his own coat pocket.

His stomach was growling by the time he reached the north end of the Market. Just a little further on he would be at the Commons and, there, he would be able to get some food.

Continuing forward, he looked over his shoulder just before leaving the Market. He couldn’t help thinking about that knife. He should go back and get it. Just having it might make others think twice when trying to steal from him or push him around. And once he had a knife he could—

“Aaaahh!” he screamed as he fell down one of the Market’s makeshift ladders.

[Kynier]

People were coming and going throughout the market all the time. On the one hand, this made it very easy to follow someone unnoticed. On the other hand, it also made it much easier to lose track of the person you intended to follow. Accepting the risk, Kynier was following his mark rather closely. Less than ten paces behind the woman. She did not appear to be a gentle sort. The air of wealth did not surround or decorate her with fine clothes or plaster her skin with cosmetics to turn the heads of other people. The woman had an Inarta’s flaming red hair done up in a tight braid and a body of a fighter; one with well-toned muscles on a lithe frame. Several different weapons hung from her hips and thighs.

Kynier wondered what it was that the woman was going to receive. Whatever it was, it had caught the interest of his employer, and he was to take it from her and deliver it to Doler. Kynier pulled the hood of his cloak a little lower over his eyes. While it was more like an early Spring regarding the weather, the cloak’s magic kept him at a comfortable temperature. He watched her move from stall to stall in a bored fashion. Until she stopped by a cosmetic stand and began a lengthy exchange with the vendor. Kynier pretended to browse the wares of a nearby stall but couldn’t overhear what was being said.

When he glanced up, he saw sealed envelop being given to the Inarta. Kynier watched it disappear into the woman’s outside coat pocket. There it was. He stepped away from the stall as the Inarta began to take her leave of the markets. As he walked behind her, he closed the distance to a few paces. Kynier’s mind delved inward as he reached for his Djed. He brought it forth and began to push on the astral form of his right forearm and hand. Slow and carefully he pushed to gently disconnect the connection of his soul to that part of the body. From the elbow down, it came undone. Not in the sudden, nerve-wrecking way, but safely.

Kynier’s right arm began to go limp as the disconnection continued to spread down to his hand and fingers. He made more of a conscious effort to control his shoulder movements in his walk so that the arm would not be flapping around so much. When the last finger was pushed free, Kynier flexed the finger of his invisible astral limb. Reaching out, it stretched in length to be able to reach into the Inarta’s coat pocket. Kynier took a step more to the side to be able to see the pocket more clearly. Lightly, he touched the coat with invisible fingertips. While he could not apply a lot of pressure, it was more for the sake of subtly controlling the jacket as he sought to pickpocket her.

The hand slithered cautiously into the coat, and he felt the coarse texture of the parcel. Fingers carefully spread apart to take hold of it, and he felt an odd shape contained in the parcel. Kynier arched an eyebrow. It had a little bit of weight to it, so he gently lifted it first to take remove the weight from the coat before trying to take it out of the pocket. After several paces of suspending the parcel in her pocket, Kynier slowly pulled it out, trying to not catch the coat with any corners. It came free and he took it down to the ground quickly, as thought it had just fallen out of her pocket.

When he stood over it, he knelt down and picked it up with his other, corporeal hand. Kynier smirked as he stood up and placed it in the pocket of his dark pants. That was simple enough. He turned and made his way out of the markets as he shrank the length of his astral limb to reattach it to his physical form. As he walked under a walkway, there was a sudden cry as a body fell down nearly in front of him by the ladder. Kynier stopped as the impact looked a little painful from his perspective. Looking down on the skinny boy, he chuckled softly in amusement. It didn’t appear that the boy had hurt himself too badly.

“That’s one way to get down,” he jested to the boy. “Are you alright?” The high tide was not due for a few more bells, but some vendors had already begun to move their wares up to where the water would not reach. Kynier held out the still functional hand to help the lad to his feet. It would be a few chimes longer before his right hand was functional again. The boy was thin but didn’t have the wild and dirty look of a street urchin. “You should pay more attention to where you’re going.”

Credit for the boxcode goes to Luminescence!

[Taris Orlanith]

Taris moaned. His whole back ached from his fall.

He blinked and saw a man standing over him. “Uh, yeah,” he said to the man’s question.

He took the man’s hand and allowed him to pull him to his feet. The man had half a foot in height on Taris and looked to be a few years older, closer to his sister’s age.

“Th-thank you,” Taris said. “I don’t, don’t know what I was thinking.”

He rubbed his head and squinted up at the market platform. He had been walking, turned to look back to the knife merchant, and then he was flat on his back. At least the tide was out, or he would be soaked.

The man was still looking at him. His mouth was set in a scowl as he studied him.

“Hey, thanks,” Taris said. “I, uh, appreciate the hand.”

He took a step forward and stumbled. The movement brought him up against the man. Taris grabbed at him to keep his balance. While he gripped the man’s strong forearm with one hand, his other went into the man’s pants pocket.

Picking the man’s pocket was automatic. Like breathing. Nowhere near as easy as breathing, but he did it. It just happened.

There was paper inside the man's pocket. An envelope? Perhaps it was a letter of credit and he could exchange it for gold mizas. Or maybe a letter of some other sort. A romantic love letter, or a letter about a job. His sister would love for him to have a job, something other than working the markets and the streets. She would be so excited, so proud of him if he got a job on his own. Maybe she would even buy him some new clothes and save him from having to steal some.

He began to pull his find from the man's pocket. He would have to run if he was discovered. He would punch him if the man tried to catch his arm or grab him some other way. Then he would run straight for the Commons and lose himself in the crowds. However, if the man didn’t notice him, he would slip the envelope into his own pocket while dusting himself off from his fall, all the while apologizing again and again for stumbling into the man.

[Kynier]

The boy was still young enough to be able to bounce back from injuries fairly quickly. In this instance there may have been a literal bounce, but Kynier hadn’t been paying that close attention. When he helped the lad to his feet, he noted the boy’s confusion as he seemed to try and understand how he had fallen in the first place. None of it really mattered to Kynier. The boy was relatively uninjured and that was the extent of the interest Kynier showed. “It was nothing,” he said in response to the repeated thanks. When the boy stumbled into Kynier, the older man scowled and groaned in irritation. The boy seemed… rather…

Petch.

The contact with his arm had been just a little too long and a little too tight. Was his initial fall from the walkway just a ploy? Kynier’s physically functioning hand reciprocated the grip on the forearm and he gripped it as tightly as he could. His other arm was still disconnected which was going to complicate things a little. First thing’s first, preventing the boy from escaping. “Nice attempt, kid, but per…” the rest of his words were cut off as a little fist struck him across the nose. Kynier’s grip on the boy’s arm ended as he took a step to regain his balance. “Allahini sikeyim!” he shouted in Eypharian.

Taking his hand away from his nose, Kynier noted a little blood on it. Touching it again made it throb, but it wasn’t a sharp pain. At least it wasn’t broken. Then he started checking his pockets to see what the boy had taken. Nothing was missing from his vest pockets, nor the small bag of silvers that he kept in his pants pocket. Inspecting the last pocket, his eyes widened in a mixture of fear and anger. The parcel he had taken from the woman! Had the boy taken some of his money, he would have left it alone. But the parcel was something he needed. Kynier quickly searched for the boy and found him running. Kynier took off after him, leaving his right hand out in astral form. Instinctually, he wanted to reach out with it and try to trip the boy up. But the distance was probably too great, and it was definitely far too public. For now, he’d leave it out just in case, and he tried to disguise the uselessness of his right arm by not twisting his shoulders too much during his run.

Kynier certainly had the longer stride to work in his advantage, but the lad was small and could potentially disappear more easily. He didn’t care if it took the rest of the day. He was going to find the thief. And for the boy’s sake, the sooner the better.

Credit for the boxcode goes to Luminescence!

[Taris Orlanith]

Taris ran as if his life depended on it. Because, it just might.

Picking a pocket always brought danger with it. Any kind of stealing did, for that matter. Would he get away clean or would he be discovered? When the man discovered him, Taris was sure it was the end for him. Or, at least, the end for today as he was sure the man would beat him senseless, just for starters. But Taris’ punch caught the man’s nose and he had released him. And, as Lucky Ovek would have it, Taris had been able to dart away before the man’s other hand could grab for him.

Taris decided that he would make an offering to Ovek later that day, depending of course on the contents of the envelope he had stolen. It could all be for nothing.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw the man had begun to follow him. Perhaps the envelope was worth something then.

Taris faced forward again just in time to slide to a halt as a farmer pushed his cart across his path. He blinked and looked around. He was already at the Commons.

Taris looked back again. The man had halved the distance between them. He needed somewhere to hide. Running forward, into the market, he considered his options.

The Pig’s Foot had a lot of people, but it was indoors and the man was close enough to see him if he went in there. While the Temple offered safety from attack, the man would find him at once were he to go there and he would drag him outside before laying into him.

No, Taris’ best bet was to weave through the outdoor stalls of the market and to try to lose the man in the crowds. To that end, he turned down the first row of stalls he came to. It was slow, weaving and pushing his way between all the people. Yet, if Taris was slowed, then the man he had stolen from would be slowed too.

He looked back a third time. Through a gap in the crowd he saw the man was still after him. Taris cursed and kept moving.

Taris turned right at the next intersection, then left at the one after that. Planning his next moves, he decided he would turn right at the end of this row of stalls and try to loop back. He patted his pocket to assure himself the envelope was still there. It was and, it was larger than he had first thought. Perhaps it was more of a parcel? He pushed the thought from his mind. That was something he could consider later. First, he had to lose the man following him.

[Kynier]

Blood still dribbled out from his nostril, causing him to breath more through his mouth. The heavy breathing to fill his lungs occurred every other step and the exhales on the other. Though he moved his body differently to disguise his limp arm, Kynier avoided generating heavy impacts on his knees. It may have been those differences that prevented him from catching the pick-pocket, or the boy was simply faster and more agile than he appeared to be. Either way, Kynier wasn’t overtaking the thief as quickly as he had hoped.

Whoever he was, he was experienced or just smart. Kynier could tell that they were heading to the Commons where more crowds were present to disappear in. To his luck, the boy’s path had been cut off by a wagon, bringing his prey to a pause as he observed other directions to take. The mage called upon his Djed. The heavy breathing of running prevented him from evoking it in a calm manner. So, he muttered the incantation he had learned in his youth to aid the mystic energies to empower his Auristics. “Strengthen my senses, so that I may perceive the hidden world,” he said breathlessly. Djed flowed to his eyes and opened his Sight.

It was like diving into an enormous keg of mixed paints. Auras of numerous shades and hues filled his vision in a way that caused his eyes to sting. There was only one that he cared for, that was the aura of the boy he was pursuing. Kynier’s eyes narrowed as he locked his arcane focus on the boy’s aura. The strange combination of exhilaration and fear crept into Kynier’s throat. It wasn’t his feeling but a reflection of the sensation the boy was feeling. As the boy began weaving through the people, Kynier attempted to follow, but the wake of agitated people slowed him down.

The mage could sense the thief’s direction, even if he wasn’t able to see him. As they turned this way and that the mage still had a sense of the direction they had gone. Once Kynier had forced his way through the crowd, he continued to follow the trail but at a more leisurely pace. He wanted the thief to feel that they had escaped, it was his best option at actually catching them. Eventually, he suspected they would stop and examine their reward. Kynier followed the direction of the pick-pocket’s aura, trying to keep at a consistent pace with it so that it didn’t disappear beyond his range.

Kynier didn’t know what was in the parcel that he had taken from the woman. As a spy, he didn’t ask such questions. The one time he dared to open one and read the contents, it hadn’t ended well for him. Kynier had taken the lesson to heart and risked more trust in his reclusive employer. Trust that mostly was answered with silence or riddles. While he may have disappointed his employer on occasion, he had never failed him. And the mage certainly didn’t intend to start failing because he stopped to give one pick-pocket a hand.

Credit for the boxcode goes to Luminescence!

[Taris Orlanith]

Taris looked over his shoulder. The man was nowhere to be seen.

Yes! he thought, squeezing his fist triumphantly. I knew I could lose him!

He kept up his pace, a quick walk which turned into a run when he had the room, and continued to weave his way through the crowd. Now he needed to find a safe place to sit down and have a look at his loot.

He turned left at the next intersection, then right at the one after that. Just to make sure he had escaped.

Around him were baskets and crates full of vegetables and fruit and food. His stomach rumbled at the sight of it all.

Making a decision, Taris nodded to himself. Alright. First I will get some food. Then I will find somewhere to check out this loot.

He slowed to a casual walk, waited until he had passed a few stalls, then slowed further and began to browse through the apples at a fruit seller's stall. The merchant was busy haggling with a woman and his mercenary guard was too busy making eyes at a cute girl at another stall to pay attention. Taris stuffed an apple into his pocket and strode away, shaking his head. The merchant should pay his guard more.

He repeated the move at another stall. One apple in his pocket and another in his hand, he strode away to find a nice, quiet and, above all, empty alley where he could eat and a open the parcel he had stolen.

It took him only a few minutes to find the right alley. There was a drunk sleeping at the end of it, but it was otherwise empty. Tossing away the applecore from his first apple, Taris bit into the second one and sat on a crate. When it was gone, he took out the parcel he had stolen and turned it over in his hands, then shook it. He didn't hear any coins clinking. But maybe it was some note promising money? He started to open it.

Secret :

1d100 rolls for Larceny (+15) = 109 and 71

[Kynier]

It was a mental pull more than a sense of direction. The aura he was focused on required more effort the further away it got. It didn’t take long for sweat to form on his brow as he worked his way through the throngs of people in the direction of the thief. Confidence welled up in his chest, but it wasn’t sorcerer’s. Auristics provided a reflection of the thief’s emotion rather than a strange sense he needed to decipher. Kynier followed the pull of his magic through several stalls selling food while he made his way.

Hunger rumbled his belly, which was always an odd sensation to feel with Auristics. Kynier knew it wasn’t his, so the thief had likely come through here for some food. Kynier was one part impressed and another part annoyed by the thief’s resourcefulness. When the taxation on his Djed increased, he moved quicker to close the distance, which in turn eased the consumption of his power. After a bit, it was growing easier, and the impressions he was feeling were getting stronger in intensity. The thief had stopped somewhere? Each step brought him closer.

He nearly stepped into an alley when he suddenly stopped and backed up at the sight of the thief. Kynier ended the draw on his power to fuel his Auristics. One hand was still desynchronized from his body. As he peeked around the corner at his prey, he thought about just reaching out with his astral arm and snatching back the parcel. But he groaned inwardly, knowing he couldn’t do that without condemning himself here. Any other city, it was a more viable option. As the thief examined the exterior, he stepped around the corner and slowly approached. His weight shifting on the balls of his feet, which he lightly pressed on the ground with each step. Kynier hoped the boy’s attention was so intently on his prize that Kynier could get in close before discovery.

Silently prowling as close as he could get without being noticed. Kynier would snatch the parcel out of the boy’s hands if he got close enough and would use his invisible astral hand to immediately follow through with a reciprocal punch to the boy’s face. Kynier was feeling petty enough to return the favor. If he couldn’t get close enough for that, he’d use the astral punch as a distraction before leaping in to take back what he had stolen in the first place. The pathetic competition for an unknown prize was something he could live without but seemed unavoidable.

Success or fail, Kynier would glare at the thief. “The parcel belongs to me kid. Though I won’t deny that you made quite an effort to try and procure something at random. But it’s not exactly the healthiest profession you can pursue in Sunberth.”

Stealth Roll :

Kynier 2/4/2019 at 10:32 PM
!roll 1d100+59
RPBotBOT 2/4/2019 at 10:32 PM
@Kynier rolled 159. (100, 59)

Credit for the boxcode goes to Luminescence!

[Taris Orlanith]

Taris slid his thumb into the parcel. At that moment it was yanked out of his hands.

Taris jerked his head up. The man was standing in front of him. The one who had helped him to his feet after he had fallen in the Seaside Market. The one he had stolen from.

Taris’ jaw dropped. How did he find me? he thought.

The next thing Taris knew, his face was on fire in pain as something hit him square across the nose. He shrieked in surprise and pain. He grabbed at his nose with both hands and toppled backward, rolling across the crate he been sitting on.

Rolling to his right, he looked for anything he could use as a weapon. A discarded chair or just a broken chair leg. Even a plank of wood would do.

He moaned as he searched the alley with his eyes. The world had gone watery in front of him, and Taris realized he was crying. His nose and cheek and upper lip all flared with pain.

“I, I think you broke my nose!” he shouted.

He rolled to his left side and continued looked at the alley on that side. There, there was a broken…piece of something. Taris reached for it, but it was too far away. He groaned in frustration and let his hand drop. It was probably pointless anyways. The man was so much bigger than him.

The man said something. The pain in Taris’ face kept him from hearing most of it, but he did catch the end. “…it’s not exactly the healthiest profession you can pursue in Sunberth.”

Taris blinked up at the man. Clearly, he was talking about stealing. “Yeah," he said, "like there’s something else I can do.”

He leveraged himself up on his left elbow and lowered his right hand. Blood stained his palm. He tried breathing through his nose.

I sound like a pig, he thought, hearing the sound his nose was making. He carefully touched a finger to the end of his nose. He moaned and snatched his finger away.

He had been in scrapes before, and had always been lucky enough to escape with only a black eye, split lip, and bruises. But he had seen people with broken noses, seen lots of people with broken noses. This felt exactly like how he had imagined it would feel.

“It’s got to be broken," he said. "Got to be."