Closed Four quintets of quick fingers (Ardan)

[Brandon Blackwing]

The 90th of Fall 513 AV Dusk rest was upon them. The lonely silhouette of a man with fluttering cape could be seen darting through the abandoned streets of the sleeping ethereal city. As if the cover of the twilight wasn’t enough already, the man had covered his face with a black scarf, and his gray mane was hidden under his hood. Only his eyes could still be viewed. An odd blackness shone in them, accompanied by a gleam of pleasure. Yes, the thief very much liked his occupation, what’s more, he liked sneaking through the empty streets while darkness took hold of the city. Sneaking wasn’t exactly the word for what he was doing though. It was just walking, but it sounded much more dramatic if he used the word ‘sneaking’ instead of the plain ‘walking’. If he would ever write his memoires, he’d put sneaking. Wouldn’t every self respecting thief do so? Not that he would ever write a book. He hated writing most of the time. What he was up to? Simple. Force entry to a random house and steal everything worth stealing. Admitted it was not entirely random. It was a bit out of revenge. He held a grudge against the man that lived there. He hadn’t done anything to serious, just bumped into him. The thief had been in a hurry, so when he wanted to get past him, the man blocked his path, refusing to let him pass. He’d grabbed the bat by his scarf and tilted him off the ground, demanding an apology. Of course the bat had done as asked. What could he have done? The man was far taller than him, although that was not a problem, but he looked menacingly muscular. In his eyes had shone a sinister gleam daring him not to do as demanded. That all was not important. He wouldn’t want to get revenge because of that. No, the man had dared to grab his scarf. The one part of his clothes no stranger was allowed to touch. Actually, no body could. Except himself and a select group of others. The plan had been lying dormant in the back of his head for a while, but when he, during a late night stroll, saw the man entering the house he had just passed, it awoke. The bat had had no qualms not to give in to the feeling and had let it guide him, tell him what to do. No surprise that ‘revenge’ was a synonym for ‘trespass and steal his money’ to the thief. He had saved the information of the home of the man in his target drawer in his mind and had observed the house from the shadows for almost a day. During that period he’d made plans for what he’d do. Not that there needed to be thought over. His plans were always the same. Get access to the lair of the man, search for valuables, put them in a sack and get the hell out of there. Simple yet effective. Then, he’d gone home. Prepare for the job. He had checked all his tools, thoroughly stared at his lock picks, looking out for any signs of damage to it. He had also washed his boots, cleaned them up until they shone in the light of the sun. He wouldn’t leave any trails behind. Or maybe he would. A note. Saying : ‘Thank you very much for the money.’ Sadly, he didn’t own a quill nor an inkpot. He’d had to dismiss that plan. The thief would keep it brief. Or rather, as brief as possible. He had to have enough time to browse through the man’s belongings after all. He would enter by going through the front door. He liked doing that. Why? For the simple reason that it told his victims that an ordinary door with a normal lock was not enough to stop him. That was what he hoped they understood when they noticed it was unlocked and their stuff had disappeared.

[Ardan]

Kleptomania. Such a beautiful word. Able to describe so many people. Everyone, under the correct circumstances. When pushed far enough, dipping even slightly into the realm of chaos, people will take anything. Without reason, without cause.

Words such as these are used to describe the insane. They are used to describe those who cannot be controlled. Kleptomaniacs, hypomaniacs, pyromaniacs, hell, even necrophiliacs. When pushed far enough, anyone would become one of these. Why bother classifying them? Why not just call them all crazy?

Because people are pathetic.

They need something to remind them why they're so afraid of the dark. Why, when the moon shows, they hold their children close and their blades closer. They needed a demon to attach their fear to, and Ardan was more than happy to oblige.

He prowled the streets, never leaving the shadows. Twice, he was almost caught by patrolling guards. He spent a long time walking, until stumbling upon a rather large house. Obviously owned by a rich man, it was a prime target for some good old-fashioned theft.

Ardan usually had a plan for this type of thing. However, this night was special. Three anniversaries. The night of his first theft, the night of his love's death, and the night of his retreat from Sylrias. It was a good time to be unpredictable.

Through the back door, take everything, and be on his way before anyone knew the difference. Who knows, he might just smash everything. Tonight was not for profit, it was for making a message.

x

[Brandon Blackwing]

Ah, guards, how he hated them. They always appeared when he didn’t want to see them. Which was always. How did they describe themselves again? The personification of the law? The keepers of order? Ha! Fools! Even though they call themselves like that you cannot control the whole city. The only thing they can do is keep an eye out to bandits, robbers, thieves and murderers. Guess what? They had failed more than succeeded. Had they ever caught him? Nope. Had they known of the murdered man if he hadn’t sent them a message? No. They didn’t know anything. They were only in the way, and if you needed them, they were no where to be seen. The source of the bat’s frustrations were two Shinya coming his way. He couldn’t hide anywhere, he was trapped. He couldn’t run either, that would be too suspicious. With a quick gesture he lowered his scarf and tucked his hood back, revealing his face. The movement was swift and almost unnoticeable if you weren’t paying attention. It should be, he’d practiced it a lot for situations like this. Twilight still obscuring his face, the thief was about to pass the two guardsmen as all of a sudden one of them stopped him with a barked “Halt!” The bat froze in his tracks. Slowly, he turned his head, his body followed suit and faced the two annoying men that crossed his path. He hid his frustration behind a smile that didn’t quite reached his eyes. “Good evening Sirs. Can I help you?” The Shinya shot each other a questioning glance. Apparently they hadn’t expected a friendly greeting. The bat used that moment to absorb the visual of them in his mind. It could also be useful if they would exchange hostilities, for whatever reason that might be. One of them was as tall as the thief, a bald head shining in the light of the rising moon. His feet were stuffed in soft sandals and tick socks covered his ankles. A white pants was worn and a white sash was bound around his hip. Two blue stripes were sewn on it, probably the indication of this guy’s rank. The guard also wore a light blue robe. His face was rough. Small eyes, mean looking. His nose looked as if it had been broken multiple times and his lips formed a constant snarl. The other guard was dressed in the same way as the first one, but was a fair deal taller. This one also wore his sash differently, it ran from his left shoulder to his right hip. A curved sword dangled at his hip. His hair was short and black. His face looked more friendly than his companion’s. The tallest of the guards opened his mouth to speak. “A good evening to you too. May I ask what you are doing here during the duskrest?” His voice was low and smooth, but somehow sticky. A bit like syrup oozing from his mouth. That was not the same voice as the one that had ordered the thief to stop. It must have been the other guard. “Me?” The bat looked almost surprised. He seemed to be a bit confused by the question. An act of course. “ I am taking a stroll through the streets,” he lied “I have always liked the tranquillity that holds the city in its grip at night. It reliefs me from the stress of the day.” The tall one nodded, the bald one did not. He wasn’t convinced. “What are those tools hanging at your belt?” he barked “Please state your occupation, sir” Great. This mean looking baldy had to notice his tools. Well, he hadn’t concealed them in any way, so it was actually his fault. “Oh this? These are a hammer and a chisel. I use them to carve in stone. I make nameplates for people on request.” Another lie. It had been the first thing that came to mind. Maybe not the best one, but it could have been true. They did not know that. The baldy still wasn’t convinced. Fortunately, the friendly Shinya decided that they had been here long enough. He excused both of them and started walking. The mean one followed his lead after giving the bat another nasty look. Quickly the thief picked up his pace once again, pulling up both his scarf and hood, making the man called Brandon disappear in the darkness of anonymousness.

[Ardan]

Three Shinya, and no hiding spots. Petch. he had to find a way around, or his whole plan would fall. Thy approached him, suspicious, and one of them stepped forward.

"Greetings, sir. Might I know what you are doing out at this time?" said the guard, a hand on his sword. He wanted a fight, like so many others. And, if he tried hard enough, he would get one.

"I was just on m'way home," lied the thief, pretending to be drunk. "See, I seem to've spend a wee bit too long at th' bar." He hiccuped to add emphasis to his act. Two of the guards looked convinced, but the third seemed to have a brain.

"Open your cloak, sir," ordered the Shinya. He drew his blade, hoping to intimidate the thief. Ardan played along, putting on his best look of fear. He opened his coat, revealing nothing but a dagger.

"Jus' a simple family heirloom, he lied. The guard cocked an eyebrow, but simply shook his head and signaled his comrades to continue.

The thief continued on his way, to the large house he had his eye on. He approached the back door, realizing that he had not lockpicks. He would have to improvise.

x

[Brandon Blackwing]

Ah! There it was. A nice house. Lovely dome on top of the roof, Okomo statues near the front door. It was quite a big house too. The bat wasn’t sure it was the right place, but he did not worry about it. With a rock he had scratched an ‘x’ on one of the statues. Considering that the statues were the images of a sacred animal to the citizens of Lhavit, that might not have been the smartest move, but the bat didn’t really care. It was just a statue after all. Not the real thing. This really was the right place. He grinned. The job could start. His revenge would be sweet. Or bitter for the man who owned this place. Kneeling down in front of the front door, the bat glanced around him. No guards in view? Good. He could begin with picking the lock. The thief produced two tools from his belt pouch. Two things that made up his lock picking gear. The lock pick itself and a tension wrench. Carefully he placed the wrench in the bottom of the lock, most of it was sticking out, creating a small handle or lever he could use to turn like a key. first he had to find out which way the lock turned. He applied some torque clockwise. The wrench moved a tiny bit before stopping firm. The thief tried the other way. Now it stopped too, but not as sudden and firm as before. This had to be the way to turn it. Counter clockwise. Brandon took a deep breath in. he placed the lock pick in the keyhole. Now he had to determine how many cylinders this lock used to stay closed. That wasn’t so hard to find out. Retracting the lock pick all the way back from the outer end of the keyhole, he counted the bumps it made. Five. An ordinary lock. He shook his head disapprovingly. What a waste. To secure this kind of house with such an easy lock … He felt like he was being underestimated. He’d show him! Once more, he penetrated the hole with his lock pick. The upwards curving end touched one of the small pins. The thief enlarged the pressure on the lock with his tension wrench and pushed the pin upwards. Due to the torque, the pin couldn’t come back down. It was stuck on the cylinder that made up the largest part of the lock. One done. Four to go. He repeated the process four more times, sometimes adjusting the amount of torque on the lock. It took him a couple of chimes, but finally all the pins were stuck. The bat grinned. “I demand entrance!” he whispered and turned the wrench counter clockwise. A click sounded and the lock was open. The bat turned the knob and grinned when it allowed him to enter. Stepping inside, he closed the door behind him. Inside it was dark. Not that it mattered. His eyes would adapt to the little light soon enough. It had manifested before he noticed. shapes could be viewed.just barely, but still. He started walking. Dodging a pot or urn, he arrived by an alcove. It was quite shallow. The bat suspected it was a door. Stroking wood with his fingertips confirmed his thoughts. He pushed it open and entered the next room.

[Ardan]

Unlocked windows? Really? he thought. The windows were closed, but opened with ease. He slunk through the frame, smiling at the apparent idiocy of the residents. Might as well have put an ordinary lock on their front door.

This place was interesting. Ornately decorated, with no security whatsoever. What kind of moron would have this much and no regard for its safety? The only advantage the man would have was the darkness, which didn't matter in the slightest to Ardan.

One of the nice things about being a cat was that darkness didn't really make much of a difference. His eyes were strange as a man, and many people described them as quite beautiful. They were more feline than man, regardless of which form he took.

He examined the room, seeing that most of the valuables were likely located further in. He moved ahead, approaching a door. He walked through it, into the next room.

x

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

This room seemed to be bigger than the previous one. Made sense of course. The previous room had been the hallway. The bat didn’t know what kind of chamber this was, but he guessed the living room. Although he could be wrong. It was the most probable that he was wrong. After all, he had never been here before, and since the twilight did not allow him to see details, he could only detect rough shapes. That was quite a bother, but he was used to it. He could still use his other senses, like touch, to make out the details.

Slowly he stalked farther into the dark space in front of him, his feet almost made no sound. Well, it wasn’t audible to the human ear, but to him it sounded as if he was stomping his boots on the floor. Although that wasn’t entirely correct. If it would sound as if he pounded his feet on to the ground, the noise would be louder. So actually it had to be reformulated like this. It sounded as if he was pounding his boots on the floor, if he had the deaf ears of a human. That didn’t have the same feel though.

The bat noticed he’d stopped paying attention to where he was going but was still walking. Quickly he started doing so again, only to notice that he had almost crashed in to a vase. His fingers traced the lines at the sides of the thing. It was cold. Something was carved in it. A pattern of sorts. The thief let his hand slide over it a couple of times. He realized it was not a pattern, but a chiseled image of something. He didn’t know what though. He tapped on the vase with the nail of his index finger, hoping the sound would tell him what material it was made of. A high, jingling tone waved through the room, louder than he had expected. He placed a finger on the surface to make the noise stop.

It wasn’t made of ordinary stone, he could tell. Actually, he had known from the very moment he’d touched it. It had been too rough. Rock didn’t make a sound like this one had. Maybe it was made out of glass? Somehow he felt like that wasn’t it either. He was close though, but it wasn’t quite like glass. Then what-? Skyglass? Maybe. That would make this a truly expensive vase. Valuable also. But unsellable. He sighed. He’d have to look for something else. Something smaller.

Softly he paced to what he expected to be a cupboard or something amongst those lines. It turned out to be a table. A solid piece of wood, very smooth at the surface. It seemed a bit unpractical to the bat. Who would ever want to eat while sitting at a cube of wood? There wasn’t even space to place your legs! Very uncomfortable.

Then he spotted something else. In the corner of the room, the thief detected another solid hearing thing. Stalking closer, the bat could see it had a different shape than the previous lump of wood. It was a shape he recognized. The grinned. The thing was long, but not high. The top curved a bit, arching slowly downwards. The thief ran his fingers over the surface of the thing, which was almost entirely made out of wood. His fingertips touched something rather cold, almost like ice. Metal bands strapped on the upper side of the box. Tracing them down to one of the vertical standing sides, his fingers passed a small groove. Following it to the left, he came across the thing he had been looking for. The lock.

Each chest had to have a decent lock. This one had one too. Or, that was what he assumed anyway. On that notice, it would prove rather difficult picking it, and especially so in the dark. The thief wasn’t quite skilled enough to do so, but he could try to force it open. He had brought his hammer and wedge, so he could make an attempt to use them. It would create a lot of noise, but he was willing to take the risk. If the man came to check what was going on he’d just grab it and run. If it wasn’t too heavy of course.

On his knees, the bat moved so the short side of the chest was stuck between his legs. Then, he placed his wedge in the groove, as close to the lock as possible. With his hammer, he carefully searched for the top of the wedge, and held the head of the tool against it. Giving it a swift and soft knock, he got to work, stopping at random intervals to check if the inhabitant of this place, who was also the owner of this chest, hadn’t woken up yet.

x

[Ardan]

He entered yet another room. Gods, this house was huge. This one was a room of chests with... another person? Breaking into one of the largest ones?

Petch, another thief.

He stood behind a corner as quietly as he could, observing the thief. He was obviously skilled, likely far more skilled than the panther. There was nothing quite as dangerous to a thief, than another one.

Two thieves fighting was like a game of chess between people who know all of the tricks. It was a game of wits, between players that know all of the angles. All of the surprises. The only consolation was that it was difficult to have an advantage in such a fight. This meant that they would likely be on level ground.

x

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

Forcing his wedge into the gap that separated the lid and the actual chest, he hammered it deeper and deeper, as quiet as he could. After a while, he could feel the tension being placed on the wedge by the chest. The lock, performing its duty with pride, did not want to give in. That was fine with the thief, he suspected that the wood the chest was made of would splinter before that happened. He grinned and applied more force on the wedge, keeping it from coming out of the gap. Only a few more hits with the hammer, and he could grab the valuables that probably were kept inside.

He brought it down on the wedge, or, that was what was supposed to happen. Instead, he hit his thumb. Pain burned in it, running upwards along his arm. It started throbbing painfully. The bat was clenching his teeth so he wouldn’t scream out. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes. He sucked in deep breaths through his teeth, keeping his hand in position. He refused to let go.

And then he heard. A quick step. He immediately turned his face to the direction the sound had come from. He couldn’t see anything. Only the vague shape of the frame of a door, opened. He frowned. Surely his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. His hearing neither. He trusted it. So, he focused, closing his orbs to increase his concentration. His ears picked up a sound that was awfully familiar. A few hasty breaths, forced to become longer and deeper in an attempt to calm down. Someone had been startled by his presence.

The bat suspected that the person in question was hiding near the doorway. Behind a corner perhaps. Out of his line of sight. But not his hearing. He grinned. Interesting. Who could it be? The inhabitant? No, he’d heard his footsteps. Although… wouldn’t he have heard this person’s footsteps as well? He had been hammering, so maybe the other one usually walked very silent already, and he hadn’t heard him approaching because of the loud noise his hammer had made.

Who walked silently in their own home? No one did. Meaning that this guy was not someone who lived here. Only one option remained. Another thief. His grin had vanished when it had crossed his mind. So someone had come to rob this guy as well huh? He didn’t like that. This man was his target, and his alone! Although he hated the man who owned this house, he still was his target and he didn’t like anyone else than him robbing them.

Punishment was attached to that crime! But he needed to lure out the other thief first. How could he do so? Maybe with the classic trick. Pretend you did not notice him and strike when he relaxes. A fine tactic, but predictable. However, the bat was sure that because it was too predictable, the other thief would think that he wouldn’t use it. And as such he would be unpredictable by using a predictable trick. Good plan. Complicated and risky, but good.

Ears cocked to pick up the noise from the hidden thief, he got back to hammering the wedge into the chest. Two birds with one stone. He could break the lock and bust the thief. He grinned once more, his scarf rippling because of the movements of his lips. Careful not to make the hammer crush his thumb again, he aimed carefully this time, only moving his wrist to make the hammer do his job. Again he stopped to listen after a couple of hits, then he got back to work again. Repeating this process a few times, he drove the wedge deep enough in the gap to make the lock tear apart the wood it was imbedded in at last. A greedy gleam danced in his orbs. Hands trembling in anticipation, he put away his tools, hanging them back at his belt and opened the chest.

x

[Ardan]

Just before he hid, he saw the other man's head begin to turn in his direction. That meant that he knew, and thieves were known for their vigilance. He would not allow footsteps and panicked breathing to go unnoticed.

He went through everything he had thought since entering the house. Some very ought creaks, snoring, the sounds from outside and...

Around the time he had entered, he heard a very high pitched noise. Very few things could emit such a pitch. The most likely one was the echolation of a bat. That meant that either there was a bat in the house, unlikely, or that man was Kelvic.

If that was true, then he could definitely hear Ardan, right down to the breathing. However, he just went back to nonchalantly breaking in to the chest, pausing every few moments. He knew that the panther was there, and was using the common, predictable tactic of feigning ignorance.

Ardan prepared his blade. No thief liked it when their target was being robbed by another. He would stay here, and wait for his fellow intruder.

x