The Stepless Thief(Closed)

[Erikar]

The Stepless Thief

Closed to Lye

---

His hair, with a hue to rival the sunset, whipped in the salty breeze as he stepped off the ship and onto the docks of Scara Brae. The sun's scarlet glow angled perfectly at his face, forcing him to shade his eyes and squint while he inspected the ships surrounding him. Almost every sort of ship imaginable filled his view, crewed by fisherman, sell swords, and captains. Urchins ran and jostled through the masses, and salesmen lounged about hawking their wares to potential buyers.

The docks bustled with activity while he made his way towards the City, keeping an eye on sticky-fingered children and menacing looking men. The traveler was tired. He needed a place to lie down and rest. The journey on the ship had left him exhausted and hungry from constant sea-sickness, and his entire body felt irritated by the salt crusted onto his clothing. 'I think I shall be content if I never have to step foot off land again.' Erikar thought, wiping his eyes for what could only be the thousandth time that day. He wove his way through the city-goers, eyes scanning absentmindedly for an Inn. As he searched, noting all the orphans and street rats running about subconsciously, he found his mind drifting back to his own childhood in Radasanth.

The rain came down hard and stinging, but the boy was used to it. The rooftop tiles under his feet were sharp and painful, but the boy was used to it. The hunger in his gut gnawed at him as he watched, but the boy was used to it. He was following his prey, another young boy who he had spotted stealing enough food to satisfy him for at least a day or two. His footsteps were silent and sure, a soft pitter-patter, indistinguishable from the rain hitting the rooftops, trailing the boy. His eyes glowed neon green when he leapt from one building to the next, clearing jumps a grown man would find disastrous. His quarry turned into an alley and hid behind a trash heap, rushing to eat the stolen food. The boy leaped across the space over the street below, missing the rooftop by a scant inch. He caught a windowsill and his eyes glowed once again while he pulled himself up with spiderlike agility. He crept until he was almost directly over the other boy,. Blissfully unaware, his prey was stuffing himself as if it might be his last meal. ‘How appropriate.’ the crimson-haired youth thought. He lowered himself, eyes luminescent, and began to crawl down the wall towards the boy. When he was about ten feet above the other boy, still unaware of the hunter’s presence, he clung to the wall tightly, one-handed, and pulled a hefty rock out of his belt. He readied himself mentally, and clutched the rock with a white-fingered grip. Heart pounding, he pushed himself off the wall and dove at the boy silently. He tackled him to the ground, eliciting screams of fear from the boy, and swung the rock with all the force his arms could muster. It struck the boy in his head, and the screaming stopped. But his instinct had been awakened, and he could not risk letting his prey live for fear of retribution. He swung the rock again, and again, and again until the blood flowed freely. He snatched the other boy’s food out of his limp hand and began to devour it voraciously. The taste of blood and bread mingled disgustingly, but the boy was used to it.

[Erikar]

The crimson-haired man was broken out of his reverie by the sounds of wood and glass breaking. His eyes were drawn back to the entrance of an Inn, the sign out front reading "The Harlot's Wineskin." There was a large oak door from which the sounds and shouting were originating. ‘Bar fight or not, this place will have to do. I doubt I’ll be able to walk much longer without rest.’ Erikar thought as he walked to the doorway. When he entered, he scanned the room quickly, noticing a staircase leading up to a hallway that contained the room entrances. A large window was located at the end of the hallway, providing a view into the street below. There was also another doorway behind the bar, probably leading to the larder and the Innkeeper’s rooms.

He observed that the room was empty of any patrons besides a short man standing near the bar with five others, along with three more on the other side of the room. The small man looked rather unimpressive, standing roughly five feet and six inches tall, with short, slicked-back black hair. He wore a small but dangerous-looking rapier on his hip. The stranger leaned on the bar with a smug look on his face as he watched what could only be two more of his companions beat a man on the floor into a bloody pulp. His other comrades conversed and laughed loudly behind him, not even paying attention to the conflict. There was no innkeeper to be found in the front room, having probably hid in the back when the fight began. Erikar took in the whole scene before he locked eyes with the small man and began to walk toward the bar.

The small man’s smug look faded as he stared menacingly at the newcomer, and nudged his companions in his direction. “What’re you lookin’ at, cully? You got a starin’ problem?” The apparent leader piped in a tenor voice as his partners all turned to stare at the newcomer. “I’m just looking for a place to lay my head, mate, not looking for trouble..” The traveler told the man and his companions, hoping the bartender would emerge from the back. The two men beating the helpless victim on the floor had ceased to stare at the newcomer as well. “If you don’t want no damn trouble, then keep yer filthy eyes on the floor and your mouth shut, cully.” The raven-haired man said with confidence gained from standing in front of five large men. “Fair enough, mate, just call the Innkeeper up here, please and thank you.” He responded wearily. ‘I’m in no mood for this, dammit.. Why can’t I just catch ONE break?’ The man thought to himself as the smug little ringleader turned and smiled at his cronies. “Did you just tell me what to do, cully? It’s too bad you ain’t lookin’ for trouble, cuz’ you found it.” The small man told the traveler, motioning his companions forward.

‘Shit, no room or time to draw my sword.. I could probably take a few out before they get to treat me like the comatose fellow on the floor on the floor over there.. I believe I’ll run.’ He thought, inching backwards towards the door. However, when he turned to leave, the man found the ringleader’s two previously occupied bruisers blocking the door and smiling grimly at him. “Now, now, boys.. We don’t have to do this, I didn’t mean anything by.. SHIT!” The man said as the closest crony lunged for him. He dodged nimbly away and ran up the stairs, the entire gang minus the short man following close behind. Erikar's eyes glowed bright green, evidencing his use of magic when he leaped through the window. He shattered glass and bars as he flew towards a building on the other side of the street. The emerald-eyed man seemed to float towards the ground, the gang behind him looking on in confusion. Citizens froze and turned to stare when Erikar hit the ground and shook debris off of himself.

‘That was easy enough, thankfully. Now to find another place to rest..’ The traveler thought as he began to walk calmly away. ‘Maybe a rooftop, or a nice alley would serve-‘ Was all he was able to think before stars exploded in his vision and he fell to the ground. The pedestrians were now watching anxiously, or getting on with their evening. A heavy boot stomped on his left hand and ground it into the cobbles. Erikar screamed in pain as he looked up to see the gang leader smiling down at him. “You didn’t think I’d let you get away, did you, cully?” The man with slicked-back hair asked him condescendingly. “No, see, you don’t even know who I am. I own this side of town, and you better remember it. You can call me Ja’al. Nice to meet you.” Ja’al told him. ‘Where the f#!k did this guy come from?!’ Was the last thought the crimson-haired man had before the same boot crashed down on his face. The world went black.

[Erikar]

Erikar awoke to a pounding in his head. Recollection escaped him as he cracked his eyelids open, sending needles of candlelight into his eyes. The traveler groaned and rolled over, away from the flickering flame. He slowly adjusted to the light close to his face, granting him comprehension of his surroundings. Apparently, someone had transported him out of the street and into a featherbed in their home, leaving him completely dressed besides his cloak and equipment, which was sitting next to the bed. They had also bandaged his hand, which was sore but not unusable. They had also left him a pewter cup of water on a bedside table next to a bowl of lukewarm soup with a spoon sitting in it. ‘Well, that was certainly trusting of them. I can’t say I’m not grateful, and this bed is a godsend. Perhaps I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.’ Erikar thought as he propped himself into a sitting position in the bed.

He looked around the room, noting a large wardrobe in the corner opposite the door, along with a few chairs by the bedside and a candlestick hanging off the wall. A window straight across from the bed allowed him a view of the dark city outside. ‘I must have been unconscious for a few hours. At least I got my rest..’ Erikar thought to himself while he studied the room some more. He reached across his chest with his right hand, grabbing the water. He thought of nothing but the cool feeling of the liquid soothing his dry throat as he drank, quickly draining the cup. A satisfied gasp escaped as he breathed in again, then set down the cup and grabbed the bowl of soup. He slurped greedily throughout his meal, savoring the warm broth with chunks of meat floating intermittently.

He stopped quickly when he heard the latch on the door open, and held the bowl in his lap when a balding head poked through the doorway. “Wonderful, you’re awake. I wasn’t sure when you’d come to. I’m glad to see you’re enjoying my cooking.” The older man told Erikar, bringing the rest of his body into the room. “It’s delectable, my good man, thank you. Far better than anything I’ve had in years. But I’m not going to beat around the bush. Who are you, and… why?” The traveler asked his caretaker politely. “My name is Harlon, and I’m just an old man with nothing better to do than care for strangers left on the side of the road.” Harlon said jokingly, with a smile that touched his eyes and took years off his face. “But in all seriousness, I saw what happened, and I have little love for Ja’al Thasbuyl and his gang. He likes to terrorize this little slice of Scara Brae and think himself big, but he is a small fish in this vast ocean.” The old man told Erikar with contempt in his voice. “So tell me, boy, what brings you to Scara Brae?” He asked of the Traveler with kind curiosity. “I don’t rightly know yet, Harlon. I came to catch a brief respite from my wandering, and it seems like no matter where I go, whoever is looking down upon me doesn’t want me to have a break.” Erikar said wearily, “And if that is the case, then I suppose I should not rest much longer. I thank you again for your kindness.” Erikar said to Harlon before he swung his legs out of the bed and sat up.

“Now, now, young sir, hold on there. Ja’al gave your head a pretty good blow. As a former physicker and unofficial caretaker of you, I’m not sure I can consent to you leaving and running about so soon. Who’s to say Ja’al won’t cross your path again? I doubt he’d leave you quite so… intact.. the second time around.” Harlon told him anxiously. “I appreciate your concern, Harlon, but I should be fine. I’ve dealt with worse than minor head trauma and a sore hand, rest assured. Your first-aid was better treatment that I’ve received in a long time, anyways, and Ja’al only caught me off guard. I promise you, he will not find me unaware a second time. By the way, my name is Erikar. I was born in Radasanth and raised by myself,” The traveler told Harlon while he stood and threw on his cloak. “and I will pay you back for this kindness.” Erikar buckled his baldric onto his shoulder and checked his pockets for all his possessions. Finding everything in order, he walked to Harlon and held his hand out for the old man to shake. “Fair enough. Nice to meet someone in this city who isn’t completely self-absorbed. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors, Erikar.” Harlon said to the traveler as he shook his hand. “Now, allow me to walk you out.” “That will be unnecessary, my good man. I prefer a speedier route.” Erikar told him, walking over to the window and opening it. “The window? You are an odd one. Well, I hope that whoever watches over you grants you a break sometime soon.” The traveler’s new acquaintance told him when he stepped onto the windowsill. “You and me both, Harlon. Stay safe.” Erikar said, then leapt off the windowsill to the nearest roof.

He traveled over rooftops, scanning the streets for the pub he was accosted in. Scant few citizens roamed the streets, most being outlaws and vagabonds. He found that Harlon’s abode was only about a street over from the “The Harlot’s Wineskin.” ‘That’s good to know. It should be easy enough to find this place again.’ He thought to himself as he continued his nighttime trek over the rooftops. He paused on the roof of an apothecary to ponder his next course of action when he heard the flapping of tiny wings approaching. A relatively large raven flew to land in front of him with what seemed to be a small strip of paper in its beak. It dropped the parcel and cawed at him, then pushed the rolled-up paper towards Erikar. ‘Well, that’s certainly queer. I wonder what this could be.” He thought as he tentatively picked up the paper. The raven, seeming satisfied, cawed once again and flew off into the night. ‘I swear, ever since I set foot in this city, nothing has been normal.’ He mused as he opened the sheet. The paper was fine vellum, more expensive than feeding a family for a day or two. Written in thick red ink, it read –

Ja'al Thasbuyl and his gang have stolen enchanted goods from the Bazaar. These are -
Stepless Boots – Leather boots
Siren’s Song – Iron Dagger
Flash Shield – Iron Bracer
Air Mail – Iron Chainmail Shirt
Anvil Smashers – Spidersilk Gloves
Blood Axe – Iron Greataxe
Seeker’s Helm – Iron Skullcap
Deal with Ja'al and retrieve his boots. Be cautious to not attract the attention of the law. If possible, retrieve the other Artifacts. The Order of the Crimson Hand is watching.

[Erikar]

'The Order of the Crimson Hand?..' The name sparked a flicker of recognition. He had heard stories of the shadowy group before, reputedly comprised of assassins and cutthroats of the highest echelon. There were many who doubted their very existence, referring to them as just another bogeyman story. But he had met others who feared to mention them even in hushed tones. When they did, it was to recount brief stories of how they came swiftly and silently, leaving no sign to the untrained eye. Re-reading the note in his hand, Erikar knew now which of the two groups were correct. 'An Order of professional killers is sending me on an errand,' He thought incredulously, 'A mission, I should say. I suppose I'll have to, whether I like the idea or not. Although, now that I consider it, the thought of getting even with Ja'al does sound appealing.. Very well, if I'm going to do this, I'll have to find out a bit more about my little ringleader and his magic boots.' Erikar mused as he rolled up the sheet of vellum. He tucked it safely into one of his cloak's pockets and jumped off the roof, slowing his descent to the ground with a steady push. Throwing his hood up to hide his face, he began walking toward the Inn where Ja'al first accosted him.

When he entered this time, the criminal and his crew were absent. The broken table and bloody floor from the afternoon had been cleaned, showing no signs of the earlier violence. Patrons were few and scattered about the room, minding their own business or warming up by the fire crackling in the hearth. The innkeeper himself had taken his rightful place behind the bar, attending to two customers who were obviously regulars, judging by their conversation. Erikar caught snatches of their quiet conversation as he approached the bar farther down from the innkeeper and his customers.
"-Don't rightly know what caused em' to do a thing like that. I'm bringing the soup they ordered out from the back and next thing I know, they're beatin' that poor man to death on me floor. So's, of course, I run out the back looking fer the Watch, and when I come back, my window is missing and the whole place is empty!" "Gods, Hamish, that's somefin else, I tell ya. This whole quarter of the city's gone to rubbish ever since Ja'al showed his ugly mug around." "Keep yer voice down, Royce, I swear. Ya never know if one of his gang is stickin' around." "One sec, mates, lemme see what this feller needs." The innkeeper told his friends before he approached the traveler.

"What can I get for ya? We've got warm beds and warmer food, if yer in need." The portly man asked Erikar cheerfully. "I'll take some soup, if you have any, please." The traveler replied politely. "Certainly, sir, that'll be two gold pieces. I'll bring you a pint along with it for three." The innkeeper bartered instinctively. "My thanks, but if you're so inclined, I'm a bit more interested in.. conversation." Erikar said quietly to the man, sliding him the three coins along with an extra seven. The rotund innkeeper eyed the gold greedily, before looking at Erikar again. "That, sir, would depend upon what it is you'd like to be conversing about.." He said, even though he was already reaching for the gold. "I would just like to know a little bit about a local troublemaker I've been hearing about, I believe his name is... Ja'al?" The traveler asked the innkeeper with a knowing stare. The innkeeper stopped mid-collection, glaring at the emerald-eyed man suspiciously. "And who'd be askin', if I might be so bold?" He asked Erikar, his two friends turning to stare as well. "Just a friend, mate. I have no love for him or his kind, I can promise you that. Although, if you still don't believe me, perhaps this might help you be more willing to trust me." The traveler told him, sliding another ten pieces of gold towards the innkeeper. The man stared at Erikar, as though searching for a lie on his face. After a silent moment, he took the gold, nodded, and turned around. "Allow me to fetch yer soup and ale, good sir."

The innkeeper's friends had gone back to conversing in whispers between themselves, so Erikar took the time to scan the room once more. Noticing nothing unusual, he turned back right when the innkeeper brought out a bowl of steaming soup and a large pint of ale. "Here ya are, sir. Enjoy." Erikar ate the soup slowly and nonchalantly, quaffing the ale periodically. When he finished, he noticed the innkeeper gesturing at him from his place down the bar. It seemed like he was making a sweeping motion with his hand, as though he wanted Erikar to break his cup. The traveler raised his eyebrow at the man and shrugged, then swept the mug off the bar, giving it the appearance of an accident. Almost immediately, the innkeeper stormed around the bar and grabbed him by the arm. "Oh, look what you've done, ya fool! You'll have to pay for that, come in the back now, you'll be washin' dishes all night!" The man said angrily as he hauled Erikar through the door into the kitchen.

As soon as the door closed, the innkeeper turned to face the traveler. "Sorry about that, never know if one of Ja'al's boys is stickin' round'. Now, what is it you'd be needin' to know about him? Be quick with it, boy!" He asked Erikar warily. "Where to find him, what to be wary of, where he sleeps, anything that might help me catch him unaware. I need the advantage." The traveler told the portly innkeeper pragmatically. "That's about what I expected. I don't blame you fer sayin' so. You're not the first to try and get rid of Ja'al. He's slimy, that one, always managing to weasel out of trouble. Not to mention is' boys are no strangers to a fight. But I suppose I might as well ave' a little faith. He likes to wander about during the city during the day, although if'n yer lookin' for im' a bit later on, I've heard some say he sleeps at a place called 'The Urchin,' if he's not prowling about. But be careful, he's got himself guarded rather tight. Some of his boys even have some enchanted weapons and armor. Tryin' to take them on would be no joke, especially if Ja'al himself joined the fray. You'd think some of his big mates would be the worst to fear, but no. That little bastard is a demon in a fight. His fists hit harder than they have any right to for a man that size, and all he wears is them fancy gloves. His little pig-sticker is poisoned, and he isn't half bad with it. And the way he moves.. He takes care not to be too flashy with it, but he can walk without walking. It's like one second he's standing still, and the next, he's halfway across the room. It ain't right, I tell ya.

Erikar listened quietly until the man finished, nodding along sagely. "It seems as though I'll have no easy task. I thank you for the assistance. As much as I hate to ask, is there an extra room you could spare for me? I'll pay more." The traveler asked the innkeeper wearily. "Good sir, think nothing of it. Just sit back here for a while, let everyone leave or go to their rooms, and you can take the last room in the upper hallway on the left. Some bastard broke my window today, but pay it no mind. I'll have it boarded up before sunrise." The old man told Erikar, handing him a key before he walked back into the bar. The night went smoothly, the innkeeper signaled to the traveler, and he went to his room. Chuckling as he passed by the gaping window, he unlocked the door, entered the room, and locked it behind him. His head met the pillow like a lover's reunion, and the traveler was soon asleep.

[Erikar]

The night ran its course without event, and Erikar awoke shortly after dawn. The room he had stayed the night in seemed to be a large storage closet. It had most likely been converted to another room by the innkeeper to generate more revenue. It was windowless, and the morning light shone through the crack at the bottom of the door. The traveler took his time getting out of bed, stretching and enjoying the feeling of a good night's rest. He was ready. It had been a few months since he had quit guarding caravans. A few short months since he had felt the adrenaline coursing through him, but it felt like it had been years. The prospect of tonight's hunt awakened a thrill in him, a feeling not unlike the feelings he felt as a child, surviving in Radasanth. He would find every weakness of Ja'al Thasbuyl, no matter how long it took. The short, dangerous man had awakened an instinct in the traveler that would not rest until there was retribution. He would follow him, find where he slept and where he walked, and when the time was right, he would end him. But the instinct told him that for now, he must prepare.

Erikar sat on the bed, sharpening his sword. It had been almost a month since he had last honed its edge. He guided the file across the edge precisely, up and down the length of the blade. He ended the edge about six inches above the hilt, leaving room to use his hand for extra leverage. Once the traveler finished revealing the edge of his blade, he pulled out a whetstone and began polishing the edge smoothly. He used the same care and precision as he did when sharpening, taking care to avoid cutting himself. The process was almost like a silent mantra, a calming ritual done more times than he could remember. He finished by oiling the blade and wiping it down before placing back in its scabbard. Finally finished with his personal sacrament, Erikar gathered all his equipment and headed out of the room. The innkeeper, true to his word, had boarded up the window completely, two boards thick. The traveler didn't blame the man, glass being expensive as it was. 'I almost feel like apologizing..' was as far as that train of thought went before the hunger caused his stomach to moan.

He was alone in the common room when he sat at the bar, hailing the innkeeper. It was a couple seconds before the man bustled out of the kitchen door, a bowl of stew in his hands. "Mornin' to ya, lad, here's a thanks for yer' generous donation from last night. However, in the case that Ja'al decides to come knocking today, I'm afraid you'll have to be leavin' once yer' finished." He said, a look of slight regret upon his face. But it was gone in a split second, the model of seriousness in its place. "You'll brook no argument from me, sir. I'll be gone before you know it." Erikar said easily, not bothered by the command. He was ready to be on the move, ready to begin his hunt. "Right, well then, I never saw ya', you never existed. Good day." The innkeeper said with finality before he walked into kitchens once again. The traveler ate quickly and left, beginning his walk through the streets. The sun was shining brightly overhead, another clear morning in Scara Brae.

Erikar wasted no time in turning into one of the many alleys of the city, avoiding the people beginning their daily routines. Using his new-found cover from the citizens' sight, he quickly scaled the wall of an unknown building to the roof, looking around for land marks. "According to the innkeeper's directions, 'The Urchin' should only be a few streets away from my current location. Only dumb criminals shit where they sleep.." Erikar said quietly to himself, still searching. He began to travel over the rooftops, invisible to the residents of Scara Brae. He soon found the Inn, a small sign outside depicting a small boy. He watched the entrances from above for a prolonged period of time, but apparently Ja'al and his gang were not inside. Either that, or they were holed up inside, but it was about midday but now. If they were in there, at least one of the gang would have given some indication. He continued his rooftop excursion, always alert for signs of Ja'al and his crew. The sun lingered in the sky for long, tedious hours of searching before the hunter finally spotted his prey. Twilight filled the sky before the quarry and his lackeys finally began making their way down the street en masse, headed back ('Finally,' Erikar thought,) to 'The Urchin.' Most of the inhabitants of this part of the city seemed to be strangely absent as the prey approached its den.

[Lye]

"Did you see 'er face?" Jeered one of the pack.

"Ev'ry time we kick 'im while he was down, she let out a lovely quip!" Responded another with a wry smile.

"Oye, yeah! What about when he stopped breathin'?" The group burst into a howl of laughter.

"She was a bit of fun that one. Put up a good fight before, we had a go on that sweet arse of hers," Ja'al spoke with a curl of his lips. The group of five rose into another bout of laughter. A stubby finger rose to sweep away a joyful tear from the corner of a beady eye.

"Well whatta we do now boss?" asked one of the larger thugs. His voice was deep, yet bland with an obvious tone one would attribute to a slow wit.

"Thinkin' we had ourselves a good night. What do ye boys say we --" Jaal stopped mid sentences, and his arms shot out to still his comrades. The five came to a halt. The slower one, less keen to the others, trudged on further until he caught on and froze in place.

"What's wrong?" whispered one of the thinner thugs. His serpentine eyes looked to and fro in an attempt to root the reason for their silence. This one seemed agile, already ready with blade drawn. Ja'al did not reply at first, but his feet slid along the earth as oil would upon water. Without a sound he crept forward, the opposite of where Erikar laid in wait, and his eyes locked to the shadows of a oak which dimly glowed with the light of street lanterns. Curiosity, mixed with a hint of fear shone upon his features through the flicker of flame .

"Boss?" A rough voice broke the silence, owned by the second of the large bandits. This one seeming sharper than the rest, but clearly more brawn than beauty.

Ja'al shook his concern. His renowned confidence washed back over him as he turned to a quartette of quirked brows. "Felt like we were bein' watched..."

"Heh! Like the guard, or anyone for that matter would dare..." The last of the five contributed in a clear, clean tongue. His Tradespeak by far surpassed the others as an indication of either sharp wit or sharp tongue. The four lesser bandits loosed a few laughs, but they were stifled by the seriousness Ja'al cast upon them.

"Topher, Bausto," the obvious leader barked, "You get first guard. If anyone so happens to blink an eye in our direction, yeh turn there eyes black. Y'got it?" The larger two stiffened up and offered an affirming nod. One rose an uniquely shaped axe, the other fumbled, but armed himself with a tiny, humming dagger.

"Clouse, you're on lookout from tha loft. Anything odd, let us know." The one with the body of a message runner and venomous eyes loosed a grin as his response.

"Oswald," Ja'al turned to the last of his men. "You'll be at my side with that helmet of yers. If you... hear anythin', let's know which way it came. Now let's get inside."

The only bandit without a crude accent untied a basic looking skull cap from his hip. As directed, he placed it upon his head and the band of merry miscreants continued behind the closed doors of "The Urchin". Only the brawniest of men remained out in the night air with arms folded and sour faces peering to the sparsely populated streets of Scara Brae.

[Erikar]

The hunter studied his quarry, watching as they finally reached 'The Urchin.' Possible plans of attack ran through his head while he spied on the gang from above, pondering the best angle of attack. There were two large, burly bruisers standing close to Ja'al, along with the other three average-sized men. They all joked about their latest 'conquest', Ja'al's comments arousing laughter from all of them as they walked. Erikar ducked behind his cover as Ja'al stiffened. He imagined the little ringleader turning around, scanning his surroundings and spotting him somehow. The thought sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through his blood. However, all the traveler heard was the small man mumble about a bad feeling and turn around, issuing commands to his gang. Erikar peeked back over the cover in time to see Ja'al walk inside inn, one of his lackeys putting on a helmet and following him in.

The two bruisers stood guard at the front door, one wielding a large iron axe. The other guard held a tiny dagger he seemed afraid to wield in his beefy hand. They stood ready due to Ja'al's paranoia. The hunter could wait for them to relax.. but that might leave him in the open. An old saying popped into Erikar's head, one he once lived his life by. 'Visible is vulnerable,' had proved true to him more times than could count. Instinct took over, his mind reacting to stimulus without thought. He ran and jumped to an adjacent roof, now diagonal to 'The Urchin' and its guards. His mind calculated the distance automatically, approximating that he was about thirty feet away from the closest guard. If he timed a push correctly, he could clear the jump, hopefully take out one of the guards, and roll into position to fight the other guard. But that would require using most of his magical energy, and there were still three more adversaries once these brutes were taken care of.

The traveler readied himself mentally, unsheathing his sword and dropping the baldric from his shoulders. He would need as much freedom of movement as possible. He couldn't risk the scabbard botching his maneuver as he hit the ground, as a fall from this height might knock him unconcious. Erikar pulled his spike from his belt, and weapons akimbo, he sprinted and leapt off the rooftop. He enhanced the jump with a strong push off the building at the last moment, sending himself flying at the thug equipped with the dagger. The free-fall seemed to take an eternity. The hunter had time to think 'Ohshitohshitohshit' before his instincts regained control and his muscle memory combined with another push sent the spike rocketing at the thug with the axe. Unable to see the outcome, he rolled gracefully as he hit the ground, an expertise born of practice showing in his movements. He turned to face the dagger-wielding thug, who exclaimed when he saw Erikar hit the ground.

[Lye]

Both over fed and overly muscular bandits stood like dumbfounded flesh gargoyles. Their empty gaze continued endlessly as their immediate urgency to be on guard diminished into boredom. The slower of the two signaling such by attempting to pick an obstruction from his teeth with a dagger that certainly looked like a toothpick in his titanic grasp. As soon as the polished iron touched rotting ivory, a unique, high-pitched buzz emitted.

"Ow!"
"Shit!"

Droplets of blood spattered to the cobblestone, and the oaf bent at the waist with a free and covering a bloodied mouth and singing dagger clattering to the ground.

"It bit me!" he proclaimed, although muffled through his hand. He turned to his colleague for some form of comfort to find him in a similarly hobbled pose. His hand was over his upper chest and pulled away slowly to reflect a deep red hue to both their disbelief. As if providing an answer to their growing stupor, their assailant tumbled to a stop just several feet away. The injured Bausto brought his axe to the ready and began to charge as if the spike protruding from his chest were but a bee sting. The information failed to register as quickly to Topher, whom still clutched a cut lip. As though hit by Erikar's spike himself, he jostled his body with revelation.

"You!" He stammered while the oozing gash became exposed, "Boss!"

Topher wasted little time in throwing himself upon the chattering dagger in the street, wrestling to get it within his grasp to defend himself.

"You die this time!" shouted Bausto with axe risen high above his head to only rush downward as he closed the gap.

From within the building, several other shouts could be heard, and in the window swept a shadow in a rush.

[Erikar]

Erikar was almost surprised at the time it took for the goons to react.

'For experienced criminals, I figured they would be less... amateur.' The traveler thought. His spike had obviously struck home in the axe-wielding guard's chest, although it had little effect. The goon who had formerly held the knife in his sausage fingers shouted a warning before diving to the ground. He wrestled with the blade on the ground, which emitted an odd humming noise. The other outlaw, obviously the more capable of the two, came bellowing at Erikar, axe raised. He had dealt with the miscreant's kind before on caravan routes. Large men who liked to swing axes with all the force they could bring to bear were common in bandit groups. They were dangerous, skilled or not. It didn't take years of training to swing an axe effectively. The traveler's emerald eyes narrowed. 'I have to act quickly, Ja'al and half the city know I'm here now..' He deduced in a fraction of a second.

His blood rushed as he applied a small push to the buzzing knife instinctively, hopefully distracting the other thug for a few more precious seconds. Erikar raised his sword quickly when the more competent of the two swung his heavy axe, deflecting the blow. His arms vibrated from the impact, making it difficult to keep a grasp on his sword. 'I've got to be careful, one botched parry and that axe will shatter my sword like kindling.' The hunter heard shouts coming from inside the building now, signalling that the thug's allies would soon come to his aid.

'I can't deal with five of them at once. I've got to get rid of this brute, fast!'

The outlaw attacked adroitly with his large axe, showing a skill Erikar had not expected. His efforts were too concentrated on defending himself from the axe. If he didn't act swiftly, this fight would be decided in their favor soon.

His eyes shone menacingly as he directed a strong push into his spike, which still protruded from the thug's chest.

[Lye]

The axe fell with the speed of a hammer to the anvil. Similarly, it struck steel and rang to the night streets of Scara Brae as a bell to conflict that any nearby guard would hear. Bausto's weight followed through into the blow, forcing him to teeter forward and compensate with a relocated step. As though the imbalance was part of the plan, he twisted the head of the axe with the flow of momentum and prepared to bring it across in an effort to sheer through Erikar's red locks. The blade sailed to its mark and drastically changed direction at the moment a stifled roar broke the night air. Bausto forcibly disarmed himself to divert his hands to the iron spike. Surprise and pain were the last things to befall his chiseled features when both hands only fell upon a bloody hole. The spike crawled into his lungs - he fell to his knees. It kissed his heart - he fell forward. Bausto found his early grave amongst the filth of Scara Brae's gutters.

"Bausto!" exclaimed Topher, who abandoned the need for a dagger the moment he watched his colleague fall. Quite easily more capable without a blade, Topher moved with alarming speed and drove two fleshy hammers towards the new murderer in quick jabs. The onslaught continued and against the expectation of one so dull witted, he pulled back in anticipation of a counter blow. The direction to which he maneuvered placed him within the reach of Bausto's discarded axe and the giant was once again armed.

Twin oaken doors added more thugs to the scene as remaining three struggled to push themselves through the entryway and into the streets. They took offensive stances, all locked on the boy and began moving to encircle him.

"You again!" Ja'al spat as he stood in front of the building. His eyes fell to the corpse of one of his men, and anger set in to his features. The dim flicker of street lamps bounced reflectively off the rapier being drawn from his side. "You'll stay quiet this time, cully. Kill'em boys!"

They all jeered in reply and Ja'al began to advance an unnatural speed - without ever moving his feet...