Boys And Their Toys

[Thorne]

It was night when Thorne made his way down to his regular black market alley.

It was always night whenever Thorne left his humble abode- one didn't prosper in his profession by traipsing around in the light of day. He liked to avoid walking the streets when he could, and so he took the Thieves Highway. Clad in his usual black and grey mottled attire, the thief was almost invisible to the people still wandering below, as he crouched on the roof of a building. It may not have been the quickest way to get around, but hopping from roof to roof meant he was far less likely to get nabbed by some do-gooder city watchman.

After about an hour, Thorne arrived at his destination. The Alley, as it was simply known, was very accommodating to its usual clientele; rope ladders led from the roofs of the surrounding buildings, and the sewer grates were kept mercifully clean for those who took the Low Roads. Each of the various stalls and stores were simple, covered in black cloths showing off their wares. There was no ostentation, no hawkers yelling about the quality of their products: There was no need. Anyone who knew about the Alley, knew the merchants therein. Anyone who made their way to the Alley, usually knew exactly what they had come for.

Thorne was no exception.

Slithering to the street level, he pulled his hood a little lower, hiding his face. He may have been surrounded by fellow thieves and outlaws, but that hardly put him at ease. It's true what they say about us, I suppose, he mused, smirking to himself as he often did.

He made his way through the small gatherings and solitary figures, careful to keep and eye on his coin, and his gear. There was an unspoken rule in the Alley, that no-one ply their trade here, but there was always someone who thought they had the skill to get away with it, unobserved. Such individuals often ended up in the hands of the local law enforcement... after every cutthroat and criminal in the area had had... a few words. They always had an example made of them, but there was always a younger, more arrogant thief swaggering in, cock-sure and full of confidence.

Crossing the Alley, Thorne crouched next to an unremarkable metal grate set into the base of a wall. A quick glance over his shoulder, to make sure he wasn't being followed, and he slipped through, landing a few feet lower, inside a cosy little workshop. The owner, one Samless Vincep, was a renowned creator of tools and toys for the thieving trade- his name was a byword for odd devices, but more importantly, quality. The small room was cluttered with workbenches, tools, machines imported from Alerar, and other assorted detritus. The owner, the creator, was a gnarled old man; his sparse hair was wispy and shockingly white against his soot and oil stained skin. A pair of half-moon spectacles perched atop an impressive beak of a nose, and the old man muttered to himself as his dextrous, disturbingly long fingers danced along his latest project. Unsurprisingly to Thorne, he didn't look up, though he always knew when the thief was there.

"What do you want, lad?" he snapped, teeth clacking together in frustration.

Thorne allowed himself another smirk. He was rather fond of the grouchy little tinkerer. Idly glancing around the cluttered workspace, the thief leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his lean chest.

"What else, Sam? I want a few of your wonderful little toys." As always, Thorne's voice was dry, almost monotonous, with a very subtle hint of amusement. To most it sounded almost condescending.

He paused for a beat, waiting for the usual grouchy outburst. The old man didn't disappoint.

"Well what the he--"

Thorne interrupted him almost as soon as he started, with another wry smirk at the spreading blush of irritation on the old man's wrinkled cheeks.

"I heard you've been working on a "flashbomb", Sam. Bout the size of an apple, press a button, then Boom- y'know, that sort of thing. Sounds handy, and I like to be prepared. I want to know how much for a few. Say, two or three. No more than that." The thief idly slid a gold coin out of some hidden pocket, rolling it back and forth over his knuckles for emphasis.

[Revenant]

Samless watery blue eyes stared hard daggers at the thief before him, his lips pursed in a hard line of annoyance. His moment of silence was enough to let Thorne know that he was only tolerant of the tomfoolery as a somewhat lax gesture afforded to a client who had proven his worth in both time and cash. Even so, these was a limit to the tinkerer's patience and willingness to overlook the folly's of those he still considered youthful. Pushing seventy, he did not feel like there was much time left in his life to be wasted on such a baseless thing as arrogant humor. Finally, having waited long enough to consider Thorne duly lectured, Sam coughed dryly and pushed the thin-framed spectacles back up his nose with the small of his ring finger.

"Flashbomb, eh?" he muttered, more to himself than to Thorne. While there were those in the Alley who would say that Samless had gone a bit astray in the head as a result of his old age, and they would be right, he was still a sharper mind than many men half his age and he knew it. "Fulminate of mercury to cause the burst. Half grain of ground charcoal to start the burn." He rattled on the ingredients in a half-mindful way for a minute while he continued work on the project that he had been toiling over when Thorne arrived, decidedly not a flashbomb. "And to finish it a sliver of flint on the inside of the brass cap to start the ignition." He squinted up from his work as he finished his list, peering at Thorne through nearly closed slits. "Why the brass cap, eh? Not necessary for the work is it? But you've got to have a bit of style, don't you?"

Samless delved back into his project, gently placing a tuning fork on the cloth beside him while picking up a small driver tool to replace it.

"160 gold a bomb," he said after another minute.

[Thorne]

**"Why the brass cap, eh? Not necessary for the work is it? But you've got to have a bit of style, don't you?"**

Thorne smirked again, the gold coin in his hand disappearing as fast as it had appeared. "Never took you for the ostentatious type, Sam," the thief said, his dry, soft voice seeming quite loud in the relative silence of the workshop. Looking around at some of the more.. unique projects, Thorne knew that the old man's mind- while not as "sane" as some others- was more than a match for the greatest of Aleraran engineers, with his ingenious (and slightly demented) inventions. The thief saw some odd little clockwork pet twitch at the edge of a workbench, but paid it no mind. There were weirder things by far on Althanas. Watching from the shadows of his hood, Thorne watched Samless tinker with his latest bit of work, noting with a professional's eye the nimbleness and dexterity of the old man's gnarled hands. Rumour held Samless Vincep had once used his talents for his own thieving career, and seeing the quick, precise movements of the man easily twice his age, the thief didn't doubt it for a second.

After a minute, the inventor grunted again, **"160 gold a bomb."**

Thorne whistled quietly, under his breath, just loud enough for the old man to hear. He glanced over his shoulder as a pair of men sauntered past the grill leading into the workshop, but they moved on, paying it no heed. Muscles untensing, Thorne turned his attention back to Samless, as he produced a tuning fork and set about his business again.

"The price is a bit steep, Sam. I know you're worth it, no doubt, but I haven't got that much coin on me right now. Rent to be paid, fences to be collected from, you know the drill. How about you do me a one-time deal: two bombs for 200 gold? And, I'll owe you a favour; can never have too many of those in this line of work."

The thief knew he was asking a lot of the old man, but he had been a good customer over the years, and Samless knew he would be again in future. Thorne understood he had to pay for the best quality tools, but until his next job paid off, he was running low on funds. He would never be so crass as to suggest "try before you buy"- that would be an insult to both of them, and Mr. Vincep had earned the thief's respect. So here was his offer, a compromise. It may have been a bigger one for Samless, but the old tinkerer could look at it as an investment in one of his best customers.

"If not, I'll take one."

Without seeming to move, the black-clad rogue sat his pouch of gold on the workbench at Samless' elbow, drawstrings loosened to show the gold within.

[Revenant]

The driver settled quickly on the cloth as Sam paused his work, squinting at Thorne over his crescent glasses. Though the look may have seemed credulous and disbelieving, those who knew the old tinkerer could see the gears turning in his head. Thorne was a preferred customer, truth be told, and part of that was because he was skilled enough to survive where other would-be repeat customers could not. In the old rogue's eyes that meant that he had potential as more than just a walking coin purse and it would be in his best interest to see to it that the investment kept on prioviding interest. Still, a discount of sixty pieces of gold was a bit steep, even for as valuable asset as the thief.

Perhaps there was another way.

"Favor, eh?" he muttered, his hand unconsciously finding the tool he had put down and resuming it's work. "Ingredients ain't cheap you know, 'specially not for the workings of what you'd like. Can't keep myself in business if I sell for what it takes to make the little buggers now can I? But rumor in the Alley says that a young Aleran lord done just made a boast of how skilled his youngling is at the Academy of Science. He dun't taken the prize with that acid concoction, ain't he?"

"Course that ain't but small tubers for a real tinkerer," Sam continued, nonchalantly as if the two were merely holding a passing conversation on national events, "But I bet that it means he has quite the bit of equipment to play around with." Samless scowled at the notion, as if sucking on a day old lemon rind. "Probably wastes three times as much good powder as he needs to on his damned child's play. Would probably not hurt him a bit to lose some of the cases of reagents that came in those fancy alchemical orders that ship from the docking spire in Ettermire, I'll bet. Plenty of reagents in those cases, enough to turn a man a tidy profit and still have some left to spare for fancy gadgets and gizmo's and flashy bombs too."

The shadowy quiet crept into the stall once more, punctuated only by the slight whispering tink of tools on metal.

"Course it'd only be useful to someone as can build those things. But I'm sure someone like that'd be more than gracious enough to tinker away with a heavy discount."

If you'd like to take up the offer, I can assist with the theft of the reagents however you see fit or you can continue it in the thread as a quick solo. You'd need at least four additional posts similar to your previous ones in length before returning for the bombs. If you decline, no problem and you can move forward purchasing your bomb.

[Thorne]

**"Favor, eh?"**

Thorne smirked in the shadows of his hood, sensing the hunger in Sam's voice. Quid pro quo indeed, he mused, watching the gnarled old hands resume tinkering, almost without the old man's conscious effort. The thief admired skill, in all forms, and the merchant had it in spades.

**"Ingredients ain't cheap you know, 'specially not for the workings of what you'd like. Can't keep myself in business if I sell for what it takes to make the little buggers now can I? But rumor in the Alley says that a young Aleran lord done just made a boast of how skilled his youngling is at the Academy of Science. He dun't taken the prize with that acid concoction, ain't he?"**

Thorne gave out a dry chuckle of amusement. He had heard the rumours himself, but the thief understood how to work the market- if you were going to steal something, you needed two things; the ability to procure said item, and a fence ready to take it off your hands. More than one amateur thief had stolen rare jewels or unique items, only to find no fence willing to handle such a hot, traceable item. It was simply bad business.

Samless continued their conversation, as casually as two men discussing the weather. The more he revealed, the bigger Thorne's grin became. This was shaping up to be an interesting way to barter. And it would get him out the house for another night- a definite bonus. Thorne's smile only faltered slightly at the mention of Ettermire. He would gladly do the job, but he would need to nab the reagents after they left the Dark Elf capital; no force on the planet was likely to make Thorne step into Seraph's territory willingly. Almost out of instinct, Thorne started checking his gear, subtly- first the lockpicks and tension wrenches secreted inside his bracer and belt, then his weapons, his miscellaneous gear, and once he was done, the thief did it again. It took a matter of seconds. Samless took a breath, giving the thief a conspirational look.

**"Course it'd only be useful to someone as can build those things. But I'm sure someone like that'd be more than gracious enough to tinker away with a heavy discount."**

Ah, now there are two words I like.

Thorne nodded to himself, going over the details in his head, a plan already forming. He weighed up his options, ticking off pros and cons on each one. After a few moments, he made up his mind.

"You have a deal Sam," the thief said.

When the old man turned to reply, Thorne was already gone...

[Thorne]

Mere hours after leaving the docks, Thorne was back in the Alley. He pulled himself up through a grate from the Low Roads, shoving the pack full of Samless' reagents before him. It had been a hard night's work (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?24920-All-In-A-Night-s-Work&p=203685#post203685), but he had managed it.

He had managed to get himself and the elf smuggler, Katja was her name, out of the docks compound with minimal hassle. Most of the guards had still been preoccupied fighting the blaze roaring through the area to have noticed the thief and his companion slipping over the spiked wall. They had parted ways soon after, but the girl had offered Thorne a hand if he ever needed a smuggler. She may not have liked him, but at least she recognised a debt owed. Thorne had thought destroying her shipment would have rendered them even, but she had offered her services anyway. He had ways to contact her should the occasion arise.

Looking at the clustered and claustrophobic rooftops surrounding the Alley, he could still make out the ruddy glow of the docks fire, off to the west. True, that would bring a lot of attention to the compound, but it also caused too much confusion for anyone to link the theft of the reagents to the blaze. At most, they would think Katja had managed to break out of her cell, and blown her shipment up out of sheer spite. But Thorne doubted the city's authorities were smart enough even for that. He chuckled to himself, imagining once again the hell he'd brought down on the servants of the lord the property belonged to. I'll wager they regret that jaunt to the pub. The thief dusted off his mottled attire, hefting the pack to his shoulder and looking around the Alley, pulling his hood lower over his face. This close to dawn, not many customers remained in the area, but the merchants were still here- several of them held down legal businesses during the day, but a good few of them lived here, making enough profit from their illicit dealings to live comfortably. Even surrounded by so many "fellow criminals", he kept his free hand close to the hilt of his dagger.

A few offered friendly nods to the thief, some of whom he'd had dealings with before, and he returned them amiably. Sauntering over to the grate entrance to Samless' workshop, Thorne gave his usual check of surroundings, making sure no-one observed him entering; true, none of the people here had any love of the law, but if they could turn a profit by betraying one of their own, most would hand them over in a heartbeat. The less they saw, more importantly, the less they knew about Thorne's comings and goings, the less likely they could connect him to the robbery. A pair of thugs- a man and an elf- swaggered into view, and without even thinking, Thorne slipped into a patch of shadow behind the nearest stall. He kept out of their line of sight, padding softly round the stall until they had passed out of sight, taking one of the exits from the Alley. Waiting until he was sure no-one else was around, he sneaked over to the grate set in the base of the wall, opening it.

Thankfully, Mr. Vincep kept the hinges well-oiled, so there was no sound as the heavy metal was shifted. Slipping the heavy pack from his shoulder, Thorne lowered it gingerly to the floor, still wary that the volatile chemicals within could prove fatal if not treated carefully. Once it was down, the rogue followed, closing the metal cover behind him.

He was instantly enveloped in the balmy warmth of the crowded workshop, feeling a drop of sweat run down his back under his armour. Samless was still perched on the same stool Thorne had left him on the previous night, and judging by the red rings round his eyes, and the fact he was wearing the same clothes, he hadn't stopped working in that time. That wasn't out of the ordinary though. He always was a bit obsessive about his work, the thief thought.

Keeping his heightened senses alert for anything unusual outside, Thorne leaned against the wall behind him. Sam was working, and following the usual protocol for their dealings, he knew better than to interrupt. Folding his arms over his chest, Thorne rested his head back against the wall, realising this was the first real chance he'd had to relax since he'd woken up. His gaze roamed over the workshop, picking out several tools used in his own profession, and seeing things that he couldn't make heads nor tails of.

After a few minutes, the old man laid his tools down with reverent care, before swiveling to face his customer. His gimlet gaze bored into the shadow's beneath Thorne's hood, meeting the man's mismatched eyes. But, as with almost anyone else who tried to stare down Thorne, Samless broke eye contact first.

"Y'know, lad, you may want to try blinking sometime," the old man chuckled, his mirth leading to a hacking cough.

The moonlighter didn't say anything, simply watched the inventor from under his hood. Shaking his head, the hunched little man hopped off his stool, walking over to a nearby wooden bench, clearing it quickly and efficiently- all the while, he muttered about "youngsters" and "their lack of humour". He looked up at the rogue, his eyes glinting with barely contained avarice.

"So, Thorne my boy, did you get them?"

Thorne smirked, lifting the pack onto the bench. He opened it, showing Samless the contents, and emptying his belt pouches on to the table. In seconds there was a sizable selection of chemical reagents and assorted equipment sitting on the bench. The thief folded his arms again, raising his eyebrow quizzically.

"Did you ever doubt me?" he smirked.

[Revenant]

Samless shrugged nonchalantly, still a bit annoyed by the thief's refusal to take part in his bit of humor. His hand crept to one side as if of it's own volition, the scrabbly fingers tearing a grease-stained old handkerchief away from the tray that it had been covering. Inside sat three matte orbs of intricate design, each a marvelous piece of technological craftsmanship that would have been the envy of half the tinkerers in the Alley.

"Can't say that I wasn't a little satisfied to hear about the little blaze which sprung up and brought me some nice fancies." He looked from the flash bombs to Thorne with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I know we'd spoken about two of these little ditties, but once I started rollin' them around it seemed that something possessed me."

"Besides," he said, snatching the satchel of reagents to store behind the counter. "This little gift you brought me is going to be worth far more than one little firecracker. Let it never be said that Samless doesn't do right by those that do right by him."

"200 pieces of shiny, shiny coin then my fine young rogue and all three of these pretties slide away comfortably with you."


Thorne pays 200 GP and gets 3 flash bombs. Note that the flash bombs will only be able to cause physical harm if they actual hit someone in an unprotected area when they go off. Further, expended bombs can be re-primed for half their normal cost, 80 GP, per bomb.

[Thorne]

With a small flourish of his unnaturally dextrous hand, Samless unveiled a small tray- sitting on it were the items Thorne had asked for. But, instead of only two, three of the wondrous little devices were perched on the cold copper surface. He raised an eyebrow quizzically, but he didn't ask. The old man would get to it in time.

**"Can't say that I wasn't a little satisfied to hear about the little blaze which sprung up and brought me some nice fancies."**

Thorne smirked under his hood. It had been a good night, all in all, and after he sold on the loot he'd taken from the docks, Thorne was looking at a good haul. That, and another contact to add to his black book- smuggler's were always handy acquaintances to anyone in the thief's line of work. Quickly emptying the rest of the reagents and gear from his pack, the rogue shouldered it again.

**"I know we'd spoken about two of these little ditties, but once I started rollin' them around it seemed that something possessed me."**

The thief chuckled softly.

**"Besides, this little gift you brought me is going to be worth far more than one little firecracker. Let it never be said that Samless doesn't do right by those that do right by him."**

Nodding to the flash bombs, Thorne grinned again, his right eye glinting under the heavy cowl. "You know what they say about gift horses and mouths, friend." He was being offered an extra one of Mr. Vincep's handy little gadgets, he would be a fool if he turned it down. I may be many things, but a fool isn't one of them. "I cleared the lordling's stash, but with the fireworks display, I doubt anyone will manage to trace these back to either of us."

**"200 pieces of shiny, shiny coin then my fine young rogue and all three of these pretties slide away comfortably with you."**

The price was more than fair, and getting the extra bomb was a nice little gem to boot. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the thief drew his coin-pouch, without even seeming to move. It simply appeared in his hand, brimming with a heavy bit of gold. He gestured to the pouch, inviting Samless to count it- it was all there, but as a professional thief, he offered it as a gesture of trust. He wouldn't be offended if the old inventor checked it, but they both knew they'd never been in the habit of cheating each other, and neither was likely to start now.

"Two hundred, as agreed," he said quietly. Stepping over to the tray, the rogue picked up each flash bomb, tucking them away safely in his belt pouches. He turned, heading back to the grate in the wall; dawn was nearing, and after the night he'd had, Thorne was looking forward to getting some sleep. More importantly, he was looking forward to visiting the local fences tomorrow, and seeing what price he could get for the stolen items he'd.. procured from the warehouses.

"Be seeing you, Sam," Thorne said over his shoulder, disappearing from the small workshop.


Agreed. Thorne pays 200GP, to be deducted from my profile.

[Revenant]

Transaction concluded.

Thorne pays 200 GP for his bombs.