All In A Night's Work

[Thorne]

The night after going to visit Samless, down in the Alley, Thorne found himself in the Radasanth docks. The old man had been right- a shipment of chemical reagents had been sent out from Alerar the previous week, on board the Sundered Sword, and had just arrived in port tonight. Thorne could have possibly intercepted the shipment on the other end, but that would have required straying far too close to Ettermire for comfort.

I've grown quite attached to my head over the years, he thought. It'd be a shame if it ended up as a trophy on Seraph's wall.

So, his only option was to steal it when it arrived in port, before any of the Aleraran lordling's men showed up to remove their master's precious cargo. And it was precious; Thorne had, as per his routine before any job, found out exactly how much his loot was worth on the black market. In a word- plenty! But, thanks to his desire to keep his head upon his shoulders, the thief had unfortunately limited his window of opportunity to acquire the items. And, if he wanted his flashbombs from Sam anytime soon, acquiring the reagents was his only viable option.

And so, he found himself here; perched on the roof of a tenement building, overlooking the main cargo warehouses of the Radasanth docks. He had picked this building specifically for the proximity to his target- it gave him a better way in than knocking on the front gates.

He had managed to acquire a map of the buildings that evening, through various.. less than legal channels. Always be prepared, he nodded to himself, subconsciously checking his tools. As always, they were all in place, and in perfect condition. Still he felt woefully under-prepared for the job: He didn't know how many cases of the reagents he should grab, how large they were, how much they weighed, how volatile they were... all in all, this was a Grade-A rush-job. But what's life without a little.. excitement? the thief chuckled to himself.

The hooded figure crouched low at the edge of the roof, sharp eyes darting over the numerous warehouses, cargo crates, and ships arrayed beneath him, matching it up mentally with the map tucked into his belt. It seemed to be fairly accurate...

"Of course," he sneered, as he found the building he was looking for. The Sundered Sword was anchored at the peer furthest from Thorne's position; meaning, his loot was also all the way on the other side of the docks compound. He had done as much reconnaisance as his time-frame allowed him, and security seemed to be pretty tight. Armed guards patrolled the grounds in force, behind high metal walls, topped with sharpened spikes; hounds were kept in some areas to sniff out prey; torches kept the area well lit; heavy grade chains and locks secured most of the cargo containers and warehouses; some of the buildings had rudimentary alarm systems and booby traps jury-rigged, according to the rumour mill; and to top it off, the sailors (pirates, more accurately) of the Sundered Sword had been bound to the docks, not allowed into the city. This meant the drunken and vicious bastards would most likely be wandering around as well. Seasoned thieves had balked at less.

Well, he sighed, loosening up his shoulders, better get this over with.

Standing, the thief drew his shortbow from the sheath on his back. He picked up the arrow lying at his feet- a simple broadhead, with his length of silk rope knotted onto the end, tied just under the flight. Glancing over the grounds, Thorne picked a decent spot, empty of guards, relatively shaded, and with a huge pile of wooden crates to hide amongst. Drawing the bow, touching the back of his right hand to his cheek, Thorne loosed the arrow, smiling in satisfaction when the steel head bit deep into one of the crates below. Quickly, he tied the end of the silk rope to one of the heavy vents behind him, giving it a tug to make sure it was secure.

With one last check of his gear, he looped a length of leather over the rope, grabbing an end in each hand. It's going to be a long night, the thief thought grimly, swinging himself over the edge of the roof...

[Thorne]

Thorne hit the ground rolling, coming up in a crouch. He swung his head from side to side, listening out for any telltale noise of any approaching guards. He had landed safely in the shadow of a pile of shipping crates, without impaling himself on the foot-long spikes lining the high wall behind him. So far, off to a good start, he thought to himself with his usual smirk. Reaching up, he dragged his broadhead out of the solid wood, untying the silk rope with deft fingers. He left the rope hanging down the inside face of the wall- it was unlikely to get spotted, black silk in the darkness, and it made for a handy escape route.

Now he was in, the "fun" could really begin. He took his map from the belt loop, giving it a cursory lookover just to refresh his memory. His entry point put him about halfway along the docking compound, with his target a fair bit to the North; it also put at least half of the guards and security measures between him and his objective.

The rogue slipped through the shadows, easing out from behind the crates. One look at the place, and Thorne was glad he'd picked up the map. From above, the compound looked confusing, but from ground level it was a labyrinth. Still, he had little time to waste: The Lordlings men would be here to collect the shipment in a few hours at most. Thorne intended to relieve them of their responsibility, save them some hard work.

That being said, there's no reason I can't line my pockets a little while I'm here.

The black-and-grey blur moved from shadow to shadow, melting into the surrounding darkness with practiced ease. After five or ten minutes of sneaking through the convoluted alleys and open spaces between warehouses, Thorne froze, instantly putting his back against the wall. He heard footsteps approaching. The echoes from the narrow walls made it harder to pinpoint, but in a few seconds, a guard stepped into the thief's line of sight, blocking the exit to the alley. Holding his breath without thinking, Thorne observed the man- shoulders slumped, eyes glazed, and holding a half-empty wine bottle in his hands: In short, a typical Radasanth guard, when his commanding officer was out of sight. Just as the thief was considering how to get past him, the guard untied his trousers and started pissing against the wall. A few seconds of listening to it splash against the wall, and the guard left, swigging again from his bottle.

Edging slowly to the end of the wall, Thorne peeked out, to see what lay ahead. This alley led out onto a small intersection between four warehouses, with main thoroughfares and other narrow paths leading away in every direction. The area was lit by torches on every wall, and a central brazier, around which two guards huddled for heat. Thorne eased out of hiding, slipping a little closer to the pair of guards- they were both turned towards the fire warming their hands, meaning they had zero night vision. The half-drunk guard suantered past them, receiving a friendly smile and a nod from each. As soon as the man was gone, however, they turned to each other with sneers and looks of dislike.

Thorne barely had to strain his ears to make out their conversation.

"... was a smarmy bastard! Look at 'im, swaggering about, already half-pissed. S'not even midnight yet!"

"'Ow'd 'e get patrol duty any'ow? I've been stuck with half o' the boys, guarding One-fourteen for that Lord Wots'isname all night! Bugger must 'ave some pull with t'captain to call in that amount of manpower."

Thorne grimaced, chewing his lip in irritation. According to his map, and the other whispers he'd gathered, warehouse 1-14 was his target. If it was being more heavily guarded than any of the other buildings, he would need to revise his strategy, and quick!

"... been guarding the cells all night. Myers says we caught a smuggler earlier, pretty little elf lass, keepin' 'er upstairs. May have to take a crack at her m'self. Apparently she was smugglin' in a shipment of gunpowder an' guns- Alerar and their shite."

The second guard whistled sharply. "Aye, I seen the mess they make o' a man. Mayhap I'll show the lass what a mess my pistol can make..."

The conversation soon degenerated back into a list of the depraved things both men would do to their captive. Thorne stopped listening, preferring to keep his breakfast down.

A smuggler, eh? It may be worth my while to pay her a visit.

The thief chewed his thumbnail for a few seconds, mulling over his options. Gunpowder, smuggler, guards... A slow smile spread across the rogue's lips as a plan formed in the back of his mind. Scurrying from the shadows, he sprinted past the men, keeping low. The torches meant there were few shadows to hide in, but after staring into the fire for so long, they were as good as blind; neither one registered the intruder in their midst, continuing their conversation. According to his map, the holding cells were a decent bit out of his way, but there wasn't much chance of him sneaking past twenty or thirty armed guards. He was good, but he wasn't that good.

Picking the most direct route to the cells, Thorne loped off into the dark maze, wheels turning in his mind.

[Thorne]

Time was a big factor in any sort of criminal activity.

And in Thorne's current predicament, he didn't know just how much time he had to complete his work. To a normal thief, that sort of thing could add undue stress, make someone rush, make them clumsy, make them careless. In this profession, that sort of thing could get you caught, or could get you dead. Neither were particularly appealing prospects.

Unfortunately, Thorne was a sucker for an easy target. And, seeing as he was already in one of the better guarded areas in the entire city, he figured he'd be as well making the most of this opportunity. So, to this end, the thief had broken in to a few of the warehouses on his route- the locks had been no problem in the slightest- and helped himself to a few of the more valuable items on offer; a few pieces of art, cut from their frames; some silver candlesticks brought in with a shipment from Raiaera; even a gold necklace inlaid with rubies. Thorne didn't have time to pick out every item of value, so he'd cherry-picked the ones he could offload to a fence quickest, and make the best profit. Even with the detours, and the number of guards he's had to bypass, he was making good time.

Within the space of a half-hour, he had raided three or four warehouses, and now he was lurking a short way across from the holding cells building, assessing his next step. The building was like a squat stone box, sitting in the middle of an open square, with about ten feet between it and the nearest warehouses. Even the omnipresent shipping crates were kept clear from the building. It had an oppressive air around it, with its barred windows, and iron portcullis across the front door. Even on the second floor, the windows were secured. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Thorne let his gaze roam over the building- he had been in this game for years, meaning he could pretty much let his mind do the work with no conscious effort...

There, he nodded to himself, his eyes glinting in the darkness.

The roof had a single sky-light and with its height, the guards evidently doubted it could be used as an entry or exit point. There were no bars visible, though Thorne knew from experience it would likely have a lock built in, just in case. Making his decision, the thief started out of the shadows... and had to dive back in instantly, as a guard emerged from a door not three feet away!

The dwarf staggered out, muttering curses to himself as he hoisted a barrel on his broad shoulder, fingering what appeared to be an oft used battleaxe- its two blades notched and pitted, yet still catching the light to show a razor edge. The grizzled guard swung toward Thorne's position, squinting against the gloom, his greyish-brown beard puffing out like an irate badger. The rogue froze, the breath stopping in his lungs. Any slight movement would give him away, and another look at the axe assured Thorne that would be a bad thing.

"'Ello? Someone there?"

Once again, Thorne mused all dwarfs sounded like they were grinding rocks between their teeth. He tensed his muscles, not sure what he was preparing to do, just surrendering to instinct. The dwarf stepped closer slowly, warily, his fingers flexing on the grip of his axe- he was evidently more professional than the drunken human, or any of the other security personnel Thorne had encountered tonight. Moving with glacial slowness, the thief loosed his sap from its cord on his belt, feeling the familiar leather grip. He had two choices; pounce on the guard and hope to knock him out before being disembowelled; or stay crouched where he was and hope the dwarf would lose interest and just leave. Neither were likely to work.

Another three steps, and the guard wouldn't be able to miss the intruder in the shadows. Two... one...

"Oi!!"

The dwarf jumped, eyes wide with shock, whirling round to see where the voice had come from. If he hadn't turned away so fast, he would have seen Thorne do the same.

"Will you 'urry up with that ale? I'm dry as a bleedin' bone in 'ere!"

The dwarf spat a few vulgar curses at his fellow guard, poking his head out of the jail building. The human in the shadows let out a slow, deep breath, feeling a drop of sweat run down between his shoulder-blades. That was too close, he thought, stowing his sap away again. But, as the dwarf stomped away, Thorne saw he had left the door to the warehouse open. A glance between the warehouse, and the holding cells told the hired criminal all he needed to know. With a last look at the retreating guard's back, he slid along the wall, keeping his pace even and measured, easing inside the building and gently closing the door behind him.

A few moments later, the thief was slipping out through an upper story window on to the roof. He looked down the two storey drop, seeing a pair of guards and their hound patrolling below. He whistled quietly as he guaged the distance between his position, and the cell-building opposite. He was looking at eight feet minimum- not a small gap by any means. But, he was committed, the plan already in place in his head. Taking a few deep breaths, and backing up a bit, Thorne acted before he could consider how potentially stupid this could be: Taking a running start, he sprinted toward the ledge of the rough stone roof, kicking off at the last possible moment to send himself soaring through the air.

Well, too late to turn back now.

Down on the ground, the guard dog pricked up it's ears, sniffing the air furiously. It whipped it's head up, teeth bared at the black blur passing overhead, but by the time the two guards looked up, there was nothing to be seen.

"Stupid mutt, keep moving."

[Thorne]

Kneeling on the roof of the holding cell building, Thorne took a deep breath, a trickle of sweat dripping from his brow. He had made the jump between the two buildings, albeit barely- but it wasn't fear that had him sweating, he'd made the jump too hastily for fear to set in; it was adrenaline, pure and simple. He checked to make sure the guards and their hound kept moving below, before he slithered along the roof-tiles toward the sky-light.

The cold night air brushed against the sweat on Thorne's head, making him shiver. He let his eye wander over the compound, again congratulating himself on attaining a map. He could vaguely make out the silhouette of the Sundered Sword away in the distance, the faint glow of torches visible on deck. But that was a problem to be tackled later- for now, the rogue had a smuggler to visit. A quick inspection confirmed what he had thought earlier; the small window had a lock, but no other security measures. It's almost too easy, he thought, licking his lips. Slipping a tension wrench and a small rake-pick from his bracer, the thief set to work, keeping his ears strained for anyone inside. His deft fingers worked quickly, turning the plug inside the lock, and quickly raking the lock; through years of this sort of fiddly work, Thorne could tell three of the pins had been set. A quick bit of work with a hook-pick to set the remaining pins, and the locking-cylinder turned freely, opening with a soft click.

Putting his lockpicks away, the thief eased the sky-light open, going as slowly as possible. The last thing he needed was a rusted hinge screeching in the silence. He could tell this window hadn't been opened in a while, but he got it open and slipped his head through- pausing, he listened out, waiting until he was sure he was alone. He slid through the small window, dropping a few feet to the hard stone floor to land in an almost feline crouch. The backpack slung over his shoulder shifted awkwardly, the weight inside starting to get uncomfortable (so far, this job had been.. lucrative). He was in a small storeroom, and as he peeked through the keyhole on the door, he saw he was on a corridor, lined on either side with cells, their doors kept in small alcoves set in the wall. From here he couldn't see his target, so he would have to go out and have a look-see.

The lock on the door, again, only slowed the rogue for a few seconds. He moved in a crouch, almost on all fours, keeping to the shadows. The lights up here were unlit, so that wasn't too difficult. He passed the first two cells, seeing they were empty, and was just about to move on when a high voice shattered the silence, screaming out a line of profanities that would make a sailor blush. Thorne smirked as he realised- the curses had been shouted in Aleraran. I think I've found my smuggler..

The thief waited in the darkness, expecting someone to answer the prisoner's calling. But, after a few tense minutes, it was evident no-one was coming. Fingering the edge of his thick hood, he knelt by the cell door, peeking round the bars to see the occupant; the elf (and she was an elf, not one of their darker-skinned cousins) sat cross-legged on the musty cot. Her tawny hair was tangled and wild, her emerald eyes almost glowing in the gloom with barely contained rage. The girl appeared to be about twenty, but it was hard to tell with her kind- but her tattoos and piercings made her seem like a vicious bugger. The fact she was an arms-smuggler meant she had to be. She was cracking her knuckles almost constantly, and muttering more vulgar swears to herself. The thief observing her tilted his head, giving her the once-over. Definitely cute, he grinned, then shook his head. Focus, I've got work to do.

The sound of the two guards on the lower level drifted up the spiral stairway, down at the other end of the corridor, as they drank their way through the barrel of ale. It didn't seem likely they'd be coming up any time soon. Leaning closer to the cell-door, he whistled quietly, smirking as the elf girl jumped. She scowled, peering out of her cell, coming closer to the entrance.

"Wh-who's there?" she whispered, bright eyes darting to and fro. "I swear, if that's another lech guard, I'll have your knackers as earrings!"

Thorne kept his voice measured and low, replying in the Dark Elf language the girl swore in so fluently. "A guard? Uh-uh. Are you the smuggler they're talking about- the one with the shipment of guns?"

The girl harrumphed, crossing her arms over her.. ample chest. Sticking out her chin, she tried to glare at Thorne. But since she couldn't see him, the effect of the look was lost. "So what if I am? What business is that of your's? Who are you anyway?" she demanded.

"I'm the person who can get you out of here, if you're the one I'm looking for," he sneered, getting a tad impatient with the elf's attitude.

That seemed to sober her up a little, and she stood straighter, knuckles cracking again. But, she was obviously experienced enough with rogues not to trust offers of help. "And what would I have to do in return, Mr. Stranger?"

Thorne edged closer to the bars, and told her his plan, and where she fit in. With every word out of the stranger's mouth, the smuggler, Katja, paled a little more, her eyes getting very wide. When the thief had told her the price of her freedom, she could only mutter three words.

"You're bloody insane!"

Thorne simply grinned.

[Thorne]

Katja walked through the compound, trying to do what her "rescuer" had told her- keep to the shadows, take the long way around guards, and generally avoid getting killed. That last one seemed like common sense, but the rogue had stressed it to her in no uncertain terms.

"If you get yourself gutted, it'll get in the way of my money. You want out of that cage, you do what I say, understood?"

The elf sneered as she thought of the thief. He was a cocky bastard and no mistake, but he was obviously skilled; he had told her to sit tight while his voice faded away. Sit tight! What the bloody hell else am I gonna do!? she had fumed, waiting for the thief to return. After a short wait, the door to her cell had swung open, and she had caught her first glance of her would-be saviour. A tall human, pale in the dim light, though most of his skin was swathed in black-and-grey. The tattooed elf had looked the man up and down, wondering her chances of bolting past him and escaping...

He had guessed her intentions the moment they entered her head though. She could tell by the smug grin spreading over his hooded face.

She followed him down the stairs, wondering where the guards were- a question that was swiftly answered- both guards, dwarf and man, sat face down at the small wooden table in their room. Katja glanced at the sneak-thief, before edging closer to her two captors. They appeared to both be sleeping, but as she lifted their leather helms up, she saw the lumps swelling on the back of their heads. A raised eyebrow was all the response she got when she asked the rogue how he'd managed it.

The girl shook her head, trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

She'd been a smuggler for the past decade, but this was the first time she'd ever been captured. So far, it wasn't going well. But, she was free, and if she went along with the thief's mad plan, she could stay that way.

Katja Faruu'li spat in distaste once more, thinking of what she was about to do; her father, before his arrest and hanging, had taught her all he knew of smuggling (which was a helluva lot), and the number one most important thing about it was- ensure the safety of the shipment, and reap the rewards. A lot of booty equaled a lot of money at the end of the job.

So this.. this was blasphemy!!

Katja was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn't even hear the approaching guard until he emerged from round the corner of the warehouse, walking smack bang into her. Cursing her luck, the elf instantly slipped on her best "innocent little girl" face (despite being forty six, the elf could easily pass as a twenty-year-old, and humans were terrible at judging her race anyway). The guard was relatively young, male... perfect, she purred in her head. Fluttering her eyelashes, she laid a hand on the guard's chest, feeling the hard leather armour.

"Oh thank the gods, sir! I've been lost here for hours. There were these men dragged me on their ship and they wouldn't leave me alone and they.. they did things!"

The guard looked her over, his barely-old-enough-to-shave face telling her he believed every damn word. Stammering, he looked around, obviously wondering if he should call for other guards but as soon as his eyes left Katja, the vicious little smuggler whipped out a dagger she had lifted from one of the unconscious guards, ramming the pitted iron blade up under the boy's chin, into his brain. He dropped like a stone, and the elf wasted no time hiding the body and sprinting to the warehouse where they had her shipment.

It took a half-hour, and while the rogue had illustrated the need for haste, Katja didn't particularly mind keeping him waiting.

But, she eventually arrived at the Contraband warehouse. A quick scan of the place with her keen elf-eyes told her what she already knew- half of the guards here were idiots. They had the numbers, but half of them lacked any sort of professionalism. Still, Katja wasn't the type to look a gift-horse in the mouth. Slipping across the quiet yard, she managed to find a low window leading inside the warehouse. Another ten minutes, and the smuggler emerged from within, leaving the window wedged open.

Swearing fluently under her breath, she grabbed a torch from a nearby wall sconce, cursing herself for having to do this.

Inside, she had cracked open several crates of Aleraran gunpowder, pouring barrels of the stuff over the collected guns, blackpowder, and assorted... volatile materials, as the thief had ordered. Now, with the torch in her hand, the smuggler was fighting against every fibre of her being, all her ingrained instincts as a professional. Still, if she wanted to make it out of the docks compound without taking her chances with the pirates, she didn't have a choice in the matter.

Hurling out a stream of curses in every language she knew, Katja hopped up to the window, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. A slow count of three, and the piercing-laden elf dropped the torch through the window into the trail of gunpowder leading to the middle of the warehouse...

And ran like all the devils of hell were behind her, hearing the roaring whoosh as the powder caught fire, the fuse burning down...

She ran as fast as her lithe frame could move, taking twists and turns to put as many walls and buildings between her and the--

**BOOM**

Katja felt the explosion more than heard it, seeing her shadow thrown out in front of her, the night turned into day for brief moments. Then the shockwave hit her, sending the girl sprawling hard onto the ground. Wincing at the pain of the impact, she rolled onto her back. She watched in awe as a plume of fire roared fifty feet into the air, sending head-sized chunks of stone through the air like pebbles, shattering windows, cracking the walls of the surrounding warehouses. The elf could do nothing but sit there watching her shipment burning like a dragon's heart.

She spat a curse at the thief, her ship-load of money sending thick black smoke through the dark sky.

[Thorne]

Warehouse 1-14 was still mobbed with armed guards.

They remained vigilant, standing at attention in pairs or threes, some standing at assigned posts or patrolling the area around the warehouse. These men were not the haphazard lot wandering around the rest of the compound- they were the elite, pride of their captain and hardbitten bastards all.

Thorne took all this in at a glance, peeking round the corner of an adjacent warehouse. One of each pair of guards carried a torch, meaning there were almost no visible shadows for Thorne to take advantage of. The number of patrolling men meant it was unlikely in the extreme that he could get past unnoticed by so many bodies. And short of sprouting wings, he didn't have many other options.

Except to wait on the smuggler fulfilling her part of their bargain.

The thief was patient- it was a prerequisite for his work- but the longer he sat here, the higher the chance of being found by the security forces. Keeping low, his weight spread on the balls of his feet, Thorne drew his hood up higher, and slipped round the corner of the building; he had to keep moving every few minutes, to keep ahead of the guards. So far, he'd managed it. Any time they had their backs to him, the rogue would slip past, his padded boots making absolutely no sound on the cobblestone pavements. He was sticking to any patch of shadow, his skill in stealth making it relatively easy to blend in. But that would only keep him hidden for so long. If the girl didn't hurry up and--

**BOOM!!!**

The flash lit up the sky for brief seconds, throwing lunatic shadows dancing over every surface before the shockwave of sound hit the assembled guards.

Even from a distance, the noise was unbelievable.

Most of the guards reacted as any normal person would- half of them hit the deck, the other half shit a brick and froze in place. But, the difference between them and Thorne was, he'd been expecting it.

As soon as the conflagaration erupted, Thorne sprinted for the nearest crane: each of the contraptions was brought in from Ettermire at great expense, each built from a lattice of iron and steel girders, powered by a hissing contraption of steam, moving hoists, pulleys, and heavy guage chains. They were ideally suited to being climbed.

With the guards all milling about in confusion, Thorne scurried up the framework of the machine, reaching the top of the lifting arm. Some of the guards were moving out, heading off to investigate the source of the explosion, but not as many as Thorne needed. There were still ten to fifteen guards on this side of warehouse 1-14 alone. Well, time to get creative,[/] the thief thought, licking his lips. He hadn't done this in a while, but it was a handy trick his former mentor had taught him.

He moved toward the nearest cluster of guards, still a good fifteen feet above their heads. [i]Even without the pillar of fire over there, they never think of looking above them, he mused, smirking. It was exactly why the principle of the Thieves' Highway worked. Cupping a hand to his mouth, Thorne took a few deep breaths, trying to remember just how Seraph had taught him.

"Oi!! Cap'n wants all hands up there, pronto!!"

The guards jumped, looking all around for the source of the voice, but Thorne had remembered his training well, and they couldn't pinpoint where it had come from. Taking the voice at it's word, they all ran in the direction of the huge blaze, fire taking hold in other warehouses. Seraph had learned how to throw his voice from a mummer in Salvar many years ago, and had dutifully passed the skill on to his protegé. If only he knew how much he's still helping me, he'd go mad. The thought brought a soft chuckle of genuine mirth.

Shaking his head, Thorne chided himself for not focussing on the task at hand. He had a window of opportunity here, and no time to waste. Slipping fluidly over the framework of the lifting arm, the rogue made his way closer to warehouse 1-14. He made it to the end of the crane, and dropped to the roof of the building next to it, rolling on impact to come up on his feet. A quick running start and a bounding leap, and Thorne had finally made it to his target. He pried open a skylight, peering into the shadowy interior below.

Took me long enough, he sneered, dropping through the hole.

[Thorne]

Twenty minutes later, and Thorne had ransacked the shipment Samless wanted. He had picked open all of the chests bearing the seal of the noble lordling's family, harvesting all the reagents he could get into his pack, and various belt pouches. That was nice of them, telling me exactly where to find what I wanted, the thief smirked, closing the last chest, and re-locking the heavy iron padlock. Real subtle of them.

He had picked the shipment clean, taking as much of each reagent as he could carry, along with some of the less bulky equipment. Still, it was a fair weight on his back. It had taken him another ten minutes just to climb back up to the roof, to the skylight he'd entered through. And with perfect timing. Just as his hand touched the edge of the hatch, Thorne heard the door of the warehouse clatter open. Two men entered, chatting loudly. The thief instinctively dropped into a crouch, at the edge of the iron gantry, perched above the men by a good ten feet. The thief cocked his head, eavesdropping on their discussion.

"... says we 'ave to get the shipment loaded now. M'lord says we should've been 'ere hours ago--"

"Did you see the hubbub outside?! I'm tellin' you, somethin's up. I don't like it. And we woulda bin 'ere, if'n you 'adn't stopped at the tavern!" The second man snapped.

"Well we don't 'ave to tell 'em that, do we!? If you keep yer trap shut, we'll just take the shipment up to the College for the lord, and no-one'll be any the wiser." The first man folded his arms over his chest, stopping directly below the unseen intruder. The thief instantly slowed his breathing, his chest barely rising. His mismatched eyes took in the important details in a heartbeat- menial servants, both had a few drinks in them, neither cared much for their work. Perfect...

The second man considered this for a moment. "Aye, I s'pose we can at that. I mean, the lord said the guard cap'n would have his lads round here to keep out the riff-raff. And if they's bin 'ere all night, not no-one coulda touched the stuff."

The first man nodded sagely. "That's 'xactly what I'm sayin'. We tell 'em we've bin 'ere working for the last few hours, and long as we get the shipment there in one piece, there'll be no questions asked. It's a.. whatchamacallit? A.. a fool-proof plan! That's it!"

They continued on to the stacked chests and crates, seeing their master's seal painted gaudily on their surfaces. Nodding to each other, they started working, both hauling on the thick chains to open the heavy roller doors on the far wall of the warehouse. Sweating under their jerkins, they managed to get them open, and the rogue saw their squat, stocky cart outside, the horses panicking a little at the smell of the distant fire. Thorne was moving the second they turned their backs, lifting himself out through the skylight, and easing himself onto the corrugated metal roofing. Glancing back down into the warehouse, he watched the servants closely for a few more moments, as they made ready to start lifting their load into their cart.

Now he had done the hard part: He had the goods he had come for, and he hadn't been spotted. Now, all he had to do was collect the smuggler girl, and they could make good their escape. After the rest of this job, Thorne knew this would be a walk in the park by comparison. All he had to do was make his way back to the rope he'd left as an exit point- the elf girl would be waiting for him near there, thanks to the map he'd given her when they parted. He hadn't mentioned the rope, just in case she'd decided to leave without him, just told her where to wait for him.

Just as he was about to closing the roof hatch and be done with the damned docks compound, the thief caught one last snippet of the servants' conversation, which brought a smirk to his scarred face.

"S'funny, that. I thought these boxes would be 'eavier"

[Revenant]

Condensed rubric requested.

Plot: (17) – Overall this was a pretty decent story. It wasn’t exceptional but it wasn’t boring either. You moved the story along fairly smoothly, but your setting could use some work. I found the docks scene to be fairly bland and only basically lain out for the reader.

Character: (18) – You did a pretty good job of putting your character into this thread, but at the same time I felt like you only brushed the surface. Work on cleaning up and more strongly defining and portraying Thorne’s character to bring this score up.

Prose: (14) – Not only were there spelling errors, the way you put in your extra comments really disrupted the flow of the thread. It read, at times, like you were trying to dictate the story to the reader aloud, which was distracting. It was also somewhat distasteful to read “helluva” instead of “hell of a,” which is what it should be.

Wildcard: (4)

Total: 53

Thorne receives 513 exp and 90 gp.

[Letho]

EXP/GP added.