(A semi-solo thread of Earley on a series of late night jobs. People are welcome to ask to join, but I'd prefer random "interruptions" be avoided without good cause)

The world was buried in darkness that was viscous and choking, a creeping thing that clung to the boots and clawed at the window begging to come in. Far and away towards the temples of the city there was the tolling of twelve bells, ushering the start of the witching hours. Their heavy song cut through the choking silence of the fog, echoing off of cobblestone walls and skittering along the sluice of the streets and the vagabonds that lay about. It was true that the slums were separated from the city proper, but that did not deter the drunk and downtrodden from finding release upon an alley wall before passing out to sleep away the shame and the chill night air.

Earley had not been a player for long, but in his time since having joined he had made his way to the capital and found work for himself there. It had begun with a series of shady and perhaps desperate moves; finding an attic loft that was private and somewhat secure to serve as his unofficial home. From there he had begun a small career of breaking and entering into homes and businesses near the slums to hone his skills, acquiring some small means and ends along the way. That had been spent trying to search for the right connections to net himself some actual work in the city. There didn't appear to be a registered thieves guild, and thank god for that... The notion of a guild of dishonest cut-throats and pickpockets working in an unnatural harmony with one another never sat well with him. Instead things seemed to be drawn more into territorial blocs, with certain small-time crime lords controlling a few streets, paying tribute to their masters that owned parts of a district. And so on up it went, until eventually it got to the greatest criminal lord of them all. Presumably the king himself?

Regardless of who was the bastard in charge, Earley had to start at the beginning and work his way up. He had taken a few jobs from a street gang unlocking shops at night so that they could sneak in to steal goods or rough up owners that didn't feel like paying protection money. It was dirty work, but he wasn't swinging the fist himself. He absolutely refused to let a job become violent unless it was required to, because violent criminals got caught. It was smarter to flee and hope you weren't identified than to risk "murder" of an NPC and have your character investigated for crimes worse than breaking and entering or larceny. That begged the question... what happened to criminal characters that faced prison? He assumed a suspension of the character or perhaps their deletion, but if luck favored him it was an issue he'd never have to actually face.

That was another reason these simple starter jobs were so favorable to him, as they were quite suited to honing his character build and slowly growing himself into a better and better thief. Perhaps with time, he wouldn't have to face the potential for getting caught! The idea of stealing something like the king's crown drifted through his mind and he set that aside as "DISTANT GOALS," focusing on the task at hand.

The distance from his perch upon the roof to the windowsill opposite the alley was perhaps ten paces. Too far for a simple leap; or it would have been, if not for the skills in this game. Focusing on the edge of the sill, he gave a silent leap into the thick mist of the night air and felt it kick like a cool wind about him as he flew at his target. His fingers caught it deftly and latched on, a boot flying out to either side to brace against wooden beams and support him there. Waiting patiently, he listened for any sign of movement or disturbance inside, and only when he was sure of nothing untoward did he begin to raise himself up and prop an arm on the window sill. He used his other to fish a small thieves tools kit from his inventory and work at the window, watching as the latch slowly unworked itself and allowed him to step silently in. Shutting the window closed behind him, the chime of the belltowers distant was promptly muted. All in all, he had made the jump and entered the building before they had even finished their twelve loud chimes, and with a satisfied nod he began to sneak through the bedroom he now found himself in as the mist licked at his heels and dispersed.

He reached into a pouch and removed a sheaf of sealed letters, bound and crumbled as if they were kept safely together but constantly opened again and read at leisure. Their item name was simple and succinct. Indecent Exchange. Jealous of competition, one NPC had hired him to sabotage whoever this place belonged to. He glossed over its descriptor, recalling the instructions attached.

Loot

[Indecent Exchange]

Forged letters meant to incriminate Anthony Kramer as having illicit affairs with a woman of ill repute. Kindly leave "hidden" where the wife will surely stumble upon them.

That was simple enough, in theory. A day of studying the household had taught him that the wife kept busy cleaning, so if they were "hidden" near a mess she'd investigate and tend to with fervor, then she was bound to take note and the client would get the reaction he desired. Glancing across the bedroom at the sleeping NPC, Earley had to remind himself that it was merely code, before slipping out into the hallway to continue his job with peace of mind.

 

Do you like parkour? If you said no, you clearly have never ran across the rooftops at the dead of night. Never felt that breathless moment where your feet left earth for a full minute, maybe even two. Or when you took that blind leap, led only by intuition and muscle memory. Praying, just desperately praying you were not about to eat asphalt, or pole, or even a big old slice of death! Maybe you were about to buy the farm, but who cares, eh? You lived a life of freedom, of cutting the edge between sky and earth, and feeling like you were a piece of the horizon. You didn't think about what people below were doing, because you couldn't think past that very moment. Feet colliding with cobble or clay, jarring your teeth and quaking your spine. You were alive, you are alive, and now you finally felt it. You'd race breathlessly across a sea of reds and grays, with charcoal trees and canals of open air. You'd feel the waves of the rolling roofs rise high, and then catch you as you crashed down their sides.

Akino had arrived in Stokbon at dawn, before even a whisper of the sun's blaze could be caught on the horizon. It was a necessity that he find the highest tower he could within the hour! A self-issued challenge, one of many that he so loved placing upon himself. He proclaimed it in his heart as he looked upon the vast expanse above him. Pounding his fist against his chest in thanks to God for guiding the creation of this microverse. If one could create a virtual blackhole, that was what this realm was. An odd thought to come upon him in the middle of exercise, but not truly. He felt this way always, after all. Leaping forth from his seat on a fountain, his sandals hit the dirt one moment and for no more than that. The wall directly beside the fountain's rim was not tall, only about seven feet up, and the grooves between the stones were deep enough to stick a few fingers into. Perfect purchase for the lip of his wooden footwear to be planted, as well as his dirt-rimmed fingertips.

Already adrenaline flooded his veins, making his body a vessel of battling sensations; the cool of the wind brushed the sweat away, as it was just as quickly replaced. When he was a younger climber the incessant flood of perspiration often blinded him. No longer; his scaling sped with his heart rate, and in that moment that he so often described to others, he threw himself off. Faith in his body was the only thing that ceased the instinctual panic. It was only a quarter of a blink, but it felt like eons to Akino as he snapped his hands out onto the overhang, cutting the fall short. Not giving your body time to feel shock, he used the momentum to swing forward and back ever-so-slightly. He felt the edge of wood jar against cobble, the kick off, and his lower half swing out from under the lip and up onto welcomed roof in what might have appeared an awkward mounting.

The redhead sat their, breathing the city air deep into his diaphragm, letting the scents linger across his mind, evoking memories of countless mountings in a city that seemed to be worlds away now. A city of far more pain, but even greater glory. Still, Stokbon was nice too. With its candles sitting out on window sills, and plumes of ashen serpents fleeing to the skies. It reminded him of old-time Paris even. Silent, yet alive. Like a slumbering beast that would only awake for a world-quaking event. It was almost as expansive as the stars he had glanced at only before, and it stretched out further and further... Straight to the horizon.

The horizon! The challenge! In his floating on in the clouds of reminiscence, he had entirely forgotten his desire to race to the highest point! Leaping back from the ledge he was sitting on, he span about to face the open roofways ahead of him. 'No worries, I'm on the bounce! I can still make it, I definitely can still make it!' He reassured himself without a hint of doubt to the claim, if such a thing were possible. Ahead of him, a fitting waypoint swayed along in his view. A flagpole, mounted high on some bell tower, wavered in the twilight, tempting him with its untouchable claim! It had never met a foe such as this freerunner though, and now it was to meet its match!

With a clear destination marked for him now, it was a swift making to it. The clack-clack of his footwear on the tiles that dotted his path made for a beat, once that egged him on. Clack-clack. 'Faster.' Clack-clack-clack. 'Faster.' Click-clack-click, click-clack-click! 'FASTER.' It was the drumbeat to his runner's song. That, coupled with the thunderous roar of his heart and the cry of the birds as they fled their homes to race the sun with him, was enough to form the natural orchestra of life! The marching band in his mind, even.

'Jump!' He was rushing forward with such adrenaline, such hunger for that taste of self-satisfaction. The Band was incredibly loud now, the Orchestra was roaring; he almost did not hear the small voice of self-preservation shout the word. No hesitation, no doubt, no moment to think. The second his feet came into the contact with the ledge, he leapt.

And flew.

Flying was different than falling, because you weren't being carried by gravity. You were being carried by yourself, by the momentum you had gathered through hurling yourself faster and faster over the skyways. And so, instead of descending, you were ascending. Climbing on bare air, higher and higher, until you saw what it was you had left for. It seemed like such a foolish reason to try and fly, but when you succeeded! Akino's body crashed into the side of the window covers, racking the wood with a mighty blow as he swung from the ledge by his finger tips. Oh, it was a mighty fine feeling, not dying. He'd laugh about it, if he didn't need every breath to propel him upwards. Sheer upper-body strength, tearing of muscles as it was pushed to hold you sack-of-stones body, driven nigh to its limit. And then you were up, and you suddenly felt as if you could climb the world. As if you had just done something no other could do, though you knew in your heart anyone could.

The sunrise was beautiful.

An entire day of running, climbing, and similar literal flights of fancy led Akino to a rooftop across from a shop. It was a pleasant shop, a quaint little thing with a home nestled above it. There was a pleasure to be derived from just meditating on your place in the world from above. And you felt as if all was right with the world when you watched natural life from above. Youths riddled the street through the day, and warm or cold faces could picked out and pondered upon. The majority of NPCs, of course. Yet, that was not all they were to the warrior. They were creations, as alive as art or music or a story. And all of them were to be looked upon with appreciation for their beauty, and intricacy. Still, not all felt that way.

Such as the thief that the fist-fighter had watched break into the shop through the night. He had entered through the bedroom window of the shopkeep, which was on the wall adjacent to front face of the building. Having mainly been sitting their pondering for a long wall, he hardly noticed the thin, darkly-clad figure as it leapt along deftly. It showed that he had skill in what he was doing, but Akino wondered if it were his own or the game's. Either road, Akino wouldn't mind a buddy to race across the rooftops with. Especially since he carried no valuable items, and thus had no fear of being robbed. And so, as the thief went about his business within, Akino made his way around to where he hoped the thief would exit from, so that he might introduce himself.

"I wonder if he will be pleasant? He is a thief after all, maybe he will attack me." He wasn't worried so much about harm, he'd trained fiercely so that he might face any threat head on. It was more that he desired for their first meeting to not have a violent theme to it. Taking a seat across from the window, he began to consider what his furtive friend was like, and why he had chosen a thief character.

@Earley

 

It was a simple matter to loosen a board in the kitchen wall and hide the parcel there, with a pot of flour before it calculatedly "spilled" slightly to leave some flour on the shelf for the wife to fret over. When she moved the pot to clean things the board would pop loose, as if it had been shoddily re-fitted in a rush to hide the man's guilty (and fake) secrets. Exiting the building, he set about to his next task which was of far... darker qualities. Though he aspired to be a master thief and mage, he had taken up the body combat mastery knowing that he would have to fight at times and not wanting to bother with lugging around a large sword or some nonsense. No, what he needed was the good old one-two, left hook right hook! One of the criminal clients he worked for was in the business of gangs, and gangs only functioned with members. Members came from the desperate. The desperate came from destitution. And the most desperate of the destitute were poor orphans.

So Earley had been hired to go to an orphange in the slums in the middle of the night and strangle its caretaker and owner to death in their bed. Getting in had been a simple matter. Wrapping his hands around their neck had been just as easy. Jerking it to the side and hearing the soft snap, as you would a chicken, had proven difficult. Physically it had been such a simple matter, yes, but working up the gumption to actually kill... No, no. It was just an NPC, not a real person. He hadn't hurt anything that mattered, merely forced the game's code to... adjust itself, and re-write scenarios with the newly input data that the orphanage's owner was killed in their sleep and the children would all be driven into the streets with nobody to take over for them and keep the place running.

After that, the next few jobs had been in something of a fugue state. He recalled putting poison in the flour of a rich man's kitchen so that his own cooks would kill him and his guests at an important meal the next day. He recalled putting tacks on the bottom of a race horse's hooves so that as it ran faster and faster they would be slowly driven in and eventually panic and stop running the race, giving the client a better chance of winning. He had unlocked some stores so that others could break in more easily for a smash and grab, which seemed pointless until he realized their bosses were probably expecting the job to be done a certain way and the only issue they had was getting in in the first place. There had been at least three jobs involving forging ledgers to favor his clients in regards to debts, inheritance, or working contracts. Each had paid handsomely of course. All of those had been hours before Akino's arrival, of course. His final job was one he disliked heartily, as it was risking notice during the growing dawn hours.

Sneaking into the house, he did not realize Akino had been watching from afar. He took the dagger from out of his inventory and investigated it, noting the crisp dry blood on its blade, wondering how they programmed something so... realistic.

Loot

[Knife of the Stripe Street Slasher]

A blade used in the Stripe Street Slasher murders, easily recognized by the insidious hooks in the blade which match the wounds in the flesh. Truly only the sickest of men would wield such an instrument on human(oid) flesh.

His instructions said to drop it off in the man's house somewhere in his kitchen, so that when authorities came they would find it and assume he had intended to wash away the evidence and dispose of it. Not a very elegant plan, but in a game this large not all quests would be keepers. He deposited the knife and made for the window when he stopped suddenly, noticing the peering eyes of Akino from across the street on a rooftop. Somebody was... watching him. He held eye contact for a moment before raising his hands up before his chest and interlocking his fingers, reciting a magical spell. From where he was Akino would not be able to hear words, merely notice the soft movement of lips beneath the hood and the arrangement of his fingers into something obviously arcane. Chanting, he summoned forth power to use his teleportation spell.

"Mana my skin and Magic my blood. I have welcomed the aether forth in a flood. Will shapes the tempest and torrent it brings - malleable and mastered, to me it shall sing."

The world turned inside out and upside down for a moment as a purple burst surrounded him, causing him to vanish from sight in the window. On the other side of the house, in the street, he re-appeared out of view of Akino and began to run into an alley to lose himself; a stolen NPC cloak taken from a laundry line and thrown over his robes to hide them. He hoped the man was not a tracker, and he slowed his pace and gave himself a slight shuffle and gait to change the way he moved and walked. If he were lucky, it might be enough to go unnoticed.

 

Man, he sure hoped this wouldn't turn into one of those chase scenes. You know, one of those high-octane moments where the target escapes by some slight of hand, and the pursuer has to race the clock to catch them. Especially if he ends up leaping across rooftops in pursuit, that would be a shot straight from any number of movies. Drumming his fingers across a chimney stack, it was too hot for a fire on a night like this, Akino considered the idea. Maybe the man would take to the roofs too, if he were lucky. Now that would be a chase worth his time. Otherwise, it'd likely be only a partial challenge, if one at all. Still, the man could be experienced in blending in. Even so, Akino was experienced with picking out the subtleties in a person. On an odder note, these cat's eyes of his were a boon to see with at night. Everything was so crisp, it was like staring through a telescope with a night-vision lens swapped over it. If he ever reincarnated, it was definitely be as a felis again.

"At least a chase would be more entertaining than waiting for him to pop his he-" The monologue was cut off by the sight of movement in the window sill, and his cat's eyes easily picked out the shape of a cloaked figure stepping out.

And chase scene it was. Unfortunately for Earley, he was not lucky. Being both a beast tamer and an experienced woodsman, he was familiar with tracking quarry. That, coupled with the fact that his mind was not as dull as some might believe, led Akino to throw himself into motion the moment he saw the flickering of the dark man's lips. At first, the survival instincts kicked in and led him to the initial thought that the man was going to cast an attack of some kind. The redhead guessed that his forethought had been accurate, and the rogue felt threatened by his presence. Since a magical blast from a skilled foe would render the unarmoured dead, most likely, there was no hesitation in the action. He moved, and fast at that. Afterwards, there came the realization that the player had not followed his racing form, meaning he was not targeting him. Likely as not, he was trying to teleport out of there. That was a reassurance, since a fight was not what the felis had come searching for. Sprinting across the rooftops and towards the right hand side of the building, he was in sight just long enough to watch the figure vanish in cloud of mystic light. Leaping from his own rooftop to the shop's, the hand-to-hand fighter's well-trained muscles grasped onto a ledge, swinging him deftly up into a position where he could see the surrounding streets. The shop's roof sat higher than the other buildings, lending him a hawk's view on his surroundings. Not that there was any need for him to search, anyone could guess where the chase would lead.

Any child who had gone out with his father on a hunt could tell you this, but it will repeated for repetition's sake; the first direction your prey will run is away from you. So, the first place Akino checked was the opposite side of the building. Sure enough, he was in time to spot a fleeing figure heading in the general direction that was known as "away". But the true advantage was the rooftops. He could see farther off than your average pursuer, especially one in the streets. In fact, Akino could look down into the streets ahead of him even, while also being able to look into the roads by his sides. He could move faster as well. Not having to bother with turns or obstacles, a quick drop down onto rooftops parallel to the narrow path, and he caught sight of the man once more. When the once fleeing figure turned down an alleyway, it was no trouble for him to follow the trail. Sandals clicked loudly, marking his position as he closed in on the hunt. He moved like a cheetah, or lion, with the way he leapt about. Or mayhaps a jaguar, since they were the tree climbers? Tossing his body across the narrow gaps in his path, he was able to cut a corner, and now he was moving towards the end of the alley, where it opened up out into the street. Glancing back, he saw a quivering laundry line, and the gap of a missing garment. Looking forward, he looked over those out in the night. There were not many, these were the side roads of Stokbon, in the less-than-reputable section of the city, and that was saying something. Those that were out were not moving or were not disguised, making a simple matter of picking the shadiest looking figure and tailing them. The slow movements of the man with a limp was a good place to start, since it was how Akino would throw someone off. After all, if you were chasing someone running away, you'd be looking for someone on the run. Still, nobody running here, and nobody running in the streets about them. No hurried footsteps met his ears, nor did dark cloth flashing in the moonlight catch his gaze; his furtive friend had to be a smart one then.

Deciding to follow his tracker's instincts, the felis removed his sandals from his feet, deciding it would be best to silence their easily noticed tread. Pressing them into his belt, golden eyes followed the ever-so-slightly swaying figure as they moved down the roadway, noting how careful they were not to check behind them. You'd think one traveling at night on the streets of Stokbon would be more wary, at the very least. His own teacher, who had a shop in the city, even watched her back while she walked down seedy lanes as this wanderer did. And she was a killer in a fight. Briefly, the redhead attempted to investigate the man, but found that he was too far off to yield results. Oh well, patience would yield the same rewards. Walking calmly now, a handful of paces back from the cloaked one, the game entered a different stage in Akino's mind. Now was the waiting game, for he was waiting to see if the prey would break off into a run again. Maker, this was turning out to be more fun than was bargained for. Truly, one never was sure how much they could love creeping along in the moonlight until they've tried it.