A little birdy told me to steal your gold
Mar 16, 2020 8:08:23 GMT
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Ghesh, Pieni, and 1 more like this
Post by Wren Lunaboult on Mar 16, 2020 8:08:23 GMT
Darkness has long settled upon Port Ffirst, welcoming in the too drunk patrons of the Cavernous Seashank. Many of them now lay passed out in the various bunk beds upstairs, some opting for the extra comfy position of being slumped against the grimy wall.
Wren lays awake in their bunkbed, high enough up the wall that their face nearly touches the crusty ceiling. Their faintly glowing golden eyes look out into the room, waiting for the last patron to fall asleep.
Once certain that everyone else is fast asleep, they quietly jump down from their bed. They’ve placed some clothing under the sheets to give the impression of someone sleeping there but it’s highly unlikely anyone will actually go up, what with the ladder being broken.
Tonight Wren is missing their usual combat garbs, but is instead donned in a simple black hooded jumper and black breeches, the sleeves strapped down around the wrists and only a dagger and crossbow adorne their belt. The purple bandanna is replaced with a dark grey one, now being pulled up to cover the lower part of Wren’s face. Tightly fitted black sock shoes with rubber soles, not leather combat boots, let Wren’s footsteps stay deathly quiet as they carefully pick their way across the room.
Once they reach the hole in the wall, loosely described as a window, they slowly unlatch the wooden shutter and climb onto the roof.
On the rooftops they soar, footfalls light as they leap and run from roof to roof. As they run towards their target, words inferred from the holy being of their dreams resonant constantly through their head.
“Not all monsters are creatures that stalk the forests. But they all still deserve to perish”
Arriving at their destination they slow down on a rooftop opposite, hiding in the shadow of a chimney stack to observe their target. Across the street they can see into the window of some black-hearted merchant’s office, the merchant in question still sits at their desk. Wren knows that soon they’ll leave for the evening, off to go shout at workers in their warehouse or something.
Once the light finally goes out Wren waits several minutes before making the jump over to the roof of the office. Tying a rope to this building’s chimney stack they abseil down the side of the building to the office window and carefully swing slightly on the rope to get to the windowsill.
Perched precariously on the edge Wren reaches into their belt pouch to retrieve a lockpick and gets to work on the window. It’s a sash window, it should be easy to open right? Nope, this bugger is painted shut. Seems like merchant face doesn’t care much for the fresh sea air of Port Ffirst.
Turn back now? Or finish the job?
Quickly glancing down to the street below Wren draws their elbow back and smashes the window. Pausing briefly to listen for footsteps, and hearing none, they slip inside the room and gravitate towards the desk.
They start opening the drawers as quickly and silently as they can, but only find loose papers and ledgers. All that’s left is the big locked drawer at the bottom of the desk.
Glancing at the door into the room, they once again get the lockpick out and attempt to open the desk drawer, and after a few moments it rattles open. Wren almost shouts in relief.
But the rattling sound still continues even after the drawer is open. For a brief second confusion surfaces in Wren’s eyes before they realise it’s the door knob to the room making the sound.
In the blink of an eye Wren grabs and pockets whatever is in the drawer, not looking at what it is, and runs towards the window to leap through and grab for the rope as the door swings open.
They rapidly climb the rope, holding the end as they go up. As they unloop it from the chimney and leap away from the roof, shouting can be heard from the office window.
“I’ve been robbed! Quick! Call the bloody guard. NOW!”
The sounds of an angry merchant soon fade into the distance as Wren makes their quick getaway across the dark rooftops. No one will know if they punch a roof tile or two in frustration on the way.
Wren lays awake in their bunkbed, high enough up the wall that their face nearly touches the crusty ceiling. Their faintly glowing golden eyes look out into the room, waiting for the last patron to fall asleep.
Once certain that everyone else is fast asleep, they quietly jump down from their bed. They’ve placed some clothing under the sheets to give the impression of someone sleeping there but it’s highly unlikely anyone will actually go up, what with the ladder being broken.
Tonight Wren is missing their usual combat garbs, but is instead donned in a simple black hooded jumper and black breeches, the sleeves strapped down around the wrists and only a dagger and crossbow adorne their belt. The purple bandanna is replaced with a dark grey one, now being pulled up to cover the lower part of Wren’s face. Tightly fitted black sock shoes with rubber soles, not leather combat boots, let Wren’s footsteps stay deathly quiet as they carefully pick their way across the room.
Once they reach the hole in the wall, loosely described as a window, they slowly unlatch the wooden shutter and climb onto the roof.
On the rooftops they soar, footfalls light as they leap and run from roof to roof. As they run towards their target, words inferred from the holy being of their dreams resonant constantly through their head.
“Not all monsters are creatures that stalk the forests. But they all still deserve to perish”
Arriving at their destination they slow down on a rooftop opposite, hiding in the shadow of a chimney stack to observe their target. Across the street they can see into the window of some black-hearted merchant’s office, the merchant in question still sits at their desk. Wren knows that soon they’ll leave for the evening, off to go shout at workers in their warehouse or something.
Once the light finally goes out Wren waits several minutes before making the jump over to the roof of the office. Tying a rope to this building’s chimney stack they abseil down the side of the building to the office window and carefully swing slightly on the rope to get to the windowsill.
Perched precariously on the edge Wren reaches into their belt pouch to retrieve a lockpick and gets to work on the window. It’s a sash window, it should be easy to open right? Nope, this bugger is painted shut. Seems like merchant face doesn’t care much for the fresh sea air of Port Ffirst.
Turn back now? Or finish the job?
Quickly glancing down to the street below Wren draws their elbow back and smashes the window. Pausing briefly to listen for footsteps, and hearing none, they slip inside the room and gravitate towards the desk.
They start opening the drawers as quickly and silently as they can, but only find loose papers and ledgers. All that’s left is the big locked drawer at the bottom of the desk.
Glancing at the door into the room, they once again get the lockpick out and attempt to open the desk drawer, and after a few moments it rattles open. Wren almost shouts in relief.
But the rattling sound still continues even after the drawer is open. For a brief second confusion surfaces in Wren’s eyes before they realise it’s the door knob to the room making the sound.
In the blink of an eye Wren grabs and pockets whatever is in the drawer, not looking at what it is, and runs towards the window to leap through and grab for the rope as the door swings open.
They rapidly climb the rope, holding the end as they go up. As they unloop it from the chimney and leap away from the roof, shouting can be heard from the office window.
“I’ve been robbed! Quick! Call the bloody guard. NOW!”
The sounds of an angry merchant soon fade into the distance as Wren makes their quick getaway across the dark rooftops. No one will know if they punch a roof tile or two in frustration on the way.