Wik

A high laugh cuts through the tavern, turning the heads of the patrons that hear it. They try their best to look elsewhere as they see the source: a tall, slender elf woman, her red dress clinging as tightly to her waist as her arms do to the lord she hangs off of. She laughs again, her eyes squeezed tight as she tries to keep herself together. The gold earring she wears amongst her dark brown braids glints brightly in the candlelight as she reaches forward, her hand latching onto the shoulder of her new favourite comedian.

The hand slips, and the bag at his waist is gone, and so is she.

A merchant trembles, his hands shaking as he glances back up to his latest customer. A draconic lip curls, a low growl rising from the depths of his barrelled chest as he gestures with his rapier to hurry up. The merchant nods vigorously, the sweat from his bald head sliding down to collect on the tip of his nose as he finishes filling the bag with gold, silver, and jewels. The dragonborn's sneer exposes fanged teeth, and the gold earring he wears rings softly as it bounces against his golden scales in time with his low chuckle.

A claw snatches the bag from the counter, and its owner slams the door open to the busy street outside.

A dwarf leans over a table, the plan to the bank spread out before him. The knife in his hand hovers precariously over the etchings and markings, each motion as practiced as a conductor directing his orchestra through a symphony. He looks around the table at the assorted crew he has gathered: some fresh faces, some recognizable. The knife slams into the table, marking their goal, and with a wave, he casts them into the shadows.

A hand reaches up to the gold earring that hangs loosely from his earlobe, his tamed red hair and beard tangling and twisting as he thinks.

The lord, red-faced and angry at finding his coin so mercilessly taken from him, stumbles into the night. An anguished cry cuts through the night air as he begins to run, calling for the Watch. As his steps fade, the red-haired dwarf steps out from an alley, his smile widening as he tosses a bag of coin lightly from hand to hand.

The merchant, sweat still dripping from his nose, tries to follow his assailant out onto the street. He casts his eye back and forth, trying to find the hulking figure, but finding nothing. Nothing, save for the wink of an elven woman as she turns into the shadows.

The two members of The Watch stand puzzled at the door to the bank, scratching their heads at the scene that lies before them. Who would break in to steal gold and also just... burn some documents? And... mortgages, at that? Their questioning is interrupted as a large golden dragonborn shuffles past, a burlap bag held under each arm. The three exchange a nod, and he is on his way.

In the deep shadows of a room, with every window closed and the door barred, the elf woman's form blurs and shifts.

In the moonlight of the empty trail, the dragonborn driving the carriage begins to squirm and change.

In the glow of a lonely fire, the dwarf begins to grow, his arms and legs lengthening as his beard begins to shorten by the second.

All three continue to shift and change, until the form that remains sits silently, a smirk breaking across their face as they reach for an apple, taking a large bite with relish.

"Now, where to next..."