il buono, il brutto e il bello - chapter one
To all who asked, Skoryy was eager to tell them that he was indeed a thief. One on a Wild Hunt to bring hope to where it withered, who stole from the vile and gave to the needy. He was the noble rogue.
He was also fairly certain that not many actually believed him. They saw a cheerful and gaudily dressed sprout who spent all his time baking cupcakes. Such subterfuge he did not mind all too much, indeed he took a certain night bloom pride in his refuge in hiding in plain sight. Nobody actually asked what he did when he was supposed to be at the tent with Caoilhian, tending the hounds, or otherwise not among his fellow sylvari. The valiant was a noble rogue, but he was very much a rogue and an active one at that.
Tonight's heist was a bit more dangerous than usual, the Black Citadel was not the most hospitable of locations for thieves. A lead from the Priory, however, had led Skoryy to the warehouse of a dealer in Ascalonian antiquities. One who was not above selling to less savory buyers. There were even rumors of dealings with the bandits, none of which had ever been proven. A bit of further reconnaissance had only furthered his own suspicions, missing artifacts from Priory expeditions that somehow wound up being advertised for sale among certain black market circles.
The Priory was needy of their missing research. It was time for the noble rogue to act.
Entering the dealer's lair was a fairly routine affair. The guards were on the lookout for hooded gents in dark cloaks sneaking over walls and through windows. None of them bothered giving the incoming loot more than a cursory glance, especially the suit of dwarven armor. Being a tiny garden plant had its advantages. Some quick and muted disarmoring later, and the thief was loose inside the warehouse.
Nimbly he ducked between boxes and crates, a shadow darting in the darkness. His quarry should not be too hard to find, likely out and in the open to show to potential buyers. It should not be too much of a chore to find.
This, of course, was predicated on said artifacts being available to find. What greeted Skoryy, instead, was a very empty cloth-covered table with various indents said treasures had been waiting for his nimble fingers. What found his fingers was but a single simple note. 'Sorry, brother, better fortune next time. - R & K'
The thief froze, lips mouthing 'R & K' beneath his hooded mask. R & K? Could it be? But here? Now? And 'brother'? No, no, this was bad.
A loud shout greeted him from behind. "An intruder!" A spin about on a heel found the sapling staring up, and up some more, at a good number of very armored and very unamused guards. No, no, this was far worse.
The thief's first instinct is always to run and hide. This is most often the best option. Surrounded in close quarters by angry charr bearing firearms, however, running was a very suboptimal option. Hiding was right out. Normal thieves would be contemplating the finer points of prison food at this point.
Valiant Skoryy of the Night is no normal thief.
In an instant, the hood came down to reveal a full head of violet fronds and a very accusing set of verdant eyes. "Yes, an intruder," he barked with the tone of the world's most disappointed dad. The lead charr paused, a bit amused at first. Such frivolity ended as soon as the valiant whipped out and unfurled a scroll from his leathers. "Oswald of the Night, Black Lion Trading Company." Sorry, Os, but you were always a bit of a bint. "Evon Gnashblade personally sent me here to inspect your, ahem, protection, and not only am I able to easily elude your men but your goods have already been absconded with!"
There was much squinting at the scroll, but the seal and writing were all completely official. They should be, Skoryy went through a great deal of work to acquire his get out of jail free documentation from an unsuspecting Black Lion agent. A lot of uncomfortable shifting of feet followed, "We're sorry, sir-" The ensuing explanations and apologia were abruptly cut off with an accusing finger. "You're sorry?" Skoryy channeled the full fury of bureaucracy scorned in his pointed words, "My employer was set to make your employer a very rich man, Gnashblade had already commissioned the finest cabinetry in all of Lion's Arch for his purchase, and here you are stammering your apologies to me? Those thieves could very well still be in this warehouse!"
The shuffling of feet became very much more uncomfortable. "Right, uh. You! And you!" The lead charr started barking with all the fury of a man watching his next several month's pay walking out the door. "You heard him! Go find the thieves! Search high and low, they might still be here!" Haphazard acknowledgements were followed with the tromping of sprinting boots. "I'm sorry, uh, Oswald, I assure you, my employer-" Skoryy's hand flicked out angrily, "Assurances, assurances, I have heard them all. You search in here, and I will go grab my own men to start our own investigation. The costs of which, mind you, will be coming out of our final bid, you do understand?" "Oh- Oh yes, Oswald, sir-" The rest was lost as the valiant angrily strode his way out through the front door. "Just find it!" he barked one last time as he passed a pair of very uncomfortable door guards.
He imagined he would be roughly halfway to Lornar's Pass by the time the Black Lions told them there was no Oswald there. Enough time to go to ground, lose the soot on his adventuring leathers, and disappear among his fellows of the Priory as Explorer Skoryy again. The good news was that his pursuers wouldn't be using the normal channels to hunt their uninvited guest down. The bad news, of course, was that there were not that many red and purple sylvari out there. The even worse news was that he had left empty handed, set up for the fall by a pair of thieves who had been just a bit more clever than he was. Thieves he knew all too well.
He mused quietly to himself along the path, fingers running agitatedly through his fronds. "Rachel. Krivak. My dear brother and sister, we need to have a talk."
