LJ Idol :: Week Eleven :: Open Topic
Large brown eyes, shadowed by a curtain of chestnut hair, gazed out from behind the walls of the local tavern.
S'lanna rose and pressed her lithe body flush with the flickering shadows on the wall, hiding herself from the light coming from within the very tavern she stalked.
Drunken men were easy targets, and generally S'lanna thought better of her skills, but she was too tired and hungry to be picky. It was her exhaustion and growling belly that had brought her to The Singing Dwarf, one of the shadiest pubs in her home nation of Zirien.
Because, should her thievery ever go wrong, it was best to kill the lowly and unwanted dregs of society. They were less likely to be missed.
S'lanna waited in silence as the voices inside the tavern grew louder and more obnoxious. The lights began to fade as the voices swelled, and her first target stumbled out of the back door and into the alley.
He was at least a head shorter than S'lanna and reeked of cheap wine. His body swayed as he approached a rickety fence that served to cut the tavern's alley off from the main road. S'lanna watched in disgust as he lowered his pants.
Though, she had to admit, there was a positive spin to the situation. If he was having difficulty just taking a piss, robbing him would be almost too easy.
The thief removed a dagger from her belt, just as a precaution. It was a short blade, no more than twelve centimeters in length, with a handle made of finely carved bone. It fit perfectly in her small hand, and had slit more than one throat in the past.
She slowly approached her prey, blade at the ready, her thin fingers stretching toward the intoxicated man's coin purse...
“Excuse me, you there, what are you doing?”
S'lanna spun toward the male voice coming from the side of the tavern. Her target turned around, as well, stumbling a bit and sending urine flying into the fence.
The game was over before it had even begun. S'lanna whirled and muttered several words under her breath, much too softly for anyone to hear.
Holding her dagger close, the thief's body suddenly exploded into hundreds of tiny metal marbles. The marbles bounced a couple of times on the hard, cold ground and abruptly disappeared.
The drunkard blinked in confusion. The man who had interrupted the theft glared at the place where a tall, thin young woman had just been.
Longon hated thieves, but he hated sorcerers even more.
S'lanna rose and pressed her lithe body flush with the flickering shadows on the wall, hiding herself from the light coming from within the very tavern she stalked.
Drunken men were easy targets, and generally S'lanna thought better of her skills, but she was too tired and hungry to be picky. It was her exhaustion and growling belly that had brought her to The Singing Dwarf, one of the shadiest pubs in her home nation of Zirien.
Because, should her thievery ever go wrong, it was best to kill the lowly and unwanted dregs of society. They were less likely to be missed.
S'lanna waited in silence as the voices inside the tavern grew louder and more obnoxious. The lights began to fade as the voices swelled, and her first target stumbled out of the back door and into the alley.
He was at least a head shorter than S'lanna and reeked of cheap wine. His body swayed as he approached a rickety fence that served to cut the tavern's alley off from the main road. S'lanna watched in disgust as he lowered his pants.
Though, she had to admit, there was a positive spin to the situation. If he was having difficulty just taking a piss, robbing him would be almost too easy.
The thief removed a dagger from her belt, just as a precaution. It was a short blade, no more than twelve centimeters in length, with a handle made of finely carved bone. It fit perfectly in her small hand, and had slit more than one throat in the past.
She slowly approached her prey, blade at the ready, her thin fingers stretching toward the intoxicated man's coin purse...
“Excuse me, you there, what are you doing?”
S'lanna spun toward the male voice coming from the side of the tavern. Her target turned around, as well, stumbling a bit and sending urine flying into the fence.
The game was over before it had even begun. S'lanna whirled and muttered several words under her breath, much too softly for anyone to hear.
Holding her dagger close, the thief's body suddenly exploded into hundreds of tiny metal marbles. The marbles bounced a couple of times on the hard, cold ground and abruptly disappeared.
The drunkard blinked in confusion. The man who had interrupted the theft glared at the place where a tall, thin young woman had just been.
Longon hated thieves, but he hated sorcerers even more.