Welcome to the Underworld
WHO: The runaway from home and the bandit crew leader
WHEN: Around seven years ago, one late afternoon
WHERE: The streets of Libertās
WHAT: A chance meeting, a failed attempt and an offer.
He didn't need them.
He could live on the streets alone. He didn't need his family.
That was what Zhi told himself from where he was sitting curled up against the wall, watching everyone pass him by. Some offered a few sympathetic glances at the young boy, only around 13 or so years of age; others gave him the glare bandits and beggars were accustomed to receiving. All of them were headed for some destination or the other, something which he never had. It wasn't the first time Zhi doubted the rash decision made that evening when he chose to run away from home, nearly a month ago, and it wasn't going to be the last. But then again, he'd survived for this long, hadn't he? He'd made it through one month by himself, and he could make it through another, and another, and so on and on.
Maybe.
With a resigned sigh, the boy pushed himself up against the wall, preparing to walk away again, towards his own pretend destination among the crowd with the sole intention of relieving careless people of the weight in their pockets. It was something he fancied he was rather good at-- a streak of beginner's luck attributed to budding skill. In the crowd, past the people, a young man caught his eye. Tall, thin, with pale blonde hair, he didn't look to be all that old himself, and Zhi decided to put his skill to the test, as he had done many times before, certain of his success, as he had right before his own father caught him stealing. Casually he brushed against him as he made his way through the crowd, subtley reaching a hand out to search for where he kept his money.
Instead, he would find cockiness wasn't something anyone should have on the streets.
WHEN: Around seven years ago, one late afternoon
WHERE: The streets of Libertās
WHAT: A chance meeting, a failed attempt and an offer.
He didn't need them.
He could live on the streets alone. He didn't need his family.
That was what Zhi told himself from where he was sitting curled up against the wall, watching everyone pass him by. Some offered a few sympathetic glances at the young boy, only around 13 or so years of age; others gave him the glare bandits and beggars were accustomed to receiving. All of them were headed for some destination or the other, something which he never had. It wasn't the first time Zhi doubted the rash decision made that evening when he chose to run away from home, nearly a month ago, and it wasn't going to be the last. But then again, he'd survived for this long, hadn't he? He'd made it through one month by himself, and he could make it through another, and another, and so on and on.
Maybe.
With a resigned sigh, the boy pushed himself up against the wall, preparing to walk away again, towards his own pretend destination among the crowd with the sole intention of relieving careless people of the weight in their pockets. It was something he fancied he was rather good at-- a streak of beginner's luck attributed to budding skill. In the crowd, past the people, a young man caught his eye. Tall, thin, with pale blonde hair, he didn't look to be all that old himself, and Zhi decided to put his skill to the test, as he had done many times before, certain of his success, as he had right before his own father caught him stealing. Casually he brushed against him as he made his way through the crowd, subtley reaching a hand out to search for where he kept his money.
Instead, he would find cockiness wasn't something anyone should have on the streets.