Calling all Saiyuki RPers!
The sounds of the village market prattled on as was the norm; shopkeepers and venders talked up their goods while weary shoppers bantered for a fair bargin, speeding carts kicked up dust on the road and beggars extended tired hands in request for charity. It was an average afternoon at the market.
Retica knew full well how to play this kind of scene. Archery made him quick quiet and nimble, which was a perfect set of skills for the travelling thief. Certainly, he wasn’t a criminal by trade, but his greater goal still dictated that he eat. What better way to feed oneself in a strange land?
It hadn’t quite been a week since Retica had tracked his target through the gate that had lead him to this strange world. There was nothing too spectacular about it; Retica noticed it was quite like his own, in many ways. The people where simple, worshiped their gods, and feared their demons. He could almost pretend he was back home in Volos, sneaking about the village so as not to disrupt the other village folk.
Today an less than vigilant shopkeeper had lost himself half a quart of cool milk, a loaf of cheese bread and a small box of meatbuns.
Smirking with pride Retica crept away from the back of the unknowing man’s cart, fully convinced that he had succeeded in his crime.
There was a saying about counting unhatched eggs that he probably should have taken into consideration.
A wayward branch in the narrow space between this cart and another caught Retica’s foot and sent him stumbling. After a few moments of desperate flailing gravity finally caught up and he landed hard on the unyielding ground; his spoils rolled sadly across the dirt.
Great. Now people where starring.
Being a thief caught red handed was never desirable, but Retica recognized the deepened fear and hatred in those stares. His tumble had caused the hood to wilt down around his shoulders, and now the village-folk could see. They recognized something on him (whether it was the crimson eyes, pointed ears, or snowy hair) that told them precisely what he was. His word was Heretic, a creature born of the unholy union between a demon and a human.
And from the looks those villagers were giving, Retica gathered that this place wasn’t friendly to his kind.
Damn, now he really could mistake this place for home.
[OOC: I had the sudden urge to toss Retica here into the Saiyuki-verse :3 SO uhm… anyone from that verse is free to comment? Please? You know you wanna!! That’s all I’m really after for this log, here ^^; Any questions, feel free to pm me!]
Retica knew full well how to play this kind of scene. Archery made him quick quiet and nimble, which was a perfect set of skills for the travelling thief. Certainly, he wasn’t a criminal by trade, but his greater goal still dictated that he eat. What better way to feed oneself in a strange land?
It hadn’t quite been a week since Retica had tracked his target through the gate that had lead him to this strange world. There was nothing too spectacular about it; Retica noticed it was quite like his own, in many ways. The people where simple, worshiped their gods, and feared their demons. He could almost pretend he was back home in Volos, sneaking about the village so as not to disrupt the other village folk.
Today an less than vigilant shopkeeper had lost himself half a quart of cool milk, a loaf of cheese bread and a small box of meatbuns.
Smirking with pride Retica crept away from the back of the unknowing man’s cart, fully convinced that he had succeeded in his crime.
There was a saying about counting unhatched eggs that he probably should have taken into consideration.
A wayward branch in the narrow space between this cart and another caught Retica’s foot and sent him stumbling. After a few moments of desperate flailing gravity finally caught up and he landed hard on the unyielding ground; his spoils rolled sadly across the dirt.
Great. Now people where starring.
Being a thief caught red handed was never desirable, but Retica recognized the deepened fear and hatred in those stares. His tumble had caused the hood to wilt down around his shoulders, and now the village-folk could see. They recognized something on him (whether it was the crimson eyes, pointed ears, or snowy hair) that told them precisely what he was. His word was Heretic, a creature born of the unholy union between a demon and a human.
And from the looks those villagers were giving, Retica gathered that this place wasn’t friendly to his kind.
Damn, now he really could mistake this place for home.
[OOC: I had the sudden urge to toss Retica here into the Saiyuki-verse :3 SO uhm… anyone from that verse is free to comment? Please? You know you wanna!! That’s all I’m really after for this log, here ^^; Any questions, feel free to pm me!]