katastrophe
New Member
(ooc: Hey, everyone! This is my first post. Jump in if you wanna play! I'm a little rusty, so please be kind to the new kid. ^^; )
To say that the market was lively that day would be an understatement. The dusty streets were lined with vendors, their weathered carts packed tightly end to end, as they proudly displayed their wares. Naturally, they all claimed to offer the best quality of goods for the price and haggled loudly whenever a passerby seemed inclined to buy. The air was thick with the familiar sounds and smells of Market Day, a weekly event that every commoner looked forward to with great anticipation.
The King of Thieves was no exception.
Market Day was, by far, the most profitable day for thieves, as well as the most dangerous. With so many people in one place, a quick escape was nearly impossible, and the chances of getting caught were a thousand times higher. And getting caught meant certain death at the hands of an angry mob. It was the sort of situation that made the King’s heart race with excitement.
At first glance, the King hardly seemed to fit the grandeur that the title implied. A slight build and angular features gave a distinctly boyish appearance, as did the overly large hat that was pulled low to hide intelligent, brown eyes. The title was in fact earned through hard work, impressive skill, and the uncanny ability to rally a group of loyal, if somewhat immoral, followers. In return for their loyalty, the King offered shelter, food, and something very akin to family.
The King, though a thief, did have a sort of code of honor. The group as a whole was expected to follow it to the letter. Anyone found in violation of the code was given a chance to defend the action before being punished. Violations were rare, however, because the code was really very simple:
The townspeople paid no heed to the boy in the tattered trousers. Indeed, he seemed to flit invisibly from cart to cart like a ghost, quick hands darting into coin-purses, pockets, and baskets alike to relieve them of their contents.
It was not long before the King’s own pockets grew heavy with stolen goods. Nobody noticed when the slender boy in the oversized hat slunk away. The King was ready to pronounce this Market Day a success and make a hasty retreat to the encampment where the rest of the group would be waiting when a completely new and entirely unpleasant feeling came over him.
Someone was watching.
To say that the market was lively that day would be an understatement. The dusty streets were lined with vendors, their weathered carts packed tightly end to end, as they proudly displayed their wares. Naturally, they all claimed to offer the best quality of goods for the price and haggled loudly whenever a passerby seemed inclined to buy. The air was thick with the familiar sounds and smells of Market Day, a weekly event that every commoner looked forward to with great anticipation.
The King of Thieves was no exception.
Market Day was, by far, the most profitable day for thieves, as well as the most dangerous. With so many people in one place, a quick escape was nearly impossible, and the chances of getting caught were a thousand times higher. And getting caught meant certain death at the hands of an angry mob. It was the sort of situation that made the King’s heart race with excitement.
At first glance, the King hardly seemed to fit the grandeur that the title implied. A slight build and angular features gave a distinctly boyish appearance, as did the overly large hat that was pulled low to hide intelligent, brown eyes. The title was in fact earned through hard work, impressive skill, and the uncanny ability to rally a group of loyal, if somewhat immoral, followers. In return for their loyalty, the King offered shelter, food, and something very akin to family.
The King, though a thief, did have a sort of code of honor. The group as a whole was expected to follow it to the letter. Anyone found in violation of the code was given a chance to defend the action before being punished. Violations were rare, however, because the code was really very simple:
- Any stolen goods must be shared equally with the rest of the group.
- Only steal from the wealthy.
- Only steal from men.
- Never steal from children.
- Never get caught.
The townspeople paid no heed to the boy in the tattered trousers. Indeed, he seemed to flit invisibly from cart to cart like a ghost, quick hands darting into coin-purses, pockets, and baskets alike to relieve them of their contents.
It was not long before the King’s own pockets grew heavy with stolen goods. Nobody noticed when the slender boy in the oversized hat slunk away. The King was ready to pronounce this Market Day a success and make a hasty retreat to the encampment where the rest of the group would be waiting when a completely new and entirely unpleasant feeling came over him.
Someone was watching.
