Placeholder [Southern Trading Post] The Fastest

[Theur]

20th Winter, 513 A.V Arrogant, pretentious, syliarist whore; It was men like these that rekindled the boy’s hatred for adults. Theur sat on a puddle a soft soreness rising from his bum. The boy’s head moved up, eyes staring at a face that could curdle dairy. A man had pushed the boy down. Theur had half a mind to gouge the man’s eyes out but decided against it. The boy grew better at keeping his temper; better at hiding his emotions (though it still needed work). From what his eyes could draw; the man had a skinny build and was relatively short for an adult, still taller than Theur but only by two heads. Regardless Theur moved to stand. His feet under him, the boy barely took one step before meeting with the ground for the second time. Something tangled his legs, something made the boy fall and he knew who. Now the boy was dirty on one side and wet on the other and now, the boy went on a storm. An eloquent display of cusses and word combinations-never before heard of; a testament to his Sunberth roots sprang from the boy’s mouth. The boy’s nails bit and dug themselves deep in his palm; it took much and more, on Theur’s part not too send a fist flying but he somehow found a way. The man was taken aback but soon followed through with his own brand of insults. Mothers, genatalia, weight; it would seem nothing was off limits or off topic for the two. As the two exchanged blows a figure approached the two of them bearing two parcels. The figure approached the man first, handed him one of the parcels, given directions before turning to the boy. Similarly to the man; Theur was handed a parcel, was given directions but then the figure leaned closer to Theur until they saw eye to eye or there about. “Boy” the figure said in vaguely whimsical manner. “I couldn’t help but notice your little argument with him - you know who I mean”. The boy nodded slowly he still didn’t realize why this person was being too friendly with him but he let the figure continue. “Anyway…since you two amused me, if you find me again after you deliver the package I will give a little bonus but only…”. The figure jingled his clothes until coins could be heard. If Theur was happy, it did not show on his face, he only nodded signalling to the person to continue but something nagged at the back of his mind. What about the other guy.

[Theur]

Theur had a good pace despite killing roughly four bells as the boy’s feet fell on wood, well worn. Once again the boy was in the city of Ravok; a beautiful city, which warranted stares from the denizens to the dirty to which Theur ignored and instead focused on his surroundings. The city on the lake; from its canals to the mode of transportation to the buildings and everything in between still filled the boy with wonder and amazement – but only for a while. The promise of money turned Theur’s eyes from beauty. Instructions were simple enough; get to the Silver Silver tavern and find a man named Jon Yue. Theur had a very limited knowledge of the city; the Silver Silver though rang bells in his mind. In fact he knew how to get there. This is gonna be one easy day Theur thought, the only thing that bothered him were his employers words; … but only if you arrived first yet another reason why he hated adults; odd language. Nonetheless Theur quickened his pace. Sounds of chatter, laughter and joy struck the boy as he entered neither losing nor gaining as the boy moved inside. A slight pang of pain began from the boy's stomach, nonetheless Theur ignored. He was looking for a man Jon Yue and nothing else to go by. Many seasons ago Theur would have refused jobs like this but Theur only sighed, reminding himself that the mizas was well worth it afterall beggars can't be choosers. With the package behind a cage of arms; the boy approached one of the men. He would smile, ask if the man was Jon Yue, if it was then he would give the package and go back, if not then the boy would move on to the next one. It seemed Theur was doing more of the latter. Eventually it turned out that no man in the Silver Silver was named Jon Yue, so he tried asking the women instead. It took the boy longer to ask, not that he was afraid or anything it’s just that he had flutters in his belly. “All for the mizas” the boy mumbled and then he approached one and rather awkwardly too. The boy’s palms were wet with sweat, the flutters grew stronger, words were mumbles and "ums" and "ahs" were most of his words and yet; he managed to say what he wanted to say: “Are you Jon Yue”. The woman looked at Theur in an odd way before softly replying “No” and that went on for all the women he asked. Some replied harshly and some didn't reply at all. Oddly enough, it was the women's "Nos" that discouraged Theur more, rather than the men. With nothing but defeat in the air Theur left the Silver Silver. OOCSo for this thread I'll be making up and using a one time use only NPC

[Theur]

The bright light of the sun fell upon Ravok and all of its citizens, properties, visitors and a boy. Theur squinted his eyes. It may be winter but when the sun reached its highest point, it was best to go inside. Theur on the other hand just stood there, he waited for his eyes to adjust and quite frankly it was nice to feel the warmth of the sun again. The boy would have stood there even if it felt awkward, even if people gave Theur odd looks simply because he didn’t want to go back south just yet. It was cold down south, colder than the city and the package wasn’t delivered yet. The boy’s nose picked up something. Only a whiff and he knew it was repulsive and yet he followed the smell with his nose. Something in that smell seemed familiar to the boy. Theur’s face moved this way and that, each whiff, a regret on the boy’s part. He turned to move, following that smell and with each step the smell grew and grew. By now the boy could taste the smell and at once he knew what it was. The air ran rank with the smell of vomit; vomit baked by the sun, vomit with alcohol as well as other smells burned the boy’s nose. Indescribable things, horrible things, excretory things and many more; all familiar smells because the boy had seen it, experienced it and where his eyes rested upon it; he saw a bit of Sunberth. A drunken man passed out as a bit of dribble formed at the edge of the lip. The sight of vomit sun dried and black; if it wasn’t for Theur’s upbringing he might have passed out too. Instead he only smiled. Opportunity was what the boy smelled. Quickly Theur began to work his one arm reached for the man’s shoulder while the other went for the man’s hip. With that same hand he began to search feeling whilst listening for a jingle. Adrenaline filled the boy as he moved, he’d never done it before but he’s seen others do it far too many times, to even memorize the movements, in fact he wanted to apply it here; pickpocketing in Ravok. Theur learned quickly that observing and doing are two separate skills and as he moved the boy he jokingly asked “Are you Jon Yue?” Almost as if responding; The man began to move.

[Theur]

Had the boy breathed a little too hard; moved with a little less finesse. It was true Theur may not be the best pickpocket in Ravok but surely to rob a drunken man…anyway whats done is done. Quick on his heels Theur turned the other way and was about to explode out; his legs brimming with energy when he heard a faint reply. “Yes” said the man groaning. “What!?” Theur replied almost on reflex. “I am Jon Yue” Impossible the boy thought. His eyes narrowed on the man dubious at the man’s claim. He didn’t know it yet but Theur’s distrust for adults was a good thing to have for a courier. Maybe that’s how he stayed a courier for so long. The boy began to question the man; both frustrating each other. Theur got groans and long winded replies whilst the man desperately tried to fight a raging headache and convince a very skeptical boy. By now their patience had run thin and their confrontation got a little more physical; a tug of war began between boy and drunk over a package. An onlooker would have seen the confrontation as comical. The man was stronger than the boy, much stronger but he did not want to destroy the package. Theur on the other hand couldn’t care less for the package, as long as it was in generally good condition then a scratch here or there or a rip or tear wouldn’t have bothered him. The boy pulled with most of his strength and true enough the package began to tear, alarmed by this the man began to plea. At first those only fell on deaf ears, it was only when the promise of mizas did the boy let go and he really did just let go. There was no easing of strength on the boy’s part, no verbal affirmation on the boy’s part just the sudden relaxation of his fingers. The man was sent tumbling backwards crashing into a wall wherein Theur followed suit, almost like a cat that had pounced. The man on the ground saw Theur standing above him, his hand stretched out; Theur was not going to wait for the man to get his bearings. Something wet fell on Theur’s hand. As the boy inspected it, a foul stench filled his nose. A small spot of dribble rested on the boy’s hands. The back of Theur’s hand smacked into the man’s face purely on impulse; to the boy’s horror. Theur bolted away from that place as the man began to laugh. His action as he just realized could have brought the Ebonstryfe on him but as he ran another realization shook the boy. The last thing Theur thought of was how retarded he was just now. Petch

[Theur]

There were two things that Theur found hard to believe. The first was the sudden realization that the man was Jon Yue. The second was that Theur was running from a drunk man, a client no less. The third was that he was running from the man; a man that could end Theur before the day is done. He could not remember if the man shouted for helped; if he did then Theur equated it to that of a squeal of a pig. Still his pace quickened; immediately the worst case was that the Ebonstryfe heard. Faster the boy ran, his pitter-patter; a definite rhythm no matter how confusing the way seemed. Every now and again the boy would spin in mid-run just to see if he was followed before continuing on. Hard rights and hard lefts barely slowed the boy, though after a few chimes of running the boy’s breathing became hard. Even then Theur moved fast. There was hardly any grace as he ran and he felt like puking but with the title of courier; there came a certain pride with the job. Theur just had to keep going. The barges to the Southern Trading Post grew near. The sight filled the boy with relief but the boy’s run had become slow and awkward. Still faster than a brisk walk but only slightly. There were two reasons why the boy maintained his pace: the first was to lose any followers and the second was that if he stopped; If he dare stop, Theur would collapse. The closer the boy got to those barges his pace grew even slower to the boy's dismay. Try as he might he couldn't go any faster; his sides both of them hurt, his heart screamed, his vision fogged;there came a point where the boy was just swinging his arms to gain more speed. Eventually Theur reached the barge and quite literally collapsed then and there. Bells later Where Theur’s feet once stood on wood; now only the familiar soft-cold dirt beneath him. The sky had begun to turn orange and by Theur’s estimates he only had three bells or so left. The boy began to move, slowly at first, gradually picking up speed until it could be called a run. It was amazing what a few bells can do, more amazing that the boy even made it back within the day and even more amazing was that the barge allowed the boy to cross at all despite taking a good part of the floor. Cold wind clung to Theur’s body like water and a surface. It helped a bit with the boy's body but an ache persisted; there were things that a few bells of rest can’t fully cure. Though Theur only started running barely a chime ago, already his legs hurt and his side hurt and his chest hurt; nothing too serious and nowhere near as severe as a few bells ago...yet. Theur knew that his body could collapse again if he took too long; it became a race against time. With that in mind Theur moved towards the tents where his employer should be with a pained pace.

[Theur]

The smell of food ran through the boy working its way through his body before ending in the boy’s stomach. A noise; a loud grumble escaped from that same place. Theur couldn’t quite recall if stares were given but the pain that followed after; were vivid. It was as if his stomach was set on fire whilst a cord tightened around his core. It would have had knocked the boy down except that Theur knew this pain quite well. Hunger. Back in Sunberth he was accustomed to this pain; this hunger both as training and through no fault of his own. It toughened up his stomach for a good deal of his life and for what was to come. That day would come on the first few days he left Sunberth; whether he would die from hunger or live hungry. Intense, excruciating and at times blinding (as hunger can temporarily make one blind); memories too vivid to forget were being felt by Theur then and there. He knew what to do, he had to lie down and get some water seeing as Theur had no food to begin with. Water was atleast three chimes away and on a good jog; Theur was far from but good and could only manage a short stridded walk at best. In the end Theur fell on his knees, his hands wrapped round his stomach before collapsing on his back. The outskirts of the city were kinder on people like Theur rather than the people within Ravok however their eyes had a certain coldness in them too. No one helped the boy and everyone ignored him. It was as if they were looking at some dying stray; no one cared. It was only a matter of time before the pain would subdue; well time passed and with it, whimpers of pain before the boy had the strength to bring his feet under him again. Theur felt weak but also confused; just yesterday he had a solid meal (by Theur’s standards) so why? His first thought was of his diet. Yes it was a bit irregular, he would only have two meals consisting of nothing but fish and maybe some bread – every other day. What the boy did during those “no meal days” was to forage or scavenge for food. Roughly half the time Theur goes to sleep, he goes to sleep hungry because either he couldn’t find any food or there simply wasn’t enough. It was tough and it wasn’t easy; it took half a season to get used too but it was Theur’s diet. That was how he ate in Ravok, so then he turned to his activities. Running is a tiring activity. Today he ran allot. By combining the two arrived at the conclusion that it was because Theur ran beyond his normal threshold and if he did blame his diet at all; the fault would be next to nothing. All of this did not come to Theur immediately nor was it crystal rather; it was the result of rushed thinking and haphazard logic. Thinking was never Theur’s strong point but the thought satisfied him.

[Theur]

Finally the boy stood before his employer. Their eyes met but only for a moment; his employer did not approach Theur just yet. “Don’t talk unless spoken too” that was what Theur followed; he couldn’t speak for all couriers or if he was the only one who did it this way but it gave him a chance to observe his surroundings. Theur could see quite plainly that his employer was talking to someone. Theur leaned a little closer so he could pick up on things. As usual it was something he didn’t understand, something about an execution of sorts. Though he couldn’t comprehend Theur liked to listen, he liked to think of it as information gathering, that he knew things and was a cut above the rest. Eventually his employer turned to him. After a short discussion between the two and some details omitted on the boy’s part; Theur got his due. Just as the man turned away from Theur, Theur asked “What about my extra”. The man turned slowly to face Theur, eyes wide almost searching, then the words left the man’s mouth and it stunned the boy; before turning and leaving a now shocked boy. “You are not the fastest”.

[Nemesis]

Theur

Knowledge :

Skills

Skill	XP
Investigation	+1
Larceny	+1
Observation	+3
Running	+3

Lores

*Controlling My Temper
*Money Makes a Job Worthwhile

Micellaneous :

Injuries

*None

Loot/Expenses

*2 GM from pick-pocketed victim.

____________________________________________

Notes

*I'm not all that nitpickety when it comes to tenses, but on occasion you slip into the present tense, so be careful of that.
*I feel sorry for Theur - I hope his fortunes change someday

Feel free to PM me with questions, comments, or concerns, if you have any.
Also, remember to either delete your grade request or edit it as 'graded'.
Thank ye!