Closed Night Prowling

Stealth during one of Sunberth's windstorms proves interesting.

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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Night Prowling

Postby Kynier on September 6th, 2018, 3:15 am

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12th of Fall, 518 A.V.




With the change in the weather he had been pleased to be able to wear his long black wool cloak again. To the mage it felt like a second skin. The way it draped over his shoulders and concealed his arms in a completely relaxed position. How the hood so comfortably settled over his head and hung low enough he could conceal most of his face just by tilting his head forward. Throughout summer had felt exposed, except for that one night. And though it was too soon for any indication of experiencing a normal winter again, the temperature had lowered just enough to wear it again. Yet the past couple of days were not good days to wear one.

Winds howled violently through the streets. The cloak was flapping so fiercely it would’ve been theatrical, were it not for the drag pulling the clasp uncomfortably into the base of his neck. Kynier was pulling down of the clasp to spare his neck with one hand, and holding the rim of the hood pinched between his finger and thumb with the other. Walking into the wind he kept his head lowered and gaze up with squinted eyes. Grit and dirt were being tossed around everywhere. Some still remained to be crunched between his teeth from having his mouth open over a bell ago. Kynier again turned to the side and swashed saliva through his mouth before spitting it to the side.

Damn it, Zulrav. When will enough be enough!

For another mile he marched through the high winds of the twenty first bell. The mage’s path took him through the Sunset Quarters where he searched for a particular building he had never been to before. Up until the middle of last season, Kynier had lived here and knew all the streets and alleys. Navigating through it was never going to be a problem for him again. His only concern was the change of the social dynamic during the last half season. None of the gangs ever attempted to lay claim to the Slums. Leaving it more or less a neutral district. In their absence the locals rallied for their own protection from each other. Kynier used to know who was where and when. But he had let that attention slip, and was feeling a bit unnerved by the lack of knowledge.

Thankfully, the intense winds were keeping people off the street. And for once the stink of the city was swept away leaving air that was… fresher. For now it wasn’t carrying the rotten smell of the Slag Heap. But the winds did like to change without notice. Kynier was taking advantage of the reduced level of street activity. There was a residence that he needed to enter and the wind had been keeping steady for days. Kynier wasn’t counting on it letting up in the night either. The residence in question belonged to a merchant. No one of great importance. The woman had a stall in the Seaside Market. Yet Doler was convinced that she had received a letter of some importance. Doler had instructed him to steal it and not bother leaving a replica. A bit odd but… that was Doler.

By the time the twenty second bell had begun, Kynier found the place. It was a building slightly tucked away between a few larger surrounding buildings. The street was curved and the buildings weren’t in a straight line. It provided Kynier some relief from the continuous gusts when he stood by the door. The merchant’s residence had no windows, and Kynier couldn’t see if there was any light shining through the cracks of the door frame. If she was here, she was probably asleep. Hopefully.

Kynier dug into one of the hidden compartments of his dark green vest for his lock picking tools. With a quick glance over both shoulders he knelt down and started working on the lock to the door. Inserting a metal pick the mage giggled it around and under each tumbler lock to the back of the contraption. Then he dragged it out, scrapping it against the topside to count the number of clicks he heard to determine the number of tumbler bars. One… two… three… four? Kynier repeated the motion to be sure. Yes, there were four of them. The lock wasn’t off great quality, but it wasn’t the simplest either.

The mage pulled the pick out to the front of the lock and proceeded to push up on the first tumbler bar, listening to for a click over the wind. After several ticks he managed to hear the first click. From there he kept the pressure on the first tumbler bar and proceeded to the second. As he did, shadows seemed to gather around the Nightstalker. They didn’t speak to him but climbed over parts of his body granting concealment from all but the most attentive observers.

Credit for the boxcode goes to Luminescence!
Sometimes the only way to win is by relinquishing a superior position.

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Kynier
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