[Location: Eastern Docks] A Thief's Tools

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A city floating in the center of a lake, Ravok is a place of dark beauty, romance and culture. Behind it all though is the presence of Rhysol, God of Evil and Betrayal. The city is controlled by The Black Sun, a religious organization devoted to Rhysol. [Lore]

[Location: Eastern Docks] A Thief's Tools

Postby Syndre on February 21st, 2011, 12:15 am

[Location: Eastern Docks] A Thief's Tools

Day 65, Winter 510 AV

Syndre sat alone in the empty boat shed. It had been abandoned
long ago, it's neglected structure was completely enclosed with a low
arcing roof. The sliding double door entrance was shut with a thick
chain coiling loosely around each iron handle, secured by the general
type of lock that most citizens used to protect their property. Thin
streaks of light slipped thru rotted cracks, allowing some sunlight to
spill into the dark enclosure. The rogue's eyes were closed as he sat
in a wooden chair in the center of the large shed, his breathing was
slow and calm with a deep concentration.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the naked extent of his upper
torso pressing against the hard wood of the chair's cushioned back
piece. Strong slender arms were lowered behind him, encircling around
the strait back piece, pale wrists touching together and bound with a
thin brown rope. Booted feet were held close to the uneven legs of the
chair, tied in a similar manner with the same type of rope. He was
stripped of all possessions except for his pocket lined pants, which
had been gone through and emptied, and his buckled boots. Every had
been shoved into his pack and thrown in the corner of the cold
chamber. Alone... trapped... intoxicated...

The thief began to count silently to himself and his bound figure
burst into motion. His bare torso quickly lowered down until the
small swell of his chest pressed down close to his knees, his corded
appendages sweeping down until his knuckles grazed the dirt floor. His
body tensed as he leaned forward, causing the back legs of the chair to
lift slightly off the ground. His arms painfully stretched pass full
extension, barely managing to slip his tied wrists beneath the legs. He
then sat back with applied force, rocking the unstable seat backward.
The flexible rogue fell back and the chair slammed down upon the dirt.
The maneuver caused a bit of pain, but it had allowed his tied hands to
slip out from beneath the last pair of legs.

Lying on his back in a sitting position, the thief continued to swiftly
work. Freed arms immediately moved in unison to his right boot so that
eager fingers could curl around the back of his heel. A diminutive
indention was pushed inward and a tiny blade sprung forth from the sole
of his black boot. He slid the blade between the thin gap between his
wrists and easily sliced the tight material that had captured his hands.
The severed rope fell gently to the floor and his unclothed torso
performed a fluid crunch off the back of the fallen chair. The tenacious
muscles of his abdomen clenched with the movement and he held himself in
the difficult position long enough for his hands to release the bind upon
his boots.

Falling backward once again but completely free, the rogue rolled with the
momentum and rose to his feet, lightly stumbling off balance. The numbers
projected in his hazy mind continued to count upward, keeping track of
how long it was taking him to escape. The fallen chair was kicked to the
side as he ran to the corner of the shadow filled shed, sliding upon his
knees when nearing his pack. Searching fingers rummaged through the
disorganized contents, quickly finding his teethed gauntlets which found
their home upon his slender forearms. He then produced a set of average
picks and took hold of his opened pack, giving it a firm toss so that it
landed next to the locked entrance.

Rushing to the double set doors, Syndre slid down once again to a single
knee. Both hands were now occupied with a pair of thieves' picks, the
tiny metallic pieces working with haste within the small hole of the lock.
After an unsuccessful moment the thief mouthed a silent curse and tried
to calm his actions, moving his fingertips more delicately then before. A
quiet 'click' sounded, the little tools finally completing their job as
the lock released it's hold upon the chain. His tools were then shoved back
into his pack and the length of the linked chain was quickly unraveled.
Anxious fingers gripped the inner edges of the double set door and he
slid either side forcefully apart, letting the sunlight pour into
the dark shed.
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[Location: Eastern Docks] A Thief's Tools

Postby Syndre on February 24th, 2011, 6:45 pm

With the old wooden doors shoved opened, the deserted lot of land displayed
a number of crudely made foes. Poles and large branches served as torsos
while sticks and planks acted as appendages and weapons. They were positioned
in a way to block off any make believe escape. Syndre narrowed his icy blue
eyes at his makeshift enemies. He would have to fight his way through them.

Pushing off his right boot, the practicing rogue accelerated into a sprint
toward the closest assailant. Nearing the poorly tied branches, the thief
performed a successful cartwheel that immediately led into a spinning
roundhouse. Though missing the centralized pole with the hasteful kick, the
shiny blade still extracted from the sole did not. The diminutive knife
scraped the wood where a man's stomach would be located, leaving a visible
gash. The twisting kick's momentum had turned his entire body into a full
circle, and with a quick switch of balance, he kicked upward with the
opposite leg. The back of his left heel drove forcefully against the apex
of the sturdy pole, causing it to churn the dirt beneath while toppling

He was taught different styles of martial arts by his Father when he was
younger. Though nowhere near a master in any one discipline, Syndre stole
certain aspects from many and mixed them during combat. He could hold his
own without the aid of weapons, but if the rogue couldn't run and had to
fight, he would much rather be armed. And armed he was when fully clothed
and walking the streets, even when he seemed defenseless. It was necessity
to know how to defend yourself in a city such as this.

Quickly after dropping the first opponent, Syndre rushed the second menacing
stick figure. He swept his leather gauntlets one after the other, driving away
a swarm of annoying branches with their iron fused teeth. These metallic
rivets and hooks looked awkward over his shrouded forearms, but they served a
unique purpose when defending against slashing blades. Broken pieces of wood
flew about from the assaulting gauntlets, literally disarming the homemade foe.
A soft 'click' then issued from his right gauntlet and a whispering stiletto
sprung forth from a hidden compartment. The thin knife slid with much
practice between two of his fingers and he stabbed his 'armless' attacker
in it's invisible throat.

Leaving the small blade stuck in the wood, Syndre rolled backward to the
opened doors of the shed. His body lifted from the maneuver with far too
much force and he stumbled into the rotting shelter, cracking the sliding
door and breaking it off. His fancy moves only worked half the time for
one of two reasons: He either wasn't as good as he thought he was, or his
constant intoxication was effecting his coordination. Either way, he crashed
down atop of the fallen door. Wincing from the various scratches he just
received, his glossy eyes noticed his bag perhaps a foot away. Swiftly
reaching into the jumble of supplies, his fingers found the decorative hilt
of his primary weapon.

Pushing against a slender shoulder, the rogue momentarily lifted his bare
torso slightly off the door, letting the cold-iron dagger fly from his
fingertips. The hollow hilt blade twirled viciously end over end before
stabbing the last plank squarely where a human's chest would be. The sudden
thud that resounded from the hopeful attack brought a satisfied smile to
the fallen thief's sweat graced features. A distasteful gesture was given
to the final stick man while he slowly laid back upon the broken door. He
took a moment to steady his breathing, then reached back into his bag and
fished out his prized smoking pipe. He was entitled to a reward.
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[Location: Eastern Docks] A Thief's Tools

Postby Verilian on March 2nd, 2011, 3:00 pm



  • +2 Acrobatics
  • +1 Escape Artist
  • +2 Dagger
  • +2 Unarmed Combat
  • +1 Meditation
  • +1 Larceny

You Question My Logic? :
Okay, so couldn't give high amounts of xp because it was a very short thread, but I gave you everything you asked for except mathematics. Sorry... counting just isn't that hard. Anyway, if you feel you were short handed or I left anything out, please feel free to pm me with any questions/concerns.

Lores: Chair Acrobatics, Defeating an Army of Sticks

Notes: An interesting thread, but if it's a two part I probably would have just combined them. But, that's no biggy. Anyway, just remember to play things to your skill level. While you were only fighting stick figures, you were still a bit good for your skill level. That is all. Keep up the good work!
Forecast for tonight... Dark
Wind Reach---Wind Reach Lore---WR Request Thread
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