• Common • Rakahi • Gravokian
"A greedy father has thieves for children."
Ashan 18 718
It was illegal to steal another person’s property
It was illegal to damage another person’s property
It was illegal to enter the home of another without their consent
And as usual, Navyri Nightingale, Mistress of Wind and Shadow, didn’t give a fuck.
The ice on the bushes brushed against her exposed neck and the Naer gritted her teeth, watching in the dark at the looming building, creeping forward on the balls of her feet. Money was running low; a tragedy, and it was time she stopped wasting her evenings. Even the classiest women had to work sometimes. It would be good for her.
It would keep her on her toes. It would keep her feeling alive.
A shadow swooped downward between the treetops, a dead mouse in its mouth and Navyri stared at it before smirking. “I missed you,” she signed in Euthic, fingers clumsy in the cold, “Good timing. Lend me your eyes.”
Curio dropped the mouse on a tree branch and took back to the skies, pushing the view into her mind as he did so. Snow covered trees created a swath of white, followed by the hills and bushes holding on to their last signs of life. Navyri shrugged off her bow and began to string it up as the merchant had shown her, lip quivering in the cold. She shifted her weight over her feet, pressing deeper into the shadows as her body shimmered to join it. She curled her toes, the snow barely crunching under her boot as she knocked an arrow.
There was a guard in the garden. A pair of servants kissing secretly at the kitchen door. Two lights illuminating the upstairs bedrooms. Navyri shifted, dipping behind the cover of pine trees as one of the men wandered towards her, undoing the buckle of his belt.
Mother Nature was calling. Just like she expected thirty bits ago when he had been chugging a skin of mead. Very slowly she pulled an arrow from her quiver and knocked it, above the strings knot and drew it taunt, listening to the eerie whistling of his idle relaxation.
Lax security.
The expelling of his piss was loud and forceful and mixed with the smell of overbearing pine needles, it created a unique brew while the Naer waited impatiently for him to finish. Enhanced vision allowed her to see clearly and her brows lifted at his flaccid girth, but before he could so much as slipped his manhood back in his pants, Navyri released the arrow, watching it sloppily pierce the wood above his head. He reared back, a blind worm in the darkness and Navyri threw down her bow and charged, wrapping her arm around his neck and throwing both of their weight to the side. He tried to shout, but she pulled up on his vocal cords, wedging her forearm up and beneath his chin to crush the vulnerable space. They writhed together on the cold ground, Nav's grip tightening even when he bucked his weight against her.
Navyri gasped but pulled up to wrap her legs around his waist, pinning his fighting arms as she continued to deprive him of oxygen.
'C'mon, fucker. Give up already!'
The guard scratched at her arms in a bloody frenzy, bruising her skin with his grip. She would not relent and gritted her teeth, eyes wild and hidden by the dark hair that fell over their faces as he rolled and kicked upon the ground, slamming her beneath him. Pain rocked her spine and into the frailty of her wings, and she hissed from the attack. His feet continued to kick, scraping into her shin, his chest heaving and shaking, and then… his body began to slacken. She climbed atop him and pulled him closer, hooking her arms around his neck and crushing the butt of her palm against his trachea. He pushed at her, such as the natural response to someone in his predicament, but forcing distance between them only drew down her hold.
Stop… fighting…
For a man whose dick had been in his hand bits ago, he sure was capable of switching to a combat mindset. The guard threw a punch that rammed into the side of her skull, causing her to nearly release as white flashed in her vision but it was far too late. She kept her grip, digging into the attack. After a few breaks that seemed to last a lifetime, he weakened and his eyes closed.
Out.
Navyri coughed, forearm muscles burning. She didn’t stop once he gave up; she kept her position, squeezing with ragged breaths until any hope of his survival was gone. Passed out to deceased, his life slipped into the next. Navyri felt for his heartbeat and shoved him away with a grunt, clawing away from his heavy corpse. The signs of their struggle were evident in the snow and she stood up, knocking the ice from her shirt, fingers frozen from the biting wind. It took her a long moment to catch her breath - she had not strangled a man to death in arcs.
Looking down at him, she saw his face was red from exertion, but he looked quite peaceful otherwise. There must have been a fear in his last moments, the realization that all the effort and sacrifices made in his life would be all for naught. She had given him a chance to reconcile with his maker - having known his end would come. Was it better to die knowing it would happen, or for it to happen all in a sweeping flash? Navyri stretched her muscles and rolled her shoulders. Lifting a snowy boot, she stepped over the body.
Her arrow waiting, she yanked the projectile from the pine tree it had sunk into and returned it back to her quiver. There was more work to be done. A hunter on the prowl, she continued to weave through the trees, eventually slipping closer to the garden.
Rich folk, as smart or as successful, or as simply lucky as they were, had a tendency to forget practicality. Exiting the safety of the trees, she tried to fold into the shadows of the ornate shrubbery, each one modeled in the fashion of a fantastical creature. She peeked from behind the leaves, looking for signs of anyone around, but the evening was still. A few crickets whistled, an owl hooted in the distance. Navyri pushed to the next bush and continued to close in, passing little statuettes as she went.
In the center of this lush paradise sat a fountain. In the icy months, it looked desolate and unused. Something about it was sad, the little fairies carved into the stone with smiling faces unbelievable. It felt like a lie. The water that sat in the bottom was frozen over, snow resting on top. Looking around, she began to push away the white powder, smirking when she saw the black tilework of hardened metal. Excellent. She leaned closer, analyzing the work in the bright moonlight, fat clouds rolling across the sky to alternate the light source. Navyri tapped it with her nail, leaned down to breath fog over its surface. She watched it dissipate and nodded.
It was onyx, alright.
Slipping a bag off her shoulder, she rummaged around, past her thieves tools to produce a little hammer and chisel. Wiping away more snow, she saw how the black tiles were connected to the structure, feeling the ridges of the pieces. They were about two by three inches a piece around the rim, the mosaic running down the side and transitioning into marble. She liked that combination and would have appreciated it in the sunlight. But in the darkness, it had a somber, peaceful quality about.
Time to ruin it.
Navyri lined up her chisel with the corner of the tile, all the while Curio continued his invisible patrol off the sky. She gave a tentative tap her mallet, listening to the sound and if anyone would come to investigate. It was meticulous work, but she found if she gave one sharp hit instead of many small ones, the tile popped off almost without effort. She could do it faster if she had her bag opened and ready to eat up her spoils and after a few hits, her confidence grew. Navyri would line up the chisel, hit once on one side, and once on the other, and the piece popped off. A few gave her trouble, stirring her nerves each time she had to persuade it to loosen, pausing every so often to listen.
She didn't want, nor need anyone sneaking up behind her. And there was, of course, the risk of someone waiting till she finished the work before pouncing. It was always easier to let other people sweat in collecting the spoils and then to come up behind them and steal them away. This was a thief's understanding - and she had been on the receiving end of this knowledge more times than she cared to admit. Navyri mined away at the piece of art, shifting around the snow and giving a half-assed covering when she was done. It was unlikely anyone would be walking the garden in such low temperatures, but just in case.
Navyri drew the onyx tiles close and dropped them in her bag. With one more glance at the house and her surroundings, she retreated back into the wilderness.
It was illegal to steal another person’s property
It was illegal to damage another person’s property
It was illegal to enter the home of another without their consent
And as usual, Navyri Nightingale, Mistress of Wind and Shadow, didn’t give a fuck.
The ice on the bushes brushed against her exposed neck and the Naer gritted her teeth, watching in the dark at the looming building, creeping forward on the balls of her feet. Money was running low; a tragedy, and it was time she stopped wasting her evenings. Even the classiest women had to work sometimes. It would be good for her.
It would keep her on her toes. It would keep her feeling alive.
A shadow swooped downward between the treetops, a dead mouse in its mouth and Navyri stared at it before smirking. “I missed you,” she signed in Euthic, fingers clumsy in the cold, “Good timing. Lend me your eyes.”
Curio dropped the mouse on a tree branch and took back to the skies, pushing the view into her mind as he did so. Snow covered trees created a swath of white, followed by the hills and bushes holding on to their last signs of life. Navyri shrugged off her bow and began to string it up as the merchant had shown her, lip quivering in the cold. She shifted her weight over her feet, pressing deeper into the shadows as her body shimmered to join it. She curled her toes, the snow barely crunching under her boot as she knocked an arrow.
There was a guard in the garden. A pair of servants kissing secretly at the kitchen door. Two lights illuminating the upstairs bedrooms. Navyri shifted, dipping behind the cover of pine trees as one of the men wandered towards her, undoing the buckle of his belt.
Mother Nature was calling. Just like she expected thirty bits ago when he had been chugging a skin of mead. Very slowly she pulled an arrow from her quiver and knocked it, above the strings knot and drew it taunt, listening to the eerie whistling of his idle relaxation.
Lax security.
The expelling of his piss was loud and forceful and mixed with the smell of overbearing pine needles, it created a unique brew while the Naer waited impatiently for him to finish. Enhanced vision allowed her to see clearly and her brows lifted at his flaccid girth, but before he could so much as slipped his manhood back in his pants, Navyri released the arrow, watching it sloppily pierce the wood above his head. He reared back, a blind worm in the darkness and Navyri threw down her bow and charged, wrapping her arm around his neck and throwing both of their weight to the side. He tried to shout, but she pulled up on his vocal cords, wedging her forearm up and beneath his chin to crush the vulnerable space. They writhed together on the cold ground, Nav's grip tightening even when he bucked his weight against her.
Navyri gasped but pulled up to wrap her legs around his waist, pinning his fighting arms as she continued to deprive him of oxygen.
'C'mon, fucker. Give up already!'
The guard scratched at her arms in a bloody frenzy, bruising her skin with his grip. She would not relent and gritted her teeth, eyes wild and hidden by the dark hair that fell over their faces as he rolled and kicked upon the ground, slamming her beneath him. Pain rocked her spine and into the frailty of her wings, and she hissed from the attack. His feet continued to kick, scraping into her shin, his chest heaving and shaking, and then… his body began to slacken. She climbed atop him and pulled him closer, hooking her arms around his neck and crushing the butt of her palm against his trachea. He pushed at her, such as the natural response to someone in his predicament, but forcing distance between them only drew down her hold.
Stop… fighting…
For a man whose dick had been in his hand bits ago, he sure was capable of switching to a combat mindset. The guard threw a punch that rammed into the side of her skull, causing her to nearly release as white flashed in her vision but it was far too late. She kept her grip, digging into the attack. After a few breaks that seemed to last a lifetime, he weakened and his eyes closed.
Out.
Navyri coughed, forearm muscles burning. She didn’t stop once he gave up; she kept her position, squeezing with ragged breaths until any hope of his survival was gone. Passed out to deceased, his life slipped into the next. Navyri felt for his heartbeat and shoved him away with a grunt, clawing away from his heavy corpse. The signs of their struggle were evident in the snow and she stood up, knocking the ice from her shirt, fingers frozen from the biting wind. It took her a long moment to catch her breath - she had not strangled a man to death in arcs.
Looking down at him, she saw his face was red from exertion, but he looked quite peaceful otherwise. There must have been a fear in his last moments, the realization that all the effort and sacrifices made in his life would be all for naught. She had given him a chance to reconcile with his maker - having known his end would come. Was it better to die knowing it would happen, or for it to happen all in a sweeping flash? Navyri stretched her muscles and rolled her shoulders. Lifting a snowy boot, she stepped over the body.
Her arrow waiting, she yanked the projectile from the pine tree it had sunk into and returned it back to her quiver. There was more work to be done. A hunter on the prowl, she continued to weave through the trees, eventually slipping closer to the garden.
Rich folk, as smart or as successful, or as simply lucky as they were, had a tendency to forget practicality. Exiting the safety of the trees, she tried to fold into the shadows of the ornate shrubbery, each one modeled in the fashion of a fantastical creature. She peeked from behind the leaves, looking for signs of anyone around, but the evening was still. A few crickets whistled, an owl hooted in the distance. Navyri pushed to the next bush and continued to close in, passing little statuettes as she went.
In the center of this lush paradise sat a fountain. In the icy months, it looked desolate and unused. Something about it was sad, the little fairies carved into the stone with smiling faces unbelievable. It felt like a lie. The water that sat in the bottom was frozen over, snow resting on top. Looking around, she began to push away the white powder, smirking when she saw the black tilework of hardened metal. Excellent. She leaned closer, analyzing the work in the bright moonlight, fat clouds rolling across the sky to alternate the light source. Navyri tapped it with her nail, leaned down to breath fog over its surface. She watched it dissipate and nodded.
It was onyx, alright.
Slipping a bag off her shoulder, she rummaged around, past her thieves tools to produce a little hammer and chisel. Wiping away more snow, she saw how the black tiles were connected to the structure, feeling the ridges of the pieces. They were about two by three inches a piece around the rim, the mosaic running down the side and transitioning into marble. She liked that combination and would have appreciated it in the sunlight. But in the darkness, it had a somber, peaceful quality about.
Time to ruin it.
Navyri lined up her chisel with the corner of the tile, all the while Curio continued his invisible patrol off the sky. She gave a tentative tap her mallet, listening to the sound and if anyone would come to investigate. It was meticulous work, but she found if she gave one sharp hit instead of many small ones, the tile popped off almost without effort. She could do it faster if she had her bag opened and ready to eat up her spoils and after a few hits, her confidence grew. Navyri would line up the chisel, hit once on one side, and once on the other, and the piece popped off. A few gave her trouble, stirring her nerves each time she had to persuade it to loosen, pausing every so often to listen.
She didn't want, nor need anyone sneaking up behind her. And there was, of course, the risk of someone waiting till she finished the work before pouncing. It was always easier to let other people sweat in collecting the spoils and then to come up behind them and steal them away. This was a thief's understanding - and she had been on the receiving end of this knowledge more times than she cared to admit. Navyri mined away at the piece of art, shifting around the snow and giving a half-assed covering when she was done. It was unlikely anyone would be walking the garden in such low temperatures, but just in case.
Navyri drew the onyx tiles close and dropped them in her bag. With one more glance at the house and her surroundings, she retreated back into the wilderness.
Knowledge wrote:Linguistics: Hard to Sign with Cold Fingers
Ranged Combat (Longbow): How to Knock an Arrow
Ranged Combat (Longbow): Dark/Enhanced Vision Helps Shooting
Unarmed Combat: Modified “Ezekial” Sleeve Choke
Unarmed Combat: Don’t Stop Till Their Heart Does
Tactics: Strike During Times of Vulnerability
