Thief II

The Thief found himself nearing the next town, which had taken him only three days. Or was it four? It was hard to keep track without a watch. He made a mental note to find a nice one while he stopped over. He had spent most days walking or jogging with his sack of spoils from the Undercity clanking against his back. At night, he’d sleep under a tree, shrouded in darkness for as long as he could. His water-skin was empty, as was his stomach, which growled in a near-constant reminder. He approached the town which had a wooden sign posted before the main entrance, a drawn wooden gate with pointed stakes on either side.

“WELCOME TO FORRESTWATCH CHECKPOINT - 80 KILOMETERS FROM HOLDER’S BAY”

The thought of finally making his way to Holder’s Bay filled the Thief with a mouth-watering glee. The riches to be had there were that of legend. His stomach rumbled again, reminding him that his mouth was actually watering because of the distant smell of meat cooking. He’d first need to eat and probably find a horse or caravan to get to his next spot. And a bath. Definitely a bath, he could smell himself, and it wasn’t pretty. He considered burning his clothes and getting a whole new wardrobe. The stench of several days of trekking was not likely to come out with a regular stone washing. He missed privy towels the most. Using leaves was not his idea of sanitary, and as the weather cooled the leaves were brittle and, well, you get the point.

He had tallied his score from the Deadlock’s and figured he’d have more than enough to buy whatever he needed. But where was the fun in that? He approached the town’s Inn, The Lonely Pine, and pushed his way inside. He passed two women who were chatting over breakfast. As he walked by he heard one gag and push their plate away. Bath first, food second, he noted. He walked up to the counter and put a handful of golden coins down. The Innkeeper inhaled to speak but immediately covered his mouth, grabbed the coins and motioned up the stairs, “twelbf” he said, muffled.

The Thief took the stairs two at a time and found room twelve’s door ajar. He closed the door behind him and hurriedly took his clothes off and put them directly in the fireplace. Then, he started filling the bathtub with cold water feeling embarrassed about how poorly he smelled and probably looked, he didn’t have time to let the water warm by the fire. He scrubbed himself until the water was mostly brown. As he got out, feeling renewed, he realized he had just burnt his clothing and only had his thieving gear, which would pretty much give him away. He put on his trousers, which were a rare, black, stretchy material he had been given for completing a previous job in a timely manner. They were surprisingly cut resistant, and allowed great mobility. He figured black trousers were pretty unassuming anyways, so he shaved and went back downstairs topless.

Looking at the Inn through renewed eyes, he took in his surroundings. Tables, mostly. A hearth with a fire gently cracking near the bar which doubled as the check in counter. Behind the counter was the innkeeper, a portly man, clean shaven with rosy cheeks and a button nose. His stomach protruded, the buttons of his white shirt fighting to stay clasped, he wore suspenders that were clearly just for style; his pants needed no aid staying around his hearty gut. He smiled warmly as the Thief made his way towards the table the two women sat at, he must have ruined their meal as they both left the food behind in their hurry to leave. He picked up one plate, smiling as he wondered if his stench could have made one of the women vomit, and scraped the leftovers onto the other. He started eating with his hands. In for a copper, in for a gold.

“Hungry, are we?” He heard the innkeeper call from behind the desk, “you know, you grossly overpaid for your room so I was going to have a meal prepared for you, but if you get a kink out of eating scraps from maidens like those, who am I to judge?”

The Thief looked back and smiled with food stuck between his teeth.

“I’ll take the other meal later, thanks. I accidentally burnt my clothing so do you know i-“

“You did the right thing, son. Those were the Devil’s clothing,” the Innkeeper cut the Thief off, “I’ll get you a new shirt right away.”

The Thief looked up between bites, “panths too,” he swallowed, and motioned down, scraps of eggs bounced off his thigh, “these aren’t much cleaner.” The inn keeper left and returned a short time later with a plain white button shirt with a short collar and brown, patchwork trousers. He pushed his chair back and went upstairs to change.

Back in room twelve, the Thief put on his new clothing and hid his belongings, which was always a challenge. The room was mostly empty, but he was able to find a small nook in the ceiling support beams; in his experience, overpaying was the best way to get privacy.

The Thief saluted the innkeeper as he walked out, stopping short of the doorway noticing several flies hovering around drying vomit, he chuckled at himself, feeling almost proud of how vile he had become in such a short period of time. He made his way down the dirt path and noticed several small shops leading up to and over the hill of Forrestwatch. The checkpoint was bigger than he’d imagined, though it was the only checkpoint on the way to the highest traffic trading outpost in all of the Western Continent.

To start, the Thief sauntered up to a small fruit stand. A few shoppers strolled up and down the market some holding bags containing their recent purchase, others empty-handed, browsing. The Thief bumped into the nearest shopper, sending their fruit basket tumbling, a rogue apple rolled down the dirt road.

“Ah shit! Watch where you’re going!” The shopper bent down to gather their belongings.

“Terribly sorry mate, let me help you out,” the Thief bent down as well and started placing items in the basket. Standing up, brushing off a dirtied tomato, the shopper glared at the Thief, “thanks for the help,” he lied. The Thief winked and walked off, picking up the apple that had rolled away and crunched into it. The Thief turned the corner and walked into the Jewelers as he fastened his newly acquired watch.

“Good day, sir” the shopkeeper stood up straight as his new client walked in. He was an older man, well dressed in a white shirt and navy vest. His hair, which was beginning to grey at the sides of temples was pulled tightly into a ponytail. His monocle dangled from his breast pocket, his face was sharp and clean shaven. The shop was mostly glass tables, showcasing the shiny metals and precious stones that glinted in the streaming sunlight. The Thief walked up to the Jeweler and stuck out his wrist. As the Jeweler bent down to inspect the watch, the Thief grabbed the back of the man’s head and smashed his face right through the glass. Shards splintered out, and blood immediately started to fill the display case. The Thief applied pressure as the glass underneath the man’s neck crunched. He sputtered, blood filling his lungs, drowning. The Thief walked calmly to the front door and locked it. When he got back, the body lay motionless in a pool of warm blood. The Thief unhooked his newly acquired watch, cleaned it, and grabbed a new golden watch, as well as several more gems and rings.

He walked out of the store and continued on his journey. The day was off to a great start so far. As he rounded the corner and made his way to the stables, shrieks filled the air.