Private Tales Robbing the...Rich?

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Rania Dazeir was more fox than snake and although the thief was trained in a great many things, she was still no match for the enemy she was facing now. His movements were otherworldly; sharp, quick and viciously precise, the masked stranger aimed his blade at her torso–an attack she was able to block with her own dagger.

His second attack, this time aimed at her leg, forced the woman to sidestep and he rushed past her with a breeze. She wasn’t his target and he wasn’t interested in her, his attention clinging to Valren–and Valren alone.

It took until after Val had been punched in the face, but she was able to dig her dagger deeply into the man’s back. The weapon struck below his waist and she purposely aimed for one of his kidneys, knowing that it would take the life out of him quickly.

The words he had screamed just moments prior still echoed in her ears
 
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The words echoed out into the hall, ringing within Val's ears and seeming to call to him like the song of a siren.

"Nur kora will payee faraa qa ish aku na'car!"​

Val drew himself up, half holding his nose as the man shifted, and then slowly collapsed forward onto the ground with a thud. The weight of his body pulled off of the edge of Rania's knife, his form collapsing in a spreading puddle of blood.

The noble looked up at his companion. "Fuck."

His voice sounded strange, distorted.

An odd look held in his eyes, fingers tightening on the hilt of his bow as he took half a step back. He recognized the words of course, known them for what they were; Old Obanian.

His gaze flickered up from the corpse towards Rania.
 
The body slid off her blade with ease and the thief watched with wide eyes as he spoke his last words, seemingly putting the young noble into a trance. His last breath held value, because when she looked at her companion he could hardly speak – only curse.

“You are repeating yourself, mylord.” The raven haired mocked and cleaned her dagger on the dead man’s clothes. She didn’t notice his unease at first, or perhaps she mistook it as shock – perhaps this was his first dead body, and the first time he had gotten this close to death, although that seemed unlikely.

Rania, of course, remained unimpressed. Her heart had been racing earlier, but she had calmed down almost immediately – sudden death tended to do that for her. She rolled the body over to inspect further, but Valren still wasn’t doing much.

With a frown, she stepped towards the man and snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Hey, dumbass.” Then, she flicked his forehead. “Snap out of it. What did he say anyways? Do you know this guy?”
 
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He knew the words of course.

The lucky part of being a noble was the education. His parents had always made sure that he had only the best tutors, and language had been a part of that. Oban was old, with traditions more ancient than most actually knew about.

That language was part of it. "Aye."

Val Told Rania.

"He was yelling about my father, about how he was imprisoned." Vengeance. That was all this was. Not someone hired to kill him. Not someone looking for coin, but someone trying to make up for injustice.

Slowly Val walked over to his corpse.

"Fuck." He squatted down, losing himself in the moment. "He didn't deserve this. John didn't deserve this. None...no one deserved this."

Misery flickered through his voice. "They...they just want to live. They just want to care for their families. Be happy, and... and people like my father take that away."

The masked slip, forgotten in his anger.
 
Her brows furrowed, lips thinning into a line. The young lord’s reaction wasn’t what she had expected from him and for a moment, she simply stood by his side in silence as he mourned the death of the man who had tried to take his life. Rania sheathed her weapons and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

The thief felt no pain, neither physical nor emotional, but shifted her weight to the left side of her body regardless to give her still injured leg a chance to rest. “The only fair thing about life is that it’s unfair to all of us,” the woman said with a dry tone and lowered her gaze. Those were the words she lived by, the words that had gotten her through all the tough times she had to endure in her young life.

Rania turned her face away and, for a moment, recollected everything she knew about Valren. He was born into riches and wealth, only son of the first councilor to the king of Oban. A high position by all means and although Rania was no expert, she assumed that people like them did not mingle with the poor and less fortunate ones.

It surprised her to see his frustration, and even more that he showed empathy for the dead. “You aren’t even relieved that the threat is gone,” Rania spoke quietly, and a hint of disbelief tinted her voice. He was miserable because someone had died at the hands of his own father – and that didn’t seem right to Rania. He seemed odd before, but he had played his part well. Now his mask was faltering.

“Sounds to me like you know exactly who the real problem is.”
 
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"He won't be the last one." Val said quietly.

He knew his fathers crimes. He'd fought against his fathers crimes. None of this would end now. None of this would be unique. There would be a dozen more of men just like this, twice that number within the coming years.

That was how it always was.

These people did not take money. They did not go after them for pay, but for justice. Val couldn't rightly blame them for that. He couldn't deny them that justice.

"My father has sent innocent men to prison." He said bitterly. "Stolen lands, property, whatever he could."

Disgust clung to his tone. "Men and women have died because of him."

That was why he did what he did. Why he stole from the rich. Why he took what was theirs in favor of those who did not have.
 
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A frown crossed Rania's pretty face and she squatted down next to the young noble.

"The way I see it, you are his only heir. Just get rid of your father and do make things better," she said as a matter-of-fact, almost nonchalantly. Of course Rania didn't know what connected Valren to his father, whether there was some sort of emotional bond or not, but he seemed to hate him for what he did for people.

It was odd knowing that he did, because most nobles simply did not care, but that wasn't for her to question.

"I mean, what's the worst that could possible happen? You are already grown, you don't need a parent to raise you anymore." The thief gave a shrug and she rolled the dead body over. A pool of blood had formed under the man's corpse and she took a step backwards to avoid getting herself dirty.

"If you need an assassin, just say the word." Granted, she hadn't been on her best performance lately, but Rania could do much much better than that – especially if a fine sum of money was involved.
 
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Val considered it. Actually considered it.

The words rung in his head, and he realized that Rania was right. "It won't be easy."

There was a reason that Val had never tried it, and that was more than just the fact that the man was his father. The King's Vizier was not a fool, he knew that more than a few people wanted his head and knew how to keep himself safe. He had done so for nearly thirty years, more by some accounts.

Valren's father was clever, ruthless, and well connected.

"Unlike me my father does not eschew security." Another bit of the mask slipped. It was Val's choice not to have security, his decision not to be protected m a critique that Rania had leveled at him over and over again. "Nor does he think himself utterly safe."

He said with a frown. "He is protected by Three Gryphon Knights loyal to our family."

The greatest soldiers of Oban.

"Our family's Sorcerer also watches over him, like a dog would it's master." He frowned for a moment, glancing at Rania as he considered her for just a moment. "Then there is the problem of our family Amulet."

The words hung cryptically in the air.
 
The thief had never participated in anything this big. She had never interacted with people of such high status and the former slave was beginning to realize that her suggestion, as simple as it was, must have sounded ridiculous in the ears of someone who was much more well-versed in these topics – someone such as Val.

If all problems of the world could be solved by simply killing those who caused them, then there wouldn’t be many problems left by now, or so she thought.

Still, when the young noble didn’t deny her statement Rania was left bewildered by the absurdity of the situation. “Gryphon Knights?” She scoffed. That seemed excessive, even for someone of that caliber.

What he said next caused a frown to appear on Rania’s face, but she left it without questions for the time being. Rich people mingled with all sorts of dubious things, black magic and court sorceress being one of them.

“We can figure that out another time, for now let's decide what to do with the bodies.” Rania wasn’t keen on spending another night here, but there were only two horses – and she sure as hell wasn’t giving up her spot for some dead assassin.
 
Val nodded his head.

Killing his father was not an easy task, not even for someone who was a trained assassin. More than a few had tried during his lifetime, men and women hired by courtiers who had thought the old man vulnerable. They had always turned out to be wrong.

A failed attempt on his fathers life would likely see him ruined, but at this point? At this point he would rather be ruined than keep up with the farce of his life. "Right."

He agreed with a nod.

"John we'll take back home." Valren had decided that when he had first found his friends body. It simply wasn't in him to just leave the old mans corpse rotting somewhere on this piece of land. That didn't feel right.

"Him..." He nudged the corpse with his foot. "Let's bury him at least."

The man had tried to kill them, killed John, but leaving him somewhere in a ditch didn't feel right either.
 
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“I must admit, you might not be as close-minded as I initially assumed.”

The thief had no way of knowing about Valren’s act and the sacrifices that came with it. He played his part well and he was convincing and although some of his mask had faltered, Rania still wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking at.

“Alright, let’s get this done then, before he starts to rot.” Her pretty face turned into a grimace at the thought of John, who had been dead much longer. She gestured towards the dead man whose name neither of them knew and kneeled down, grabbing him by the ankles in order to lift him up.

“The gardens? The backyard? The forest?” Rania completely disregarded how morbid the situation had become and instead, decided to go for small talk. She had to distract herself from the corpse in her hands somehow.

“So, since your dad is such a mess, what about your mom? Is she nicer? Or is this another stereotypical situation of father turning evil after his precious wife dies – during childbirth maybe?”

Naturally, the woman did not hold back.
 
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"My life isn't a storybook." Val said as he grabbed the other ankle.

He had of course, been told those same stories as a child. He thought things like that were likely universal among small children in the world. Odd, really, but not unexpected. He frowned a moment and then continued his explanation.

"My mother is alive and well." Val told her. "But no better than my father."

She was cruel in her own world. "All she's ever cared about was her own wealth and reputation. Not much else."

A depressing fact that had reflected on his childhood.

"There's rumors of..." He trailed off. "Not important really, in Oban women can't inherit."

Val sounded somewhat rankled as he spoke.
 
"I can see that now." Rania replied while dragging the body along the marbled stone halls of Valren's mansion. The cost of such wealth no longer seemed worth the burden and she thought of how she'd rather have no parents than parents like his.

"If she can't inherit, then it's probably in her best interest to keep him alive," the thief said quietly and uttered a sigh. She was suddenly grateful for her own simple, but uncomplicated life. "Staying in this place, far away from all that drama sounds like a much better alternative if you ask me." Aside from the two murders happening here, the peace and quiet of this house and the surrounding area was nice.

That is, if you didn't have to constantly fear for your life of course.

"In fact, I will accept this entire establishment as reward for helping you live just a little longer."

The thief smiled smugly to herself and from then on paid little attention to the passing hours of the day. The two buried the body in a location that Valren deemed fit and then returned inside to discuss the next steps.

"You said you didn't want to spend another night here?"

She was wondering whether he decided to tell his father about the events taking place here or not.
 
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Val only waved dismissively when Rania laid claim to his family's summer home.

He had never really much liked the place, but he wasn't quite on board with the idea of just giving it up to her. It made for an effective hideout after all, even if an assassin could actually find him here. Not like that was a common occurrence.

After they had buried the body and bundled up John's corpse in a few linens Val sat himself down on the steps. Rania prodded him again, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah."

He nodded his head in confirmation.

"We'll head back into the city." The horses were still alive, and he knew that there was an extra cart they could use in one of the sheds. The trip would be a short one, and once they were there...well he'd have to figure things out.

"My father will welcome me back when I show up with John's corpse." He told her. "He'll use the attempt for some political gain and we'll maneuver around that."

Until they figured out a way to kill the old man.
 
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"It's not how I imagined things would go, but I suppose it's enough to keep me entertained," the thief shrugged and turned her head. Her lashes fluttered when a ray of light illuminated her face and with a deep sigh, Rania pulled along her thick braid of hair.

"I have never seen any city from the perspective of someone–," she halted for a moment, searching for the right word. Of course she knew what he was, but saying it felt strange, especially after the night the two of them had just been through. "A noble, I guess." Even if Val's companionship further proved to be a waste of her time (not necessarily her skills, since she had been needed here), Rania could always go wandering off elsewhere.

And besides, she very much preferred going by horse rather than walking all the way back, especially with how her leg was still aching. That, and company. At this point, she really didn't want to know what else was lurking in those woodlands around them.

"Lead the way then."
 
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He glanced at her for a moment, then nodded his head. "We'll need to stop at a tailor before we get to the Estate."

The clothes she was wearing now wouldn't do.

"And." Lips thinned for a few moments as he considered Rania. His father was a suspicious man by nature, a quality that Val had needed to sidestep for most of his entire life. "We'll need to figure out a backstory for you too."

He told her. "You're an outlander, so..."

For a brief moment Val ran through a list of cities in his head, trying to think about what would make sense for Rania and what his father wouldn't really know all that much about.

"How much do you know about Rhagash?" The noble asked as they stepped outside and headed towards the two horses they'd stabled the day before.
 
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„A tailor?“ She appeared bedazzled, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. „A backstor-,“ the woman paused, then shook her head. Rania wasn‘t vain by any means, but as far as she considered it, there was nothing wrong with her outfit.

„Fine, but you‘re not exactly looking dashing either, by the way.“ The thief remarked dryly and offered a shrug. Still, she appreciated the foresight.

„I didn‘t realize being seen with any female at your side would raise so much suspicion.“ It was a jab, in a way, but not far from the truth. But maybe she‘d thought of the nobles as too simple, giving them less credit than they deserved.

„I know nothing about Rhagash.“

She followed him out to the stables.
 
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Val offered Rania a bemused smile, wondering if she would ever stop digging at him. Perhaps it was a sign of just how much she disliked the nobility, or perhaps it was just who she was. "Anyone new by my side would raise suspicion."

If she was a noble lady from Oban, hell, even if she was a tavern wench from Oban it wouldn't have been much of a problem.

The issue was that Rania was most definitely not from Oban. It wasn't just her clothes that gave her away, but her face. The angle of her cheekbones, the shade of her skin. They were not a very diverse city, and most would easily have been able to pluck her out of a crowd.

His father? His father would know something was wrong almost instantly if he didn't have an explanation already prepared.

"Well, what about…" Alliria wouldn't work, his father had too many contacts in the city to reach out to. "Cortos?"

At least they could make something up there. The region was mostly in chaos. "We'll get you a book."

Val stopped saddling the horses for a moment, looking at her.

"You can read, right?" He teased.
 
“I take it you don’t have many friends then?” With a raised eyebrow, the thief looked over her temporary companion. The more things she learned about Valren’s life, the easier it became to almost pity him for his lifestyle. Only almost though, because he still had all that wealth, this excessively large mansion and of course the fancy bow that somehow someone had simply given to him, even though it was a precious family heirloom.

Her brows furrowed and she turned her head away. The woman’s green eyes focused on the horses: they would be her way out of here, one way or another, and surely once their journey progressed she would sneak in some profit for herself somehow – it’s not like spoiled Val would miss any of his golden coins.

Cortos works, I suppose. I don’t know, do I look like I could be from Cortos?” A genuine question, as she stretched out her arms and looked at herself. The tan skin and black hair were usually a dead giveaway for the desert. “A book?” She shook her head. “I can read, but I don’t look good with books,” she admitted, although she did enjoy them.

“You could tell him that you bought me from a traveling circus, due to my large and entertaining repertoire of skills?” She couldn’t be a scholar for him, but an entertainer? Absolutely. As if to demonstrate, the thief threw both her daggers up into the air, combined a little twirl with a rather sultry movement of her hips, before catching her weapons again.

“See? That would be believable.”
 
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"Slavery is illegal in Oban." He told her, though it was only just illegal.

Indentured servitude was still more than common, and was one of those things that Val constantly fought against. He had bought the freedom of many who had been held with a debt that they would never have been able to pay off.

The idea was not a bad one though. "An entertainer though."

He mused for a few seconds and snapped his fingers as he finally finished saddling the two horses. A bright smile touched his face.

"Your Circus was set upon by bandits, I rescued you." His father would believe that. "I took you back to perform at a Gala."

Easy enough. "He'll believe that, might even use the story for some publicity."

He always was a man for good PR.
 
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Once the horses were saddled the thief climbed on top and scoffed at his suggestion. It was a good plan, but she wasn’t going to admit that. In the end, a damsel in distress wasn’t going to get questioned by any men and knowing that much made her want to burn the patriarchy – but maybe another day.

“Don’t forget the body,” she reminded him and looked over her shoulder.

Not much longer until John would start rotting away and the scent of his corpse would lure god knows what to their location. It was honestly a situation she’d much rather avoid, so they would have to hurry.

“Are you going to be truthful about what happened to him? Or are you going to include that into your story about the bandits?”

While Rania wasn’t nervous about performing – and lying – to the nobles of Oban, something like doubt was gnawing at her insides. Her gut feeling told her Val was trustworthy, as least as much as she could expect him to be in these circumstances, but she would be on her guard no matter what.
 
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Val had not forgotten. Though bringing John back on the the rump of a horse seemed somewhat...disrespectful, he couldn't just leave the man to rot either.

His friend would have to suffer the indignity of a days ride back to Oban. "I'll tell him the truth."

Val said quietly as he lifted John and placed him on the back of the horse. He stayed there for a moment, taking a breath before he slowly turned back towards Rania. Lips thinned and he shook his head as he dismissed a thought.

"My father will be more than happy to welcome me back when He fins out someone tried to have me killed." He told her. "No doubt he'll laud my survival abilities. Maybe even throw me a party."

Always a good way to capitalize on such things. "The Bandits will just be on the way back."

Val pulled himself into the saddle. "Easy to not twist the stories."
 
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It was time to get going at last. Rania gave her horse a gentle nudge and as it began to trot along the dirt road leading away from the mansion, the thief looked over her shoulder one last time. It was an eerie image, one she wouldn’t forget about in the nearby future. The house lay far away from the nearest city and the high walls surrounding it clearly did little to protect those residing inside. Somehow Rania didn’t think Valren would ever be able to enjoy his summer home ever again.

“For someone who’s at such a disadvantage, you seem to read your father like a book,” the woman said to him eventually.

She had noticed how well prepared Valren seemed to be, especially in regards to his father. He knew how to plan ahead and it never took him long to figure out what his father’s next steps would be. How reliable his assessments were, she had yet to find out, but he spoke with such confidence and certainty that she found it hard to doubt him.

“And even in spite of it, you are still in this pathetic position. How come?” She meant the house arrest, and the way he’d been sent away like an unruly child to be punished.
 
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Val let out a loud sigh.

Rania had gained a little bit of insight into him. She knew that he wasn't the noble that most thought him to be, knew that he wasn't just some spoiled brat running around the world. He frowned for a moment, glancing at Rania.

"I help people." He said slowly.

"Behind my fathers back." Val explained. "Using his money and the information that I gain at home."

There wasn't really a better way of putting it. His father didn't have a loose tongue, but Val was clever. He knew where to find stashed papers, hidden secrets. All of it was there if you know what to look for, and most of the time he did. "I can only do that if I'm in his good graces, but it's a fine line. I pretend to be a screw-up so he doesn't suspect the slights he experiences come from me."

A shrug rolled over his shoulders.

"If that means I have to suffer some small slight every now and again..." He trailed off. "It's a trade-off I'll make."
 
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The thief didn’t turn to look at him and instead focused on the road that lay ahead. Her leg was still aching, albeit not as badly and even though she found herself to be in a rather unfortunate position, Rania realized that she wasn’t feeling entirely poorly.

If anything, Valren made for a rather decent travel companion.

“How curious,” she mused with a smile, always keeping her eyes on the road. It was nearing midday by now, and she wondered if they would have to camp outside – with a corpse – or make it to Oban before nightfall. “That’s a rather noble thing to do and not at all what I expected,” she admitted with a nod, but kept her true opinion to herself.

Val could talk a lot when the day was long and whether he was to be believed would show in due time. “And what do you gain from that? Helping people, I mean. And don’t tell me it’s for your conscience – no one is that selfless.” Maybe Rania simply underestimated how bored a rich son could get, but as someone who had to fight desperately for everything that she owned and was, doing things for free out of the goodness of her heart simply didn’t seem all that realistic.

“And how do you help people? Do you give them money? You could give me some money then, if that's the case.” Her voice carried a sneer, but her expression was candid. This time she even turned to face him.
 
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