Private Tales Surks the Thief and the Definitely Well Planned, Thoroughly Thought Out Heist

[Surks]

"If that bastard, Jick, gave me shit information again, I will cut out his tongue," Surks muttered under his breath. The man in question, Jick, had a track record of giving out information that was not entirely correct. Jick had a tendency to get over excited and sell his information prematurely. It does not bode well for Jick's continued existence. This was the fifth mark that he had pointed Surks, two of which had gone sour because of bad information. Luckily Surks was fairly tolerant, even though after either of them he could have killed the man, and no one from the slums would have even batted an eye. That still leaves getting caught by the authorities, but they tend to have issues gathering information when no on will snitch. The Code is followed fairly strictly, because when you don't you tend to have trouble staying not dead.

The apartment wasn't anything special, but according to Jick this guy was making decent money. An amount that his living conditions didn't reflect. It wasn't a shit hole, Surks knew that for sure, he lived in one of those, but it wasn't the type of place that was his usual target. Jumping up and latching onto one of the clapboards, Surks climbed his way up to a locked window. He nudges the locking pin on the inside open gently with a brief magical push and slowly slid the window open. Making no more sound than a particularly light cat Surks swung himself inside. As he went through the window he unknowingly triggered an alarm, he did sense it magically, but it felt like a slight, easily ignorable itch on his neck, which he had no way of connecting to a magical alarm, the thing was subtle. What he did notice with his magic senses was a strange chest, it had some sort of magical... somethings in it. Magical knick knacks tend to be more valuable than mundane ones. Surks was drawn to the chest like a moth to a flame. Much like a moth and a flame the chest would be what burned him in this mission.

As he crept toward the chest, he noticed a glint on a side desk. Apparently whoever lived here left a bag of coins out, not a huge sum. It was something though, he could pocket it which was usually a good policy, if you get caught and have to make a quick escape, at least you get out with something. Which, speaking of getting caught... Dammit! I am a idiot! Surks berated himself, And Jick is a fucking dead man walking. Complaining mentally at the realization that a guy with a chest of magic shit would probably also be competent enough to set up a magic alarm. Hell, even Surks had one on his own little hovel. It wasn't a silent one, but that should be withing reach of someone with actual magic training, right? Surks bolted for the chest, I need to get some whatever is in there and get out. That is when this little operation went sideways.

OOC: I edited the name of Adam to Jick, because apparently there is a character named Adam, and that bugged me.

 

[Telemachus]

The apartment was dark - nearly pitch black, were it not for what little moonlight came in from the forced open window. The chest itself looked mundane enough in the gloom, but as soon as it was touched it would emit an electric shock. Not enough to injure, but certainly enough to stun one's hand away. As it turned out, that would be the least of the problems Surks would encounter.

A twin pair of runes lit up on the wall, poised just above the desk. Had they always been visible? It didn't matter now. They were glowing an eerie cerulean light, and more electricity cackled harmlessly in the air. A magic trap, but nothing that killed outright. In all likelihood there appeared to be a conjuration in process. It would take another moment, and was surely enough to scare off any mundane thief were this apartment's sole resident not home.

But of course he was.

A door on the other side of the room flung open. It was a slight silhouette at first, but magic bloomed from the staff he was carrying, bathing the room in another source of cerulean light. The Sidereal Elf in the doorway was shirtless and unkempt, apparently having just now been roused from his slumber.

Telemachus locked onto the thief, and the swirling act of magic transpiring behind him. His lips twisted into a scowl.

"You fool."

 

[Surks]

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Surks angrily swore. Preparing for what he knew was coming, and hoped was not. He hastily drew some heat into his palm, preparing to toss some flame in front of whoever walks out. Tensing up his leg muscles as adrenaline seemingly slows down his perceptions. Listening to the creak of floorboards up to the door, then the SMASH! of it being thrown open, Surks releases the combustive energies from his palms. He has learned his lesson to be careful with fire by now, this spell is mostly to produce a flash, a bang and a lot of smoke. The man with the staff is just chiding Surks as said bang fills the room with smoke. Ever the pragmatist Surks is already making a mad dash in the direction of the window, along a route mapped only in his head, to avoid any furniture.

Surks takes a leap toward the open window fully prepared to roll to a safe landing, unfortunately for him he produced a bit more smoke than he had meant to. Hacking from smoke inhalation his jump doesn't have quite the power he had hoped for and he only succeeds in head butting the sill.

Realizing he was going to get caught either way, Surks made the best decision he could think of. He changed tracks from escape to brown nosing his way into the man's good graces. Surks dropped to his knees, put his hands behind his head and said "I give, please don't throw that fuckin' spell!". Scared as he was to go up against a magic user, who odd were pretty good knew way more than him Surks even broke his first rule and offered up what he had already taken, "All I got was a bag a' coins from that desk, it's in my vest pocket! Take it back!". Surks had been caught before and not cracked, but he had underestimated how much just the thought of going up against someone as unpredictable as an actually competent magic user would scare him. "Look, I'm sorry, I know my magic ain't shit, but I'll do what you want, don't kill me, I can help you," Surks was embarrassed for himself when he started rambling, this shit wasn't like him. But he knew very little magic and even that little bit helped him throw his enemies off balance in a fight. Off-balance in a fight, is like off the deck on an airship, it doesn't end well. In essence Surks knew enough to be threatened, but not enough to be threatening.

 

[Telemachus]

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the would-be thief produced some minor cantrip. There was flash, and Telemachus instinctively looked away, eyes now covered with his free-hand. When he looked back, the room was filled with smoke, and he could now hear the heavy footsteps of the thief running for escape.

Apparently he didn't make it. His vision was still obscured by the smoke, but he heard a distinctive thunk and clatter as the thief ran heedlessly into the wall. Telemachus squinted in annoyance and waved his staff, producing a gust of wind that dispersed the smoke.

The rune trap Surks had triggered still cackled with electricity, and the Storm Elementals it had summoned gradually formed into existence. It was a middling pair, armored, carrying strange curved swords. They were vaguely humanoid, although their cloud-like forms ended in wispy tails rather than legs. Occasionally lightning could be seen arcing through its form, briefly illuminating it.

Telemachus had never suspected there would be an actual scenario that they be dragged onto this material plane, but here they were. All for a common street rat.

Well, less common. This one knew magic, and could grovel quite skillfully.

Telemachus' mouth twitched irritably, threatening to turn into a scowl. "Be quiet," he said, already directing one of the elementals with a gesture of his staff. "Take the pouch from him."

At his command, the elemental lumbered forward, a soft clap of thunder roiled out from within it - its only response.

This disturbance was sure to upset his neighbors. Then again, they were all Elbionese. The very fact that he was an Elf living in close proximity to them had already done enough to attract their ire.

 

[Surks]

As the smoke cleared, Surks realized what he was dealing with, an elf. Surks hated elves, he may have been abandoned by both elves and humans, but he had also been taken care of by some humans. In his twisted, overly emotional, orphan-mind, since he hadn't been directly helped by any elves the entire species was a write-off as far as he was concerned. His mind raced through many thoughts, all equally chaotic and irrational, Knife-eared, tree-fucking, splinter-dicked waste of space. In Surks's defense, he was both emotional about being caught and worse wounded that an elf caught him, it opened a wound he had never been able to close.

Surks gritted his teeth, and refused to look Telemachus in the eye, opting instead to stare down his ears, obviously seething. At least Surks had his hood up and his hands clamped over the back of it. He wouldn't want this bastard to see his pointed ears. Surks was without realizing it, reverting back toward being an angry child. Angry at his parent's for having him, angry at the world for ruining him and angry at himself for not being better, stronger and getting out of his squalid lifestyle.

Surks didn't fight back as the crackling thundercloud took the pouch from his breast pocket. All of a sudden emotionally drained and just all around numbed, Surks let go of his anger with a sigh, "Look, I'm sorry. It's all I could do to survive. I know that probably doesn't matter to you. Hell, it wouldn't matter to me if I found some street-rat asshole in my living room,". Surks's speech sounded much better spoken. He didn't even realize that he had slipped into his normal speech, and if he did he would be too drained to care.

"Just do what you need to do, and get it over with," Surks lower his hood, revealing his ears, and looked up at Telemachus's eyes, any hint of malice gone, replaced with silent determination. Surks then closed his eyes and sat still and awaited his likely execution.

 

[Telemachus]

The thief was now pouting like a child caught in some mundane act of wrongdoing... Which, Telemachus supposed, he was exactly that. Telemachus could not understand what rapport he held with magic-using street urchins that they were so drawn to commit criminal acts in his proximity. He would just have to deal with it.

The Storm Elemental hovered back to Telemachus and deposited the coin purse in his hand. The Sidereal Elf ignored the glowering stare, having endured far worse from far more relevant personages in the past. He examined it closely, possibly checking to see if there was any damage, even as Surks sighed and griped about his meager existence

So pitiful. If only Telemachus had heartstrings to be plucked when it came to human gutter trash.

"That spell you cast," he eventually said in a dull and weary voice, "How did you come to learn it?"

 

[Surks]

"The spell? I didn't really learn it, I just did it," Surks said, surprised that he had heard a question rather than the whistle of a blade to his throat. Surks pondered over how exactly he did what he did, "I don't know exactly how, I just think about something happening, and force it to happen,"

"I learned a few years back that magic that is forceful enough to hurt people is also hard to control. So I figured out a few things that would help me get by, like that smoke bomb, or a gust of wind to soften a fall," Surks tried to choose his words carefully, this man seemed cold. Surks can deal with hot headed people, but this man was to calm. It was people like this that scared Surks, you couldn't read them, and that made them unpredictable. Appealing to this man's ego hadn't worked, if anything groveling had damaged how this man viewed Surks, not that that could get much worse. "It helped me with thieving, but also helped me not need to steal as often. I also learned some things to do some street perfomance, and busk for money. Little light shows that complemented conjured music. It was a less dangerous way to feed myself, but you can't make enough on just that to survive. So, every once in a while I would have to take what I needed. I have apologized for stealing, but I won't apologize for doing what needs to be done to live another day," Surks eyes hardened, searching the man for any tells he could pick up.

"Pretty soon I am going to get bored here, and walk away. You are either going to kill me, restrain me until the authorities get here, or let me go. Any of those things are better than sitting by and being judged by an elf with a silver spoon so far in his mouth he has Argyria in his throat," Surks seethed, remembering the time he had to swallow some of his loot, to retrieve it later. He got sick from silver poisoning, his fingertips were slightly blue for a long time. The crazy old bat that sometimes helped people in the slums with tonics and elixirs made in his back room had called it Argyria, also known as silver poisoning.

OOC: I know! Explaining a joke always makes it funnier. Also, Argyria is a real thing that will turn people blue, I have friends who are silver smiths and they have spots of blue on their hands where slivers of silver got under their skin. Also there is a guy who is completely blue from working at a silver refinery or something. He is all over the internet.

 

[Telemachus]

Telemachus snorted lightly, and placed the the coin pouch on an adjacent counter. "Charming."

Instinctual magic. How absolutely novel. This street urchin talked in a manner more educated than his status would imply. Telemachus himself had no idea what Argyria was, or what a silver spoon down his gullet would have to do with it. Must have been a poor person thing. But where would a poor person come by silver? Argyria. Curious indeed.

He would need to look into it, once this matter was settled.

"You overestimate your freedom of movement," Telemachus said. One or both of the Elementals thundered ominously from where they stood - for emphasis, one might assume. Clever things. Always helpful. "Tell me, can you read?"

There were matters Telemachus needed to attend to elsewhere in the city. Matters that were beneath him and would require the services of an individual of... Lower character. This spellcasting urchin could prove a fortuitous blessing, as it were, especially if he were somewhat literate.

Although he did threaten to simply walk away, which spoke volumes of his powers of perception.

 

[Surks]

Eyebrow arched Surks could practically feel the situation shift, "You need something from me," Surks said more to himself than anyone else. The gears were turning in Surks's head, this could be good, this guy knew stuff, stuff that could be helpful to learn. Surks would just have to keep his head down and pick up what he could, a skill he had practiced his whole life.

"Yeah, I can read. I was taught the letters and numbers when I was younger, I pieced it together from there," Surks said, "What should I call you?"

Normally the elementals behind him would set Surks on edge, but he could at least recognize that if he didn't make some incredibly stupid misstep, he would probably make it out of here. Being an errand boy is not glamorous, but it is a good way to learn, if you are doing errands for the right person.

"You do know what I am, right? Your kind doesn't tend to associate with mine," Surks said, gesturing at his slightly pointed ears. Surks had been looked down on most of his life for his heritage, but the few elves that had so much as walked past him gave an air of seething subsurface hatred that one of their could help produce someone who not only is racially 'poor', but also financially pitiful. The humans tended to only dislike him, until he proved useful. That was why he liked them, their convictions fell away against pragmatism and the right amount of alcohol.

 

[Telemachus]

The thief suddenly proclaimed that Telemachus needed something from him. "How astute."

There was little need for subtlety in this matter now, was there? The elementals had already been sprung. And there would hardly be any attention paid to the words of a witless thief if Surks elected to blab about what was done here. Besides, Telemachus was an Elf in a city of vacuous, prejudiced humans. They would come for him inevitably, and it would be for accusations much less pleasant than commissioned thievery.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

"I am Telemachus," he answered.

He did not expect to be known. It was not the criminal underground and other peasantry whose ire he tended to attract. The Sidereal Elf scoffed lightly when Surks gestured to his ears and spoke of 'his kind.' Telemachus had little patience for the politics of blood purity and those who espoused it: hence his disdain for the people of Elbion.

Telemachus waved his hand dismissively. "Your lineage is irrelevant to me."

The Sidereal Elf indicated a nearby dining table, around which three chairs were clustered. Inspection of the gouges on the floor would indicate that only one of them had seen any regular use.

"Have a seat."

 

[Surks]

"My name is Surks, I named myself after these," Surks said, taking off his tattered leather gloves to reveal his circle-scarred palms, "It isn't very clever, but these are important somehow," Surks was doing more than just explaining his name, he was fishing for possible answers, this is the closest he had come to someone who might know something about his scars. He had always had a feeling they were important, and then his magic manifested and he realized they had to have something to do with it.

Surks was surprised by that, he expected at least a few cheap shots at his half-elvish nature. It was obviously not that this man had any respect for Surks that he didn't take those cheap shots, it was that he honestly didn't care. That was something Surks liked, and something he could work with, or more likely work for.

Surks sat down, landing a bit heavier than intended. Adrenaline was a hell of a thing, but when it wore off it took a heavy toll. "I assume you need me to do something illicit. Otherwise you wouldn't bother keeping me around, easier to just pay some random person," Surks guessed, "I assume after I do whatever it is, my debt is cleared?"

OOC: The Scar plot hook isn't going anywhere specific, I haven't really decided on anything important about them, so if you can think of anything interesting to add, it may be a good way to keep Surks in line, maybe a mention in a book that leads to a temple or something, if you wanna add something like that it is cool. It doesn't have to be a book or a temple or anything, you don't have to add anything at all. It's up to you.

 

[Telemachus]

His name and the source of it were, quite frankly, also irrelevant to Telemachus. He supposed this would make it somewhat easier to track Surks down in the event he broke whatever deal they made here today. Then again... The precise nature of those scars seemed somewhat unusual. Familiar.

Well, it wasn't important currently.

"You will be paid for your service," Telemachus droned, and indicated where the money pouch presently rested with a nod. "A more than deserving amount."

The clearing of debts was not a sufficient motivator. Any thief with half a brain would just take the mercy of being allowed to leave and vanish into the night. If it was money that Surks found himself so desperate for, it would also serve to bring him back once his job was done.

In any event, Telemachus continued. "Master Eimur Emisol has passed away recently. He dies heirless. His manor has been shuttered while the Merchant Council divides his estate between themselves."

Passed away was one way of putting it. Horribly murdered by Douglas Haley might have been more accurate. And now the merchant councilors were squabbling over his property. Such was the shamelessness of merchants, but Telemachus understood it well enough. He would have done the same in their position.

Alas, he was not in their position, and now he had to rely on Surks.

"His personal library holds two manuscripts I have need of. You will bring them to me."