Private Tales The ELITE Thieves

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    A land once ruled by Dragons and Gods opens, but not every secret of Arethil's past is safe to uncover.

    Titanfall

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Varo

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Dellia - Allir Reach
Jace

"Trust me." Varo said as he smacked Jace on the back. "There is no way that this can go wrong."

The confidence in his voice was so pure, so strong, that one would have thought Varo already had their prize in hand. A bright smile clung to his face as they walked down the main road, most people ignoring them, though a few women glancing their way as they traipsed along. Dellia was not a big city, hell it would have been a crime to call it a city.

It was more of a town than anything else, a few thousand residents at most. Compared to Alliria it was practically a country village, though that was sort of the point for most people.

From what Varo understood most people came here to escape from the hustle and bustle of Alliria. They wanted something more quiet, something more discreet. Close enough to still work as a trading port yet far enough that the Merchant Councilor's and other authorities didn't pay as much attention. Also known as the perfect place to store contraband until it was ready for transport.

That was of course why Varo and Jace were here. "We go in, we get out, get the goods and bring it back home."

He wrapped an arm around Jace's shoulders.

"Just think how happy Irari will be. William will be bursting with jealousy, we can buy Itch a hundred pies, Artemis might flash you her ankle." Probably not, she was too dour for that. "Wren might even crack a smile!"

He was practically bouncing now. "There is just no way this can go wrong."
 

Jace

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Wren would have likely said that Varo saying nothing could go wrong was a sure sign that everything that could go wrong would.

But Jace was not Wren. The youngest member of their little ragtag group was as excited as Varo was. His blue eyes practically gleamed with the glory, the gold and the women that were in his future when they returned from a job well done. Honestly, he hadn't been able to find a single problem with Varo's plan. It sounded similar to plans they had pulled off all the time after all - get in, get out, job a goodun. What Jace failed to remember was that the majority of the brains that made those missions a success wasn't with them now.

"Yeah, bu' what exactly is the goods?" he practically forgot his own question as a pretty blonde threw him a shy smile and he turned to watch her walk away over his shoulder. He watched until she disappeared around a corner then glanced back to Varo. "Is no' anythin'...." he scrunched his nose up. "Ya know, like, wha'll get us into trouble tryna sell?"
 
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Varo

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"What? No." He shook his head.

Varo had gotten this little tip from Giselle. She had been all sweet after their last time together and had let slip of this little shipment of...scrolls? That was what she'd said. Little pieces of scribble that had some sort of magic in them.

They were apparently bound for some sort of battle that was happening in the Steppes. Supposedly one could use them to make magic without knowing magic. Crazy.

Also valuable. "It's just a box of some paper, can't be that valuable can it?"

He chuckled to himself.

"Come on, I think the place is up there. We can get a good eye on it from that windmill." Varo wasn't exactly the best 'thief'. In the trade he was what most would call a 'face', but he had a few skills that would help them on this little venture.
 
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Jace

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Yeah paper couldn't be anything bad. Certainly not get-clipped-round-the-head-by-Irari bad anyway and that was what counted. In fact, the faun might even like one of the little scrolls she was always scribbling her own. Feeling more sure of himself and this plan now he knew what it was they were stealing, Jace's step took on a lighter skip to it as they made their way through the town.

The windmill Varo had meant was a pretty little thing nestled on the outer edges of the town. It was still in use but a charmed smile and a ruffle of Jace's hair the pair were in under the guise of an concerned older brother trying to get work for his little brother prone to get into trouble when his hands were idle. They made their way up the stairs to the top where a tiny little balcony afforded them a good view out over the town.

"It's so small," Jace said with a note of disgust. He felt all exposed here without Allira's comforting towers of ramshackled slums to shield him. They would certainly have to be a lot more stealthy here than they were in Alliria, he didn't think they would be able to lose guards in the single main street. "So, wha's the plan? You distract 'em while I sneak in the back?"
 

Varo

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He squatted down, holding on to the railing as he looked at the Warehouse. He pretended as though he knew what he were looking for, not wanting Jace to think that they had suddenly and brashly run into a situation.

...Which they had.

After a few moments he nodded his head. "Aye."

He was the older of the two of them, not by many years, but enough that it counted at least. Varo took that responsibility very seriously. A hand ran over his chin, scratching at the bare wisp of a beard that he'd managed to collect there.

"Better yet...we wait for nightfall, then do it." Night time always made things easier. "Just a few hours till dusk, yeah?"

He looked up at Jace. "We could get a drink 'till then."
 
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Jace

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Jace squinted at the sky. What was the trick Petyr had taught him again at how to tell time? Something about the shadows... His eyes flickered to a rock on the ground and how long the shadow stretched behind it, almost pointing directly down to the south. That was six, he was pretty sure, in which case Varo was right and there was only a few more hours until dusk. Better two hands than one trying to get a pile of scrolls out of there. He knew from trying to lift some of Irari's papers that the things could be bloody heavy when there were a lot of them.

Besides, it wasn't often the group let him drink.

"Aye tha' sounds good," the youngster grinned and jumped to his feet. "Maybe I can win a bi' o' gold with the dice," or his cards. He was pretty good at both though he preferred the die.
 
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Varo

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"Sure. Sure." Varo said with a nod as he pulled himself up, glancing at the warehouse for a brief moment before he headed back down the stairs.

He personally had never much liked dice. There was too much chance in dice, too much that you couldn't control. It was always easier to play cards. In cards you were playing the people at the table, and that was much easier.

At least for him. "Saw a tavern called the Painted Pony that way."

Varo said as he pointed down the street, leading the way.

Within just a few moments they came upon the tavern, the sounds of laughter and conversation already echoing out into the street. Varo looked at Jace, shrugging and then pushing his way through the front door.
 
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Jace

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It soon became apparent why the Tavern was particularly busy on a mid-week afternoon.

Inside the crowded common room stood a man in an array of colourful clothes meant to draw the eye and entertain. He stood upon a table, cloak slung over one shoulder in a dramatic sweep as he drew his audience deeper into the web of his tale. Jace had only seen a Gleeman once in his life; the taverns were too busy when they were about in Alliria and innkeepers became picky with who it was they let in. Naturally someone like Jace was always at the bottom of that list.

When they made it to the bar he turned to watch with an agape mouth as the Gleeman told the famous story of the Griffin King of Oban. It had been a city he had always wanted to visit because of this story but he had never heard it told so well.

"Suppose you 'ad one of these blokes 'round every nigh' in yer fancy house?" Jace raised both brows at his comrade and accepted his beer greedily.
 
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Varo

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Varo took a sip, raising an eyebrow. "What him?"

He frowned for a moment, looking at the gleeman for a few seconds and shaking his head. Back home he had been a noble, or at least what would pass for a noble in a place like Alliria. Things didn't really work the same way back home.

Ivradin was an Elven city, and though Varo was only a half-blood he had been treated the same as anyone else. There was a structure there, but things like royalty and nobility did not truly exist.

"Not really." He shrugged. "My brother played some music, no stories though."

Varo took another sip, though in truth it was more like a deep swig.

The last thing he wanted to do right now was think about his brother. "Take another drink, Jace. Loosen up."
 
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Jace

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"I am loose," Jace muttered with a confused look on his face but said no more. The young lad didn't need much encouragement after all. It didn't take him long to finish off that pint, nor the second, nor even the third. He was enjoying himself listening to the gleeman whilst Varo flirted with one of the barmaids. A part of him envied Varo of course and occasionally he would listen to how the older man spoke to women, seduced them with a touch or a look.

The fourth pint went down much quicker.

After that it was only a matter of seconds before he decided on a game of dice to go and join. He'd been watching the group for some time and they played with a good amount of coin with not so much luck. He sauntered over adding a little extra drunken step into the way he walked before motioning to a seat.

"Can I?" the men, all older, glanced up with scowls which softened somewhat when the noted his age. A knowing smirk was shared amongst friends; easy target. Jace slid into the seat with a grin and produce his set of dice.
 
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Varo

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Varo followed along with Jace, mostly because he didn't like to be left alone.

He moved up along behind Jace as the boy sat himself down at the table, the other men looking at him as though wolves might a piece of meat that had wandered along. The mug in his hand came up to his lips, and he took another sip.

The world was slightly woozy now, shifting ever so slightly to the left as he stood behind Jace. Someone to his side moved, his head turning to notice a beautiful young waitress that had come along.

"Hello there, sugar. Might I take ya for a dance?"​

Varo looked at the girl, her bright blonde hair, the way that her dress sat just barely covering her breasts. "Well."

He told her.

"Only if my friend here wins." The Werewolf clapped Jace on the shoulder. "Need him to have a bit of luck."

The girl smiled brightly, leaning slowly over.

"Well maybe I can help with that!"​

She declared loudly as she sidled up to Jace.
 
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Jace

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Jace froze like a fox hearing the baying sounds of the hounds causing the rest of the men gathered to laugh.

"Jayne, leave ter boy alon', can' yer see yer makin' 'im nervous?" another chorus of laughter turned Jace a not so subtle shade of red. The beautiful blonde - Jayne, apparently - didn't seem to care one bit though and slid herself boldly into Jace's lap. Her fingers trailed over his cheek and into his hair with a smile that would have put the sun itself to shame.

"'E's alrigh', aren't you love?"

Jace looked to Varo in utter bewilderment. Most women he interacted with tended to hit him so this was all new territory. But before he could ask for help the lass pulled his gaze back to her as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"For good luck," she said innocently then blew on the cup. Jace could only nod mutely and roll. A damn good roll too.

"Snakes eyes," a man cursed and threw down his own cup as did the rest of the group. Jace smirked, more confident now, and pulled the tidy sum towards him.

"Clearly beginners luck."
 
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Varo

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"Aye clearly!" Varo called out with a cheer.

He smirked and took another sip of his ale.

There had always been a way about him, even before he had left his home city. He was a natural charmer, the sort that people just wanted to be around and were drawn to. In that moment, in the tavern, things were no different at all.

Varo might not have been playing, but he was with Jayce, and the way he spoke was more than enough to draw people to them. "Now."

He said.

"LETS DO IT AGAIN!" The werewolf called. "WINS ON WINS ON WINS!"

He patted Jayce on the cheek. "LETS MAKING SOME FUCKING COIN!"

As Varo shouted the entire Tavern seemed to cheer, roaring loudly and laughing as they cheered on Jayce.
 
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Jace

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Jace allowed himself to get swept away in the tide of euphoria that Varo stirred up. More drinks were piled in front of him and players came and went. It became a challenge of sorts to try and beat this young lad from out of town who seemed to be on a winning streak. Yet, no matter what it was they did, Jace kept winning. The triumph over others seized him like a fever and a few rounds passed in a blur. He would never be able to recall them even if he tried.

Another cheer went up around the room as Jace laid out a full flush, trumping the opponents two kings. The man snarled and without much warning flipped the table. Jace's lips turned down at the corners as he watched his half full tankard roll across the floor.

"'at'sa waste o' good booze..." he slurred but bent and nimbly picked the velvet coin bag off the floor before the other man could snatch it back.

"You're cheating! I don't know how but you are!" the man snarled and stabbed a pudgy finger towards him.
 
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Varo

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Varo smacked the finger down almost as soon as it came. "YOU'RE CHEATING!"

There was a roar of laughter from the people that had gathered around them, apparently entertained at the manner in which Varo rebuked the man.

He only had the slightest conscious idea of what he was doing now of course. Though his constitution was better than most for certain...reasons, he had now drunk enough that it hardly mattered. One hand was permanently glued to the backside of a very pretty woman who had come along and his other was mostly piling on drink.

As Jace had played, Varo had provided commentary, jokes, and revelry.

It was clear that within the little tavern the two young men were rather popular, with the crowd supporting them.

"Calm down mate and have anothe-" Loud hiccup. "Drink."

"FUCK YOU!"

The man said as he stood, his chair vaulting behind him.
 
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Jace

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Jace watched three chairs go flying then blinked and realised it was only one. How many had he had?

"S'alrigh' love, I'm done," he held up his hands and pushed his own chair back from the table with every intention of standing except the floor in that moment begun to move as violently as the waves of a tempest. He could feel his stomach churn and it was all he could do to keep his liquor down, so he didn't really hear what it was the man said before he flipped the table. Wood splintered and snapped. The room's din mellowed to a low rumble as patrons turned to look at the commotion.

"I said yer ain't going nowhere until you give me back my money," he snarled and took two strides across the room to grab Jace by the shirt and hoist him to his feet.

"Bu'-" -hic- "You dun' 'ave any, I clear you ou'," he grinned.
 
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Varo

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Varo looked at the situation.

He looked at the man holding Jace. Then to Jace. Then to the woman who was still clinging to his hip like she were some sort of moon in his orbit. He frowned for a brief moment, looking her up and down and then peeling himself away.

Three quick steps.

That was all it took, three steps to close the distance between himself and Jace. The man was already reeling, already moving. He could see the intent in his eye, the violence.

That was all he needed.

Before the man could land a single blow on Jace Varo lashed out. His fist came balling forward, smashing into the man's face with a surprising amount of strength. A loud crack echoed through the inn, and the man all but went tumbling back.
 
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Jace

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Chaos erupted.

It was a well known fact that when a large group of men were drunk and crammed tightly into a small inn such as this one that a certain malice began to creep into the atmosphere. The tension grew and grew as the crowd waited for someone, anyone, to give them an excuse to lash out and release the pent up frustrations of the day. More often than not they went home without such an outlet but on the occasionals such a situation presented itself, nobody looked it in the mouth.

The man went reeling back into another table where a game of cards was being played. The table broke beneath his weight sending cards, money and beer in every which direction. With a cry the men rose and dove for Jace's competitor. Then his mates jumped on those ones and that guy fell into that one and that guy... like a wave the violence swept across the room.

Jace ducked a chair being thrown towards his head and then jutted his thumb towards the door.

"Maybe... we should go?"
 
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Varo

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Varo always forgot that he was stronger now. In his youth he'd never paid much attention to training, never learned to use a sword or any of the things his brothers had.

Yet when the Werewolf had bitten him, when his curse had set in his strength had increased immeasurably. He'd never quite been able to measure how much, could never tell, though it was enough to send the man flying at least.

A frown touched his lips, eyes briefly glancing to his fist. "Well."

Slowly he looked over at Jace.

"Best be." The young man said as he took half a step back. "Got your winnings, yeah?'

Didn't want to leave without that.
 
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