87th of Searing, 4623
Just like any day and night, the seconds pass into minutes, transitioning into hours, returning home to the days, gathering weeks and a collection of months. All of which will be a part of the seasons that continue to pass by. It was around late Searing that something truly worrisome had occurred.
Usually, the Draedan of Saren would simply stick to his usual routine of sleeping during the day, awakening in the evening and beginning his work as a thief. He was using the night's veil as his cover, sharpening his skills through trial & error and practical experience alone. While not the sharpest tool among the many thieves and rogues that populate Atharen, what he lacked in talent was more than made up through dedication, practice and refining his skills to a fine edge.
Yet, at this very moment. Jared was caught in the middle of the chase, fleeing from the marketplace with a few stolen pouches as his slim figure weaselled through the crowd of people of all shapes and sizes. Men, women, children and older people donned muted browns and greens. Jared's usually tattered black cloak was dyed to a Sienna brown through his divinity to hide within the large crowd of many faces.
With each passing day with practice, The consumption of divinity became smaller and smaller with repeated use and understanding of Acclimate. Not only that, his mastery over his magic and abilities was steady in its growth, but there was only so much that the thief could do by training alone. The risk was needed to test his limits, and it was that the Alistian vagabond was attempting to step out of his comfort zone by trying to steal in broad daylight.
The factor that comes from stealing during the day compared to night was trying to compare apples and oranges. Each has its unique advantages, disadvantages and incidents associated with them in a broad degree that would be impossible to address, no matter how much time was spent planning in attempts to minimise the risk involved.
"There are too many of them to fight them off… Best to lose them and can fight off a few pursuers if they are that persistent…"
They heard the shouts of grown men yelling for the thief to stop. A frustrated yell could be heard as their line of sight was lost; the loud chatter would indicate they were looking for a specific profile regarding height, clothing and more. The level of detail meant that the guards stationed at the marketplace he had just robbed had capable men, which spelt trouble for the young Daredan.
"Keep moving, maintain distance and move at a reasonable pace. They are most likely trying to find stragglers and block off exits until they have given up. Not that it mattered; I can still get out one way or another, but I need to keep Taelian's advice of keeping a low profile until I can get a handle on my issues…"
Jared couldn't help but mutter internally. One of his many habits was that he wasn't much of a talker and processed much of the world through his thoughts alone. Slightly distracted by his thoughts, the thief started to ponder on his methods to escape and instinctively started making his way through an alleyway, one of his preferred places for collecting and organising his thoughts.
Yet, despite quietly making his way over to a spot within the alleyway, it was complex for people to look in, obscuring their line of sight. A few voices started to echo down the cobblestone path.
"Hey, did you two see someone walk in here?"
"I think so? All I saw was a brown blur, and that was it."
"Seems a bit suspicious… should we call for backup?"
"Shouldn't be too hard to catch one guy… with a couple of arms and having a magus with us as well. Should be easy to find them."
"You say that, but I want to reserve my skills for when they are needed. Caution is preached if you are a wielder of Raw Magic, as it is easy for a mage to fall ill if they push themselves too far. Some even die before they can reach their peak…"
"Still, you are essentially a god among men… not many people live through some of the trials…"
As the group of men continued to mutter, the amber-eyed Draedan couldn’t help but ponder his current state of divinity for a moment. Where Jared was once a mortal being that was pushing the limits of his core being into become something worthy in his own home of Daravin, a magus who could control the nature of darkness to his whim, in reality, the thief was merely chasing a false dream, an illusion of who he was or what he wanted to be. Someone powerful, confident, cunning and more, but those virtues were not his keep; instead, the words that remained in his soul and what defined him as a Vendren or what is referred to by the language of old as ‘Beloved’ meant something more.
The word ‘Beloved’ had many meanings in Jared’s eyes. From being loved by another to loving something you hold near and dear, it didn’t matter if the object of affection was a person, place or thing; it could be defined as a book or chair or as abstract as concepts such as one’s skills and imagination. While the meaning was somewhat vague, the sensation as a whole remained absolute in Jared’s divine spark.
And for a moment, while the Draedan's thoughts were loose. His attention to reality would soon be brought back as the shuffle of heavy, metallic footsteps, some of which were muffled by padding of sorts, would start making their way through the alleyway where the Alistian thief took refuge so that he could recollect his thoughts, even if it were for a moment or two.
"You can hide as much as you like, but you are only delaying getting caught."
One of the guardsmen would call out to the shrouded rogue. In all honesty, these mere calls to surrender were the last thing a thief or scoundrel would do in a situation like this. While it would be terrifying for most, a simple response is triggered when fear is at the front of one's emotions. Does one flee, or does one fight?
For Jared, his choice would have been as simple as fleeing into the shadows and vanishing without a trace, yet something within was calling the Draedan to make a stand and a choice to fight back. To be encouraged by his abilities and not be afraid to strike back. While it was in his nature not to kill, it didn't mean he could fight back and, as the saying goes, in Jared's terms. 'I don't get paid to kill; I only get paid when I steal.' It was as simple as it was.
Waiting for a moment to strike, as the padded footsteps got closer, the Draedan in question took a moment to conceal his visual presence by altering the properties of his clothing to camouflage with the natural hues present in his location through Acclimate.
"You are wasting your time, rat… You can't escape when so many of us are looking for you… Stop wasting ou…"
As the man continues to speak, he gets closer to his hiding spot. Jared took his chance, the opening created from an unexpected flank as the thief lunged out of his hiding spot, still cloaked by his divinity as a heavy blow to the side of the guard's head was inflicted with his trusty blackjack.
The clash of a heavy-weighted block of metal battering against a helmet was enough to cause the remaining members of the patrol group to draw their swords and advance with a fastened pace; it would soon be apparent to Jared that as he turned around that a group of men would fast approach; from the corner of his eye, the thief noticed a swirl of blackened liquid forming across one of the soldiers who was standing back. If it weren’t for Jared’s familiarity with Nightfall, he would have been caught off-guard depending on the method of this part.
While combat was never Jared’s strongest experience, his reactionary speed to a situation was developed just enough so that he could create a gap for an escape. In this case, the thief quickly arched his camouflaged cloak in a wide arc. As the fabric flutters wide, the transparent-like texture quickly glimmers as the shroud acts as a conduit for his Lucence magic. Multiple beads of light would form on the very folds of the fabric before exploding in a cascading light, enough to blind many men in question.
As the cries of pain and bodies reel to control their overstimulated senses, Jared would quickly don his cloak again, refocusing his divinity into blending his surroundings and quietly leaving the scene. It was already a pain having to fend off so many people, but the frequency was happening more than the thief would like, perhaps an omen for what is yet to come.
