5th of Glade, 4623
Jared was currently entering the cellar that Jared had recently picked from the guard’s post. The amber-eyed thief takes a moment to let his vision adjust to the present darkness; After all, once the cellar door was closed behind him, the thief was on borrowed time. Hopefully, his luck would prove him otherwise since it was in the middle of the night, and people wouldn’t check the cellar unless a delivery or some officer checked their current stocks and saw what needed replenishment.
The justification to emit a small amount of light was needed since even the Draedan’s amber gaze had difficulty seeking anything enshrouded by the darkness itself. So, using Ray but at a lower intensity, the thief would conjure up a faint, silvery iridescent light that would slowly bleed into the night, revealing the dusty crates, sealed barrels, and other miscellaneous stuff would require some time to sort through.
If the thief wanted to know what kind of objects was being stored, he would need to crack them open one by one and sift through the contents quickly, which could risk leaving potential evidence behind. In addition, he wanted to avoid thinking about how they could track the thief in question, as there were probably various methods to find someone if they genuinely wanted to.
“How nice of them to have so many things; I wonder what I can fetch for myself. There is more valuable stuff than materialistic means. Let's take a moment to look around before going upstairs. There should be some documents or conversation I can take; I am curious to see what is going on, but that needs to be determined.”
Pulling a small prybar out of his daravinic iron cloak has seen some wear and tear. The thief begins to wedge the claw into the groves that would hold the crate tight, briefly wiggling the equipment in and ensuring it is lodged in place.
The roguish young Draedan takes a moment to take a deep breath as his muscles begin to tense, and his weight shifts over to the shaft of the prybar. Adding his weight and strength caused the nails embedded into the crate to give way rather quickly due to the innate power is provided by divinity flowing from his body, supporting his semi-mortal frame.
With that in mind, the thief takes a moment to allow the orb of light that was currently feeding onto his divinity to float beside his body, acting as a floating lantern with a minimal intensity not to cause a massive reveal of his location if someone was curious enough head back into the cellar.
“Come on…. Heave… Hoe…”
Giving the prybar a few shoves, the wooden lid only takes a few seconds to creak slightly as the nails pull themselves out of the planks. What hidden treasures the thief was expecting in these crates could vary from dried foodstuffs to possibly confiscated goods. Either way, something inside would pique the thief’s interest, and upon uncovering the wooden lid, the thief’s gaze would set itself upon a pile of sacks that read on the bag that they were flour.
“Huh… Foodstuffs… Interesting, but that would make sense… I wonder what other stuff I might be able to find this evening….”
With that in mind, the thief scavenges through all the barrels and crates, taking his time to see what he can collect and gather before reorganising everything back in place. Most of what the thief managed to find were additional sacks of foodstuffs, spare weapons that were standard quality and surplus parts for what the rogue can assume were things related to minor fixes or useless items.
Either way, the thief had a few items to collect for his trinket collection, mainly various bits and pieces that the guards wouldn’t miss. In some ways, it would seem rather pathetic for anyone to collect scraps and consider them valuable, but this was essentially the heart of who he is; a simple thief that yearns for something more than mere survival at this point.
During his search, the thief couldn’t help but wonder what things he could do with his divinity. His desires and identity would shape, but would he become a droplet in the sea to become a tidal wave. Would the thief be the same, or would he have changed for better or worse? These were the kinds of thoughts that lingered deep s he was trying to find himself more than ever.
“Seems like I got enough out of here in terms of stuff, but I wonder what kind of info the guards have that I could use of… I guess I can scout about a bit more before dipping out.”
With his mind settled, the thief takes a moment to put everything back in order as best as possible with the aid of his silvery light, which assists in a visual sense. Once Jared set all the crates back to the best of the larcenist’s abilities, it was only then that the thief took a moment to look around, seeking other entrances, which came in the form of a wooden stairway that led up. Unfortunately, the staircase looked worn and beaten, suggesting that a significant amount of weight would cause a bit of creaking. The mere thought caused the thief to sweat slightly since the idea of alerting someone wasn’t something the Draedan didn’t like to think about.
The thief inches closer to the stairway's base with a hushed breath. The Draedan of Saren takes a moment to envision a pale hand waving over a candleflame which the gust of wind ushers the light in a brief quiver before darkness claims it; the mere thought, triggering the orb of light to quell and vanish from sight and with it; the alabaster light.
“Come on, Vendrel… Using that name still feels weird, but I got to get used to it… You have climbed stairs before. You need to be careful where you land your feet, just like running on the rickey rooftops of the slums back in Alistian….”
A little pep-talk gave the thief confidence to start his ascent up the weather-beaten staircase. The street rat began to scurry up the wooden planks with silent steps, his breath controlling how much weight was required before planting his foot down; in his current state of mind, he was here in a place of authority, albeit minor, may holding some clues for the thief to seek out something more ambitious in nature.
Thoughts began to brew from the depths of his mind palace. What types of encounters would the thief have to come across, and how would he be able to resolve them without shedding blood? It is funny how, despite all the hardships that the young Alistian Draedan has gone through, his unwillingness to shed blood unless he is forced to is what makes him well himself.
“Where could I go if I need to run and hide… Would I be able to fend them off without my magic like before, or would I have to attempt to outsmart them by any means necessary… I don’t want to cause unnecessary harm, but if I must, I will; I don’t wish to be the bearer of death… Though I am not opposed to crippling someone if they force me to, they reap what they sow. Isn’t that right, Vendrel?”
Jared couldn’t help but talk to himself, and it was a way for him to assist in processing his internal thoughts by simply contextualising them. As it was easier to think his thoughts out aloud, more like in mutters, but that was the thief’s way of figuring things out at the moment.
Placing his lightweight foot onto one plank before another, the thief couldn’t help but wince for a moment as it creaked rather loudly in the silent basement of the guard post, but that did not stop the thief from doing what he needed to do.
Once the thief reached the top of the stairs, all that was left was the door leading to unknown territory currently occupied by the authorities for Daravin, albeit minor possibly, but that was something the thief didn’t want to risk. So, testing out whether the door was locked, the amber-eyed thief takes a moment to push the handle down slightly with a soft push to determine how much pressure is required to open the door without creating too much noise.
It was just a simple push from what the thief could gather as the door began to open slightly, just enough to create a crack and sufficient for the thief to witness what was currently going on from a particular angle. As his breathing begins to pick up, it is only a matter of time before the thief delves deeper. The ambitious tend to grow more from danger; safety only harbours complacency, after all, for thieves such as himself.
