The roll of thunder followed Vellora as she traveled northeast along the loosely maintained cobblestone road that ran through the small farming town she found herself in. In the distance, she could see a larger walled city, so she ignored the occasional farm hand who stopped to gawk at her as she passed by. She found herself almost giddy with excitement, her pace picking up slightly, as she wanted to reach the city before the storm finally caught up with her.
“It’s been weeks… I could use a nice hot soak.” She purred to herself once the city gate was in sight, though as she drew closer she could see a guard in red regalia stopping people before they entered the city. Most seemed to be let through, though a scrawny elf was pulled out of line and led into the guardhouse.
“Name, species, age, and reason for your visit?” The man asked, he looked orcish in descent with a massive scar running from his right temple to the left corner of his lip, despite that he had the air of a desk warmer.
“I am Belladonna, Elven Takvin, 106 for shorter-lived races I’d be 27, and I’m looking to have a key made for a lockbox my mother left me as well as work.” She spoke warmly though her head tilting slightly. “May I ask why you’re stopping people? Did something happen?”
“Must not have heard any of the cryers then? Some cutthroat killed the king, poor lad, I heard they found his throat torn out.” He said as he wrote down her given information, he did eye her slightly for a moment. “Enjoy your stay in Tallak, and keep out a trouble.” With that, he waved her past as he moved under the portcullis as a soft mist of rain started to fall from the sky.
Well well, Vellora looks like you’ve made a name for yourself. She thought to herself as she moved deeper into the bustle of the city, the low drone of merchants hawking their wares as well as the cacophony of conversations all blending together was a welcome change from the forests. She always found cities and towns to be more comfortable, more places to squeeze into, more people to use as scapegoats, and more pockets to pick if needed.
After half an hour of walking Vellora did stumble onto something she was looking for, Gilding carved into the side of an inn denoting a “Safe” place to stay. The tavern itself was a simple stone and wood building with a worn sign depicting an old one-eyed man, the faded lettering under that read “Wander’s Rest”. As she entered the smell of cheap booze filled her lungs, and the simple candle-covered chandeliers gave the first-floor dining hall deep shadows in the corners, perfect for the young and undisciplined of her craft to hide in.
“Welcome to da Wandra’s Rest, I’m Fiadh how can I help ya?” the Halfling behind the bar asked her red hair pulled back into a tight bun as her emerald eyes scanned the taller woman, seeming to apprize her for a moment.
“I’d like a room with a view.” She said quietly in a language not many outside the shadows speak, as she placed a recently liberated coin purse on the counter. Her amethyst eyes locked on the Halfling’s who seemed to be the one running things.
“Depends, what kind of view, alley or street?” The woman asked, her nimble hands cleaning the inside of a tankard, her green eyes glancing up to meet the devil’s.
Vellora lifted and dropped the pouch a few times, seeming to think as she weighed the small sack against the sound of it landing on the soft wooden counter. “I think alley sadly, I’m a little light for a street view.” She finally had to admit it with a soft sigh.
“Alright love, I’ll have your room made up for ya in about fifteen minutes.” She said before hopping down off a small lip that ran the full length of the bar. The half-devil’s long ears twitched as she heard a few hushed conversations all around her, what few fragments she heard were mostly about possible prices for random nick-nacks or about some troubled kid trying to garnish sympathy from other troubled kids.
Thieves. She groaned mentally.
Vellora was taken out of her slowly growing thoughts by the sound of keys sliding across the wooden bar top, “Last room on the right, lucky number 13.” Said Fiadh with a chipper tone, as she took the coin purse.
After a few moments, Vellora stood up and started heading up the stairs, the old wood creaked underfoot, and the deeply faded scent of cedar filled the air once she reached the top of the staircase. Her amethyst eyes almost seemed to glow in the candlelit corridor, she stalked the hallways quietly till she reached door 13.
Once in the room, she found it to be a modest affair, a simple hay bed, a small writing desk, and an old dresser that looked half-rotted. But what truly had her attention was the thick leather armor and small backpack left next to the bed, glancing up she also saw a shaft of yew, clearly the haft of an unstrung bow. She sat her makeshift bag down on the desk before starting to look through the backpack, finding dark clothes more her size a little large if she were out of her armor but they could fit her well, some rope, a bag of marbles, a signaling bell, string, a small prybar, a hammer, and a piton.
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“Well, it’s a start.” She said to herself before turning to look at the box half sticking out of her old clothes now turned bag. “Now for you~ my clever little lock.” She cooed almost seductively as she sat at the desk.
Over an hour, Vellora had a dance with the lock, the only picks thin enough to slide into the small hole felt as though they might break on a few of the pins, but she was grinning the whole time as the last pin clicked open. With a soft sigh, she lifted the lid of the box revealing a deep violet lining and a letter of authenticity. Oh, this is curious, what have I found? She thought to herself.
“To K. I, Magus Freewing of the Enchanters Guild, and two others, have appraised this item to be of the fourth tier, meaning it grants some immunity as well as another effect. This rose gold choker must acclimate to the user over an hour and grants immunity to poison, this alone would make it highly sought after and therefore expensive. However, it also grants the wearer a set of fangs as well as a rudimentary breath weapon, both connected to a vile that can be socketed into the charm, we have three glasses fitted for this purpose, One is empty for your use, the other two contain a sleep potion and wyvern venom. For testing purposes only.
We price this item at being at around 20,000 Scales, it is a pleasure doing business with you again, F.”
Vellora smiled softly before burning the letter after reading what the trinket could do. She found herself rather giddy, not having to worry about poison as she carefully put the choker on. She was taught about acclimating to magic weapons before, so she made sure the room was locked up, moving the desk in front of the door for added measure.
“Now hopefully this goes well.” Vellora muttered as she laid back on the bed, taking a deep breath and trying to clear her mind, only for a sharp pain to spread up her neck to her mouth, causing her to let out a pained gasp. Though she willed herself through the pain, it was unexpected sure but would pass if the letter was true.
Vellora jumped up, not having realized she had passed out, her hands moved to run along the tight metal chain, her fingers finding what felt like thread-thin wires spreading up her neck, the metallic taste of blood on her tongue, and a sudden need for water.
“Well, it could be worse.” She muttered before taking her water skin out and greedily drinking it down, her ears perking up as she heard someone toying with her room's lock. A wide grin formed on her lips as she quietly moved the desk, proud of herself for working on being both strong and dexterous.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That woman looked like she was hiding something, I bet whatever is will fetch a nice price, why is this lock so well…? Click! There we go. The little cutpurse thought as he finally picked the lock for the room. As the door creaked open he saw the room was empty, or rather he saw that there was a lock box left open in an empty room. He didn’t think as he started to creep in. He barely noticed that the light from the hallway was fading as a hand from above the door started to close it, nor did he notice the large slender frame hiding in the rafter of the room. Cold amethyst eyes followed his every step until in a blur of motion he found himself pinned, a massive hand slamming his face into the floorboard once, twice thrice, his vision darkening with each hit.
“A little mouse playing a cat's game~.” Was whispered into his ears followed by a bone-chilling giggle as everything went black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vellora wiped the blood from her hand as she looked over her work, a rather pleased grin forming on her lips as she stood over the would-be thief. Her fingers found his neck as she checked to make sure she didn’t make too strong a point and found a slow pulse. “Good, they’ll probably overlook a beating but might take a murder a little more harshly.” She said annoyedly as she dragged him out of her room, almost carelessly tossing him outside her door before again shutting and locking her door.
The two compatriots of the unconscious man were frozen with fear after watching the speed at which their friend was taken out and the cold way the would-be victim threw him out like trash. Soon they saw slight movement from their friend and quietly snuck up to drag him off, eyes ever watching the 13th door.