Logging back into his avatar, Azrael realised that the shaking of the cart had stopped. Curiously he opened his eyes.
Blue sky, devoid of emerald-green tree canopies greeted him. Obviously, they had left the forest.
Rising from an uncomfortable position amongst the cargo Azrael peeked out, above the side of the cart. It was only then that he began to notice the unfamiliar sounds and sights.
A lone cart rumbled down the main street of the village, while the sound of shouting could be heard from behind buildings. Geese and chickens clucked underfoot, while the sound of a whinnying horse was carried towards him on a gentle breeze.
Completely righting himself from where he lay, Azrael took in the entirety of the scene. The cart he was in was parked on the main street, beside a wooden building. A dozen or more similar buildings lined either side of the main street. If it wasn’t for the green rolling fields just outside the village and the presence of elven villagers, it almost looked like an old western town from the movies.
Azrael smiled as he imagined two elves having a ‘shoot off’ with bows. That was not to say that there weren’t any humans. Elves simply made up the majority.
Seeing his elven chauffeur emerge from the closest building he hopped off the cart.
The elf nodded, before unlatching the back of the cart.
“Help” he said, pointing at the cargo.
Azrael obliged, helping unload.
Thirty minutes later, Azrael found himself alone in the village. With the cargo unloaded and the payment collected, the elf had left. Azrael could sort of understand it, if the elf left now, he would just make it back to the village in time for nightfall. The sudden departure with no explanation still irked him a little.
Azrael paused and pinched the bridge of his nose. No. He could do this. He wasn’t getting soft. Just because Zen had helped him, didn’t mean that he should expect it from anyone else. With nothing better to do, Azrael decided to follow the sound of the whinnying horse. That was why he was here in the first place – transport.
Walking down the main street, Azrael felt the gazes of the villagers follow him. He mostly ignored them, but after the fiasco with Zen he’d hidden his divine spark and began to check for players.
Spreading [Soul Sense] as far as he could reach, he briefly touched all of the people he saw. To his surprise none of them were players. Not a single one. He let out an unrealised sigh. He still wasn’t comfortable with players. He’d realised though that in an VRMMORPG, meeting other players was an eventuality. Apparently though, players didn’t want to stick around in tiny villages. Azrael stepped over a pile of horse droppings in the middle of the road. He couldn’t understand why.
Leaving those thoughts behind, Azrael rounded a corner, off the main street, and found himself in a stable. Two horses were tied up, contently eating hay, while a third was being ridden around a circular yard by two boys.
The two, one elf and one human, were clearly mistreating the horse, kicking it in the flanks, before tightly pulling on the reins. While one of them rode on the horse, the second beat at its flank with a stripped twig, causing the horse to occasionally buck. Both of them were laughing, unaware at the pain that they were causing the poor creature.
Appalled, Azrael was about to rush towards them, when he tripped over something. Stumbling to regain his balance he looked back, noticing that he’d tripped over someone’s foot. Following the foot, he found a figure napping in a pile of hay. Disturbed from its sleep, the napping old man awoke.
As the man rose, Azrael studied him. Short, stout and portly, the man was clearly overweight. A large nose that had never set properly after being broken protruded over a scruffy beard that hid yellowed teeth. Bleary eyes glared at him from under wild and messy hair. His clothes were just as unkempt as his appearance.
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“What?” The man asked, his breath clearly reeking of alcohol.
Azrael involuntarily took a step back from the stench emanating from the man.
“I was just going to…”
“What?” The man asked again, stepping close into Azrael’s personal space. Azrael just barely managed to stop himself from shoving the man back. He tried speaking again.
“I said I was…”
“EH? Speak up!”
Clenching his fists Azrael let out a deep breath.
“I SAID I WAS GOING TO…”
“ALL RIGHT, NO NEED TA YELL YA HALF-FART. DID NOBODY EVER TEACH YA TO RESPECT YA ELDERS? NOW GET YOUR SKINNY ASS OUTTA MY STABLES, OR I’LL SHOVE MA BOTTLE UP WHERE THE SUN DON’T SHINE”
“…”
Azrael bit down on his tongue, until he tasted blood. By now the two boys in the ring had stopped tormenting the horse and were staring at the commotion. Azrael just looked at the man in front of him. This couldn’t be serious, right? There was no way any of that had just happened.
“Do we have a problem here boy?”
The man stepped forwards, till chests were touching, in an attempt to be threatening. Azrael almost reflectively gagged at the pure wave of stench that surrounded the man and stepped back, with a forced polite smile.
“No, we don’t have a problem. None at all.”
Azrael had learnt since the beginning of the game that it didn’t pay to be rash. He could wait.
Seemingly satisfied at the answer and his seeming victory, the old man crossed his arms and watched Azrael as he left the stables. Behind him the two boys began riding the horse again, having swapped positions.
Azrael didn’t look back, instead walking back to the main street to explore the village. Unfortunately, it seemed that that old man was the only owner of horses in the village.
The village itself was similarly unremarkable. Beyond the general store most of the buildings were residences. Despite being on the way between a small city and the elven forests it wasn’t big enough to warrant anything more than a store to refuel supplies, or a stable to swap out horses. That meant no baker, not blacksmith, no tavern. It didn’t even have a night watch.
So, when night fell, the streets were deserted, shutters closed to the night. It was a situation that suited Azrael extremely.
Casually strolling in the shadows of the main street, Azrael barely resisted whistling a small tune.
It was a bit unfair. Why did villains get music but he didn’t? That was not to say he was a villain or anything. Far from it. He was on his way to do a good deed. Definitely.
Above him an almost full moon glared down admonishingly. He just shrugged. The man had it coming. Better a small reminder now, than the old guy offending the wrong person and losing his life. Azrael was doing him a service. A kindness from the depths of his caring heart.
Stepping into the same side alley from before, Azrael calmly strode into the stables. In all honesty he could have done this in daylight, it wasn’t as if there was anybody in the village that could stop him. He’d checked with [Lord’s Insight]. He just didn’t want word reaching back to Zen. As much as he still harboured a little distrust towards the guy, he didn’t want to cause too much trouble.
Hearing him approach, one of the horses whinnied and he heard an annoyed grunt from under him. He looked down. Sprawled in the hay, dead drunk was the same old man from earlier. Azrael looked from the horses, down to the man and back to the horses, an idea forming. The closest one bobbed its head. Azrael only grinned mischievously.
“Sera?” He asked.
“Yes?”
“Are you going to stop me?”
He heard his assistant sigh.
“Could I?”
“Probably not.”
“Then why ask?”
“Quite right.”
Azrael fed a little mana into the ground, shaping it into a tough band or rock over the man’s mouth and eyes, effectively cutting of his ability to see or call for help. Then, with a bit of a grunt he grabbed the man’s legs and began dragging him back to the main street.
It wasn’t until Azrael reached the center of the main street that the old man awoke. By then, however, it was too late. Shaping the earth around his victim’s wrists and ankles he splayed the man’s limbs in all directions, binding him to the road. Then, with a flourish, he drew a dagger that Zen had let him keep from its sheath. He let it swig in an expertly arc.
The man stilled, shivering, as the cold night air touched his skin. His clothes fell to either side of him, severed down the front. Continuing his work on his art piece, Azrael’s blade swung again and again, never drawing blood. Stepping back, Azrael admired his handywork.
The offensive old drunk was now bound to the ground, as naked as the day he was born. Azrael was truly good from the bottom of his heart for sparing the man. He wasn’t even hurt!
Leaving the main street again, Azrael once more entered the stable.
Walking to the last stall he found what he was looking for. The abused horse. He walked up to it.
“Howdy pardner, fancy going for a ride?”
The horse just glared and snorted at him, causing Azrael to smile.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Barely ten minutes later he was out on the road, leaving behind a naked man and an empty stall. His horse bucked below him.
“I think I’ll call you Bucky? Bucky of the Barns”
The horse bucked.
“Bucky it is.”
Bucky snorted as they rode into the night. Azrael just grinned and read the notification that popped up.
Congratulations!
For stealing something of value without anybody realising it you have gained one level in ‘Thief’.
AGI +2, DEX +1, INT +1.