Riven crouched on a rooftop like a dramatic little gargoyle, well trying to look cool.
"Alright," he whispered to himself, peering down at the Wyrmsreach docks. "Fat merchant. Fat coin pouch. Fat chance he doesn't see me coming. Let's dance, tubby."
Below, the docks were buzzing. Sailors shouted. Crates clanged. Seagulls screamed like they'd just seen the rent. But Riven wasn't listening. His eyes were locked on a bloated merchant waddling toward the Brinehall, a sack of coin bouncing off his hip like it was mocking him with every step.
A low growl escaped from Rivens tum tum. "Relax tum-tum." he muttered. "we're five minutes away from snacks! Possibly snacks made from gold!"
With the grace of a starving alley urchin, he dropped from the roof into a pile of trash. Gracefully, Heroically.
"Oof. Nailed it," he grunted, with a stupid grin arching across his face. brushing fish guts off his knees. He piter pattered across the cobble stone street.
He slipped through the crowd, like just another barefoot street kid with a bad attitude and better reflexes. When he walked into The Brinehall, it was all noise and sweat and spilled rum.
And there he was, Captain Piggy Titty himself, laughing too loud, drinking too fast, and tipping his server like he was allergic to generosity. As well as gropping the tavern wench when she came buy. Yuck. His coin pouch bounced with every movement
Riven moved in, bumped the man's side, and whispered, "Excuse me, sir, I believe you dropped... your shoe laces."
Swipe. Pouch gone. Thank you, Captain man titty!
"Oh yeah," Riven smirked, "the kid's still got it heheh."
And then, because the universe has a sense of humor, someone yelled from outside. "THIEF! MARINES!"
Did someone just snitch, IN THE SLUMS. Who the fuck does that. An incredulous expression forms on rivens face. Pure disbelief that someone would snitch.
"Oh... fuck." Riven muttered.
He bolted out the back door slamming it open like a thunderclap behind him. Two Marines gave chase. One had a sword. The other had... a fuckin sandwich? "Respect," Riven puffed as he sprinted. "Never let a pursuit get in the way of lunch! I guess hahahah"
One of the Marines shouted as they ran through the crowded streets. "com ere Riven! We've got you, you little shit."
"You will never catch me living.... Or something like that!" Riven yelled.
He began ducking barrels, sliding under a fruit cart, and vaulted over a fence that definitely had more spikes than necessary. A Marine grabbed at his cloak, Riven slipped out of it mid-jump.
"SPARE CLOAK!" He shouted.
By the time they reached the cliffside of the slums, Riven was gone. Nothing left but an empty alley and a single, slightly moldy bootprint on someone's wall.
"Fuck!" one Marine shouted.
"That little shit got away again." the big guy said.
"we'll search the surroundings, Lt. Tough." Another Marine spoke.
The big guy now Known as Lt. Tough, ordered "Good search the slums, He couldn't have gotten far the little bastard."
_______________________________________
Riven darted around the corner, his bare feet slapping the cobblestones as he tore through the alley and out into the crowded market square. Shouts echoed behind him, angry, distant, but getting closer.
There, just ahead, was the one constant in this chaotic mess of a town, Boochie's cheese stall. Every day, same spot, same smell, so good and kind of amazing in a way that made you question your morals.
Without slowing, Riven flipped a few crumpled belli toward the counter. "Breakfast tax!" he called out, breathless.
Boochie barely had time to raise an eyebrow before Riven slipped beneath the stall curtain like a shadow. The boy landed hard on the ground, wedging himself between barrels and wheels of cheese that smelled like they could bite back.
"Hey Boochie," Riven hissed from below. "I need to hide."
There was a long pause above, followed by the sound of a heavy sigh and cheese being rearranged.
"Again?" Boochie muttered in his thick kind of itallian accent. "You're gonna get me arrested, little urchin!"
"Relax," Riven said, grinning through the grime on his face. "No one suspects the cheese man."
"Ahhh." Boochie seemed to sigh.
Boochie here has always been good to Riven. When Riven was younger Boochie would always go out of his way to help him. Wether it was giving Riven scraps of cheese or giving him a place to hide. Like under boochies stall, thats where riven has his little hideout.
bootsteps are heard getting closser.
until they pass but one seems to stay.
"Cheese man have you seen the Urchin?"
"Sorry huh? no speak common? Me no understand." Boochie said in a sad voice.
This seems to make the Marine uncomfortable, "No worries boochie, sorry for the trouble." and just as he quickly as he stopped he was gone.
Riven breathed out a sigh of relief, "Misssion complete, hehehe, now lets check our loot." he muttered as he pulled out the bag he st-liberated.
"let's see!"