Runner
Bordercrest
Okay! Cool! So, there may be a teensy-weensy itty-bitty teeny-tiny little bounty out for her. In a couple of places. Awesome. Just plain awesome. Can't go back to Miyet, at least not any of the major towns. Gotta leave Jeya before their magic tracking folk find her. Really don't want to have to go to the free lands, that would suck. Runner hated bugs, especially the massive ones, and has only heard terrible things about the gross atrocities that roam those plains.
She winced, realizing where she had to go regardless of her deliberations. The rumors say that the witch is in Keldanis, somewhere near Groville. Hells. Of all the places for someone like her to go, that is the worst.
Someone like her. A thief. Not on purpose, mind you. She doesn't mean to steal. Honestly, she doesn't want to. Every time it happens, it's like she is not in control. Kleptomaniac is what they say she is. Personally? She says cursed.
It all started a couple of years back. Everything was fine! She lived in a little port-side town called Twindock, where her dad managed a little shipping business sending supplies to the mining towns on islands just off the coast. It was a simple happy life. She doesn't think she pissed off anyone during her earliest years?
Well, she certainly doesn't remember it if she did. Regardless, one day she just started taking things. It was weird. Walking down the street and seeing her hand creep out to grab an apple out of a passing basket. Surreal almost. The moment she did it she then felt something let go. She was back in control, and that was freaky.
She was not in control when she took the apple.
Naturally, she apologized and was extremely embarrassed, but it didn't stop there. Keys, daggers, flutes, you name the small grabbable thing? She probably took it off from someone or from somewhere. Always without her consent. She always apologized afterwards but… well you don't just steal a guard's shackles and not expect them to try and put them on you afterwards.
Her dad, who at that point got fed up enough with paying her bail, kicked her out and told her to go away. Good ole' dad. As it turns out… she was costing him an arm and a leg in profits. Great! Ass.
The worst part? She was only bloody seventeen! Eshah! Not even an adult yet. Who curses a kid? And what kind of dad just kicks his CURSED child, whom he spent so much time raising and taking care of as a single(ish) parent, to the curb?
Well, that was four years ago. She has bounced from every other city and town in Miyet, been denied passage to Veyas, stolen her way across the magocracy, and has only now just learned of someone who could possibly break her curse. Or at least let her control it. Took four damn years going from place to place just to learn that there was a slim chance she could fix her stupid hands.
She is not proud to admit it, but she is good at what she does. Not many expect someone in their rafters when they close up shop. But here she is, in a general store in Bordercrest, counting down the minutes till that old man goes upstairs and tucks in with his wife.
When she came in earlier, it was behind a large gentleman who only really had a couple silver on him. Compared to his large six-foot frame, her lithe body, a full foot shorter than him, was easily hidden behind his bulk. The dark black hair that she is oh so not taking good care of is carefully hidden in her hood as she peers over the wooden beam she is lying on.
Gone? Gone.
She dropped down to the now dark floor. She really doesn't want to have to rob a sweet old couple. This is their livelihood. They probably spent years building up the funds, the building, getting trade settled. Hells, they even named it the "Nan n' Pop Shop". Eshah, now she feels even more guilty.
Growl.
Guilty and starving. A great combination. The leather armor she appropriated from some snotty apprentice armorer has been steadily getting looser and looser on her body as she avoided major roads and towns on her trek north. Before long, the stained and shoddily constructed leathers would become more of a hindrance than a help. A girl has to get a meal somewhere.
She gently crept towards the produce, grabbing a few apples and… whatever that purple thing with yellow spots was. Some fruit that would only grow near ley-lines. Apparently, all the magic folk here love 'em. It tasted like dusty rocks with a hint of old cheese to her, probably an acquired taste.
Carrying on with her shopping, as she has taken to calling it, she took a look at the other goods in the store. Rope? Nah, she still has some left. Torches? Surprisingly, her eyes see very well in the dark, which, as a human, is kind of alarming. Something she has noticed over these years. Yet another freaky talent that comes with this curse she supposed. Arrows? Oh well now we're talking.
She is not the best shot and never has been. So needless to say, she has more than one arrow in her runty quiver that is barely hanging on with some cloth and tree sap. Hey, at least they can sell the broken ones. She's not heartless. The small collection of daggers she filched off a couple of thugs too many drinks in to notice are a bit more along her preferred weapons of use, even if they do need a good sharpening and shine. She is pretty sure one of them still had some poor unlucky fellow's blood crusted on it. Gross.
Continuing through the small store, she picked up more essentials. A new strike for making fire, a couple more potatoes, a small salt rock(a glorious find), and even a few herbs for varying purposes. All in all, everything she has taken could be put down as a reasonable loss, easily attributed to some inventory errors and a late delivery. At least, that is what she reasoned with herself to quell the growing guilt. All of the minor images and painted pictures of smiling grandkids and family pets really did not help.
Finally, as the bag she had been filling started to grow a little heavier than she had planned, she began plotting her exit. The store door was a no-go, definitely locked tight. Watching the grandpa lock it up had taken a minute, which confirmed that there was some sort of spell on it as well. Risky. Too risky. No doubt there had to be a back door, out into the small alley behind the shop, that she could pop the lock on and slink out. Or at least maybe a window?
Nerves began to rise inside her gut. Butterflies? Butterflies melting in acid? A mixture of fear and adrenaline was causing her heartbeat to sound way too loud for the quiet pilfering she was supposed to be doing. In the worst-case scenario, she could hop back up into the rafters and stick around until the shop opened and then sneak out, but she wanted to avoid that if at all possible. When they notice things missing, they may eventually spot her up in the rafters. She was good, but not that good.
No, she reasoned to herself, I have to get out tonight. The door to the back of the shop slipped open, quiet enough to know that the hinges had to have been replaced in the last year or so. A storage area filled with boxes of unopened supplies and products lined the room. The small staircase leading up to the house portion of the shop above was dark and silent, which meant that the coast was clear. Awesome.
Carefully she padded her way over towards the door leading to the alleyway, to her freedom, and examined it. A simple bolt held the door locked, in addition to a sliding wooden brace that acted as extra reinforcement against any would-be robbers trying to enter the room. But thankfully, it did not do diddly-squat against a robber already inside.
As she slid the brace across the opening, she winced as it let out a louder-than-expected rattle against its brackets. Glancing back towards the stairs she waited, holding her breath and expecting the old man to come storming down with some form of weaponized punishment against intruders.
A few seconds went by.
Then a few more.
Nothing.
The coast was clear. Sighing in relief, she began to turn her eyes back towards the door, when something quickly snatched their attention. Inwardly, she groaned. She pleaded with her hands, please please please please no. They, however, had already begun taking control of her.
The half-unlocked door was left abandoned as her body crept towards the underside of the stairs. She had hoped that her eyes had deceived her, but alas, they had not. Tears welled up as she drew closer and closer to the small safe tucked underneath the stairs.
Eshah… she was about to rob an elderly couple, and she couldn't do a damn thing to stop it.
~~~
She bolted through the streets of Bordercrest, dashing from shadow to shadow, the small stream of tears and snot a constant reminder of just how guilty she felt. Guilty and in pain. That safe wasn't the most secure, but she was reminded just what country she was still in after the magical booby-trap burst and singed her hands. Red-hot metal… ouch! It was all that she could do just to not scream then and there, watching the punished hands continue to grab onto the small stacks of gold and silver even after they had been engulfed in a momentary flash of heat.
By the time she had been able to finally leave the store, the safe had managed to blacken the wood it sat on and the smell of smoke was increasing. No matter how bad of a curse it may be, she was at least able to wrench control enough to toss the coins onto the stairs of the back door. The deed had already been done though, and the flames that had started to appear under the safe had already been lit.
She consoled herself as she fled the scene of the now much greater crime by telling herself that she had at least warned them of the approaching danger… probably. Hopefully, that was their window that stone had gone through.
Clutching the bag of pilfered essentials, she heard the sound of bells beginning to ring, situated farther in the center of the town. Daylight was still hours off, so perhaps a wandering patrol of guards had stumbled upon the scene, or perhaps there was a mad bell ringer on the loose in Bordercrest.
Eshah, getting distracted. Not good. A wandering mind always steals more things by accident. Her pace eventually slowed to a brisk walk, passing across a wider street in which Runner was not the only soul awake. The beggar, a grungy-looking dwarven man who meandered the paved cobbles muttered something about a little girl and a big bag of stuff, no doubt high off whatever gods forsaken substance passed for a cheap coin in Jeya. Hopefully, he starts muttering about the rocks under his feet, no need for him to be giving away what way she was going.
Before too long, the gates to the town appeared, the sentries clad in their hooded armor keeping watch, careful watch for any threats, inside or out. It seems, however, they were more concerned with whatever bells were still ringing from the interior of the border town, as they didn't seem to notice her as she darted into another nearby alleyway, resting for a bit to catch her breath and tend to her burnt hands.
"Eshah, this fucking hurts," she muttered, wincing at the now blistering faces of her fingers. Not one digit had been lucky enough to avoid the searing metal. She cursed further, not just from pain, but from the monumental regret of not grabbing a pair of gloves to prevent this very incident.
At least it will keep the curse at bay, she hoped, more than worried about having to deal with snatching things while her hands were healing, or at the very least slow it down.
A few cloth strips, ripped from the only clean(ish) cloth she had(previously it had been wrapped around a hunk of bread), had to become makeshift bandages for the time being. She chewed on some serenwort, one of the few commodities she didn't regret taking, to ease the pain and hasten the recovery process while she waited for sunrise. Disgusting, but necessary. If only she could be lucky enough to find some fresh in the wilds, but that would be just unlike her, wouldn't it?
Hours passed. The bells eventually stopped ringing, but by the sounds of increasing activity on the street, the damage was done. People had begun getting about their day: airing out laundry, using small cantrips to fill their buckets and heat their morning meal, and doing other things normal people do. Stuff Runner used to do, before she became… well, Runner.
That was the signal for Runner to get a move on, that and the sound of the heavy portcullis being winched open by a small team of skeletons overseen by the sentries. She would never get used to the lack of caution Jeyans had for necromancy. At least in Keldanis, that creepy shit was frowned on.
One last check over her sparse belongings and she was ready to go. Exiting the alley into the morning traffic, filled with grumpy gnomes and drowsy half-elves(with the occasional genasi here and there), Runner did her best to blend in with the crowd. Disinterested(she was both curious and nervous), sleepy(she didn't have to act on this one), and just plain normal(this one was ironically weird to her).
At the gate, she joined the line of merchants, peddlers, and general foot traffic to exit the city. It was important to note, this was the southern gate, the one which led back into the Arcadium. Runner didn't want to risk the more thorough checks the northern gate seemed to have, for fear they think she was up to no good near the border.
Not even twenty minutes had passed before she was waved through, seemingly not noteworthy enough to be searched by the disinterested sentry. She inwardly thanked him for being either too stupid or too lazy to be thorough. Was that mean? Eshah, she didn't care. He wasn't the one living on the streets for the past few years. Prick.
…It had been a long night and she was getting grumpy, it seemed.
~~~
A few more hours of plodding along the road and a quick detour into a nearby thicket of trees had resulted in Runner finding a nice and secluded spot in the foliage to set up camp for the day. Traveling at night had become a habit long ago. Not counting her, there were fewer bandits looking to search her things, or worse: her.
After a much-needed rest, she could continue on her journey north. Crossing the border between the Arcadium and the Holy Lands was apparently not all that difficult, just as long as you weren't somebody important. Hells… it was gonna be easy for her, then. She wasn't anybody special, and she was determined to stay that way. At least until her curse was lifted.
A small cloud of doubt managed to float into her head, brought by the thoughts of the future and the lack of energy the woman had. She hadn't thought of what she would do after her curse was lifted. Not in a while. She wanted it gone, no question in her mind, but… it was also the only reason she had made it this far. She was certain she wouldn't have escaped the confines of that cell in Scolton without her sticky fingers. And, by the Nine True, she would have starved long ago without the fruits and meats taken from wary(or sometimes not) market stalls and shops.
Runner's head ached with the conflicting thoughts, one radiating from her desire to rid herself of the curse that ruined her life, and another with the uncertainty of the future. Gods… she hoped she could make some sort of living when she was back to normal. If she couldn't… well that would be an ironic twist to her little story.