In substitution of my next log, I submit the following backstory! It's not really related to my bio-I just thought to write something.
Andre hesitated. Stihe didn't.
Always the more sure footed and confident of them, she had taken the dangerously long leap between the townhouses with a naturally honed dexterity, making sure to roll her body upon landing as she had been taught, to avoid injury. Andre's greatest regret was not that he had trained her, and she had begun to outperform him-it was that if he mentioned how proud it made him, she would only resent it.
Andre followed a moment later, his landing a bit rougher, but good enough. His usual response was to admonish her for being careless, but he let it slide today. He could almost feel the tension building between them over the last two weeks-hopefully tonights score might ease things a bit. Assuming they got paid.
There were some very unkind people in high place, demanding this job be done. They had promised all sorts of unkind things that would happen if they didn't produce results...most of them involved being dead, or worse, in chains. The pay was good though.
Ropes were produced, and anchored to the buildings side. A quick rappel later, they were both hanging outside the window of the Merchants house like tiny spiders. Stihe concentrated on the window and the room beyond for a moment. She confirmed-no traps, magical or otherwise. Andre took his special tool-a diamond blade on a suction cup that could cut through glass, and carved a neat hole, before reaching inside and undoing the latch. Childs play really.
They dropped into the bedroom, as silent as cats and dark as twin shadows in their form covering black clothes. Together, they moved toward their target-down the hallway, take the door on the left, down the spiral stairs and to the den, where the safe was...
There was a guard. Andre hobbled him with a dagger, and Stihe took out her slender silken garrote. He didn't suffer long.
They entered the den. It was, as could be guessed, a trophy hall, filled with the artifacts and toys of the idle rich. Any one of them would be decent enough to steal-but Andre and Stihe were only after the one thing. It was a Silver Dragon Totem...the fool who had bought it had no idea what it really was. Andre carefully lifted it, and was relieved to not trigger any weight alarms. He was sort of insulted. He thought the job was going to be harder than this. Not that it was over.
Other than the unfortunate guard, there was no trace of the intrusion-not a footprint, not a fallen strand of hair. They were on the roof in five minutes, and completely clear in the next five...well, almost clear. They still had to make the sale. For a moment, the thrill of a slick job purged all doubt and guilt from Andre, and he didn't hesitate now. Brother and Sister took the jumps side by side, their small cloaked frames backlit against a swollen harvest Moon.
...
An hour later, they met the "contact", on the outskirts of the city-he looked like a man, but he wasn't nearly so mundane. As soon as they handed the item over, he betrayed them. They had been planning for this of course, but you can only prepare so much.
That's when things got interesting...
I figure Kogan might want to finish it from Stihes point of view.
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Topic: D&D 3.5- Western Marches: dead and gone (RIP) (Read 305777 times)