Skyrim RP (Open)

Wisping through the bulky crowds, a slender figure twisted and turned gracefully tthrough the bustling hordes on the hazy midday rush, people milling around the stalls of the open city, eyeing new trades and trinkets. But this figure was not here for the stall's deals but instead for a whole different type of business...

Thievery

Slowly trailing behind him alongside his dirt-brown cloak, his tail swished carefully as it began its works; slyly grasping unwatched valuables whilst his swift, needle-thing dagger sliced the pouches of gold from their previous owners, the funds for a better cause than the fat merchants' pockets. The dull rays of sunlight warmed the scales of the thief, his blade and tail continuing it's silent rampage of the bustling public as he plundered only from those worthy and only small items, nothing too risky.

Despite his previous successes, when the lizard began his task on the last merchant of today, a sharp, high-pitched shout emitted from behind him, a small, pale finger jerked in his direction from a little girl,

"That lizard man took that man's purse!" The rest of the crowd glared at the Argonian, whose green scales blushed a emerald green as their shocked looks turned to angered stares. Guards were beginning to investigate the ruckus from all sides, the rest of the crowd blocking all exits except...yes, the wall!

If he could just run through them and reach the wall, he could climb up and jump down to safety, dashing into the countryside till his bounty is gone! But as the Argonian started his mad sprint, the guards were already too close and had their weapons drawn, bellowing orders such as,

"Stand down!" or "You've commited crimes against Skyrim!"

The Argonian responded with throwing the closest bystander at a guard and sprinting furiously towards the wall, which suddenly seemed to grow in size as he approached it, bigger and bigger....

Damn

Before he coult turn round to change his course of direction, a guard managed to tackle the young thief to the rough, stone ground, the lizard wheezing painful as the armour-wearing guard crushed him between the floor. The Argonian flailed wildly as more guards approached, fear blazing in his golden yellow eyes, blinking madly as he felt his vision darkening and his lungs emptying; he was going to pass out real soon....

Most people avoided him, and even the crowd of people gave him a wide birth. His angry demeanor told of a life of hardship and loss. Greywn scowled as the scene unfolded. Some argonian had been tackled by a guard, and was being dragged off. He didnt feel sorry for the man, OR for the merchant. If there was any justice in the world he would kill them both. He knew for a fact the particular merchant the argonian had stolen from, Cias Venerius, was a wealthy Imperial who made an unjust living profiteering on behalf of the Altmeri Dominion. Had the area not been crowded, he would have actually killed the man. He spat, and walked in the direction of the Tavern. His Blades armor drawing an unwanted stare or two.

The Argonian cried out as he was flung into jail as his clothing, his posession, everything was taken from him by the guards, either returned to the pockets of the merchants or the pockets of the greedy guards. Both scaled hands gripped the cold, metal bars, desperately squeezing his head through the gap, tears streaming down his face,

"Please...let me out, I'm only trying to help my family," the crying actually began to show his actual age which beneath that cloak and gear, was rather young, "Please, any-"

A sharp crack to the side of his face sent him tumbling to the ground, a mailed fist had connected with his jaw as an intense, burning pain rushed up to his jaw, the bone dislocated from the rest of his skull.

"You'll get worse if ya don't stop bawling, you'll be getting hanged in the morning so show some dignity...even if you're a thief," the argonian sobbed helplessly, cradling himself on his brusied side, where the guards had struck him numerous times due to being racist bastards.

Thoughts of his mother, his distant home now lying in ashes and the gallows that would soon await him in the chilly morning tommorrow, in front of the whole city to see his failure in life.

Greywn stepped inside the jail. At this point he had lived for damn near thousands of years. Was there for the 2nd Era. He disliked what had happened to his beloved empire, and even though it was a thief was not about to let him die for something as menial as pickpocketing. Greywn was a wanted man in skyrim. Known to many as the "Black Wolf of Kvatch" for the murder of several Altmeri high officials in a rather gruesome way. His posters adorned many a city, and his status as a member of the old blades left many an assassin on his trail. Dark Brotherhood, Morag tong, and Altmeri kill squads. His bounty was rather high, and the guard instantly recognized him. As much as he normally DIDNT like killing the innocent, it was sometimes necessary to accomplish the goal. The sword entered the guards right eye socket. Greyne slid the key to the argonian, under the cell door, with his boot.

Scrambling in fear at the sound of blades and the sliding of the door, the Argonian huddled his body as small as possibly, resting it against the stone as he waited for whoever it was to come and beat him painfully to death. Clad only in meagre rags that would disintegrate if any older, he sobbed quietly, awaiting his undeniable fate at the hands of whoever was before him but still he wished to cling to his pathetic life some more,

"Please...don't...don't kill me, I don't wanna die here." His head was burrowed in his raised knees, arms wrapped round them then bit his lip anxiously, blood trailing down his cheek.

He opened the door and stared at the argonian. "You might want to leave...like...now. Otherwise you're gonna be affiliated with me and you'll never see the end of this." He turned around and left the room. No doubt guards would be on their way to try to catch him. Upon exit, guards converged on his position. There was no way he could take all of them. He whistled for his horse, jumped on, and galloped for the exit. Many Guards persued him. No doubt it would create enough of a distraction for the argonian to escape.

Sprawling from his cradle position, he shakily ambled out of the prison, not enough time to pick up his own gear but enough time to some gold and food from the deceased around him. The odour of the spilt blood was unbearable, almost throwing his guts out when he saw the hole thrust through the skull, pieces of eyeball and purplish-pink brain matter sprayed across the ground.

Quickly shoving the supplies into a small leather bag, he wrapped a cloak around his body and trundled away, the hood over his scaly face as crimson blood continued to drip from his cheek. Suprisingly, many of the guards had dissapeared thus providing a clear exit for the Argonian Thief, but the Main Gate would likely have one or more guards so...

The stream!

It led out under the pathway and out into the plains whilst the only problem was the grill which fortuntely he was small enough to slip by without trouble. Skulking round the crowds, the Thief strangely went right instead of through the gates however the bars, so similar to the jail's own, lay there with water slowly running through. Gulping, the Argonian pushed himself painfully through the gaps, muscles cramping until he slipped through, landing in the stream.

Silently swimming through the stream, he listened in on the world above, picking up details on Odd armour and Fast horse. Whoever saved him was not natural in any form as the thief has not heard of any man breaking out of a city with the entire barracks after them, it's....impossible!

But now he was focused on the task at hand, the final grate stood before him and after many squeals and gasps of agony, the thief slipped through, falling down the rocks and onto the sodden ground, his sack sodden but the contents quite dry. His clothes were already in tatter, only a small piece wrapped round his waist covered his private area whowever this did not bother him, he just shivered and wobbled away, eventually reaching a warm cave nearby, dug into a large hill.

His Horse toppled from under him, narrowly missing falling off an edge of the cliffside. A rickety wooden bridge stood nearby. An Arrow had punctured the animals neck. He toppled from the horse, several guards in persuit. The undercut the legs from one of the mounted rider's horses. It toppled, as did the man, from the wooden bridge. Grewyn scrabled across the bridge, and cut the ropes. Grewyn was not a man of ranged combat, and was unable to avoid the arrow that was sent after him. caught him in the shoulder blade, and made him recoil. He lost his footing, and tumbled off the side of the gravel cliff face into the river below...

His cloak wrapped round his cold body, he cursed softly at the Nordic Cold as his cold-blooded body was so unused to the freezing temperatures of Skyrim, wondering why he ever moved here. All that came of it was problem after problem after problem; his family's poverty, his father's death and now losing all of his gear and valuables. Shivering when a chilly wind breezed by, he snuggled closer to the back of the small cave, hoping the earth will insulate him from the freezing temperatures.

Then he realised he was crying, tears rolling down his cheeks as he lay on his side, the salty beads of water dripping onto the dirt floor. He missed his home and life before all....this. Eventually, he sobbed himself to a nightmare-filled sleep, monsters of fire and shadow in his head.