To Be A Thief...

Amalai Pinewood and Lucius Nepos take a walk at Lightholder Crossroads, only to be confronted by a foolish, drunken thief who doesn't know what he's getting into...

Lightholder Crossroads - Interdistrict Carriage Hub 


 * A small village has sprouted on the edge of the Lightholder River where the cobblestone roads from Fastheld's other prominent districts intersect, in the shadow of Caryas Hill and the majestic gray silhouette of Fastheld Keep - the seat of power for the entire realm.


 * Sutlers, traveling performers and other small-time merchants ply their trades along this main crossroads - competing for space with carriages hauling passengers, couriers rushing important communiques from one district to another, and the soldiers of the Emperor's Blades who regularly patrol the area.


 * On the northwest corner of the intersection, next to the road that twists north toward Lightholder Bridge and the palace, sits a large tavern and inn where weary travelers can refresh themselves.


 * It is a temperate late evening, descending toward dusk. The slightest breeze stirs over the land infrequently. Misty white fog roils across the landscape.

Amalai stands in front of the entrance to Vertet Sable Clothing. She stuffs a cloak in the haversack and proceeds to remove a few rings from her fingers.

Lucius Nepos exits from a carriage, evidently off duty when one considers the clothing he is wearing. The man happily strides out of the middle of the square, crossing it leasurely. The level of traffic is relatively low right now, as people go for dinner.

After she finishes with the jewelry, Amalai tightens the ties on the side of the corset, drawing in a deep breath and holding it for a second. She looks up and scans the faces of the people coming and going, and eventually her gaze falls upon Lucius after he steps down from the carriage. She doesn't call out to him, or do anything to draw attention to herselves - she watches.

Lucius Nepos pauses mid-stride to yawn loudly and stretch out, much like something a bear might do. The man continues on thereafter, lazily plodding on to the mercantile, quite close to the money changer.

"Evenin', darlin'," she greets once she's close enough, the little smirk she had previously blooming into a grin. Amalai adjusts the strap of the haversack on her shoulder and begins moving away from the clothing shop, coming to approach Lucius as he makes his way to the Moneychanger. "Evenin', darlin'," she greets once she's close enough, the little smirk she had previously blooming into a grin.

"Mmm, m'love." Lucius replies, drolly as he looks towards Amalai. "Come join me, Amalai. I'm just getting a few odds and ends from the store. Looks like you got some, too, hmm?" He becons her with an oustretched hand.

"They don't have much around here that I'm interested in. I think I'll head over to the Bazaar later on." Amalai moves closer to Lucius, prepared to follow him wherever he may go. Idly she twirls a silver band around her thumb, looking up at him. "Tired, darlin'?"

Lucius Nepos shrugs. "I dunno, haven't had much time to think about that, yet. Though I did have a mean little hangover this morning. Bloody Brandywine, eh?" He chuckles and moves to open the door to the mercantile.

Amalai snickers softly and nods her head in agreement. "You poor thing," she replies a bit sarcastically with a pat on Lucius' back. "You think you can hold off on your runnin' around, darlin'? It isn't that important, is it? I don't really wanna be runnin' from place to place, standin' around inside."

Lucius Nepos looks at Amalai a bit oddly for a moment, before glancing about and observing how beautiful it actually is. Haven't had a night like this in a good long time. "Ah, I suppose you're right. We can stroll outside. Perfect time, with the sun setting."

From the distance nears a dimunitive figure, one possibly familiar to Amalai; that of Amaas Shadowfinger. However, something seems more intense in the stagnant breeze that caresses the loiterers, and as the conversing pair stand downwind of the arriving urchin, the wafting redolence of some unamely and unsavory brew is evident. As the figure draws into full view, something is adorned high upon his forehead, and in a few moments, it becomes quite apparent that this article is a black kerchief. As a half-drunken grin plays across his mien Amaas pulls this garb to better cover his appearance - which leaves the men and women about only the bridge of his nose and his eyes on up to guess his identity. In due time the aesthetic freeman meets the pair, but the man of the Blades seems of little concern to him. This could be quite the mistake. Amaas turns his back to Lucius, and his fingers play about around his twine belt, freeing a thin switchblade and bringing it violently infront of him. Close to Amalai, but not yet a threat to her immediate health. "Gimme yore money," the mugger demands, menacingly jabbing it forward for good measure.

A visage of a man flickers above in the torch-lit stairwell. It is here that Achol Zahir peers down upon those who are eating and reclining within the tavern. His eyes settle upon the obvious bladesman, to the somewhat familiar face of Amalai nearby. Soon, his eyes examine the man close upon her. His voice yells out, with a somewhat alarmed voice, "Excuse me, sir...do you know what you are doing?" he calls out, while his head looks down twoards the stairs as he steps lowers.

Amalai tenses up when she hears the demand of Amaas, although she doesn't know it's *him*. A look of fear flickers in her eyes and she looks up toward Lucius, a hand immediately going to the flap of the haversack at her side. In a situation like this, there isn't really much she can say.

Amaas's head swivels about suddenly, his eyes casting over the stable frame of Lucius - and, more importantly, the crest of the Emporer's Blades he has emblazoned. His eyes shift about in plight for a brief moment before shifting his weight in a loose pivot to meet the swordsman, knife in hand. Well, technically, the tool is not a knife. What lies clutched in his clammy grasp is a shaving razor, but from such a vantage is resembles a crude knife. "'ey! Get back, 'er I'll stick 'er," the assailant warns. To have a Bladesman near at hand is such incredulous misfortune; no, misfortune would not be a suitable word to describe Amaas' predicament, where catastrophe would do so much better.

Finally reaching the bottom of the Tavern porch stairs he continues, calmly and casually twoards the threesome of action. His eyes peer upon Amalai and then Amaas, then to the bladesman. Where Achol Zahir now stands, is behind the bladesman, off to the right a bit, with the unfortunate Amaas and Amalai being behind him. It is here where he stands, his hand raising, sweeping through his sable hair and his mouth purses before words proceed out of it. "I would suggest you allow her to go, before you wind up injured or dead. Do you know what they do to thieves that they catch? Do you?"

Amalai is only a courtesan. Defending herself in a situation like this and being successful isn't too likely. So, Amalai stays where she's at, tense as ever, and her eyes shift from Lucius to Achol. She closes her eyes and murmurs softly to herself, "This isn't what I need right now."

Lucius Nepos lets out a growl as the man lunges out towards him, however short, stubby and actually mostly useless his knife might be to anything but delivering scratches on a person. He lifts his left hand up to swat the man's arm down in a graceful arc, knocking the implement out of grip, then moves in with his other hand to deliver a right jab towards the man's solarplexus. If he succeeds, Amaas should be winded.

A wet thunk is heard across the ribbonous way as the heel of Lucius' hand connects to Amaas' solarplexus, as intended. Ironically, this sounds before the clattering of the fallen 'blade'. The would-be mugger is sent backpedalling for a brief moment in time before his feet leave the floor altogether, and he is sent careening into Amalai, a woman who happens to be as unfortunate as to belie behind him. In the course of events, the banded kerchief slips, and altogether falls from Amaas' face. His cheeks are a rosy scarlet hue, monument to the drinks he obviously induced. As he begins to push himself from his stomach to his buttocks upon the dusty, gravelled avenue, his lungs begin to gasp for air. This would make his schemed retreat all the more difficult, he knows, but he has little other chance. He tosses himself back onto one hand, where his feet chew at the ground beneath to send him at a full sprint from the gathering.

Amalai goes to hop out of the way, but she's not quick enough, and gets knocked backwards on her ass when Amaas falls into her, sliding backwards a short distance. She wasn't exactly prepared for it. Rolling to the side, she plants her hands in the dirt as she goes to push herself back up to her feet. When Amaas's face is revealed, her eyes widen, then narrow. She doesn't get in the middle of it, though, which is probably a smart thing.

Without any sort of pause, Lucius bursts into sprint after the little thief, his powerful legs carrying him across the cobblestone, trying to push and close the distance between the two. He does what's to be expected in a situation as this, and what has been taught by his Blades trainers, honed to a perfection. That is, he moves to sweep down and jump out at Amaas's upper legs, attempting to wrap his arms at the same time.

Amaas seems utterly hapless, cat in a tree. the Bladesman has done an exquisite job in entangling his limbs and restricting his mobility - so much so infact, that he was sent into a jarring tackle, landing just shy of the Tavern's sentinel-looming wall. Amaas' nasally voice cuts through the racket as he squirms frantically, "Git offer me!" It is ludicrous his pleas be answered. No, he ensorcelled his own fate this day, much kudos to that round or two of drinks he indulged in. Gravel and dirt spit about as he vainly tries to escape the vice-like clutches that have enclosed upon him. Turning his torso with what flexibility he still maintains, he attempts to create a bridge of his own body, and possible wriggle from his grasp. What he is to do after is beyond him; his plight leaves him in a here-and-now mentality.

Amalai stands back among the crowd with a few people gathering in front of her. She rises to her tippy-toes to try to get a look over their heads, but alas, that doesn't do much good. So, instead, she just pushes past them to get a front-row viewing of the two men on the ground.

Lucius Nepos is really prepared to give a wind-pipe crushing blow to Amaas's throat, in the heat of the moment. This is before he relents, making sure that Amaas's hands are in a lock. "Somone get me a length of rope so that I can bind this idiot." He spits, bitterly.

Perpetually ensnared in a painful arch of his back, Amaas begins to spout curses like water would from a rusted tap. "Feckin' eel! Girrofferme! I dit do nuttin' wrong!"

Amalai begins looking around when Lucius requests some rope, then begins digging in the haversack. "Rope isn't somethin' I tend t'carry around," she mutters, coming up empty-handed after the search in her bag.

"You sing an unconvincing song. Now shut your mouth before I knock you into oblivion." Lucius threatens, voice sounding rather begign. The intention, though, is all there in the gaze his green blue eyes give the thief. "Does /anybody/ in the crowd have some bloody rope?" His eyebrows knit.

As a bystander approaches the pair, an apparent woodsmen, he proffers a chord of long, abrasive rope. Poor Amaas, who is left muted by the certainly-not-hollow intimidation. Also, his weak squirming is restrained.

Blue eyes search the crowd until someone finally steps forward with some rope. Amalai blows out a sigh and goes back to watching Lucius and Amaas, propping a hand on her hip.

Lucius Nepos wastes no time binding the rope tightly around Amaas's wrists, making sure they are behind his back. "Just how I wanted to spend my bloody day, chasing down stupid thieves. Wonderful. Know this, thief, that there will be a form of punishment for this. On your feet." He finishes after Amaas has been subdued, rising up from his place. His hand reaches down to grasp the pommel of his sword - this he withdraws from its scabbard. In the night sky, the light of the moons reflect off of the painted runes on his sword.

Amaas must first place his body's weight upon his head, and he does so by literally grinding his face into the dirt below him so he feet can get beneath him. Once accomplishing such a humorous-looking endeavor, he slowly erects, grimacing as a sore spot is tweaked. He turns to his side - not at the Blade, for he is not so daft - and expells a globule of dirty spit, which apparently is the man's retort to such information.

Amalai scrunches up her nose in disgust as she watches Amaas. "Bloody moron," she mutters and takes a step back. "I hope you lock his ass up nice and tight," she says toward Lucius.

"Keep in mind that if you run, I will chase you down and chop your feet off. Dasbeck," Lucius motions with a nod at his sword, "has felled many a Wildling and bandit alike. Watch out. Now move." Lucius pokes Amaas in the back extremely lightly with the end of his sword, just enough to slice the man's shirt open and draw a little bit of blood.

Amaas tenses instinctively at the touch of cold pain upon his back, and the air hisses between his teeth. "No doubt'ya will, you cruel bastard," snarls the would-be thief in more of a simpering tone. Dirt outlines his face, and his nose is dribbling a vitae slightly brighter than the rivulet making an intrepid adventure down the small of his back. Shuffle, shuffle, he goes.

"Oh yes, woe to the man who tries to rob a Blade and his companion in Lightholder Square. Light, you /are/ a daft one." Lucius shakes his head, sword lowering a bit so that the point is halfway between being parallel and perpindicular to the ground. "Stop, I'm going to get a carriage." The Marshal glances about, and in the end flags down a Blades carriage, explaining the situation to the man inside. He nods and moves to push Amaas up into the think.

Amalai moves out of the crowd and toward the tavern when Lucius and the thief begin moving away.

"Amalai!" The Marshal calls out. "Come up with us."

Carriage
 * This carriage passenger compartment is rather cozy and informal, with a pair of shardwood benches facing each other and open windows on either side that can be somewhat inconvenient during inclement weather.
 * ALL DESTINATIONS 5 KAHAR IMPERIALS

Lucius Nepos enters the carriage after Amaas, extending a hand so he can help Amalai up. That said, the carriage has three other Blades in it, all armoured - two infantrymen and one ranger. The vehicle begins to move.

Amaas shifts his eyes about to the needless array of hostility. He had no intention of fleeing now. Hell, rolling out of this carriage, while the possible fatal lesion would be welcomed, isn't on the top of his priorities. The wagon rocks about, and the captured swindler accordingly is jostled by the rattling. He mumbles something, but it is incoherent.

Amalai looks from one person to the next, although she clearly avoids looking at Amaas. Idly she taps a finger soundlessly against the top of her bag as the carriage rolls on.

Lucius Nepos leans in to plant a kiss on Amalai's cheek. "Yeesh, I'm sorry you had to be subject to that, 'lai."

"...Bitch," mutter Amaas. It might not be the wisest thing, atwixt a trio of authoritorians as he is.

"Wouldn't be the firs-- yeah, first time. But you can't really expect much else from him." Amalai narrows her eyes on Amaas, then looks toward the carriage driver.

"He's robbed you /before/?" Asks Lucius, jaw agape. He shakes his head incredulously and makes no response at Amaas's insult - no verbal one, anyways. No, the man decides to push Amaas out of the stationary carriage, now.

Entrance to Fastheld Keep 


 * The Palace Road widens into a clearing of packed dirt as it arrives at the southern approach to the imposing majesty of Fastheld Keep, with its high stone parapets and lofty tower spires flying the Kahar family banner (a field of bright blue emblazoned with a prowling black wildcat).
 * Soldiers of the Emperor's Blades can be seen along the south wall - on the parapet and flanking the gatehouse - standing guard over the Imperial keep that sits perched atop a ridge of earth known as Caryas Hill.
 * The Lighthold River can be seen twisting beyond the thick woods to the west. Beyond that rises the barrier of the Shadow District. To the south, one can see the misty rolling hills and woodlands of the Forest District. Off to the east sprawl the thriving bazaars of the Market District.
 * The road twists off to the southwest, downhill toward Lightholder Bridge and the Imperial Thoroughfare that leads all over the realm.

Amaas grumbles as he stumbles to the ground, taking care as he rights himself. "Fecking whore lies," he says in a disgruntled tone.

Amalai hops down from the carriage and watches it roll away before looking back to Lucius. "He thinks I didn't notice, but I did once I got back to the Moon," she replies.

Amaas's head swings to Lucius, as if expecting a stalwart backhand. "Y'can't believe this wench! She 'as no proof!"

"Are you looking to get beat up more, hmm?" Asks Lucius, but comes short of carrying his threat out. Now, anyways. The doors to the palace open up wide, and the carriage proceeds on in without them. His green blue eyes look back to Amalai. "What'd he take?" The thief is still pushed along, sword raising up menacingly. "Shut up. Move."

"I don't lie 'bout these things, darlin'. Besides, you're gonna get locked up real nice anyway, so there really isn't any point in tryin' to defend yourself, huh?" Amalai moves along with Lucius and Amaas. In response to the Blade's question, she says, "Some money." Amaas adheres to the orders, but his grumbling is obviously against all else. In bounds, of course, he cannot be subjected to any forms of mistake, and besides - there's nothing down that hill. He moves albeit slowly.

Gatehouse 


 * A wide cube-shaped edifice made of stone that serves as the main access point for Fastheld Keep. Lanterns are bolted to the walls, providing illumination around the clock.
 * A wrought iron portcullis can be raised or lowered for the arched opening that leads to the Palace Road and Lightholder Bridge. Two large reinforced wooden doors are on the opposite side of the gatehouse from the portcullis, providing the keep's second possible defense against intrusion - assuming anyone makes it past the portcullis.

"I know that Amalai would not lie to me. She's never done so before and I see little reason for her to do so now. Where do you have it stashed, fool?" Asks Lucius as he continues to walk behind Amaas, warily.

Amalai goes quiet now, looking at Amaas as Lucius speaks to him. She continues walking alongside both of them, but not too close.

The melodic ringing of his Kahars in his waistpouch easilly reveal the answer, but Amaas provides it heedless, "Leftmos' pouch." His tone is hollow, as the dawning of his fate becomes clear. He won't see sunlight anytime soon.

Many Blades are around, being that they are located at a major hub of Bladesman activity. One such of these men stands hear in the gatehouse, visable in the light cast by the torches that line the pathway. He seems to be expecting something, and as the three enter, he straightens up.

Lucius Nepos grabs the pouch of Kahars, eyes narrowing as he peers inside of it. Satisfied, he hands it back to Amalai. "Don't worry. I reckon your punishment will be a finger on each hand or something similar.. I'll let you choose your pinkies. Though I am not in a position to apply this punishment before talking with a superior." He nods to Oren, and moves in closer to the man to whisper something to him. After that is done, Lucius turns to give Amalai another kiss, apparently a goodbye. "You can accompany Owen and this trash down to the dungeons if you like. I have things to do." With that, he's off.

Amalai takes the pouch and looks inside briefly. "Thank you, darlin'," she says to Lucius before he takes off. She looks back to Amaas and Owen, offering a nod to the latter. "I'll get outta your hair while you handle business, darlin'," this is directed to, of course, Owen.

The bound prisoner, Amaas, is roughly tossed into the hands of the sturdy Owen, despite his constant protest. He is in a severe shape of disrepair, and the fate awaiting him cannot be one favored.

Owen bows his head a little at the man. "Yes, Marshal," he replies, a slight smirk on his face as he looks over the man. "You come with me," he grunts, gesturing with a gauntleted hand toward the man. He reaches out to grab the man's arm, if he is able. "Thank you, ma'am." Then he starts for the interior of the Keep.

Amaas's pissante mood is rightfully earned, and as the cold plate touches his arm, he gives a futile jerk. Owen is much bigger than him, thus is obvious, and he can do nothing more but trudge on beside him.

Amalai props a hand up on her hip after tucking the pouch of coins away in her bag. She smiles, seemingly pleased with the situation Amaas has gotten himself into. After Owen takes over, she nods and turns, heading back out.