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"You're 30 coins short Markam." Cold blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. A middle aged man fidgeted with his hands as he started to crack under the merciless gaze. "I'll get the rest to you after you finish the job. I swear, Altair!" The man was shoved up against a wall with a knife at his throat. A small bead of blood began to form as the metal bit into skin. "You better, or else I'd hate to see what would happen to your precious wife." Slumping down the wall, the man watched the hired thief walk away.
Altair Swizec was an enigma. He was born into a noble family located in the far east, and had a bright future set before him. The young man was his father's only heir, granting him a wealthy inheritance, and marriage into the influential Jasper family. At the young age of 12, Altair ran away from home. The politics of nobility and lack of control he had in his own life drove him away from all that he knew.
Growing up on the streets of various cities proved to be a hard life, but he was free. Free to make his own choices, free to do whatever he wanted, and free to construct his own path. Thievery entered his life as a way to feed himself at first, but soon turned into a profession. Through determination and trial, the young boy managed to become an apprentice to a local legend. Berad was a master thief, and very rarely would botch a job. Altair would often be beaten due to not meeting up to Berad's outrageous expectations. The lad learned quickly though, and through the years proved to be exceptional at thievery.
Berad never returned home one night. Altair usually never kept track, but it had been days and word around the city was that old Berad had finally been caught. Keeping to the shadows, the young man made his way to where the gallows were located. Sure enough, Berad stood there with a noose already around his neck. Common sense was lost at the thought of losing his mentor, and Altair started to shove his way through the crowd. Too many people stood in his way and not enough time. The floor was dropped out beneath Berad, and the old man kept his eyes locked on Altair until the rope strangled the life out him. Guards had been called for the disruption, leaving Altair with the only option to run.
Emotions threatened to overwhelm the young man as he dodged his way through market stalls and citizens, feeling the burning anger build up inside of him. Berad was the only thing he had for family, and was practically a father to him. Emotions make you weak. They tear down your defenses and leave you vulnerable. The second you hesitate because of it is when you lose. His mentor's words rang through out his mind, forcing the young man to lock his feelings away as he escaped the city.
Several years had passed by, and now he stood at the city of Alesbridge. A disgruntled citizen had just hired him to break into Lord Gerald's manor for an artifact. Apparently the Lord had many artifacts from his adventuring days, and Altair thought of the possibilities of pocketing a few during his job. Restrained chaos gripped the city of Alesbridge, which worked in his favor. He could care less about some dumb monster off in the woods, but the aftereffects of it aided his plan. Turning to make sure Markam had left, the young man silently made his way to the manor.
It was early morning and he doubted very few people would be awake at this hour. Finding a decently concealed area, he made himself comfortable and got ready to wait the day out. He would take note of any guards, when they traded shifts, and other small facts of interest. Supposedly Lord Gerald was suffering from an injury as well, which added even more to the chaos. Altair knew this would be a simple task to complete. As if in disagreement, a chill breeze made its way across the city, gently blowing the thief's tied back black hair.
[ 07-27-2006, 02:19 AM: Message edited by: Deiter Leafblade ]
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