Flitting Through The Shadows

[jubilee]

He was sneaky, sneakier than he was given credit for. He saw that the ship was empty, and yet cargo was still on board, so he took his opportunity. With quick, sure steps, Fox moved form shadow to shadow, until he was standing on the flimsy wooden gangplank of the massive ship; after a quick loom thrown over his left shoulder, he scurried up onto the ship, his feet making the old wood creak beneath him. Fox paused momentarily, but his hunger drove him on, onto the all-too-exposed deck of the ship. The salty air blew into his face, giving him a moment of cool relief, but no more than that, for his stomach nagged at him.

Stepping to the nearest box, Fox wiggled his thing, but strong, fingers beneath one of the top boards, and with a quick jerk of his wrist, broke the board open, leaving a small hole, just large enough to slip his arm in through, on the right-most panel of the box. The teenager fished in the box, and his fingers closed around a round bulb, which he pulled up, praying that it was edible. Seeing the familiar orange casing and smelling the faint citrusy scent gave Fox the conformation he needed. With another quick dive in th box, Fox grabbed two more oranges, and crept off the boat, ready to savor his prize, hoping no one would notice...

[hobbit]

The docks of his old home had been a joy for him to witness in his youth. The sailors had been people of magic, capable of sailing around the world and coming back to tell magnificent tales. For a year, Rashok had danced around his home, whacking people with sticks and declaring that he was the greatest captain to ever live. The dream of being a sailor, however, had quickly faded. It was a dream that had come to be simply because he had been three at the time, and had not known any better. Now, however, the massive man was located at the dock simply to watch. He highly doubted that there would be much of anything going on, but at the moment, Rashok had nothing to do and he was not a man that enjoyed lying idly around during his free time.

Cold eyes scanned unfamiliar faces and strangers swerved to avoid the man. He was like Moses, separating the sea of people. For a moment, a smile lit the man’s mug at the thought, but the look quickly faded. His keen eyes had spotted something, and had it been a ship of another country, Rashok would have looked away. This ship, however, was one of the few bringing items to Murate and…well, there was someone sneaking on. Eyes flashing, the man moved forward, holding his weapon in an aggressive manner. It was a weapon used for one thing and one thing only: destruction. He was not a man to disarm; there was never mercy in his eyes. He fought to kill, and the Morning Star allowed him to do just that.

Feeling that the thief would sneak out the same way he had come in, Rashok waited at the end of the plank. One sailor stopped, as if to ask a question, but the look on the warrior’s face quickly drove the flea bitten old man away. He was like a statue as he waited, no emotion on his face or in his eyes…until, that is, the teenager appeared once more. Rashok was sure it was the one he had seen sneaking on before. How could anyone mistake that shock of red hair?

“You better have a damn good reason for stealing, boy,” the blonde haired man had a deep voice, as soft and deadly as a snake’s hiss. His green eyes seemed to bore into the youth. He took not steps forward. He simply blocked the other’s path, holding his weapon at the ready.

No matter what the reason the youth had, it was clear Rashok would take the delivery of justice upon himself.