Mion relaxed against the cool stone wall, his feet drawn up to himself on the small patch hay thrown in as a last resort when he was being forced into the dungeon at sword point. He idly bounced a coin off the wall at the exact point he knew would ricochet, hit the other wall and then fall back into his palm. Mion spent more times than he can count in holdings such as these during his lifetime. It was okay though as when he was forced in, he saw faint marks scratched into a stone on the left wall, just above where manacles were buried deep into the stonework. Mion was glad that the guard felt it unnecessary to restrain him in them but then again, he was only in for petty theft and was neither a rapist or a murderer. 

As Mion idly bounced the coin back and forth, waiting for the guard’s return, he cast his mind back to the job that brought him here. It was a simple one, a stately house, a safe full of gold waiting to be pilfered with low rent bullies keeping an eye from various standpoints. The shadows were his allies, his lifeblood and were to aid him in fulfilling what took him weeks to plan but one thing he did not account for was another like him keeping guard in the safe room, a shadow-stalker as he was known in these parts. A pretty name for a common thief but the name couldn’t stick truer in Mion’s sense, especially with his uncommon power. Now, Mion was a regular man; late 20’s and sturdy, unusual for his profession, but it was his adept skills with lockpick and shadows that kept the anonymous contracts rolling through. His rough upbringing, slumming through the various streets and towns that existed within Kal’Alar not only imparted upon him, talents that had kept him alive but rather gave him a calling in life that made him popular amongst the high class and well to do, himself.

This other shadow stalker though proved to be a challenge, when Mion had entered through the topmost window in a grandiose hall where he was certain that his prize was awaiting, he felt an unnatural chill and as he scaled down the various walls and columns to the floor, a blur of shadow and a strike across the back of his skull was what awaited him and he found himself waking up to an alley with a thumping headache and a sword pointed at his throat.

Mion’s name and reputation preceded him and he was outnumbered 4 to 1, so alas he found himself here, a contract potentially lost and what had originally seemed, the end of the road for him, especially after they read him his crimes.

The guards of this town had certainly thought they won it big, jeering with their friends as the two biggest members of the guard held him in with an iron vice grip with one hand on each of his wrists and sword points pointed towards him, in front of a rich, wooden desk of the Captain of this particular hold.

They pushed back his deep, hooded cloak and held him forward towards the captain

“He fits the description, Captain”

The captain rifles through the various parchments and letters on his desk and picks one up and holds it align to Mion’s face so he can flit between the list and his face,

“Male, late 20’s, pale complexion, medium-length dark grey hair, tattoed face, ears and hands. Known for at least over 150 robberies, including the Malar heist, impressive!”

“Capture alive if possible, warning: the person is armed, potentially dangerous and extremely elusive”

The captain throws the parchment back onto his desk with a gluttonous look on his face.

“This order came straight from the Maul boys, this is a big capture and even bigger reward I can imagine!”

The others start hooting and hollering at this news and the captain joins them for a second before silencing them with a raised gauntleted hand.

“Put him in the deepest one we have, you two, and guard the door. He can’t escape that. I’ll send the message immediately.”

Mion pitied the poor fool and wandered what his face would look like whence he made his escape. 

Pocketing his coin, he leapt up to his feet and felt the stone with the markings. To the untrained and unknowing eye, one would think was the idly markings of a long time captor. He brushed his fingers lightly against them and translated them instantly. Mion could read it as it was Thieves Cant. A mysterious language amongst those of his profession and handy to leave secret instructions or helpful messages.

‘Prise for a prize’

Smiling slightly to himself, Mion felt the grooves around the stone and prised it open relatively quickly. Hidden just behind the block were a grooved slate of stone, about 1 or 2 inches thick and length, and another message in Cant on the stonework behind it stating.

The Lady’s luck blesses you, and don’t forget to thank them.

Chuckling to himself, he threw himself flat to the floor and found an area in which he could wedge the stone slab in between the floor and the bars. Confident with his plan, he whistled loudly and whipped his hand back and forth in rapid succession and the coin he was playing with earlier, rebounded off the wall outside of his confines and bounced up the hallway. Soon after, there came a shifting and clicking of the various locks that held the door leading to this part of the dungeon in place. Pacing to the back of his confines, he threw himself, full-body against the bars and kicked, thrice, hard against the stone slab. The bars came crashing down, echoing up the hallway and shouts followed it. He strode out boldly just as the door came crashing open and about 4 guards stopped and gaped at him, standing confidently in the middle of the hallway with dust and hay motes floating in the dim candlelight. With a flourish of his cloak; he eyed them each, nodded and loudly announced,

“By your leave gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure”

With another quick flick of the wrist, two more coins sever the candle’s wicks that were giving off the faint glow and immediately plunged them into darkness.

He heard the Captain shout after the guards to get him, but he had already embraced the shadows and felt a familiar grip upon him as he glided away into nothingness.

Next Chapter: Querell