Post by The Smith on May 2, 2008 12:35:08 GMT -5
Hugging the wall to the manor Eaton sighs. Sneaking a look around the corner he spies a guard patrolling the only easy entrance into the house. Shaking his head he glances around again ending with glaring at the large smooth wall in front of him.
“How do I get myself into these messes?” he muses to himself. Stepping back slightly he reaches into a pouch at his waist and removes the piece of twine and small hook he carries with him. Tossing it up the 15 foot wall he winces when he hears the audible click of it catching. As he begins to pull himself up hand over hand along the sharp face of the manor house wall he mutters, “I’m liable to break my fool of a neck doing this.” Finally reaching the top he eases his head over and looks both ways. Thanking the Gods there are no guards patrolling the interior of the manors yard he begins to wind his rope up.
Once finished he crouches low and begins making his way along the walls walkway. Working his way down the stairwell he notices a faint candlelight from a window on the top floor of the manor house. Shaking his head he mumbles “Couldn’t be easy, they couldn’t be sleeping could they. Oh well alive or awake they die the same.”
Approaching the front door he glances back towards the gate where the guard was patrolling. Not seeing him he fishes out his tools from his pouch. Fiddling with the lock he hums a song quietly to himself. With an loud click the lock on the doorway comes free and Eaton smiles to himself. Easing the door open just enough for his body he slinks inside. Immediately he pulls the door to quickly but silently and on quiet feet rushes to one of the columns aligning the entranceway. He looks around feeling uneasy his instincts telling him something is wrong here. Drawing the dagger from the shrouded sheath at his side he eases his head around the side of the column to survey the room.
Columns align the entranceway and follow a path tiled with obscure designs. Interspaced among the columns are sets of large potted plants. Eaton’s eyes nervously dart around the room searching for his feeling of unease. Unable to find it he shakes his head and starts towards the stairs. Going slowly up the stairs on his padded feet he winces at every creak no matter how quiet they seem to echo through his head. Finally he reaches the top stair. Glancing down both ends of the big hallway he sees the light glow from the candlelight coming from a room to the right. Stepping off to the left he thinks, “Best leave that for last in case they are noisy.” Passing two doors on each side he reaches the door at the end of the hall. He gently pushes the door open and glances inside. His eyes grow round at the display of wealth, large golden statues flank a intricately carved desk with random documents scattered upon them, as if the owner left business half finished. Slipping inside the room Eaton closes the door, the moon’s ambiance gives a pale glow to the room as he makes his way around. Unshouldering the small pack he carries he begins taking small items of worth that are scattered about the room, here a few pieces of Myrish lace, there jewels and even a strange dagger made of dragonglass. Almost as an afterthought he grabs the documents from the desk and with great care places them inside his pouch with his tools. “Someone may be interested in what he was doing, maybe even enough to pay.” he thinks to himself. Satisfied with his plundering of the room he makes his way out the door careful to close it softly behind him.
“Now the real work begins.” He thinks to himself as he makes his way to the first door. Easing it open he glances in his dagger at the ready only to discover a room bare of amenities beyond a nightstand and a bed. Sighing he turns, “Couldn’t be that easy could it.” He thinks.
He repeats this for three more doors. On the fifth door he opens he discovers two children about ten and two and nine years old sleeping peacefully under the moons peaceful light. The pale glow illuminates their soft features and Eaton sighs, “They are the ones who suffer for the sins of the father.” Closing the door gently behind him he turns and approaches the final door with its ominous candlelight glow appearing along the bottom frame of the door. Sliding silently up to the door he places his ear near the wood. Through the wood he hears muffled snoring, smiling he mutters, “Finally a break” as he pushes the door open and steps inside the room.
Upon a large canopied bed with layers of silk and satin dangling lies a fat balding old man. He appears as though he once was a strong youth but age and an easy lifestyle have since turned his once muscled body into a soft blob of fat. Smirking Eaton makes his way to the bedside glancing to the side he notes a rather fine longbow leaned carelessly in a corner. He smiles to himself as he thinks of his youth and hunting in the woods for game to serve the guests at the inn. Shaking his head he returns to the task at hand. He slides his dagger from its sheath and gently pulls a satin wrapped pillow from the bed and leans over the man. As he draws his hand back for the blow the mans eyes pop open. The man looks at Eaton with confusion in his eyes, which quickly turns to terror as the pillow descends to cover his face and the dagger is slammed home into his throat. With a savage twist Eaton turns the dagger so it rips the throat preventing any noise from the man. Once the man stops moving Eaton reaches down and savagely cuts a finger off that bears the mans signet ring. Wrapping it in a piece of the satin dangling from the bed he places it in his pouch among the other items.
Ignoring the blood spattered upon his raiment he crosses the room to take the longbow in the corner. Slipping out the window he traipses along the rooftop until he reaches a part overhanging the wall. Leaping down he quickly scurries off into the dark to collect his payment for the job and perhaps see what the fences will pay for the goods in his pack.
The next morning Eaton rose early and putting on a fresh tunic and trousers shoulders his pouch. Walking down into the common room of the inn he instinctively glances at the patrons. This morning there were only two both appeared to be freeswords from one of the free cities. Eaton paid them little mind as he worked his way out. Making his way down the streets towards the docks he hums a quiet song to himself that his mother used to sing as she cooked in the kitchens, he smiled remembering the aroma’s that used to waft from the oven while he stood by waiting anxiously for the meat and bread to be finished. Sighing he adjusts his pack, “That’s all gone now fool,” he reminds himself.
Arriving at his destination he walks inside and presents himself to the Master of the trading vessel Vale Dreams. Reaching inside his pouch he removes the wrapped finger and tosses it upon the desk. The fat man behind the counter rubs his hands together in glee as he unwraps the finger and spies the signet. “My thanks my friend, you have rid me of a outstanding debt. Now the matter of your payment.” He reaches into a drawer along the desk and pulls out a hefty pouch ringing with the sound of coin. Dropping it onto the desk it lands with an audible thud. Eaton picks the pouch up unslings his pack and places it inside. “Not even going to count it? Do you trust me that much?” the master asked.
Shaking his refusal Eaton replies, “Its not you I trust, but the fact that I could do the same to you that I did to that man, that’s what I trust.” The man looked offended but said nothing. “Now I have need of passage and I was wondering what ships I might hire transport on traveling to Westeros.”
The man smiled and a glint came in his eye, “Well for only 60 dragons you can receive first class transport on the Vale Dreams to Duskendale leaving on the tide tonight.”
Eaton’s eyes narrow, “60 dragons? That’s the amount you just paid me. Don’t seek to cheat me old man, or you’ll find yourself in a worse postion then your friend there.”
Fear enters into the mans eyes as he watches Eaton’s hands work their way to the hilts of his dagger and short sword. “No did I say 60? I mean to say for only 40 dragons”
Eaton draws the dagger from its sheath and picks his fingernail with it. Then suddenly stabs it into table leaving it quivering in front of the merchant. “I’m sure you could agree on a more reasonable price. Lets say 15 dragons and the captains cabin for m voyage, in return for the favor I have done you.”
The merchant starts to protest but stops at the fire he sees burning in Eaton’s eyes. “Done my friend. Be here at dusk the ship sails with the tide.”
Eaton nods and retrieves his dagger and walks out the door without another word. Making his way back to the inn he lingers long enough to eat and have a tankard of ale with the two freeswords. He makes his way back up to his room and lays down and goes to sleep.
Hours later Eaton stands in the bow of the ship as the prow cuts the water below. Sea spray dampens his dark clothing and causes his long chestnut hair to glisten in the moonlight. Turning back to go to his cabin he wonders what might await him in Duskendale.
Eaton gains Novice Negotiation
Eaton gains Novice Persuasion
“How do I get myself into these messes?” he muses to himself. Stepping back slightly he reaches into a pouch at his waist and removes the piece of twine and small hook he carries with him. Tossing it up the 15 foot wall he winces when he hears the audible click of it catching. As he begins to pull himself up hand over hand along the sharp face of the manor house wall he mutters, “I’m liable to break my fool of a neck doing this.” Finally reaching the top he eases his head over and looks both ways. Thanking the Gods there are no guards patrolling the interior of the manors yard he begins to wind his rope up.
Once finished he crouches low and begins making his way along the walls walkway. Working his way down the stairwell he notices a faint candlelight from a window on the top floor of the manor house. Shaking his head he mumbles “Couldn’t be easy, they couldn’t be sleeping could they. Oh well alive or awake they die the same.”
Approaching the front door he glances back towards the gate where the guard was patrolling. Not seeing him he fishes out his tools from his pouch. Fiddling with the lock he hums a song quietly to himself. With an loud click the lock on the doorway comes free and Eaton smiles to himself. Easing the door open just enough for his body he slinks inside. Immediately he pulls the door to quickly but silently and on quiet feet rushes to one of the columns aligning the entranceway. He looks around feeling uneasy his instincts telling him something is wrong here. Drawing the dagger from the shrouded sheath at his side he eases his head around the side of the column to survey the room.
Columns align the entranceway and follow a path tiled with obscure designs. Interspaced among the columns are sets of large potted plants. Eaton’s eyes nervously dart around the room searching for his feeling of unease. Unable to find it he shakes his head and starts towards the stairs. Going slowly up the stairs on his padded feet he winces at every creak no matter how quiet they seem to echo through his head. Finally he reaches the top stair. Glancing down both ends of the big hallway he sees the light glow from the candlelight coming from a room to the right. Stepping off to the left he thinks, “Best leave that for last in case they are noisy.” Passing two doors on each side he reaches the door at the end of the hall. He gently pushes the door open and glances inside. His eyes grow round at the display of wealth, large golden statues flank a intricately carved desk with random documents scattered upon them, as if the owner left business half finished. Slipping inside the room Eaton closes the door, the moon’s ambiance gives a pale glow to the room as he makes his way around. Unshouldering the small pack he carries he begins taking small items of worth that are scattered about the room, here a few pieces of Myrish lace, there jewels and even a strange dagger made of dragonglass. Almost as an afterthought he grabs the documents from the desk and with great care places them inside his pouch with his tools. “Someone may be interested in what he was doing, maybe even enough to pay.” he thinks to himself. Satisfied with his plundering of the room he makes his way out the door careful to close it softly behind him.
“Now the real work begins.” He thinks to himself as he makes his way to the first door. Easing it open he glances in his dagger at the ready only to discover a room bare of amenities beyond a nightstand and a bed. Sighing he turns, “Couldn’t be that easy could it.” He thinks.
He repeats this for three more doors. On the fifth door he opens he discovers two children about ten and two and nine years old sleeping peacefully under the moons peaceful light. The pale glow illuminates their soft features and Eaton sighs, “They are the ones who suffer for the sins of the father.” Closing the door gently behind him he turns and approaches the final door with its ominous candlelight glow appearing along the bottom frame of the door. Sliding silently up to the door he places his ear near the wood. Through the wood he hears muffled snoring, smiling he mutters, “Finally a break” as he pushes the door open and steps inside the room.
Upon a large canopied bed with layers of silk and satin dangling lies a fat balding old man. He appears as though he once was a strong youth but age and an easy lifestyle have since turned his once muscled body into a soft blob of fat. Smirking Eaton makes his way to the bedside glancing to the side he notes a rather fine longbow leaned carelessly in a corner. He smiles to himself as he thinks of his youth and hunting in the woods for game to serve the guests at the inn. Shaking his head he returns to the task at hand. He slides his dagger from its sheath and gently pulls a satin wrapped pillow from the bed and leans over the man. As he draws his hand back for the blow the mans eyes pop open. The man looks at Eaton with confusion in his eyes, which quickly turns to terror as the pillow descends to cover his face and the dagger is slammed home into his throat. With a savage twist Eaton turns the dagger so it rips the throat preventing any noise from the man. Once the man stops moving Eaton reaches down and savagely cuts a finger off that bears the mans signet ring. Wrapping it in a piece of the satin dangling from the bed he places it in his pouch among the other items.
Ignoring the blood spattered upon his raiment he crosses the room to take the longbow in the corner. Slipping out the window he traipses along the rooftop until he reaches a part overhanging the wall. Leaping down he quickly scurries off into the dark to collect his payment for the job and perhaps see what the fences will pay for the goods in his pack.
The next morning Eaton rose early and putting on a fresh tunic and trousers shoulders his pouch. Walking down into the common room of the inn he instinctively glances at the patrons. This morning there were only two both appeared to be freeswords from one of the free cities. Eaton paid them little mind as he worked his way out. Making his way down the streets towards the docks he hums a quiet song to himself that his mother used to sing as she cooked in the kitchens, he smiled remembering the aroma’s that used to waft from the oven while he stood by waiting anxiously for the meat and bread to be finished. Sighing he adjusts his pack, “That’s all gone now fool,” he reminds himself.
Arriving at his destination he walks inside and presents himself to the Master of the trading vessel Vale Dreams. Reaching inside his pouch he removes the wrapped finger and tosses it upon the desk. The fat man behind the counter rubs his hands together in glee as he unwraps the finger and spies the signet. “My thanks my friend, you have rid me of a outstanding debt. Now the matter of your payment.” He reaches into a drawer along the desk and pulls out a hefty pouch ringing with the sound of coin. Dropping it onto the desk it lands with an audible thud. Eaton picks the pouch up unslings his pack and places it inside. “Not even going to count it? Do you trust me that much?” the master asked.
Shaking his refusal Eaton replies, “Its not you I trust, but the fact that I could do the same to you that I did to that man, that’s what I trust.” The man looked offended but said nothing. “Now I have need of passage and I was wondering what ships I might hire transport on traveling to Westeros.”
The man smiled and a glint came in his eye, “Well for only 60 dragons you can receive first class transport on the Vale Dreams to Duskendale leaving on the tide tonight.”
Eaton’s eyes narrow, “60 dragons? That’s the amount you just paid me. Don’t seek to cheat me old man, or you’ll find yourself in a worse postion then your friend there.”
Fear enters into the mans eyes as he watches Eaton’s hands work their way to the hilts of his dagger and short sword. “No did I say 60? I mean to say for only 40 dragons”
Eaton draws the dagger from its sheath and picks his fingernail with it. Then suddenly stabs it into table leaving it quivering in front of the merchant. “I’m sure you could agree on a more reasonable price. Lets say 15 dragons and the captains cabin for m voyage, in return for the favor I have done you.”
The merchant starts to protest but stops at the fire he sees burning in Eaton’s eyes. “Done my friend. Be here at dusk the ship sails with the tide.”
Eaton nods and retrieves his dagger and walks out the door without another word. Making his way back to the inn he lingers long enough to eat and have a tankard of ale with the two freeswords. He makes his way back up to his room and lays down and goes to sleep.
Hours later Eaton stands in the bow of the ship as the prow cuts the water below. Sea spray dampens his dark clothing and causes his long chestnut hair to glisten in the moonlight. Turning back to go to his cabin he wonders what might await him in Duskendale.
Eaton gains Novice Negotiation
Eaton gains Novice Persuasion