Thief: Dark Apprentice
Genre: Adventure/Fantasy/Thriller
Disclaimer: I don't own the city, it is owned by the makers of the game Thief: Deadly Shadows. Everything else in this chapter, I created.
darkwolf-87(my other account)
Summary
Seth is a thief. But not an ordinary pickpocket thief. Seth is the thief. Lightning fast, sharp as a tack, and silent as breeze, Seth is capable of stealing anything from anywhere. He has never been caught and to this day he remains anonymous. He stalks the City and everyone is his prey. He steals from the rich to give to himself. He kills when necessary and always gets away. But Seth's past is a dark and foggy one. Every night, he has nightmares about a chunk of time taken from his life that he cannot remember. Mysterious people he calls Them or They keep reoccurring in these dreams and doing things to him. It is at this time when Seth finds that he needs to steal something different than anything he's ever stolen. A book…about himself. In acquiring this task, Seth realizes he isn't as good as he thought he was. In order to unlock the secrets of his past, he must learn from someone greater. The master thief. The ultimate Shadow. Garret. Seth must find this man and learn from him. He must become….his Dark Apprentice.
Chapter 1
Shadows. They are the essence of darkness; which in turn is the essence of night. Shadows are what keep the world spinning. They give shape, form, and detail to life. They can keep things concealed, but also, shadows can show the true side of people. They give meaning and excitement to life. Shadows are made from darkness. I love darkness. The velvety smooth black nothingness of it. It never changes, and it never will. Some say that darkness is the absence of light. Well, those people are wrong. Light is the absence of darkness. Darkness was there first. From darkness, came light. Not from light came darkness. I don't know why people are afraid of darkness. Perhaps the reason is that they don't understand it. But then again, man doesn't really understand anything, does he? I guess that's why I like to keep to myself. Maybe man is afraid of what lurks in the darkness. Bats...monsters...demons? Well I know darkness pretty well. I like it. And I know there aren't any demons or monsters you should be afraid of. Well there is...me... I guess people should be afraid of me. And darkness.
But I love darkness. You see, before we were alive, we were in darkness. Nothingness. And when we die...back to darkness. So why not embrace the darkness? We have taken so much from darkness: sleep, light, life... Darkness has taken much from us. We are darkness. That is why I love darkness. I'm not a religious man, but I'm not one of those Pagans. They are true creatures of darkness, deformed physically and mentally by darkness's overwhelming will. I'm not like that. No. I use darkness, and darkness uses me. I use its shadows.
My name is Seth, and I am a thief. But I am not you're every day pickpocket thief. No. I am the thief. I have never been caught. I can melt in to any shadow, scale any wall, pick any lock, escape any prison...and kill any man. I'm not the "steals from the rich to give to the needy" type of thief either. I'm looking out for me. I steal from the rich to give to myself, and I like it. I love the thrill of knowing I could be caught at any moment, but I never do. I like seeing the anger on the face of some rich who just lost his most prized goblet, or some pompous rich woman who just can't find her pearl necklace. It makes me laugh. They don't know what its like on the streets. They don't know what its like to starve, freeze, beg, or be miserable. So it's my job to make sure they do feel miserable once in a while. I've given so much to this damned world, and what have I got to show for it? A piece of crap shack and a cloak on my back. I deserve way more after what They did to me. All the pain They put me through. How They changed me forever.
Well anyways, here I am, sitting on the rooftop of an aristocrat's house, waiting for the to go to sleep. I look across the rooftops with my sharp eyes at the smoke rising gently out of the chimneys. It must be nice to have a fireplace. I pull my cloak tighter about my shoulders as a sharp breeze blows fiercely across the rooftops from the east. I look towards the port a few house blocks to the east and see a few ships bobbing lazily in the probably ice cold ocean. It's probably at least 1 o'clock by now. The lights are off in the house. Time to strike.
I pull up my thickly woven black hood over my head, casting my face in darkness, and give a quick tug on my gloves. I get up as quickly and silently as a cat. Standing perfectly straight, I'm probably around six feet tall, but I wouldn't know. I don't even care. I swipe a piece of shaggy black hair out of my coarse face before grabbing on to the edge of the roof and lowering my way down to the open second-story window below. People can be such idiots. Swift as a shadow, I creep into the room and crouch in the corner. I scan the area. Unlike most people, I have an uncanny talent for being to be able to see almost perfectly in the dark. I suppose They did that to me.
There is nothing but a small table, a desk, bookcase, and two chairs in the room. Definitely a rich man's home. I don't know of one ordinary person that can read. Then again, I'm not that ordinary. The floor is also covered in a rich rug. Too bad my bag is too small to carry that. Staying crouched, I sneak over to the door and open it a crack. Peeping through the opening, I see a hallway with another nice rug running the length of it, a side table, a few paintings, and...ooooh a nice crystal vase. I open the door just large enough for me to squeeze through and head over to the vase. No wait... It's only glass. Damn. Crystal Vases are worth a lot.
I look on the wall more closely and see a few golden candlesticks. Those'll sell nice. I snatch them and head to the first door. Pressing my ear silently to it, I listen for any signs of life. Nothing. Good. I crack open the door and look around to establish that no one is in the room. Nothing. I creep silently into the room. This must be a spare bedroom. In the corner by a window is a bed with rich bedding and fluffy pillows. I see a desk and side table with a candle on it. Nothing special. I move over to the rich mahogany desk and try the drawers. Locked. For now... I pull from my belt the two small bent iron sticks that I use for picking locks. One of my more favorite tools. I stick them in and wiggle one around until I hear that oh so satisfying, click. I open the drawer. Jackpot. Looks like the guy living here is keeping all his important files and bank notes in this little drawer. Like I said, people are idiots. I grab all of it and stuff it into my small knapsack that is strapped to my back.
I like to wear a common traveler's cloak, black preferably, with a large hood. The long dark sleeves hang loosely down my arm until they are tucked into my thick, black, leather gloves. I wear no cape; it'll only get in the way, so in its place, my black knapsack, quiver, and bow are strapped. I like black. It helps me blend in into the shadows. I wear light, black boots, making it easier for me to do my acrobatics and sprints. On my belt, I wear a black sheath with intricate designs in silver weave down the sides. In it is my perfectly forged dagger. I also wear a pouch for carrying gold, and a small club, for making people...sleep. These are the necessary items for being a thief. I make my way back out the door, not caring about putting things back or cleaning up (I never get caught) and head towards the stairs. There are only two more doors I haven't opened in the hallway and I know that there is more than one guy living here.
When I near the bottom of the stairs, I stop. There's heavy breathing. Someone is asleep down here. Scanning the room I am about to enter, I notice a couch with its back to me (obviously the person must be sleeping there), another book case, china cabinet, a nice coffee table, a few overly-stuffed armchairs, and a fireplace. Smoldering embers are all that remain from the once roaring fire that occupied the fireplace. There are all kinds of valuables throughout the room: porcelain vases, golden candle sticks, a few china dishes, and the china cabinet drawers are bound to contain some nice silverware.
Before descending the final steps, I listen for a bit to make sure the person is truly sleeping. He (or she) seems to be snoring slightly. I creep over to the couch to ensure that I am right. Peering over the edge, I see a boy of about nine or ten, curled up under a nice warm-looking quilt. Lucky . I remember back to the days of my childhood. Not much to remember except begging on the streets, sleeping where ever I could find shelter, and of course...stealing. I love my job. I slink over to the china cabinet and quickly snatch a few tea cups and plates. Then I open the drawers. Bingo. Silverware galore. I snatch it all, leaving none. This'll sell real nicely. I examine of the fine salad forks. Perfect. Not a prong is longer that the other and detailed insignias are carved down the handle. I figure about 2 pieces of gold each. Just as I'm about to move over to a porcelain vase, which I might add looks like it could sell for at least 30 pieces of gold, I noticed something. The boy had stopped breathing. Damn.
I look towards the couch and find myself staring straight into the eyes of a terrified young boy. "Don't...scream." I whisper quietly with my deep and gruff voice. The kid's eyes widen as if he can't believe I can actually talk. I glare at him with my dark, aged eyes, willing him with my mind to stay quiet. I have been known for my piercing glare that can strike fear into the hearts of the bravest soldiers. The boy screams. Damn. Like a cat, I leap towards the boy with my club drawn. With one quick swipe, the boy is silenced. I hear movement upstairs. Time to go.
I glide silently to the window. It opens up to the back alley. I open it up, leap out, and roll onto my feet into a fast sprint. I take a turn and see that the alley ends with a brick wall at the end, but I don't slow down. I leap toward one of the side walls, and planting my feet firmly, I push off to the other side wall, and push off from that onto the rooftops. Perfectly executed. As I begin to leap from rooftop to rooftop, I can hear a woman's shrieks and a man calling for help, but I'm too far ahead to be caught. I never get caught.