Janna had selected the wrong mark. He had looked harmless, pissing on the wall of the alley alone. Slender with no visible weaponry, just a deck of cards and a fat purse. Easy-peasy. She watched him stumble as he exited the bar through the back entrance, drunken fool. Most tavern dwellers, even the men brought friends outside with them. Everyone knew the alleys of Zaun were full of thieves, addicts, and sentient animals, but this man had been alone. And Janna had taken the bait.
She had sidled up to him, blue eyes wide and innocent. "Please sir," she had said. "Let me be your luck." The streets of Zaun had held slim pickings for her, and the night was cold and hungry. And although the gambling houses did not approve of thieves, she would still prefer trying her luck pick pocketing in a tavern rather than turning tricks. Janna had survived the streets due to a combination of quick wits and quick feet. She knew what could happen to girls, orphans like her, who had turned to prostitution as a way to get by. There were men out there who liked to cause pain, and Janna preferred to have nothing to do with them. In the gambling house, in exchange for blowing on the cards she would get a seat by the fire, perhaps a meal, and as she slipped out the door she would take his purse.
The drunken gambler had turned towards her and brushed dark hair out of his eyes. For a moment she saw a cold intelligence inside of them, but the look quickly went away as his eyes slid out of focus. She knew he was assessing her for danger, but women hung around the tavern regularly looking for wealthy gentlemen to spoil them. Janna wasn't dressed opulently like them. She wasn't wearing velvet or brocade, and she didn't have the empty eyes of an alcoholic. Janna also lacked the skin staining and deformations of a shimmer addict, a condition that many of the city's poor and prostitutes had. Janna had recently stolen her outfit. Fitted grey leggings and a blue and grey tunic dress allowed her to move about the city nondescriptly. Her dirty blond hair was tied back in a tight braid, loose it attracted too much attention. But it was her inviting, harmless, baby blue eyes that would always trick the mark. Twisted Fate shrugged, grabbed her hand and laced his breeches with the other. And Janna followed him into the gambling den.
They never exchanged names, but as Janna blew on the cards, her mark always pulled a winning hand. She sipped at cider as he drank, squealing delightedly as he won emulating the other women. She begged the man to teach her the game, and blushed when he pulled her into an embrace. She blushed even more furiously when he pulled her onto his lap. All the while though, the detached part of her brain scanned the room for threats and exits. At the next table over she noticed a grizzled man staring at her. But his black eyes, although shrewd and capable, also did not broadcast ill intent. In fact, he sent her over a plate of chicken which she ate ravenously. She smiled at him, and he looked away, now focused on her companion.
The other men at the table were grumbling, and Janna knew it was time to go. When they called for all in, Janna used the ruckus to snatch for her mark's embroidered purse. She blew on the cards a final time, willing him to win so he'd be distracted when she slipped away. And as he lay down four aces, Janna made her move. Not swift enough, he caught her hand and demanded "my beauty, how do you control the cards with only a breath?"
And Janna replied, "It is only the luck I offered you."
"We will make a great team, you and I. I will show you the world." But Janna flinched away from his grandiose offer, and raced for the door. The other man watched with eyes full of mischief.
Twisted Fate shook off his drunken act, and gestured to several men loitering around the room. "After her."
Janna knew about her pursuers immediately as she clambered onto the streets. She could hear their heavy footsteps against the cobbles, and knew that they could also hear hers. She ran like the wind itself, not knowing where she was going, taking twists and turns by instinct. Janna knew of several hiding places within the inner city, where no one would find her if she could lose her tail, but she could not. Men were appearing out of side alleys and joining the chase. She considered dropping the purse, but they weren't out for money, they were after her blood. Her mark was directly behind her, and other, more burly men as well. Men with knives. Slow down! She thought, and a gust of wind whipped her hair out of its braid. She wasn't slowed, but her pursuers had to force their way through a headwind. Thinking she was free, Janna turned to dart down an alley, but found it blocked by another giant. And the chase continued.
She jumped over a green skinned shimmer addict, whose skin flashed yellow with surprise at her presence. There was a curse and a thud, as one of her less nimble pursuers tripped over him. Then she heard a sound she would never forget, the soft and sharp sound of a blade being plunged repeatedly into a man. But she had no time to mourn, she was still being followed. Or herded. Janna realized that there was no escape as she turned down a side path. It ended at a brick wall, the wall surrounding the wizard's college. There was crumbling gap that perhaps Janna could squeeze through, but in that time she would be a sitting duck. Plus, all the Zaunese knew that entering that courtyard as a mundane could be equally, but differently, dangerous. Mad men, who were not in control of their arcane powers were sent there. And rumor had it that the powerless were unable to enter.
Janna eyed the wall with unease, as six grown men approached her. Their shadows loomed over her and Janna closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle. She thrust out her hands to stave them off in futile desperation, and something happened. The men were all knocked away, slammed against the walls of the alley where they slid into crumpled, concussed heaps. Tendrils of lightning reached for the unlucky few who had touched the walls of the wizards' college. Not enough to kill, but a nasty shock. Entirely drained, Janna slumped against the wall for a moment, unable to move any more than her attackers. But she was unharmed. Magic. She looked at her fingers in awe and confusion, and decided to chance it with the wizards.
Before she could think further, she was hoisting herself through the hole in the wall, kicking with her legs for better momentum. She scrabbled at the bricks, loosening dust and mortar, and snagging her tunic. Without even looking what lay before her, she propelled herself into the courtyard. Directly into a rain barrel. She landed in several inches of water and was promptly soaked to the skin, but she was safe. Poking her head out of the barrel, Janna noted the copse of pines that concealed her from the rest of the courtyard, explaining why the hole in the wall had never been patched. In the chill air, her wet hiding place quickly became uncomfortable, and Janna attempted to call upon the element of fire to heat and dry the barrel, but she had no control of that element. Instead, a small tornado scoured the barrel of its moisture, leaving it drafty but dry. Her weather sense wasn't warning her of rain, and adequately comfortable Janna relaxed a little in her new hiding place. Her pursuers would never have suspected her to enter the courtyard. They would have assumed she had exited the alley by slipping past them into the night.
But on the outside of the wall, Twisted Fate had caught a glimpse of one dirty foot sliding through the hole in the wall. He could feel the thrum of the magic in the wall, a threatening sound that repelled him. But the waif had made it inside, she was of the arcane. Twisted Fate longed for magical ability, and he vowed to repay the thief. He would take her tricks away, he would control her, and ultimately he would destroy her. Had Janna, tucked inside the barrel, heard his maniacal cackling she may have been disturbed, but its thick oak sides muffled his voice. Disappointed that she hadn't responded, Twisted Fate adjusted his dapper cap, straightened his cape, and strode into the night. He had many things to do.