Chapter 1 – Orsterra's Master Thief

In Orsterra, thirteen total gods are known. Each of them shares certain similarities, and differences, and all of them bear their own unique title. From all the gods, Aeber might be the strangest, as he's the only god where stories of him being benevolent and stories of him being malicious exist. The most common interpretation is, that he simply does not have a moral code, neither for good nor for evil. That would explain why he's known as the patron for bandits, thieves and ruffians as well as travelers and messengers. As a god, the Prince of Thieves resides over Fire. However, not once has a person blessed by Aeber been observed, other than in telltales of glorious prison escapes commonly seen as excuses by inattentive guards.
- Euhan Merii, Legends and Myths of Orsterra

Borderfall had always been somewhat of a special small town for Therion. He couldn't in good conscience claim that he actually liked the place, Aeber forbid, but if somebody asked him what his favorite place in Orsterra was, he would probably answer Borderfall. It was easy to see why, too. Borderfall had the best of both worlds, as far as he was concerned. The lower levels had the type of dirty, low-level, miserable slum he felt most comfortable in. A place that made for a great hideout, where nobody would ever think of ratting him out. Why would they? They wouldn't be caught dead helping the authorities and they had their own problems to deal with, anyway.

Borderfall was divided into three parts. The lowest level – both in income and physically – were the down here, in the slums. Though Therion had always found it telling that the tavern was located on this level. And practical for the inhabitants, he found. If the people got really desperate, they'd just attack some drunk rich idiot who had come down to get his alcohol fix.

On the upper levels of town, things got even more interesting. The second level had the entrance to town as its most striking feature. That part of town was the most presentable in all of Borderfall, and in a way the most boring. The people that lived there were average, not really wealthy enough to be worth stealing from, but not poor enough to be forced to only live on what you got your two hands on like most in the slums. Some of them even used to live in the slums before, though no matter which one you meet, they'll always turn up their nose in disgust when meeting someone from down below. Hypocritical, but it was how the world worked. Travelers passed through this level, the Inn was located there, and you'd often find merchants lingering in the plaza, trading and trying to get to the nobles one level higher, to sell them their wares. Those merchant were prime targets for thieves with nimble fingers, like him, and his primary source of necessities.

Then there was the part on top of the cliffs. Not many people lived there, but those that did were definitely classified as rich. Some of them were Nobles, he figured, but most of them had just managed to hold a very successful business for generations. Knowing the distinction could be a live saver, especially since nobles tended to be not as rich as well-off families. Just goes to show that not all things are always as they same.

Whoever came up with it, certainly wasn't stupid, Therion mused while twirling his half-empty glass mead around. A bit of the bitter liquid spilled out, but he didn't really care in the end. Building the town in three levels. Especially with those small wooden bridges they insist on keeping. The poor giving you any trouble? Just burn it and cut them off. See how they like starving to death, if they don't fall first.

When he looked out of the window of the still-empty tavern, he could just see it. Behind the grime tinting the glass an unappetizing brown color, the cobwebs hanging over the frame and the cracks left in the glass, he could see Ravus Manor standing tall and proud on the top of the cliff. It took him quite a bit of his self-control not to gag at the sight. After yesterday's ordeal, he had stayed awake at the tavern through the entire night, thinking about what he could have, should have done differently.

Just yesterday, he had paid the Manor a visit for the very first time. Truly, he had toyed with the idea for a long time now, but hadn't wanted to actually try anything without knowing if they had anything of value for him to take. When he heard the rumor, he couldn't really help himself anymore. He now had a target and he didn't intent on letting anyone else take it. What type of Master Thief would he be if he let himself be bested?

That should have been his first warning sign. He had been in Borderfall for a long time now. Granted, not usually for a long period of time at once, but it was his base of operations for Aeber's Sake! It was the only town he actually had a hideout in. If Ravus Manor had had these jewels for as long as the rumor claimed, he should have heard it being mentioned at least once or twice before.

If that didn't set of his warning bells, the amount of guards should have really discouraged him. Sure, tricking the guards was easy enough. They hadn't exactly been the brightest bunch, if annoyingly stubborn and insistent. But the guard dogs? Almost impossible to deal with. Not to mention that the doors had been way too heavy to open normally. Instead of picking the lock and letting himself in like he'd usually do, he had to find a cracked window and slip in that way. Really, that was just another warning sign. Why would someone with supposedly priceless jewels not repair a cracked window? Especially one a grown man could easily crawl through. They didn't even have to be as small and agile as him to manage it.

The Barkeep shot him a look from the other side of the room, probably because he had been playing with his glass rather than drinking its contents for a good half-hour now. Or because he was one of the few saps drinking in the early hours of the morning, one of the two. Sadly, Therion didn't care all that much about the lean man's opinion. As the one who spread the rumor, he was just as guilty of putting him in this situation as Lady Ravus herself, as far as he was concerned.

Really, all his current problems could be summed up in three simple words: Heathcote and Cordelia. Heathcote because he was the one who caught him, put him on a metaphorical leash, and send him out into the world again. How did that butler move that secretly anyway? Now Cordelia was an entirely different story. Between the two of them, he believed Heathcote to have been the one to devise their diabolical scheme. Setting up defenses in order to lure in thieves, test them, capture them, and then blackmailing them into helping them out. He seemed to be the scheming one out of the two.

But really, The Lady of the house just rubbed him the wrong way. To be fair, he never really got along with rich people in general. Just wasn't his style. And besides, they usually hated him, too, so it was a mutual agreement. Lady Cordelia however? She insisted on being kind to him, or whatever she perceived as kindness. Acting as if she didn't just trick him, injure his pride as a thief and blackmailed him into doing her dirty work. Damn his stupid pride, stupid obvious trap, stupid Heathcote and stupid Cordelia. What was he, a glorified hunting dog? Find your damn jewels yourself, Miss.

…is what he'd like to spit at her face, but then, he wouldn't be being blackmailed if he could just back out so easily. But, oh how he wanted to. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to ignore this borderline suicidal mission with no initial benefit to him at all, take his things, get out of here and never set another foot into Borderfall if he could help it.

It's decided then. He chugged down the half-glass mead still in his hand, feeling the pleasant burn of the alcohol in the back of his throat. Once I'm done with this, I'm moving. Immediately.

But first, he had to take care of that annoying Fool's Bangle. He had it for less than a day, and it was already costing him the last of his sanity. The metal clasp needed to go off as fast as humanly possible, for a plethora of reasons.

First, it was a mark for thieves who have failed. His pride as a thief did not allow him to keep this humiliating proof of his own ineptitude on any longer than necessary. It was a massive blow to his self-esteem, not to mention a signal that would identify him as a thief to anyone with eyes and a passing familiarity with his job. Both authorities and other thieves would know of his profession with just a glance, and he really couldn't tell which one would be worse. Only that anyone realizing it would end up in either him dead or in gaol – and subsequently dead, probably.

Second, it was big, unhandy and loud. The metal bits clunked together if he wasn't incredibly careful about how he moved his arm, and each side was about as thick as his wrist, adding a good chunk of volume to his arm. He just knew it would make him ruin a mission at one point or another, he could already feel it. Not to mention it made slipping his hand into pockets an impossible feat, effectively handicapping him on one side.

The heavy thing also totally threw of his balance. As embarrassing as it was, he nearly lost his footing three times after yesterday's ordeal. He'd need to re-adjust, and quickly. Really, if he died during this mission, he was going to blame it on the dumb thing of metal permanently attached to him.

Therion sighed, got up and left the empty glass on the table, together with some coins. Not that that sleaze of a barkeep deserved actually getting payed, but he had standards. One of them was to always pay when he went into a tavern. Not doing it was just way too obvious. Most of the time, he wasn't paying for the drink anyway, seeing it more as a payment for information he picked up.

Not that he got any out of this particular stay. He came here to get his mind off of his depressing failure, though that endeavor fell flat on its nose. Eh, he tried.

"Hey, haven't ya heard what they say?" He was halfway up already, when he heard someone starting a conversation to the left. A quick glance showed him it was a bandit talking to another one, the two of them not even trying to look like anything else than ruffians. The start was promising however. 'Haven't you heard' was the cue for 'Listen up and you may hear something really useful'. "Anthony? About that Master Thief that's been all the rage lately?"

Ah, he knew what they were talking about. He grinned, not really able to help himself. He had a feeling this would cheer him up a bit. "What yer on 'bout?" The ruffian's drinking buddy – Anthony, his brain supplied – answered his friend's call. "That Malum guy, was it?"

Therion had heard the name 'Malum' more often lately. To be fair, he wasn't entirely sure why, but it sounded distinctly like something a snobbish Atlasdamian would say. Since it always fell whenever people were talking about his heists and exploits, he figured it was something of a codename to refer to him. No one knew his identity after all. He'd be bad at his job if people did.

"What about him?"

"Ah, I jus' heard of another great story 'bout that Thief. Apparently, he stole a pretty sparkly diadem somewhere in the Riverlands." It was a three-day trip of from Borderfall, actually. Needed to go off the path to find it, considering it was quite hidden. He figured there hadn't been a path because the place was largely abandoned. The real question was how people found out he had been there in the first place. "They found it while repairin' the place. Apple seeds where the crown was supposed ta be."

His companion hummed. "Why does he leave apple seeds behind, anyway? Would be a smarter move not to leave anythin', really." Technically yes, but he doesn't do his big heists for money or food. He's got that covered through pickpocketing. Nah, the apple seeds were to prove a point.

And I use apples because I like apples and it's the one thing I always have on hand. Duh.

Instead of listening to more rumors about himself, he decided he had enough and finally left the tavern. As soon as he opened the door, he was hit with a blast of cold air. And was that frost he saw coating the rocky ground? He pulled his coat a little closer to himself. It was quite cold still for the beginning of spring.

Maybe, if he hurried, he could make it out of time before meeting with Cordelia. Avoiding the farewell that the girl had insisted on would help him out quite a bit. Not to mention how imagining her face after he hopes had been crushed would certainly lift his spirits.

Okay yeah, he was petty, he'd admit. She did have it coming, though.

Of course, he wasn't quite as lucky. He was this close to passing the gate and getting a move on, when that annoying, all too familiar high-pitch voice registered in his ears. Really, had the Gods forsaken him? The lady was screaming his name from across the street, bringing way too much attention to both of them. She's nobility living in Borderfall of all places, shouldn't she know better?

So much for being secretive. Ugh. Let me guess what these newcomers are thinking, 'What's this guy's connection to nobility? Maybe it'd be worth cornering him later…' What a safety hazard.

The person who brought him into this situation didn't even notice of course. Completely unaware that she had just practically put a sign saying 'Worthy pray' on him, she run up to him and skidded to a halt, nearly falling on her face. If her annoyance of a butler hadn't caught her, that is. A wasted opportunity, truly. "I came to see you off, Mister Therion! Make sure to return safe, will you?"

"And don't forget the ruby Dragonstone." Heathcote added, not nearly as enthusiastic as his master was to see him. Somehow, he preferred that. For as annoying Heathcote was, at least he wasn't a blathering fool. "Our intel suggests you'd find it in Noblecourt. I advise you to make haste."

He snorted. "Noblecourt?" Noblecourt was the city of the wealthy and nobility, as the name implies. It was basically Borderfall, but stripping the town off its lower layers and enlarging the top part threefold. Amongst thieves, it was one of the most talked about towns. Tales told about the people being incredibly snobby, even more so than anywhere else, and their prison guards was known far and wide as the best in all of Orsterra. Diligent, rich themselves and a healthy dose of contempt for those disrupting the peace in any way shape or form. "Well, I'll fit right in."

He turned around, not bothering with saying anymore else. He did, however, stick up his arm as a half-assed attempt at waving good-bye.

Of course, he made sure the arm was the one Heathcote had put the Fool's Bangle on, drawing an audible gasp from their accumulated audience. Heh. Have fun explaining why you are talking to a thief to those suckers, then.

Really, if he had less self-control, he might have cackled at their plight. But alas. he only chuckled a little bit at their expense, while walking briskly away from the commotion. Not his business, after all. In his eyes, the decision he'd have to make right now was much more serious.

He walked slowly, since the path didn't split far after leaving Borderfall, and he still didn't know if he should go north or south. North would be a bit shorter if his goal was to reach Noblecourt, and, as he couldn't stop reminding himself, he really wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

On the other hand, he was more familiar with the south route, having actually traveled that part of the continent before. He even knew a few shortcuts to help him there, if it got really tough. Though in the end it really came down to if he'd prefer prevailing in the desert in the south or in the perpetual snow that coated the northern region of Orsterra.

Yeah, who was he kidding, he hated the cold.

Now which route to actually take. He took out an old map from his satchel – it was one he's had for almost eight years now and definitely showed signs of wear and old age, but it the old piece of parchment had served him well so far – to plan out the actual route. He'd definitely have to camp along the way. Also have as many stops in towns as possible, he would need any opportunity he could get to restock. But they shouldn't be too out of the way, he didn't want to get off track too much after all.

Making a stop in Sunshade was pretty much a necessity, considering it being a save spot in the middle of the desert. Same for Rippletide later on, since only the town connected the southern half of the continent with the northern one. But he needed a place a little closer, since he was running low on basic necessities. He hadn't had time to go and restock in a while, after all, so he needed a town in the Riverlands.

It's going to be either Clearbrook or Saintsbridge, he explained to himself. Saintsbridge is more out of the way, but it's bigger. Who knows if Clearbrook even has enough to spare… Saintsbridge would. But that means going out of my way…

How bothersome. In any case, he'd need about three days to reach either, four for Saintsbridge. He'd have ample time to decide later. For now, he was just going to trek south, down the long, winding cliffs, walking on small wooden bridges that swished in the wind and being over deep canyons with steep rocks at the bottom that'd easily impale a soul unlucky enough to fall down…

He gulped. Why did he prefer Bolderfall over any other town again?

As always when Therion traveled, he swiftly fell into a routine. He had been doing these things for a good number of years now, and he knew the worth of a good, strong habit.

The first hurdle was the precarious bridge suspended over the canyon in front of him. No matter how many times he'd be in this situation, he'd never become used to it. The bridges around and in Borderfall were just that nerve-wracking. The frayed rope didn't particularly spell safety, all things considered, and he was sure that the wood was slowly giving away to old age and would break under someone's weight soon.

And with his terrible luck lately, he wouldn't be all that surprised if he found himself lying on the bottom of this canyon soon. Really, he could practically picture it. That terrible sensation of not having anything under him but the air moving out of his way while he fell faster and faster, the frantic search for anything he could hold onto while desperately clutching the bleeding wound on his face, then the crash and the sickening crunch of bone hitting rock, red bleeding into the clear water, dragging his broken body out and away slowly over a period of days-

Yeah, he should just stop there. Point was, he didn't trust the bridge. For point of reference, he generally didn't trust anyone or anything, but if he'd rank things after his distrust in them, precarious bridges suspended over winding canyons would win the contest, easily.

That however, did not give him an excuse to stand around in front of the bridge and gaping at it like it somehow personally offended him. He needed to get places, and this bridge was the only place to get there, so he had to suck it up and deal with it, like he always did.

The Thief took a deep breath and steeled himself. A quick glance confirmed there was no one around to see what was about to transpire – thank Aeber for small mercies – and set one careful foot on the bridge. The bridge creaked under his weight, making him cringe and nearly retract his foot. Instead, he sat another one next to it and let the bridge carry his entire weight.

Gods, I hate this. He thought while he tightened his hands around the yellowed rope until his knuckles went white.

Bad idea.

Why? Because it meant he was now facing the side of the bridge. Where it went down and down and down and down for miles and there was nothing in-between his position and the ground down below and-

If this continued, he was going to be sick.

He forced his eyes away from the canyon and trained them on the wood beside him. Nice, unstable ground. Yay. Slowly, inch by painful inch, he made his way over to the over side. Really, Therion would like to say that it got easier with each step, but then he would be lying.

It got worse. In the middle, the bridge dipped lower to accommodate for his weight, and it made the wood blocks that the rope was tied to bend a little. As soon as he saw that, he nearly panicked, but somehow the bridge actually held. So instead, he moved forward again, albeit just a tiny bit faster this time. If it did give, he wanted to be in jumping distance. Like hell was he going to be pulled into a canyon by a broken bridge.

Eventually, he did make it to the other side. After what felt like hours, granted, but he did. And even better, no traveler had come by and seen him waddling across a stupid bridge like a frightened child. Then, he groaned. Right… I'll have to cross more of these until I'm out of this place… Why do I do this to myself?

He threw the bridge a last glare filled with pure and unfiltered hatred for its very existence, and left the scene behind. He had ground to cover, and was already wasting more than enough sunlight.

The name-giving Cliffs the Cliftlands were named after weren't the most interesting scenery to walk across, he had to say. It was red rock after red rock and then some more red rock, really, incredibly boring. A few small flowers and herbs sprouted through some cracks, although he wouldn't know what exactly they were. Maybe he should learn some flower names sometime.

Or not, he couldn't exactly think of any situation were knowing that would ever be useful. Unless he ever decided to pose as someone selling flowers or anything equally ridiculous.

In a way, the general boredom the Cliftlands held was somewhat alleviated by the fact that one could very easily die a pitiful and painful death if on did not pay attention to where they out their feet. Nothing like realizing the crushing inevitability of one's own mortality to keep oneself occupied, he supposed.

That way he wandered, not thinking about much. Eventually, the sun slowly set over the rock, and Therion had to climb down to his resting spot. It was at the end of a short, but steep trail downwards the canyon, ending in a small clearing next to the river.

It was a hidden, well-suited spot to set up camp, and one he often made use of whenever he was leaving or returning to Borderfall. Even if he told himself he was getting through the Cliffs in one day this time, he never managed it, so this place was somewhat of a given stop.

Not in the least because he refused to sleep somewhere up there. Not if he had any say in the matter.

Instead, he traveled down and made himself at home in the clearing. That was when he fell into a familiar routine, one he had followed after years of traveling from town to town. He removed his coat, he'd use it as a makeshift blanket for the Night, although not before he checked the contents of his hidden pockets. He also removed his collection of knives, checking how sharp they still were before returning them to their proper place. Then, he drank some water from the river, as well as filled his flask with it. Together with some stale bread he had been carrying around for a few days and some grapes he'd snatched before leaving, it made a semi-decent meal. Though the bread would only last him for tomorrow.

He really needed to stock up on supplies.

The next two days went much the same. In Therion's opinion, the travel time was a nice break. After what had happened the other day, he really didn't want to deal with another human being anytime soon.

Not that he ever has a choice in the matter.

When the soon stood highest on his third day of travel, he noticed people following him. It couldn't have been too long, since he was pretty sure he would have noticed them long before now if they had tailed him since Borderfall. Hiding on a small pathway through Cliffs was a bit hard, after all.

He noticed, because he could hear feet meeting stone, the noise slightly out of sync with his own. Concentrate. Heavy footsteps. Four distinct patterns. Four people, probably burly ruffians. A small group of bandits, maybe?

How bothersome. Hidden by his coat, he gripped his trusted dagger, ready to spring to use in a moment's notice. If they insisted on following him, they certainly wouldn't let him slip away without a fight.

Usually, he didn't have many problems with bandits. Sometimes, he was dragged into small squabbles, but he usually made it out of range before anything happened. He didn't exactly give off the naïve, wide-eyed traveler vibe that would lead people to see his as a good target, meaning these people were either desperate, confident they could do him in with their numbers, or wanted to blow his light out specifically.

In any normal circumstance, he wouldn't even consider the last one, but with how his whole Dragonstone quest was set up…

I'm blaming Cordelia for this.

At least he had left the cliffs behind, the terrain opening up to a flat plane still riddled with rocks. A much better place to defend himself. And a much better place to actually ambush someone.

The rush of moving air was his only warning.

He whipped around, throwing his arm up. Clank- Metal on metal as a knife hit his own. Just in time. Therion took a step back. The other man lost his balance at the sudden movement and stumbled. He swiped at him, his knife catching on muscle. He ripped it out.

He made a face when the iron smell hit his nose.

The man gripped his arm, giving Therion a small time-window to collect himself. Not counting the man in front of him, there were three bandits, a bit further behind. Concentrate. The closest one was now refocusing his efforts on him, a mad glean in his eye. He surveyed the wound, it should have been-

Ah. He missed. He had been going to the artery in the upper arm. Both to inflict a deadly wound without much work. As well as taking the bandit's knife-hand. He ducked, closing the distance between them. He gripped his arm and pulled, thrusting the knife upward. This time, he didn't miss.

He moved to the side, bringing the knife up. The metal snagged on cloth, the new opponent's coat ripping open and falling to the ground. He kicked at him. Jumped away. The coatless one and another were readying glistening knives, poison maybe-

Where's the third one? He noticed a shadow looming at his left. Raised his arm instinctively. Another clang of metal, his arm shaking with the force of the impact. No pain registered. Caught on the bangle, huh? Lucky.

He kicked the attacker in retaliation. He didn't even see it coming after his attack failed. He pushed against the bandit's knee until it gave with a sickening crunch. The man yelped in pain. His leg buckled, couldn't support his body anymore and he fell to the ground.

Two down, two to go. One of them was on the ground shouting profanities. The other had lost consciousness by now. The two that were left took a more defensive state. They were done acting rashly, he guessed.

Though he wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. He wasn't used to long, drawn-out fights. His breathing was too fast, his hair sticking to his head, his body shaking, and the bangle felt wrong and heavy on his wrist. He needed to calm down and get this over with, fast.

Therion mustered his best cocky smirk, glaring the two remaining bandits down. Now that he got a better look at them, he noticed all of them donned the same type and color of clothing. Part of a gang, then? What did I get myself into… "heh. Mind telling me who I have the honor of fighting here?" he asked, in hopes of them being more moronic than they looked.

As an answer, the one on the left just drew his dagger higher. And, yes, that was definitely some kind of poison coating. It gave the knife a deadly, purple glint. Uh oh.

"None 'a yer business, kid." The man grins maniacally. No doubt, he made him mad. Great. "Ya know, I didn't mean ta' make it personal or nothin'. Jus' a mission fer a quick buck, but now…" So they did want him specifically. If he made it out of here alive, he'd need to deal with that. Somehow. "Well, it's pretty obvious what'll happen next, ain't it?"

"Crystal." The look the two were giving him spelled a pretty clear message. It screamed 'Your bounty better be enough to cover the medical bill.'

Jokes on him, really. One of those two is going to need a funeral instead. Therion put on his best disarming smile, lowering his own weapon. "Oh?" he asked, letting surprise tint his words. "Do tell, what did I do to get as lovely people as you on my trail?" He had a feeling this wouldn't be an isolated occurrence. If someone wanted him dead, he'd like to know who and why, at least. There hadn't been enough time for someone targeting him because of his new connection to Ravus Manor, and the only other person that actually knew his face thought he had been dead and buried for years.

The bandit that had remained silent until now answered him. "Some folk goin' on an' on 'bout nobody leavin' Borderfall until they got their hands on some fancy jewelry. Long as they pay, I don't really care about what throat I slit." So it was Cordelia's fault. Couldn't say he didn't think of it. They also apparently did manage to figure out he broke into the mansion. That was... alarming. I don't ever catch a break, do I? Aeber, I'll need your own legendary luck for this.

Silence settled once more over the three of them. Everybody trying to find the right moment to strike. None of them moved, well aware that the slightest dip in attention could spell disaster.

The bandit on his left fell victim to his own impatience first. He shouted, running towards him. Therion dodged. He rolled to the left, jumping back up. He landed directly in front of the other. A slash he didn't saw coming quickly enough. Pain bloomed from his left hand, his vision blurring.

The thief cursed, yanking his knife out of Therion's hand. Painfully.

He wouldn't be able to best both of them in a knife fight. Not at the same time. He needed to think of something, fast. Come on, there has to be something I can use! Think, you idiot!

He jumped away from another attack. Again and again. Trying not to get hit took most of his focus. Thinking of a way out any other. He had tools for every situation. There had to be something he could use to turn this around now. Maybe, if he could…

He ducked, evading another blow. Quickly, he fumbled under his cloak. In one of his many pockets, he kept elemental stones. His other hand grabbed his trusty rope. Before the bandits could react, he threw a light elemental stone on the ground and closed his eyes.

The other two weren't so lucky, being blinded by the overwhelming light. Before they could recover, he bound both their wrists and took their knives from them. Can't believe that worked… oldest trick in the world, really.

"Alright, you two. You mind telling me who is behind this?" He would get to the bottom of this as quickly as he could.

The bandits stared at him, still a bit dazed but hate for him present in both their stares. He could live with it. The feeling was mutual, after all. As soon as he got his answers, he'd leave them to sort themselves out. "Don't think we're goin' be tellin' ya anythin', little tea leaf" Okay no, they were dead. "Ya can't even pay attention to yer surrounding's, after all."

Wait, what's that supposed to- He whipped around. He saw was the bandit with the broken kneecap standing before him, face grimacing in pain, and the knife in his hand, that ended embedded in his stomach. He fell onto the stone, unable to move.

The bandits laughed, cutting their restraints loose and leaving. Soon, the pain, light-headedness from the blood loss and delirium from the poison moving into his bloodstream bled together into one giant cocktail of misery. And as the soon started falling again, he could slowly feel himself slip away into unconsciousness.

Gods. I really do have rotten luck...