Hey everyone, I'm Willow and thanks for reading. This is my first fanfiction ever and I welcome constructive criticism. Also if anyone has a better suggestion for the title, that would be appreciated.
Elicil casually observed the pedestrians, trying to find her mark. Over her years of pickpocketing she learned how to pick the easiest targets. Out of towners worked best, it was just a matter of identifying them amongst the throng of people walking through Stormwind's streets. Usually they looked up a little too much, stopped at too many vendors, and would ask too many questions. Of course different races had their own particulars when determining who was the easiest mark. Gnomes that stopped in the middle of streets to discuss architecture, Draenei who would start conversations with strangers, and night elves who had the most pretentious air of superiority tended to be less wary of potential thieves. Was Elicil stereotyping? Probably, but it had served her well in the past as she had yet to be caught or starve from a lack of funds. In fact, a walking sterotype, a night elf with an exceptionally high chin, just caught her eye.
He was tall, probably over 7 foot, and had long, dark blue hair he wore in a high ponytail. However, his most prominent feature was the swinging money pouch strapped to his hip. Elicil began to follow him, weaving through the crowd while being carefully not to make her target suspicious. He turned into an alleyway.
'You have got to be kidding me,' Elicil thought, grinning about how easy the night elf was making this for her. She let the shadows cover her, shuttering a little at the familiar, cold feeling of concealing her physical form.
Out of her own bag she pulled a small sack of rocks and waited for her opening. The night elf patted his moneybag to ensure it was still there. Taking her chances, Elicil silently snuck up behind him, her deft fingers quickly loosening the string attaching his purse to his belt and cleanly switched her decoy with the gold. Retreating behind a stack of crates, Elicil let out the breath she had been holding and peered around the crate to ensure her victim was gone.
Just before leaving the alleyway, he once again patted his bag, only to freeze. Hastily opening it, the night elf threw it to the ground, Elicil wincing at the sound of the rocks clattering on the cobblestone.
There was no doubt in her mind that he would search the side street for her, but she needed to decide if she was going to remain in the shadows and hide or take her chances and run. Looking over the crates, panic struck Elicil as the man was nowhere in sight. Deciding that she would remain where she was and hope for the best, Elicil settled back down, only to be shoved to the ground. She felt claw press against her leather armor and a substantial weight on her chest, making it hard to breath.
Her heart thumping, Elicil looked up to see a purple muzzle attached to a pair of angry amber eyes. Morphing back to his original form, the night elf grabbed the front of Elicil's shirt and pushed her against the stonewall.
"Give it back," he ordered, eyes disdainfully glaring at her. At his mercy, Elicil sullenly handed over her cache and prayed that he wouldn't hand her over to the guards. Thieves were not treated kindly in Stormwind.
Counting his coins, the night elf ensured Elicil wasn't trying to cheat him. He looked the teenager up and down before saying, "You're pretty good. If I hadn't checked my bag I would have never known."
"Yeah," Elicil tersely answered, still looking for some way to escape. She wasn't sure what game the druid was playing, but she didn't want to stay to find out.
"Would you come with me, I'll give you board for the night and a hot meal," he offered.
It sounded too good to be true, which meant it was. Nobody in their right mind would offer a thief who just tried to rob them a place for the night. Elicil hadn't survived this long by skipping off with any stranger who offered her something. Seeing an opening, she made a dash for it. Before she could turn the corner though, something grabbed her leg and she fell, hard. Twisting herself around, she saw a plant tendril wrapped around her ankle as it pushed up through the cobblestone.
"I could always turn you over the guards," he coldly warned her, the vine retreating into the ground. Elicil stood up and glared at him.
"I'll come," she complied, placing her hand on the knife she had concealed to prepare for the worst. They walked in a stony silence through the colorful streets, her heart speeding up every time they passed guards. She was torn between shouting for them and ducking into the nearest alleyway, caught in a predicament between being a victim and an aggressor. She was heading to who knows where with a man she knew nothing about, she did not like her chances of getting out of this predicament unscathed.
Wanting at least some information about her captor, Elicil broke the tension and asked, "So, what's your name?"
"We're here," the night elf said, taking no notice to Elicil's question. The rogue frowned at his avoidance, but made no comment.
They had stopped in front of a small, but warm looking inn with a sign reading 'The Silver Handle.' Even in the sunny afternoon, the window almost glowed with internal warmth and cheery laughter could be heard inside. The structure was made of wood and stone, with no rotting or peeling paint in sight. None of the voices sounded angry and the sound of shattering glass and screams were foreign to the bar's regulars. It would be the nicest place Elicil had ever stayed.
The night elf moved to open the door, the scent of warm food wafted through the opening and Elicil felt her mouth water. Just before entering, though, the druid turned around to face her.
"Call me Alkurn."
A bit on the short side, but it's nice to start writing. Please read and review.