[niyt]

POST HERE

You have been given your directions, as well as your incentives, and must now prove yourself. You are to reply to this thread with your applications while being as inventive but realistic as you may. Just remember, the guild masters are watching.

[azraella]

[style=text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; font-size: 25px; font-family: times; font-weight: bold; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 0px; color: #5d525f; line-height: 23px; padding-top: 10px;]AZRAELLA MI MARIE HENDEL

THIS APPLICATION IS CURRENTLY COMPLETE.

THIEF; Azraella mi Marie Hendel
KINGDOM; Everfell

POST;
[style= text-align: justify;]Breathe in. Breathe out. The crisp new Fall air was a little warmer than usual and therefore felt like a caress to the thief as she thought idly of the Fall and impending Winter ahead. That it was so early and yet already getting cool made her sigh. She would miss the warmth of the bright sun on her back and the smell of heat in her nose. The end of Summertime also brought other disadvantages. People were less likely to mill about on the roads and byways during the Fall and Winter seasons. Street vendors had fewer wares and fewer customers willing to stop and chat and haggle so they tended to migrate to places with more lucrative climates. Also, families hunkered down and husbands and wives spent more time indulging in activities that would make more mouths to feed come Spring. Cold weather did not usually spell high profits for a thief. People were less frivolous in the cold, Azraella noted, and this Winter she was developing new strategies to counteract that natural inclination.

But until that time she had the coming day. And the day would be glorious. About two to three times a week, the members of the Everfell branch of the silent hand and the occasional rogue thief would gather at the close of the day to compare hauls. The notorious Thieves Guild was home to cutthroats, former mercenaries, sorcerers, thieves and the occasional mage like Azraella. Every year her strength and control over her abilities grew, and every year she despised her parents more for their weakness in not using it to save their lives. But if she had to be thankful, Azraella would at least admit that their deaths saved her from being raised by people missing the backbone necessary to survive in such a world. The Seven Kingdoms were cruel places to live and the lands beyond them even more so. Azraella had experienced much of what the world had to offer in her youth. She'd traveled with the thieves that raised her when they sought better places to use their crafts every season, and she'd been hired out before by merchant caravans as a protector in exchange for goods and treasures or precious metals. And Azraella, when in the almost unbearable retches of the Fa'Dei Desert, learned many harsh lessons that helped to transform her into the alias that many knew and respected her as now, The Fox.

Many believed that her name was spread by observers in the caravan who thought she circled the merchant’s wares at night like a fox waiting to get in to the chickens or from her affiliation with the little fox-like creature that always followed her around. It actually came from a young sheikh with whom Azraella had an affair. It was short-lived and all of the passion only happened in between the sheets. She indulged his fantasy because only he knew the location of his tribe's most precious gems that they used in their sacred rituals and never sold. He indulged because she was beautiful and, as she later discovered, because keeping her busy meant that his men could find the weak point in the caravan protection and recover any goods her financier's had cheated them out of in trade. His tricks made him the closest she'd ever come, outside of Salem of course, to respecting a noble. But of course he'd been out of his league. "You are sly. You are cunning. You are a trickster." He'd told her when she was about to leave the warmth of his tent. They'd finished their last round of 'love-making' as he'd called it. She'd merely assumed it was the fringe benefits of business. He was good at what he did. “Such flattery,” she’d responded with little emotion in her voice knowing he was only trying to entice her to either release him to go another round or enrage her to fight. She wasn’t falling for the trick. Azraella had what she’d come for and she wasn’t going to spoil her plans by giving him the chance to escape and overpower her smaller frame.

Azraella was barely listening to his protests as she finished counting the jewels she'd uncovered secretly stashed beneath the shifting sands of his own tent, hiding in plain sight as it were. She'd already found the goods his men had stolen and placed them back where they belonged without her employers being any wiser. Some of those pieces would suddenly go missing later after she collected her fees and parted ways with the caravan. That also happened to be the day she’d met Coldstone. The thief turned and gave the sheikh a slow smirk and shrug of her shoulder as she pulled up a falling sleeve on her shirt. His eyes flashed as he surveyed her body with a hunger and familiarity that would have made any other woman uncomfortable. "You move with such grace, entice with your eyes and always do the unexpected. Foxes will eat from your hand if it gets them closer to your herds." Her smirk grew into a smile as she whispered. "Hm. A fox am I? I think I like it." And with that, she walked over and knocked him over the head with the bag of heavy jewels silencing any alarm he could raise before heading out to her post of the leaving caravan. By the time they found him and revived him so that he could tell them what happened, she knew their trail would be lost in the sands.

Those were the good old days. Azraella thought wistfully as she waited for the dawn to officially come. She knew that some of the men added their plunder from the day before or from several days to make their stash look bigger or better. But she never called them on it. As far as she was concerned, being the best meant not having an excuse, and if they had a month’s worth of stored goods to show, her take from a single day still had to be better. It was just the type of woman she was and who she’d been raised to be. Her adopted caregivers wanted to make her better than anyone, and she was going to see to it that her name went down in the history of the silent hand showing how well they succeeded. So, today she wanted to top herself. It was going to take a lot of work and even more planning, plus some finesse. Her first stop was the docks where she knew a crew of pirates had been laying low after a successful siege of some nearby island dwellers. One of her contacts in the closest tavern had traded his information for the evidence he needed to prove his wife was sleeping with his best friend. Azraella easily handed over the fishwife’s secrets and maybe even her life to her jealous husband in exchange for knowing the rooms where the pirates were staying, how much they’d been blowing on women and booze instead of staying under the radar, who were their leaders and what their regular movements were. It was nice to know someone who was good at watching and observing and understood the values of when to and not to be silent.

She had no doubt the tavern keeper would betray her to the highest bidder, but she figured as long as she stayed the highest bidder and kept dropping him little surprise tidbits like a precious gem here or there, then it was less likely to happen. Thus far, she’d been right. Others who were in her employ or her debt told her frequently that when asked concerning her or where he received information that he occasionally shouldn’t have slipped he knew, he was diligent about never giving any kind of recognition or saying or doing anything that even slightly gave away her identity. Maybe he knew he was being watched or maybe he just weighed the pros and cons of having her displeased with him. Either way she was content with their working relationship thus far. So, Azraella took his information at face value and, after watching to see that the leaders had left to check the condition of their vessel before they shipped off in the next hour so, snuck up the stairs, picked the lock cleanly and looked around to see what wasn’t there to see. She didn’t waste time going through their bags and clothes. Pirates were notorious for not leaving things in plain sight. Besides it was usually all fixed a certain way if they’d been pirating long enough so they would immediately know someone had been there. Not that she’d be anywhere near the area when they returned. And that was when she noticed it while walking towards the room’s one small window. It had been her intention to check the bottom of the sill for hidden compartments when her right foot shifted a little too far down when she stepped.

She’d told herself there was no way it could be that easy, but as most things in life were, she already that it probably was. Reaching down to the floorboard, she pulled up the loose piece of wood slightly, grabbed a couple bags of the precious coins situated therein and replaced it. It was the mark of an experienced thief not to try and get out with the entire kit and caboodle. There were too many risks, too many reasons for the pirates to come looking for her and definitely too many other things she had to be prepared to carry throughout the day so she couldn’t be weighed down. Therefore, she tucked the bags away and fastened them so that they wouldn’t make so much noise and made her leave the way she’d come. With a smirk, she realized as she rounded a corner that she was about to pass by the very pirates she’d just robbed. So, she did the only thing reasonable: blew them a kiss which one caught while the other leered before she rounded a corner and disappeared up the side of a building via carefully camouflaged gouges in the stone.

One down. She thought. Next on today’s burn list. She liked fire related puns. Sitting on the roof, she felt a furry pelt rub against her legs wanting to be picked up. Leaning over and hugging Coldstone close, Azraella let herself show a rare moment of affection and emotion towards one of the few living beings she could do so with. He was her constant companion and even when you couldn’t see him, Coldstone was never far away from her. She knew intrinsically she could always count on him and their silent moments together like this were the best. If the building hadn’t been empty, any inhabitants still would have been ignorant to her presence above them. Putting Coldstone back down, she took the privacy of the rooftop to heart and grabbed the bag she’d had stashed beneath an underhang and a pile of leaves. Azraella took out a green dress she would normally never be caught dead in and changed swiftly and silently. Sliding the bag around her arms, she took a running leap and with an agile flip in the air landed securely and lightly on the building next door. This was her favorite way to travel from one part of town to the next. It was quicker than taking the streets and few people knew the city from its rooftops or even realized it was possible to do this. She’d evaded the knights and watchmen this way numerous times. Once she reached the merchant’s district, she found a vine of ivy that, with a touch of magic, was strong enough to hold her quiet descent in a mostly empty alley.

Walking into market, she was immediately assaulted by vendors from every stall hocking all sorts of items from sugary beets to precious stones to good luck charms and love potions. But she had a specific target in mind. Coming up to a curiously empty vendor, she knew she was right on time. It was still early enough that some were still in the middle of setting up their wares or waiting to finish private business before opening up the public. Walking right past the stall into the adjacent tent, Azraella tried and was pleased that she could change her hair color to a regular brown and make her ears just a little longer and noticeably pointed. The young mage was also pleased to touch her nose and know that though it felt the same it looked straightened and ever so slightly longer. She hadn’t completely mastered the trick that a traveling warlock had showed her, but it would last just long enough to do what she needed. The only way her magic could maintain the change was to not actually transform her features, but give the illusion that she looked different. And they were all minor changes. It wasn’t as though she’d made herself look like a man. That would take far more work and expel a greater amount of energy. Pulling a short sword from the gods only knew where on the skimpy-tight dress, Rae attached it to her side belt next to the coin bag that had been loosened from its tight hold so as to give the impression that she was ready to hand it over if given enough influence. The stall owner smiled with appreciation as she walked in.

“Ah. So wonderful to be able to meet with one of the fey,” he began. “I’ve heard tales of the beauty of your race but clearly they were not honest enough.” He tried to reach out and touch her hand, but she easily slid her sword from its place and extended it right below his chin. Elves were notoriously distrustful of humans and besides that, if he touched her, the effect of her magic would cancel out from the distraction. She couldn’t focus on both yet. “I-I’m so sorry. Clearly your military prowess was not exaggerated.” He stammered with an icy glint to his eyes as he tried to back away slowly. Even more slowly than he, Azraella stowed her weapon. There were plenty more on her body that she knew how to use, and she was glad that she’d actually kept the company of an elf or two in the past, so she understood a little of their mannerisms but she knew she couldn’t continue the ruse long. So, she was relieved when he went to fetch what had promised. Opening up the soft, plush bag he showcased each piece to her as a prize more valuable than the last. The necklaces glimmered; their jewels and stones were perfect. Immediately, she was in love. She’d come for one or two, but, as he’d intended, she now wanted them all. But what he didn’t know was that she wasn’t going to be paying pence. Nodding her head as though words escaped her, Azraella began to undo the coin bag on her hip making sure to make as much noise as possible so that he would hear all of the gold inside. His tongue almost wagged, she was sure of it. He wrapped up everything and waited to be paid. She smiled, took the bag and held it up forcing him to come closer to her to get it. He was too focused on the bag to notice anything amiss like her slight movements of her arm releasing a small dagger from under her other sleeve.

With a huge gasp, she looked behind with a frightened expression. His momentary lapse in judgment to turn around and look did him in. She took hold of the blade and smashed his head with the hilt. He didn’t have time to make a noise as he fell unconscious. Grabbing the jewelry, she stowed them in her bag along with the coin bag and left the tent as if it were a regular day. The vendor was going to have a sharp headache when he woke up and his wild stories about being attacked and robbed by a beautiful, mute elf were going to ring through the corridors of the city for years, she was sure. If anyone believed him. Making her way to another alley, she released the magic she’d been holding and felt the rush of relief that the pressure was off but she also felt a slight fatigue from the efforts. But she’d grown accustomed the effects and shook it off on the way to her next stop. The sun was almost at its highest point in the sky so that meant she was running out of time. And she so wanted to be on schedule. Running through the streets and keeping to the back roads and shadows of Telinad, Az found herself in a completely different part of town where her outfit was still a little unique, but it was definitely more in line with what was accustomed. She appeared just like a well-off foreigner with her, once again, brown hair and short green dress. She’d pulled a veil from out of the bag and strung it across the front of her face only revealing her diamond brown eyes. Moving swiftly, she looked and looked trying to figure out exactly what else she wanted. Her earlier acquisitions had been planned and perfectly executed therefore she’d gotten to stretch that muscle of her brain. But she knew the trademark of any good thief was their creativity and spontaneity on the spur of a moment. So if she ever told the story, she needed it to be good. Her reputation was imperative if she wanted to move up the ranks of the silent hand.

And it was like someone upstairs loved her today as she rounded a corner and saw exactly what she wanted. A knight of the realm, high ranking at that, was on his high horse, literally the thing was HUGE, mocking some poor woman and terrorizing her companions. Normally, Azraella could care less. If you were weak in this world then you were the prey of the strong. And she’d played the part of both in the past. But she was determined to be the latter from now on, and the only way to do that was to be better than those who were already strong. Besides, his attitude just rubbed her the wrong way. He was trying to have his way with these lower class maidens, and as always, Azraella tried not to think about how if life had been just a little different she could have easily been them: weak, defenseless, without power. Coming from behind, she rubbed the horse, startling the beast who couldn’t see her. The knight immediately stopped traumatizing the woman to grab hold of his beast before it hurt any of them, mostly himself. “Wha! You buffoon! If I’d fallen I would have had you flogged! I still mig--” His words died as she looked down at the young woman with the enticing eyes looking up at him with a come hither expression. “Alas, good sir. I meant no harm,” she said in her most innocent voice. She wanted to gag. “…but please. If there is any way I could make amends…” It seemed to take him a moment to catch his breath and remember his thoughts while Azraella silently shooed the girls away with her fingers. It didn’t take them long at all to get the hint.

The knight finally got it together and his cruel smile seemed to say that Azraella had gotten in over her head. This in her mind proved how foolish he really was. “Follow me ma’ lord…” Guiding his horse into an empty nearby barn, she tied the creature to a post and made her way into a clean looking stall that would have been impossible to find in her part of town. She lay down on a bale of hay and waited knowing he wasn’t far coming. He was an older man than she’d first realized, but a knight was knight which meant he wouldn’t be as easy to dispatch as the merchant. Plus he was still in full armor mostly as he was only doing his trousers enough to handle what he had to handle here before going back on what was most likely some type of sentry duty or an errand. Her mind was racing because she was working this entire scene out as she went along. The magic of her illusion would be gone if she let him touch her and the last thing she needed was him looking for a red-haired woman in Telinad. And that was when an idea hit her, and it was so simplistic that for the second time that day she gained a huge appreciation for how simple the answer could be. As he got closer, his pants were down and all of him was standing proud. Her smile was slow and sleek which seemed to put him more at attention. In a smooth voice she said, “Close your eyes.” Of course the idiot obeyed with a satisfied smile of his own and when he was in reach, she stood silently and shifted her weight to the side. And just as his anticipation was about to betray him, she reached out from behind him between his legs, grabbed a handful of his personal crown jewels and locked down with a grip perfected from desert fights and years of heavy work. His scream might have given away their position if it had been audible.

As it was, she only knew he was screaming because his mouth was open, his eyes were still closed and his face was in agony. It was honestly the most beautiful he would probably ever look, the retch. Squeezing tighter, she pulled and tugged to as she moved to and fro to avoid his powerful arms that were trying to reach her. But his armor was limiting his movement and she was at an awkward angle. She wasn’t sure what sent him into bye bye land: the pain, the lack of oxygen from his lungs refusing to breath or sheer exhaustion. Whatever it was, it wasn’t too long before he was out like a light. Azraella felt his pulse to make sure he was still alive, even if it was in a degenerated state. Shrugging, the thief wiped her hand on his back, waltzed over to his horse, a beautiful creature, and debated keeping it. Shaking her head, she realized that it would be obvious who it belonged to, but she didn’t want to leave it for its master who might take a while to wake up, and it was too pretty to kill. So, she took him outside and traded him to the first trader she could find along with the knight’s armor, except his helmet, and spun some sad tale about a husband lost in war and this being all she had left of him and wanting no memory of his existence.

She’d have kept all of it, but there was no room in her bag for armor and barely enough for the helmet, but she needed something to bring as a prize to show off. Plus, traveling with that much weight would be foolish. As she made her way back to the other side of town via rooftop, Azraella knew she was cutting her time close, but couldn’t help but slow down when something red below caught her eye. She sent Coldstone ahead of her to keep watch on the way knowing he would alert her to any trouble when she was done. In the window of the building next door, she could see a dress lying across a bed. How such a thing of beauty had come into such a hovel, she could only imagine. A long time family heirloom or a stolen trinket. Either way, she knew how it was about to be liberated. The act of hanging from her legs over the side of the building, grabbing the top of the window and swinging her body inside was simple. From there she gathered up the lovely piece, wrapped it carefully inside her bag at the bottom of the other treasures of the day so it wouldn’t get ruined and then scurried her way back onto the roof with some effort of her upper body. It was just as the day was about to close that she made her way to the door of a building that belied the size of the dark cavernous room within. With a smile, she couldn’t help but think about how good it was to be the best. Three knocks. Two seconds. Four knocks. Five seconds. Two knocks. All is well. No danger. Bringing the booty.

[/style]

hi, my name is TRINITYTHIEF and i'm TWENTY-ONE years old. this application was made by mercy and is not to be used on other forums.

[/style]

[faircloth]

[style=text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; font-size: 25px; font-family: times; font-weight: bold; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 0px; color: #5d525f; line-height: 23px; padding-top: 10px;]TAYLOR NICOLE FAIRCLOTH

THIS APPLICATION IS CURRENTLY COMPLETE.

THIEF; Taylor Faircloth
KINGDOM; Faylinn
WORD COUNT; 1148

POST;
[style= text-align: justify;]The air was cool on her exposed stomach, but it was not aiding her in finding rest. Rolling over, her shoulder length, wispy blonde tresses sliding down her back and shoulder, Taylor opened her eyes. Unlike most full-blooded humans, she could see quite well in the dark. The moon's rays were just enough to illuminate the entire room and allowed her to see the shapes of her furniture and assorted items. As a thief, she had learned to live away from home, as to not bring repercussions to her family, should she ever be caught. Her mother, a Raksha of pure-blood, did not mind the girl's less than honest activities, although her father was less accepting of it. Either way, Taylor had no intention of ceasing her thievery. She was a kleptomaniac, and thus quitting the business was out of the option.

Arching her back inwards, pressing her breasts into the mattress, the Raksha stretched in the manner of a feline. Tensing and releasing her hands, fingers splayed wide, a yawn escaped her lips. Standing in the dark then, nude, she hunting for something to cover herself with. Even being a Raksha was no excuse for inviting danger such as the unwanted attention of a lustful man. Taylor found form fitting clothes, elastic in substance, so as to allow her complete flexibility. If she were trying to be acrobatic in clothes that had no give, she either ended up restricted or ruining the clothing. Pulling the soft black material over her tanned skin, she left her hair down. It was too short to really do much of anything with, and for the most part, she had no concerns of anyone getting close enough to grab it.

On the small table by the balcony, was a tiny rolled up leather satchel. Should one unroll it, a plethora of lock-picks, skeleton keys and other assorted items were to be found inside. Attaching it at her hip, she looked for the small blades she carried with her. They fit up her sleeve and were only used in the most dire of circumstances. Another knife, only about an inch long, lay in the waist band of her pants, should she need it. After finding her favorite sack - as a creature of habit - she pulled a black mask over her eyes. The shirt she wore was hooded, and once she was on the prowl, she would pull it up as well. Climbing agilely over the banister of the balcony, she dropped easily. Landing in a crouch with the tips of one hand's fingers balancing her weight out evenly, Taylor's head lifted up to scan the area. It never did to have someone know where home base was, especially while she was out and unable to defend it.

Stalking the side streets until she found herself at the docks, Taylor kept to the shadows. The dim street lights along the dock-side street were flickering, as the ocean brought in air-currents. They were warm and lifted her golden hair away from her neck. Slinking along, staying out of the light and freezing when she thought eyes were on her, Taylor picked out her target. The Bayrunner was a fine looking cargo ship, marked with what she could only assume was a royal crest. There was a guard standing at the gang plank, but the Raksha was already scheming. Creeping up the walkway of the ship next to it, she kept low and out of sight. The dock guardsmen were not known for their mercy or compassion.

Once she drew level with the middle of the other ship, she squatted down and then leapt up with as much force as she possibly could. Balancing on the yard for the lower mast sail, she weaved around and over the rigging. At the end of the wooden beam, she stood upright and steadied herself. The deck of the cargo ship was not that far below her, but she did not want to make a ruckus and alert any guards. Jumping, with the feline grace inherent in a Raksha, she managed to land only with a dull thud. One might have even assumed it was merely the ship nudging the edge of the harbor.

Once on board it was easy enough from there. Taylor slipped down below deck through a side hatch, and after picking the lock of the door below, she removed her clothing and placed everything in the sack. Cracking the door a bit, she morphed, embracing her second skin in the form of a golden cat. Picking up the sack with all her stuff tucked inside, she drug it in her mouth to the doorway. Leaving it there, in the shadowy corner, Taylor padded into the room. There were boxes and such stacked, crates with lids and some bags piled high. Sticking her tiny pink nose out, she sniffed the air for the scent of humans. The lingering odors all indicated that there had been no men below the deck for several hours. With a meow of satisfaction, she sprung into action.

Running along each box, barrel, and sack, she used her nose to sniff out anything of value and committed it to memory. Once finished, she made her way back over to the satchel she'd drug in, and nudged the door shut with her furry brow. Purring excitedly, she let go of her feline shape and took her human one. Slipping quietly back into her black outfit, she opened her bag and systematically emptied out the cargo ship's haul. Taking several bottles of expensive, imported perfumes, a bolt of satin fabric, and several other assorted items, such as gems, antiques and a small mirror, she closed the sack. Hoisting it over her shoulder, she now had the daunting task of making it off of the ship with the goods, unnoticed.

Opening the door cautiously, Taylor peeked out, her eyes slitted and searching. When not a sound was heard, she slunk out of the belly of the boat and onto the deck. Ducking low and hunting for an exit, she found her way out. The docking ropes for this ship were large, and tied securely from the bow and starboard side. Picking up a smaller piece of rope from a coil at the base of a mast, she timed her escape perfectly. Slinging the rope over the other she zip-lined down to the dock, just as the guard on the gang plank decided to make a round on board. Dropping and rolling, the impact on the hard wooden boards jarred her a bit, but she was otherwise good as gold. Retreating from the docks, she meandered her way to the local fence, a smug grin etched across her face. Stealing was easy enough, when you had nine lives and a nose that could sniff out the best of a cache.

[/style]

hi, my name is HCoel and i'm 20 years old. this application was made by mercy and is not to be used on other forums.

[/style]