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Hi, everyone. I know most of the fiction on this forum is 40k-related, but I figured this would be a good a place as any to post the original work of fiction I'm working on in my spare time. I don't know whether or not it'll get noticed or not (Since it's not related in any way to Warhammer 40k) but I thought to myself, why not just post it and see what happens. A brief summary:

The fiction follows the trials and tribulations of Juack Hallavasso, a young man who has grown up on a backwater planet away from technology. When the planet is invaded, however, he is forced to flee with his best friend to the medieval world of Oherron, where he learns to become a thief. But after a failed heist into the biggest castle on the planet, he learns of his destiny as a hero of his people, as well as the few remaining humans in the galaxy.

Now, without further ado, the prologue chapter of Chronicles of Light: Tension.

A dusty haze hovered over the ground of the battlefield. The two fighters stood face-to-face, swords drawn and fierce looks upon their faces. The two could have been twins; both wore the same simple brown outfit of a farmer, both of them were barefoot, and both of them wore a look on their face that said neither would hesitate to kill the other.

“Ready, Girus?” the first said, whose dusty brown hair was tied back in a long ponytail, revealing two ears whose tips ended in a point.

“Born ready, Juack.” Girus grinned and carefully brushed his long ebony locks behind his ears, both of which were the same as his opponent’s. “The question is, ‘How skilled are you at the blade?’”

“You trained under Atticus, and I trained under my father…” Juack said with a smile. “Of course, only one of us can prevail beyond this point.”

“En garde, Juack. En garde.” Girus lunged forward with his sword forward – a strong lunge that could have pierced a hole straight through his opponent’s gut. But Juack had seen it coming. The scar on his stomach was proof, and the memory was still painful. He quickly spun to the side, countering the attack with a swift kick to Girus’ knees.

Girus went down to the ground with a grunt, but still held himself up on one knee, his sword held in a defensive position. But Juack didn’t strike; he stood his ground and held his own sword out in a similar stance.

“Touché. I see you remembered what happened last time. I suppose you’ll see this next move coming?” Girus jabbed his sword in the ground and used the hilt to do a forward flip over the blade, feet-first towards Juack. Juack, however, had seen this move used dozens of time, and took the kick to the gut he knew was coming in order to block the sword that came behind it with his own.

“Another move diverted. It looks like I’ll never land a hit…” Girus smirked, “Unless you can somehow dodge this?” He suddenly threw his sword at Juack, the blade spinning directly towards his face. But rather than make a complicated dodge, Juack simply tilted his head, and the blade went flying past him. But after the weapon flew behind him, a bloody cut appeared on his cheek.

“And now you’re unarmed.” Juack said with a grin, ignoring the cut. “Shouldn’t have thrown your sword, pal.” He lunged forward and stabbed his own blade towards his friend’s unguarded chest.

“Shouldn’t have underestimated my abilities.” Girus spun to the side and grabbed Juack’s sword blade with his bare hand. He then raised his other hand just in time to catch his own weapon by its hilt as it spun end-over-end towards him. “Little trick Atticus taught me. A little bit of alchemical liquid, throw the sword just right…”
“And it comes right back. I should have expected him to teach you something like that.” Juack groaned. “Now, drop mine or yours.” He shifted his weight and changed his grasp on his sword in order to send a backwards kick to Girus’ gut, sending him to the ground.

“Damn, you’ve gotten better.” Girus grinned. “Looks like Raphael wasn’t such a bad teacher after all.”

“Hey, you’re not bad yourself.” Juack offered a hand to his fallen friend. “Atticus knows what he’s doing. That’s a really neat boomerang trick. Must be hard to do.”
Girus grabbed the proffered hand and got to his feet. “It’s really not, once you get the hang of it.”

They walked together towards their small and discreet audience, which consisted of Juack’s parents – Raphael and Kiren Hallavasso. The father was clad in the same simple outfit that his son wore, though he also wore a pair of thick leather gloves from working in the fields day after day. Yet despite his choice of occupation, his slim form stood tall and proud, almost regal. Many years of life gave him short black hair with streaks of gray peppered throughout. The same effect was apparent on the small tuft of hair on his chin.

Juack’s mother, however, wore a white maternity dress over a protruding belly, obviously several months along and expecting soon. But despite her condition, she continued to wear a gentle smile that time after time eased the worries of both her husband and son. As the two boys approached, Raphael was stroking her wavy brown hair softly, the simple motion benefiting both of their troubled minds.

“Juack, I’m proud of you. Of course, you’re not a bad fighter either, Girus.” Raphael grinned as his son neared and clapped him on the shoulder, nearly sending the boy to the ground. “Looks like you took a hit…” He examined Juack’s face closely, noticing the long bloody scar that Girus had created. “Not a bad hit, either…”

“It’s nothing…” Juack said, raising his fingers to gently probe the cut. “Just a scratch.” He wiped a dirty palm down his sweaty face, smearing the blood across his cheek.

“Juack, honey,” Kiren said softly, “You don’t want to get it infected. Here…” She lifted a slender hand and pressed it to Juack’s face. A green glow engulfed her hand and Juack’s cheek, and the blood vanished. The scar, however, still remained.

“Ah…” Raphael muttered. “Well, guess it won’t go away that easily. Not a hit from such a fine blade as this. I’d warn you to be more careful, but…telling you that you won’t experience pain in the future is somewhat pointless.” As he spoke, Kiren clutched her husband’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Juack furrowed his brow in confusion as Raphael put his hand on Kiren’s.

“Nothing, son. You’ll find out in due time. Girus, come here and let me-” Raphael started to reach out, but he suddenly jerked and fell to one knee. “Damn! They’re here!”

“What? Now!?” Kiren gasped. She grabbed Raphael’s hand and helped him to his feet. “It can’t be!”

“It is. Get Juack and Girus to the Avalon. Take them to Oherron and contact Caelus. I have to lure them away and…”

“I’m coming with.” Kiren said immediately.

“No, you aren’t. You have to protect the boys. And besides – you’re going to have our child soon.”

“I…you’re right. I shouldn’t be so foolish. Juack, Girus, let’s go.” Kiren latched on to each boy’s hand and gave her husband a look. “I’m going.”

“Be careful. They won’t hesitate to attack y-” Raphael’s words were cut off by a high-pitched screech that filled the air. Right on cue, dozens of small, sleek, one-seat black spacecraft appeared in the sky and peppered the ground near them with blasts of superheated plasma, leaving scorching craters where they hit.

In an instant, the fields of long, willowy stalks of grain, carefully tended by Raphael and his son day by day, were lashed into a frenzy and flattened to the ground by the assault. Raphael, the sun-beaten farmer, spared not a glance for his beloved crops and began to run in the opposite direction from his wife and the children.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Juack and Girus both gripped Kiren tight as the ships began to turn around for another run.

“Juack, I have to leave you for a while. Stay close to your mother, and I promise I’ll see you someday soon.” Raphael shouted over his shoulder, scanning the sky as the jets wheeled and turned. “Kiren! Get going!”

“Affirmative.” Kiren held on tight to the two boys and chanted several powerful words of an ancient, dead language under her breath. Her hands glowed green again, and in an instant, all three of them vanished. They reappeared seconds later in a huge metal room, where a silver craft waited. It was a fairly simple triangle-shaped vehicle, and based on its relatively small size, it was built to hold only one or two passengers.

“Quickly, we need to leave!” Kiren hustled Juack and Girus towards the ship, where a ramp leading inside was slowly descending.

“Where’s dad?” Juack asked. Kiren was silent while she carefully helped the two boys into the ship, which was definitely too small for all three of them. It only had two leather seats, a single viewscreen that showed the hangar wall in front of the ship, and two computer consoles used for navigation.

“Your father will join us soon. Our priority is getting out of here right now.” Kiren said through gritted teeth. “Everything will be alright.”

“What’s going on? I don’t understand.” Girus sank his head into his hands. “Why are we leaving?”

“I’ll explain everything once we’re cl- ahh!” Kiren suddenly screamed as a blood red projectile burst out of her arm and created a singe mark in the ship’s hull. “Th-they’re here!”

“Mom!” Juack grabbed Kiren’s arm, but she pushed him away and hit several keys on the computer. The ramp slowly started to ascend, and through the viewscreen, the three of them could see a massive metal door beginning to open to the surface of the planet.

“No! Stop!” Kiren shouted as several dark green hands appeared on her arms and legs. She grabbed at the seat in front of her, but more hands appeared, grabbing at her and dragging her backwards through the still-open door and out of the ship. “No!”

“Mom! MOM!” Juack yelled. He tried to pull himself out of his seat, but an invisible force held him in. He could only watch helplessly as his mother was pulled away from him and forced out of the ship. Then the ramp was sealed, and the ship was airborne. “No! Let us out!” He pounded the keyboard, but the ship continued forward and flew out of the hangar.

Outside, on the surface, it was pure chaos. Where once there were clear blue skies, there was now a red glow. The ground, once dusty brown, was covered in thousands of black scorch marks. The skies were now filled with hundreds of black spacecraft, all firing plasma salvos towards the ground.

But most horrifying was the sight above the planet itself – a massive silver moon that had appeared in conjunction with the ships. It hung there ominously, an orb in the sky waiting for its lackeys to do its dirty work. And dirty work it had done – for Raphael was nowhere in sight, and Kiren had been captured.

“Wh-what is that thing?” Juack gasped and grabbed Girus’ arm.

“I don’t know…but it definitely can’t be a good thing.” Girus muttered. As soon as he said this, their fears became reality. The moon suddenly blossomed, opening up and revealing the inside. But what was inside was truly a sight to behold.

An enormous black cylinder was hovering within, like a giant gun barrel pointed at the planet. As their small craft approached the atmosphere, the computer automatically dodging the plasma bolts from the enemy ships, the barrel started to glow an eerie, luminescent green.

“What…what is it doing?” Juack ground his teeth together, wringing his hands in silent prayer, hoping that it was not what he dreaded. The glow brightened to a point so painful that the boys had to direct their gaze at the ground, and seconds later, the moon fired its charge at the planet.

The entire world split in two. Fissures formed all across the globe, snaking out from the crater of the blast, rivulets of earth sliding into nothing and chasms opening up to send billions tumbling down to their doom. As the deadly beam continued to concentrate on the planet, a blazing wave of heat made its way around the planet, toppling all that got in its way. Cities crumbled, farmlands were reduced to cinders, oceans evaporated and rose up in steaming clouds, and the ground itself was burned to a crisp.

And when the wave finally met with itself on the other side of the planet, engulfing everything in a blaze of fire…the planet vanished in a tremendous explosion. The atmosphere burned away, and any life that may have remained on the planet was wiped out once and for all.

As Juack and Girus stared in awe, their craft escaped along with several others past the destruction. But even as they fled, the enemy pursued. The escaping ships were defenseless against the powerful assault craft. Many of those who had evaded death with the planet were still sent to their fate at the hands of their unknown attackers.

Plasma fire shot past their craft, but through some unseen force, all blasts missed them. After some time, the enemy attacks thinned, and finally ended.

But they were not out of the woods yet. While the enemy had been evaded for now, they were still out in space with no knowledge of where they were going. They were alone, possibly the last survivors of their race, and with nobody to help them once they reached their destination.

Yet in spite of their situation, both of them managed somehow to remain calm. They had nobody but each other, but they had grown up together, taken the rites of manhood together, and knew each other more fully than themselves. That was all they needed.

What they did not know, however, was that someday, some years from the day they became survivors of this nearly extinct race, they would lose their friendship for good, and would become the bitterest of enemies.

For when their past finally caught up to them, neither one would be prepared for the destruction it would bring.

That was really well done. I like it.

Glad to hear you like it. I've been working on this on-and-off for close to 5 years, with a total restart about a year ago (I realized that my original rendition had plot holes up the wazoo, so I decided to start over and actually make notes on how the story would go. Anyways, here's the first chapter.

Chapter 1: Life as a Thief

Seven years. That’s all it had taken. Seven years past that terrible day when two young boys had seen the destruction of their home. Seven years of rigorous training to learn the ways of life of a thief…

None of this was going through the mind of twenty-two-year-old Juack as he walked down the marketplace, which was teeming with crowds of potential customers. Most women wore a plain cloak and a veil, though some exchanged this modest outfit for colored silks and fine jewelry, while the men ranged all the way from simple hand-stitched clothes to the long, bright green coat of his target.

As Juack was jostled by the crowd, his mind wandered back to the old days. The days when he’d first arrived on the planet of Oherron, seven years previously, and quickly learned how to survive in a city where nobody cares. The Great Bear Inn…his first attempt at thievery, his first successful hit and run, and the first lesson he learned from his master: a heavy tankard of beer striking the head at a high velocity will cause a headache that puts even the strongest hangover to shame.

Juack knew well the effects of alcohol on the humanoid body: lowered awareness, a fuzzy mind, and in virtually one hundred percent of all cases, a loose purse. Whether it be used for buying new friends several rounds of beer or giving a nearby cutpurse an income, whoever walked in definitely carried less weight in their wallets when they were finally stumbled out at three or four in the morning.

They were no challenge for him. Any local pickpocket worth two krin would never set foot in a bar for easy change unless he was really desperate or new to the business of thievery. Juack had once been so worried for his own well-being that he would go after easy targets like those drunkards. But only once.

He quickly wiped the thoughts out of his mind as he walked past the Great Bear Inn and towards his mark: a tall man with a very pompous look in his eyes as he bartered with a shopkeeper over a silver trinket. His flamboyant dress and well-groomed haircut made him stand out like a sore thumb from the other modestly-clothed shoppers. His deterrent to thieves was a personal guard of two soldiers from the castle, both dressed in full suits of armor. All this showed off one fact to Juack: “I’m loaded with gold.”

Now this would be a challenge. This one was a noble. He came from the Upper District, maybe even the castle itself. A single guard was expensive, and a second meant he had enough money set aside that he could afford it. The fact that both guards were clad in steel armor also showed off the target’s worry over his large stash; such gear in the summer’s unbearably hot weather was not only unheard of, but was borderline brutality.

Juack’s only worry so far was the gleaming longsword attached to each soldier’s belt. While no protective scabbard meant it had a slightly higher risk of becoming tarnished, it also served as a real threat to prospective thieves. Juack knew all too well what kind of damage blades such as that could do; the scars on his arms and hands proved it.
With the man now drawing nearer, Juack knew he would need to keep to the shadows if he wanted to pull off this heist completely unnoticed. He quickly sidled into the stall of a vendor selling supposedly fresh fish and waited, his eyes never leaving his target.

Minutes of waiting in this position told Juack two more important things: one, the man in the green suit and black dress cloths of a noble was so picky about how much he spent on a simple trinket that he could be waiting at the vendor for a while. Two, the fish vendor, a large man in clothes that were definitely not tailored to fit, was not selling fresh fish as he claimed, or at least they weren’t fresh anymore.

Almost gagging from the pungent scent, Juack stumbled out onto the street, nearly knocking over a solid man wearing even heavier armor than the two men guarding the target. And judging by the fact that this man had the Oherron royal seal pressed into his armor’s chest plate, he was no ordinary town guard.

“Watch it, kid!” The guard shoved Juack to the ground, and the would-be thief got a good look at the man’s face, recognizing who it was instantly. His golden hair neatly combed and tucked behind his ears, as well as his cold, emotionless dark eyes showed off his identity to everyone in the marketplace.

Audric Enoj. Captain of the Royal Guard and personal defender of the king himself. Rumored to be the heir to the throne. A man who struck terror into the hearts of his enemies with a mere look, and was known to many as ‘The Fearless Warrior’ thanks to his many years as a general in a variety of Oherron wars.

“S-sorry…” Juack muttered, carefully picking himself up off the ground and glancing back in the direction of his target, who was now engaged in a shouting match with the merchant.

“Go back to the sewer, rat.” Audric growled in Juack’s general direction as he walked off. Juack bit his lip to keep from reacting and, waiting several agonizing seconds in the open as the captain left the area, moved towards his target.

“I told you, I’m not paying a cent over twenty krin! This thing isn’t even worth fifteen!” The man in green was yelling. “My father was famed for his appraisal ability, and even I can see this thing is dull!”

“Dull, huh?” The merchant demanding the high sum for his silver, which Juack could finally see as a balding man with a thick moustache and the layered smock and vest outfit that most merchants in the area sported. “Maybe you could search somewhere else for wares like this, but I guarantee you won’t find them. I’m the only merchant of things like this within a hundred miles.”

Juack snorted as he watched amusedly from several feet away, crouched near the wooden partition of a merchant’s stall from across the cracked dirt road. The idiot would never even notice his missing purse until long after Juack had vanished. It would be easier than he’d thought. He silently began to creep towards his target and reached a tentative hand out, when…

“Psst! Hey! Juack, over here!” A hushed voice interrupted Juack’s grab, and he awkwardly ducked to the ground, hurriedly pretending to tie the laces of his dusty brown boots as Girus seemingly materialized out of thin air.

“Idiot!” Juack whispered. “I was about to grab it!” He gave his friend’s tanned arm a whack and pulled him back into the narrow alleyway between two merchant stalls. “Why did you stop me?”

“Oh, come on.” Girus absently tucked his long black locks behind his ears and brushed the red grit of the road off of his shirt. “You got the last one. Besides, this guy’s got a shorter attention span than a kalyn with ADHD.”

“I agree. It might be too much of a challenge for you.” Juack smirked, then snorted at the thought of a kalyn – a small rodent that almost perpetually looked around its surroundings for predators – with ADHD.

“Exac- hey!” Girus punched him in the arm. “Not my point! I’m saying that I deserve the next one. You had the last one.”

Juack let out a long and theatrical sigh and rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. His keen ears picked up the sound of coins hitting wood, and he realized that the arguments between the two men had quieted down. “Fine, just do it before he finishes. He won’t be busy for too long.”

Girus nodded and sidled out of the gap, quickly nearing the target’s feet amidst a passing crowd of shoppers. He waited for his moment and carefully moved his hand towards the target’s bulging sack of coins, which was hanging precariously by its owner’s side.

“Hey! There’s a thief trying to grab your coins!” A voice rang out through the crowd, and dozens of people immediately grabbed their purses in surprise. Including the man who Girus had been stealing from.

“Thief! Get him!” The man shrieked, grabbing his purse and holding it to his chest protectively. Each of the two guards accompanying him grabbed his respective sword and made a swing for Girus. But the young thief was too quick, and he darted down the street to escape.

“After him! He may have some of my money!” The target shouted, pointing Girus out as he fled. The two guards tried to push their way through the swelling crowd with minor success, though Juack knew from countless near-misses that Girus wouldn’t be caught by two rent-a-thugs.

This, however, gave Juack the opportunity he needed as the target carefully set his pouch on the counter where he was doing business. There was about a two second window of opportunity when the man turned away for a moment to count the coins he needed, and that was when Juack made his move.

“Wha- hey! My pouch! Thief! THIEF!” The target drew the attention of every person in the marketplace as Juack grabbed the money sack, shoved it into his shirt, and ducked down to half his height in order to run somewhat unnoticed through the crowd.

Juack’s original plan of a snatch and run was somewhat in tatters. Several guards – all from the castle – who had been keeping the peace in the market when he’d made his attempt were now alerted and on his tail. Unfortunately, that also included the so-called ‘Fearless Warrior’, Audric Enoj.

He cursed under his breath as the crowd parted to allow the fearful man through along with his entourage of guards. Eleven guards in total plus the elite captain spelled doom for Juack if he were to be caught.

Juack muttered in annoyance as the mass of people parted before the guards and melted into the buildings and stalls on the edge of the square. Given that his greatest advantage was his small stature in a crowd, the guards rapidly began to catch up with the thief as he ran at full speed down the road.
His mind conjured terrible images of empty prison cells and bloody torture implements as the captain began barking orders to his subordinates, the most prominent of which was to move around the buildings and implement a flanking maneuver to stop the thief.

“Hey! Over here!” A tinny voice whispered into his ear. Juack looked around to find the source of the voice, but none presented itself. He chanced a look backwards and could almost see the stubble on the captain’s face as he neared. Juack looked from side to side and found a temporary escape in the form of a dark alleyway filled with huddled forms.

“Get back here!” Audric bellowed, his great momentum carrying him a good several yards past the alley before he could turn around for another chase. But Juack had given himself a good head start towards escaping to his master’s home.

“Look up!” The ghostly voice entered his ears again, and he glanced upward to see a pair of glowing yellow eyes hovering atop a dirty wooden plank that linked one building to another via open windows.

“Damn it, Mek…you’re going to get yourself caught one of these days.” Juack murmured under his breath. He quickly boosted himself off of one of the brick walls to give himself enough height to reach out his hand to the plank of wood. A furry, clawed hand latched onto his outstretched arm and helped him swing up softly on the wooden bridge.
The plank groaned dangerously, the combined weight of its new inhabitant sending it perilously close to its breaking point. But luckily, his helpful friend was available to send a jolt of baby blue sparks down his arm, causing him to writhe painfully as he transformed before his own eyes.

His clothes quickly started to grow larger and larger until he was buried in a pile of cloth. He tried to shake the heap off, and a tuft of brown fur began sprouting from his chest. Within seconds, the fur spread all over his body to accommodate his new look.

“I’m a freakin’ keth!” He wanted to say. Unfortunately, it came out as a squeak as his altered body could no longer support actual words. He gave a wild shake to finally free himself from his defunct clothing and sent it drifting to the ground below, though not before he freed his loot from it and set it on the wooden plank.

“He disappeared!” One guard yelled out as the flanking team met up with Audric’s group halfway down the alley. “Vanished!”

“Maybe…” Audric stopped under the plank, bending down on one knee in order to closely examine the dropped clothing. “But where could he go without clothes? I think he’s still nearby. Search high and low!” He barked.

“Aye, sir!” The guards immediately scattered, some leaving through the two exits to the streets and others letting themselves into the back entrances of the buildings beside them.

Juack let out a relieved squeak and looked up from his treasure as his companion materialized in front of him, now in the recognizable form of a keth – a four-legged, floppy-eared furry creature that roamed the streets in search of easy-to-grab food, whether it be offered freely or stolen from a distracted merchant.

“Squeak!” The second keth began, this one sporting maroon fur with slashes of gold crossing its body. Though Juack couldn’t normally speak keth, his mind automatically translated it into words he could understand.

“Idiot, you shouldn’t try to steal with the guards right next to you. Where would you be without me?” Juack could swear the keth was wearing an irritated look on its face, though he couldn’t be certain.

“Shut up, Mekara.” He grunted back. “It’s all Girus’ fault, anyway…if he wouldn’t have to keep trying to steal my thunder when I go to work for Caelus, I wouldn’t have to flee from the guards.”

“You men and your stupid machismo, you always have to compete over every little thing. Why does it matter who steals the…what is it you call it? ‘Loot’?”

“It’s a matter of pride.” Juack said indignantly, lifting his head slightly. “If he steals something that’s guarded, I have to steal something with heavier security. It’s all about who’s the better thief.”

“Yeah, but the gold all goes to the same place, right? Why does it matter how it gets there?” Mekara rolled her eyes.

“Same place? What do you mean?” Juack tilted his head in confusion.

“The people on the streets, of course.” To prove her point, Mekara reached a paw across the wooden plank and sliced open the side of the bag with a single claw. A cascade of gold coins tumbled out and fell over the side, attracting many of the cloaked people sitting in the alley.

“Wha- hey! That’s mine!” Juack grabbed the bag and put a paw over the tear, but not before at least half the bag had been emptied into the pockets of the poverty-stricken people beneath them.

“Yours?” Mekara scratched Juack across his button-like nose, and he yelped in surprise. “Yours? I expected Girus to say something like that, but you?”

“I didn’t mean it!” Juack retreated to the window behind him and lay down, tending to his injured and bleeding nose. “I was just caught off-guard.”

“Yeah, sure. You know as well as I do that this money belongs to the people, not you. You learned from Caelus, did you not?” She sighed softly.

“Oh, crap! Caelus, I forgot!” Juack leapt to his four feet and looked anxiously down at his clothes below. “Uh…Mek? I really appreciate you saving me and all, but…”

“I’ll bring your clothes by later. I think you should get back home before the guards come back. It’s the cages for you if the guards come back and catch you with a sack of gold and no collar.”

“No kidding. What about the spell?”

“It should wear off in a few minutes. You’ve got plenty of time to get home. Unless you want me to extend the duration for a few hours?” Mekara bared her fangs in an evil grin.

“N-no thanks!” Juack quickly grabbed his pouch of gold in his teeth and jumped down, grunting painfully as he landed. He made his way down the alleys, making sure to avoid the main roads as much as possible.

As he wandered through the alleyways, he saw the number of people huddled outside increase significantly, especially as the buildings around him grew grimier and filthier. When he finally emerged onto one of the beaten roads of cracked earth, he knew he had reached Lower District. An apt name for the slums of the city.

The streets were empty here in Lower District. The alleys provided some shade from the hot summer sun and the occasional handout from the few restaurants in the area. Most of the buildings themselves were complete wrecks, having been run-down by a combination of gang wars and long years of no weather protection.

He approached the brick building where he lived with his foster parents and Girus, and finally began to notice that the fur that had disguised him was beginning to shed. There were several bald patches all across his body, and he noticed that he was slightly larger than when he’d set out for home.

Luckily for him, this was not the first time that he’d journeyed home as a keth. That night long ago, when he first met Mekara and her mystical powers, he’d had to show up at the door wearing nothing but the linen purse he’d stolen. Shortly after, his foster parents built a small flap in the door allowing him to enter when he was in keth form.

His fur now completely gone, he made his way inside and slunk through the small house to reach his own bedroom. The twin beds were both clean and carefully made, and the bare nightstand sitting between them had been dusted. Sitting atop one bed was a fresh set of clothes for him, which included a simple blue sleeveless shirt and brown pants.
When he had grown back to full size, he quickly dressed himself in the new outfit. As he was pulling the shirt over his head, he heard a small cough from the door and spun around. Standing there was the man who had taken care of him and Girus since they’d landed on the planet Oherron.

“A guard just passed by.” He grunted, leaning slightly on the doorframe. “Said someone with your description might have stolen a bag of gold.”

“What’s your point, Caelus?” Juack asked, reaching behind him to put a hand on the sack of gold resting on his bed.

“My point is…why did you get caught this time?” Caelus grinned and held out a hand, inviting Juack to hand something over.

Juack rolled his eyes and tossed the sack over, making sure that the side with the hole in it was facing up. “It’s not my fault! Girus interrupted me when –”

“Calm down, I’m just kidding. You did good. I saw the whole thing from the rooftops above. Rather impressive trick with the guard there, although I can’t say I condone selling out a fellow thief to get a job done.” Caelus opened the pack and started counting coins.

“Hey, he knew that it was my target. He shouldn’t have tried to stop me when I was about to make a grab.”

“Hold on a minute, what’s with this rip?” Caelus thumbed the hole in the bag and raised an eyebrow. “Something happen?”

Juack gave a slight smile. “Uh…out of the goodness of my heart, I decided to donate half of the loot to the poor and unfortunate.”

“Uh huh.” Caelus nodded, disbelieving. “And the scratch on your face? The fur on the floor?”

“Yeah, it was Mekara. I had to sneak home as a keth again.” Juack sighed, defeated. “She cut the bag after she transformed me.”

“She’s right, you know. Just because we steal doesn’t mean that the others should be ignored.” Caelus counted out several coins and handed them back to Juack. “Here, your reward for doing a fine job.”

“Thanks. Think I –” Juack began to speak, but was interrupted when a door suddenly slammed from the other room and a furious Girus stormed into the room. His clothes were torn in several places, his face was covered in dirt, and was exuding a rather foul smell that forced Caelus to plug his nose with one hand.

“Hey, jerk! I thought the code of the thieves was that you never sell out another thief!” Girus barked, taking a menacing step towards Juack.

“Hold up, you think you’re so innocent? You were the one who tried to stop me from taking the gold in the first place! I had to come home as a keth!”

“I had to run all over the city to get the guards off my tail! Have you seen the sewers? I don’t think any amount of washing will get the smell out of these clothes!”

“Please, stop this!” Caelus yelled above their argument. Still with forefinger and thumb pinched over his nose, he let out a sigh. “Boys, I think it’s time you started learning your last lesson as thieves.”

“Huh?” Juack recoiled slightly and furrowed his brow in confusion. “I thought we were done with all that.”

“Not quite.” Caelus grunted. “There’s one last thing that every thief must know before he goes out on his own. But it’s not something that can be taught just by me talking. You have to learn it yourselves.”

“How do we do that?” Girus asked.

“First, you get cleaned off and we eat our supper. But tonight you begin preparations.”

“Preparations for what?”

Caelus smiled. “The ultimate heist.”

more!!!!!!!!!

Hehe, alright then. I'm only being slow cause it's hard to tell if people are actually reading through each chapter - that is, not just clicking on the link and leaving. Anyways...

Chapter 2: The Heist

It wasn’t until long after night had fallen that he made his move.

It had been a week since that semi-failed pickpocket attempt. During that week, he, Girus and Caelus had spent hours upon hours of planning the best way to pull off this ultimate heist. Entrances, escape routes, guard patrols, and other forms of security all had to be taken into consideration.

While Caelus and Girus were off negotiating with Mekara, whose magic would be an invaluable resource should they get caught, Juack was watching the external security around Castle Oherron. The castle itself was well-protected by both moat and wall, and had survived many invasions in the past. However, Caelus’ prior incursions into the fortress had given them a single route inside: a loose stone that could be removed for a small hole into the castle courtyard.

Juack watched the looming castle keep before him from the safety of one of the city’s flat-roofed buildings, hovering precariously on the raised ledge between rooftop and an unpleasant drop. As he watched the crossbow-armed guards on the ramparts and the ones armed with longswords meandering near the currently lowered drawbridge, he heard a small voice behind him, almost a whisper.

“She’s willing.” Girus came up beside Juack in absolute silence, almost surprising the man as he spied on the castle.

“Fantastic.” Juack murmured. “Ready to make your run?”

“I don’t see why I have to do it.” Girus let out a sigh. “Why can’t you be the runner?”

Juack rolled his eyes and fought off an urge to give Girus a punch in the arm. “You’re faster than me, and you’ve never had to rely on Mekara to get home safely. You aren’t the most graceful of thieves, but you definitely know how to get away. That, plus you interrupted me last week and this is your punishment.” He smirked, knowing full well that Girus couldn’t see it in the dark night, the area illuminated only slightly by the stars and Oherron’s solitary moon.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. I’m ready to go, the question is whether or not you’re ready to move the stone and get inside. You saw where Caelus made his mark, right?”

“Dead center of the wall, directly above the overturned stone. I’ve been watching the castle for two hours straight; I think I know where to go.” Juack reached into a pouch hanging from his hip and carefully counted out three throwing daggers. He felt each one’s weight with a gloved hand and nodded to Girus. “Go. I’ll take care of the archers.”
Girus gave him a nod and pulled a slightly longer dagger from his own belt pouch. With a slight salute, he leapt off the roof and jabbed his dagger into the long red banner that declared the building’s owner as an alchemist, sliding down towards the ground quickly.

“Oy! Peabrains!” He shouted out at the guards, who immediately stopped patrolling and stared at him. Juack looked upwards to see the three archers atop the parapets slowly taking aim at Girus.

“Not today.” Juack gave each knife a quick flick, and thanks to the magical potion he'd downed earlier, each one became lodged in one of the archers’ arms. All of them recoiled backwards, both surprised and hurt by the sudden attack, and Juack grabbed another dagger from a leather sheath on his belt. It was about the same time that the guards on ground level realized that their support was nowhere to be found, and began running towards the insulter.

Juack waited as Girus began running off into the dark alleys of Oherron and only when each guard was gone did he jump down, using the same method Girus had used, and began searching the wall.

He knew his time was short; the guards were gone, but they would realize that Girus was only a distraction sooner or later. Plus, though the archers were injured, they would call in backup shortly, or even aim at Juack. He quickly dismissed the thoughts and started counting his way across the wall.

Within a minute, he had found an overturned stone sitting on the ground with a small emblem of a dagger pointing towards the wall painted on it. He tapped the second stone from the bottom of the wall with the hilt of his dagger, and it gave him a slightly hollow thud.

Smiling to himself, he began slicing open the mortar that held the block in place, always listening closely for the guards’ return or the drawing of a bowstring. But luck was on his side that night, as Girus kept the guards occupied and the archers were tending their wounds.

With the mortar completely decayed, he carefully set his shoulder against it and shoved with all his might. For the slightest second, a pang of panic ran through his mind as the stone refused to move. But a second of persistence, and the rock slowly began to groan its way through the hole. He bit his lip and prayed nobody heard it when the block fell to the ground, but the castle remained silent.

He looked up to check the position of Oherron’s moon, which was about thirty seconds from passing directly overhead. He waited fifteen seconds and slid easily through the space where the brick had been. He blocked the hole as best as he could with his body and carefully surveyed the area of guards.

Moving around the interior of the castle’s outer wall were two guards, though one of them was currently walking behind the castle. They always traveled at about 180° from each other, ensuring that every inch of the courtyard was protected. But the two thieves’ timing was impeccable; they planned to get inside just as the guards were changing over for the night.

Or at least Juack was. He bit his lip nervously when he realized that Girus was not present. He glanced out the hole in the castle wall that he had created, but saw nothing other than the building across the road. He was out in the open, and the moonlight could blow his cover at any second.

He suddenly heard a smatter of talking as the guards from outside the castle trooped inside, the drawbridge rising behind them. He glanced down at the block in front of him and wished the light from the moon wasn’t so bright. Luckily for him, they didn’t look to the side as they strode towards the castle.

“Wait…Girus?” Juack squinted and looked at the dark figure that was being carted off by the guards. It looked like Girus, but he seemed to have a strange, almost invisible aura around his person. Girus couldn’t use magic, so either it was someone else or…

“Mekara.” Juack murmured. This was not going well. Girus had already needed help from the magical keth, and the duo hadn’t even made their way inside yet.

But then another problem came up. As Juack let out a sigh, he looked to his other side and saw the thing that could derail their plans entirely, and make the whole heist a failure. He bit his lip again, drawing blood, and tried to think fast, but all his plans escaped him. Girus wasn’t here on time, and Juack couldn’t pull the heist off alone.
A lone guard, in fact one of the two that was patrolling the interior of the outer wall, was just passing the castle and heading around the wall towards the drawbridge. Unfortunately for Juack, that path happened to pass through where he was hiding.

“Skel.” He muttered, a word from a language that was long-gone. A word which needs no translation, as it would have to be censored. “Girus…what have you gotten yourself in to?”

* * *

“Catch me if you can!” Girus taunted happily as he ran through the streets of Oherron. In all truthfulness, he was terrified out of his mind, but being able to aggravate guards from the castle was just enough to give him a sort of natural high as he fled.

Passing by a butcher’s shop, he slowed his pace just slightly to let the guards catch up to him. When they were mere feet away from him, he made a spectacular dive to the left, rolling into an alleyway. The guards were not quite as fortunate; with the heavy weight of their armor, along with each one’s combined muscle and speed, caused them to go barreling past Girus, surprised as they fell to the ground in a heap.

“Guess the guards aren’t quite as good as I thought.” Girus laughed as he left the alley and stepped on each guard before they could get up. One of them made a grab for his leg, but he was too quick. “See ya, losers!” Girus cackled and began running again. Once he rounded a corner, he rested against a corner briefly. He knew it would take them a while to get up, but the whole point of being a distraction is to do just that – distract the enemy. Leaving them in the dust would do no good for the team.

“You won’t get away!” One of the guards shouted. Girus let out a breath and began his run once again. They chased after him, but he was too fast to ever be caught by the likes of them.

Still, there could be no harm in being safe. He quickly maneuvered to the side of the street and made a fantastic leap to land on the linen ceiling of a vendor’s stall. Now up on top of it, he jumped off the side to grab an arch that connected two buildings and was usually used to hang banners during times of celebration.

“He’s getting away!” One of the guards yelled out. Girus ignored it and grunted as he pulled himself up on top of the arch. He made his way to the roof of one of the connected buildings and sat atop the parapet, taunting the guards with his mere presence. They were unable to get up without help, especially not with that heavy armor. He was out of their reach, maybe even permanently.

So he was surprised when a heavy weight hit him on the back of the head and sent him sprawling forward to land with a hard thud on the ground below. He heard a crack as he hit the dirt, probably one of his ribs.

“Get him!” A guard called.

He tried to get up. He really tried. But his body refused to acknowledge him. His mind was foggy from the bump on his head, and the shock of being struck made him see stars. The pain mounting in his rib – he’d been right about that – was making his vision blur. Within seconds, he’d be unconscious, and the heist would be over before it began.
One of the guards slung him over his shoulder, and the group started walking back towards the castle looming in the distance. Girus gave a weak sort of flop as his best attempt at struggling, but he was too out of it to give anything significant. He stared at the hard dusty ground, fear and dismay rising within him.

As they neared the last buildings before the drawbridge, he saw a glimmer of hope. It was fleeting, and probably a long shot, but it was at least worth an attempt. What he saw was a keth. A maroon-skinned keth with random golden scars of fur across its body. Mekara! He mustered up the last of his strength to mouth a single word to it. Help.

He couldn’t tell if it understood, but the keth tilted its head and scratched its floppy ear with a paw. Girus lost hope for a moment, but the keth’s eyes suddenly started to glow a light-tinted cerulean. The guards started to slow down, becoming more and more sluggish as the keth’s spell dragged on. Finally, they froze entirely, their positions stuck as they were kept in time’s grasp.

“Mek, is that you?” Girus asked softly, his head finally starting to clear up. The keth tilted its head again and in a very non-kethlike way, gave him a single nod. Girus smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly freed himself from the guard’s embrace and knelt down next to her. “You really saved my life. Thanks.”

No problem. He heard in his mind. So she could speak telepathically.

“So Juack was lying when he said you were incapable of speech.” Girus smirked. “Shouldn’t listen to him, should I?”

Girus, the spell won’t last much longer. You’d best hide so I can heal your wound before you move out.

“I don’t have time for that. Juack is waiting.” Girus brushed Mekara’s soft fur with a finger.

You don’t understand the extent of your wounds, do you? Mekara nudged him with his nose. I’ve already done some clairvoyance, and if I don’t treat your wounds, you will fall from the castle as a result of them.

“I-I’m sorry.” Girus said awkwardly. “I didn’t…”

Hide. Now. I will create an illusion to make them believe that you are still being carried.

“Thank you. But…wait, won’t Juack see that and get worried? He’s waiting for me, and if he sees my unconscious self go into the castle…”

Don’t worry, Girus. I will implant a magical marker that only members of you race can see. Juack will see that it is only an illusion.

Girus nodded and moved into the alleyway where Mekara was sitting. He stepped all the way to the back and sat down on the ground, gently massaging his tender head. Now that he could really focus on it, he realized that Mekara was right – the pounding in his head felt as though nails were being driven into it.

Without warning, the guards started walking again, not noticing Girus sitting in the dark alley. He gave a weak smile as they passed by, not caring that nobody else could see it. When Mekara finally strode over, he let out a sigh. “You were right. I’m losing feelings in my arms and legs. I’d never be able to scale the castle in my condition.” He said.

Thank you for seeing my point. Mekara leapt up onto Girus’ head, provoking a slight, nearly inaudible squeak from him. She quickly found her target: a fair-sized bump that was starting to swell out from where the sap had hit him. She touched it gingerly with a paw, and Girus flinched. Ouch. This thing just looks painful.

“Yeah, and it doesn’t feel too hot, either.” Girus said through gritted teeth.

Mekara carefully placed a paw on the wound and let the magic flow through her body. She concentrated on the wound and how to fix it, and allowed the magic to push its way down her foreleg and into the bump. Soft lime-green sparks danced along his head and gradually dissipated into the wound and the area around it. As they did, the bump slowly started reducing in size. Several seconds later, Girus let out a sigh of relief.

“It’s…it’s gone.” He tenderly touched the spot where the bump had been, thrilled to learn that it had vanished without a trace. “You saved my life, Mek. Thank you.”

Go find Juack. He may be found if you aren’t there shortly.

“Right. See ya later and thanks again.” Girus didn’t wait for a response. He quickly made his way to the castle wall and, after making sure there were no more patrols outside, found the hole that Juack had made in the wall. He tapped twice on the brick inside the hole and saw a dark shape move to look inside.

“Where have you been!?” Juack said in a hushed whisper.

“Trouble with the guards. They had an ambusher waiting for me.” Girus said sheepishly, tugging a strand of hair. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Never mind. Get in here, quickly. The guard is circling around, and we need to get behind the castle before it’s too late.” Juack offered his hand through the hole, and Girus grabbed it. He quickly pushed his way through the hole and somersaulted into a crouched stance on the other side.

“Quick, let’s get the block back in place.” Girus took hold of one half of the heavy stone brick and nodded and Juack. The two of them lifted it with some effort and carefully reinserted it into its setting.

“Good. Nobody will notice the cracks until morning, and by then we’ll be long gone.” Juack looked around for guards but saw none other than the one standing by the huge steel double-doors leading into the actual castle. “Wait…where’s the guard who was…”

Realization dawned on him as he heard the noise of somebody breathing. He felt a tap on his shoulder and wincing, turned around slowly to face the guard who had managed to sneak up on them while they were preparing the wall. He grinned guiltily and managed a weak little “Hi.”

“What do you think you’re doing here, sonny boy?” The guard, clad in full plate armor, gave off a menacing air as he pulled his sword out of its sheath. “I think Audric would like to know about this little…happening, don’t you?”

With speed that shamed even Girus, the guard had his sword tip at Juack’s throat. Juack tried to make a noise, but the fear that gripped his whole body stopped his mouth from listening to him. “I…I…”

“Save it. Towards the castle with you.” The guard motioned for the two to turn around, and they obliged. He put his sword tip to Juack’s back and gave him a little poke, signaling him to start moving. “Trespassers on…castle…gr…o…un…ds…” The guard’s words became slower and slower until finally, he stopped moving, his entire body frozen in mid-stride.

“Mekara. Again.” Girus said softly. “Where would we be without you?”

Captured in the castle dungeons. Mekara’s words were tinged with smugness. I suggest you move quickly to the rear of the castle. I have given the guard a simple mind wipe, but the time stop will only last for about thirty seconds.

“Roger.” Juack nodded and quickly led the way to the castle’s back side. The second of the two perimeter guards was patrolling close to the side of the castle by the time they were there, but they remained well out of his sight range until time resumed and he left the rear of the castle.

“Right, we’re safe for now. We just have to…uh…climb this?” Girus raised an eyebrow. “Um…how? I don’t see a ladder…”

“Of course you don’t. This is why thieves need upper body strength.” Juack unsheathed a set of two daggers from each boot, four in all. He carefully examined the castle wall for a good place to start and jabbed one dagger into the mortar between the bricks, just as he had outside the courtyard.

“Wait, what? What exactly do you intend to do?” Girus looked at him in confusion as Juack stabbed his second dagger into the wall, this one about an arm’s length away from the first.

“Hope you aren’t afraid of heights, because this is how we scale the wall.” Juack said. He grabbed on to both daggers and, one at a time, pulled one out and pushed it into the wall a few bricks higher.

“I get it. But…shouldn’t the blades bend or break from putting your weight on them?” Girus furrowed his brow in thought. “Unless…”

“Unless I had Mek put a spell on them to keep them from doing so.” Juack grinned. “Don’t worry. All you need do is keep pushing yourself upwards, one hand at a time.” He carefully pushed himself up another few bricks, his feet now at Girus’ head.

“Alright…” Girus said, a little uncertainly. He carefully chose another section of wall about two feet away from where Juack had begun his ascent, and started climbing using Juack’s method.

It wasn’t too hard – Mekara’s spell helped out by making the mortar easier to punch through – but it was slow going, and it was a fairly high wall. By the time they reached the halfway mark, Girus was dripping with sweat, and Juack’s breath came in short, labored bursts.

“Let’s…take a quick break.” Juack suggested. Girus nodded in agreement, and both of them grabbed a third dagger from their respective belts. They shoved them into the wall as low as they could without losing their grip, and then climbed up a few bricks to put their feet on the hilt of the third dagger.

“Hard going.” Girus said. “But…I suppose this is the only way up. Sure Mek couldn’t just use some sort of flight spell?”

“Two boys flying through the sky of their own accord? That wouldn’t look suspicious to you?” Juack said with a chuckle.

Girus snorted. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. Still, it’d be nice to not have to climb so far up…” He let out a sigh. “Could be worse, I suppose…” They sat in relative silence over the next several minutes, making sure to stop talking at the relevant times when the guard made his way to the back end of the castle.

“It’s almost one.” Juack said, looking up to see the moon falling behind the castle, providing a little more illumination on them than was comfortable. “We should get- whoa!” he let out a cry of surprise as the dagger he’d been holding in his right hand suddenly slipped out and fell, scratching his face as it did so, and dropped towards the ground below.

Surprised by the sudden loss of a handhold, Juack slipped off of the narrow step he was standing on and fell upside-down towards the ground below. “Juack!” Girus gasped, trying to grab out with one hand towards his friend. But he was too far away, and it was too sudden.

His bootlace was what saved him. As he started to go backwards down the wall, his bootlace twisted around the hilt of the dagger he’d been standing atop and stopped his descent. He bit his lip and tried hard to not move an inch, hoping that the dagger didn’t slip out and kill him.

For a long several seconds, nothing happened. Juack started to let loose a sigh of relief, and of course, that’s when disaster struck. The blade didn’t move – it was too far into the wall to do that. It was his bootlace that started to tear. The worn material had been long in need of a replacement, and both Juack and Girus had been too busy with preparations for the heist to do so.

“Oh, skel.” Juack cursed. He tried to pull himself upwards to grab the dagger, but his arms were still tired from their climb. He made a second attempt and fell backwards again. The bootlace was now mere strands thin at the rip, and Juack made one last grab for the dagger. But it was too far away, and he didn’t have the strength to pull himself all the way up. Things were looking grim for the young thief.

It was then he learned why thieves always work in teams, never alone, for big jobs like this. As the last few strands of lace began to rip, Juack saw Girus tear out his own dagger from the wall and drop it in Juack’s direction. He made a grab for it and quickly stabbed it into the wall, just as the last bits of lace tore away from the hilt.

There was a terrifying moment of freefall as gravity forced him to fall downwards before stopping as he held tight to his single dagger. He didn’t move a muscle, believing that even the slightest twitch would send the dagger out of the mortar. A long, tense moment passed as Juack waited in suspense.

But fate was on his side. Nothing happened. The dagger remained in its home, and Juack remained latched onto the hilt. “I…I think I’m safe.” He said softly. “That was…way too close for comfort.”

“Here, let me get your dagger.” Girus called. He carefully reached outward to touch Juack’s remaining weapon, now a good several feet above where Juack was perched, and let it drop to Juack. The thief grabbed it with one hand and nearly fell again, but was able to keep his grip as he plunged the second dagger into the wall again.
“I’ll give you mine, then.” Juack carefully started to move up again, and pulled out the weapon that had saved his life when he reached it. He stuck it into his belt a little haphazardly and made it up to Girus’ level, where he passed the weapon on to his partner.

“Let’s…not do that again.” Juack said, laughing nervously. Girus made no comment, and they both started ascending the wall once again. It took them a good twenty minutes, but they finally reached the top without incident.

At least until they hit the actual roof of the castle. When Juack finally climbed onto the castle’s ramparts, his arms aching and sore, he saw, rather than heard, the two archers who were waiting with bows at the ready to ambush them. But Juack’s mind was addled slightly by his near-death experience, as well as the long climb, and thus didn’t warn Girus as he too clambered up.

“I think you boys are in the wrong place.” One archer said coldly. With those words, both of them loosed their arrows towards the intruders.

500th Post! Perfect time to get up Chapter 3.

Chapter 3: Darkness in the Dungeon

‘We’re dead’ was the only thought running through Juack’s mind at that moment. Two gleaming arrows, each crafted from supple silvery bark, fletched with green feathers, and tipped with steel arrows (Which were coated in a light liquid) were staring down at the two boys. Both thieves raised their arms in surrender, but the archers ignored the gesture and loosed their arrows.

It was Juack who saved them this time. The older thief, who had recently been given a near-death experience, had had a shot of adrenaline injected into his entire system. He was therefore slightly less surprised than his younger companion, and was able to lurch to the side, throwing himself on top of Girus and avoiding the archers’ first strike.

Their attackers said nothing; rather, they moved with almost inhuman speed to nock another arrow into each of their bows and pull the string back, ready to fire again. However, Juack was ready this time. He quickly pulled out a dagger and rolled away from Girus, who was just beginning to pull himself to his feet.

The bows fired again, and though Juack dodged the one targeting him, one grazed Girus’ cheek and cut a thin line into his face. He bit his lip and tried to get up, but suddenly felt a sense of fatigue running through his entire body. He fell back down on his back and tried to raise some form of defense, but his body refused to listen to him anymore; whatever poison the king’s men were using was powerful indeed. The archers began aiming once again.

But Juack, who had finally gotten back into his combat groove, reached the two archers with his dagger and began fighting one in hand-to-hand combat. The marksman spun away and began to take aim, but Juack was too quick for him. The young thief was quickly upon him again, twin daggers in hand. His target quickly tossed his bow aside and pulled out a pair of short swords from their sheaths at his belt to fight hand-to-hand.

Juack quickly dodged an attack as his opponent pushed the offensive. He swung wide with his off-hand blade, and Juack took the opportunity to move in closer and make a jab towards the archer’s stomach. But once again, the archer was swift enough to spin away and shove his foot out in an attempt to throw Juack to the ground.

He nearly tripped. He made an attempt to step backwards, found the leg his attacker had put out, and started wheeling his arms in an effort to stay standing. He started falling backwards, but made a quick lunge to grab his foe by his black tunic, pulling both of them to the floor.

Both of them started wrestling for control, each trying to simultaneous push himself up and throw the other down. As both of them were fairly competent fighters, however, neither one gained any real ground. It wasn’t until Juack finally decided to push himself away, ending their tussle, that they were able to stand again and continue their combat.

The archer made a high arc with his blade, and Juack dodged it easily. But as he moved to counter attack, he met the archer’s second blade, which had been at his side the whole time. Juack, unprepared for the secondary attack, realized too late that the first had been a feint to make Juack move into a more assailable position.

He took the blow right in the abdomen, the sharp tip piercing the skin and pushing halfway through to the hilt. Juack let out a cry of pain and fell to the floor once again, shoving the archer away from him as he did so, but letting his upper body lean off of the wall he’d just climbed. The young thief grabbed the hilt of the blade, intending to pull it out as quickly as possible, but as he put his hand on the hilt, the archer’s hand was on top of his. The attacker was straddling Juack on both knees, keeping him from standing up.

Tears sprang to the thief’s eyes as the archer used his superior strength to push the blade in a few inches further. Juack coughed up a mouthful of blood and tried to pull the short sword out of him before it penetrated too deeply. But it was no use; the archer was older and had military training, while Juack had only had lessons from his father and sparring sessions with Girus and Caelus. He groaned in agony and attempted to pull the blade out again, but it wouldn’t budge. He was losing strength, and soon wouldn’t be able to struggle against the attacker. With tinges of black creeping into his vision, it seemed that all was over for the young soon-to-be ex-thief.

But an image suddenly sprang into his head. More than an image, a memory of one of Caelus’ most important lessons about combat situations. One of his first lessons for fighting opponents in close combat, in fact.

‘If you ever find yourself in a melee fight,’ Caelus said in Juack’s memory, ‘Fight dirty. Remember, you’re a thief. We’re honor-bound to steal only from those who deserve it, but that doesn’t mean a good kick to the berries isn’t an acceptable strategy.’

Juack remembered both laughing and wincing at the thought, and was suddenly shot back to reality when the blade moved a few inches deeper. Juack used the memory to focus the last of his energy into one last outburst and, after letting the blade penetrate one more inch (Nearly reaching the hilt), gave his attacker a swift knee right to his family jewels.

It was a strong attack, stronger than even Juack thought he’d done, but the location of his kick was enough to widen the archer’s eyes, move his hands immediately to the affected area, and send him crumpling to the ground. Juack almost laughed in relief, but knew his troubles weren’t over. He still had a blade sticking out of his stomach, and he was losing blood rapidly.

Well done, kid. I thought you were a goner. The voice of Mekara whispered into Juack’s mind, and he saw the small keth perched precariously on the edge of one of the castle’s teeth-shaped parapets on the edge of the roof. Nice move, by the way. Didn’t think you’d resort to a trick like that.

“M-Mekara.” Juack said shakily. “H-help?”

I want you to know that I’m strongly opposed to this little heist of yours. But…I suppose you’d be dead without me, so I’ll give you a hand. Or a paw, whatever. Mekara leapt down from her perch and put one paw on Juack’s chest. Green sparks followed her arm and started draping themselves across the wound in his stomach, and Juack quickly gripped the sword handle, ready to pull it out to help the healing process along.

As the sparks danced across his abdomen, he immediately started feeling much better, his wounds closing and his sapped strength returning to his weakened muscles. With no other alternative, he put one of his dagger hilts into his mouth and bit down hard as he pulled the sword out of his body.

Tears streamed from his eyes as he agonizingly pulled the blade out inch by inch, every slight movement causing a dazzling spray of pain. He continued pulling, almost crying, and nearly cracking his teeth from biting down, until finally, the blade came free. He tossed it to the side and lay back, breathing heavily.

He’ll be up soon, you know. Even a kick to the…jewels is not a permanent solution.

Juack nodded slightly and looked over to the man he’d kneed. The archer was on the ground, groaning in pain, obviously trying hard not to move. Juack muttered a few words of apology and, drawing up a little extra strength, gave the man a kick to the back of the head. Not too hard, just enough to knock him out for a while.

By the way…I hate to bring this up for you, but where’s Girus and the other archer?

“What other…oh, hell.” Juack looked over to where Girus had fallen, but the younger thief was gone, as was the other man who’d ambushed them. Near them, a wooden trapdoor was sitting open, something that Juack hadn’t noticed while he was fighting. He cursed loudly, provoking one of the guards below to look upward.

I can’t believe you lost him. How did you not notice that? Mekara jumped back up onto the parapet she’d been sitting on and gave Juack a stern look.

“I…he…I was so caught up in fighting, I didn’t notice him!” He said defensively. “I…I have to find him.”

Idiot. Do you even realize that you’re a thief? You’ve both had your share of jail time after getting caught, and neither of you could ever break the other out before his sentence was up. That was just for everyday pick pocketing and stealing from a vendor. He was caught trespassing on the castle grounds. On the castle ramparts! Do you honestly believe you can break in and get him out?

“I have to try.” Juack said. He carefully got to his feet and walked to the trapdoor, preparing to lower himself in. As soon as one foot reached inside, he felt a powerful force stop him from moving it lower. He grunted and shoved his foot hard downwards, but whatever was stopping him from moving forward wouldn’t budge.

I can’t let you do this. You’re going to get yourself imprisoned. Or worse: killed. Leave now, Juack, and you will live another day.

“You know I can’t do that.” Juack said sadly. “He’s my best friend. My partner in crime. I can’t just leave him.” He looked back to Mekara, who gave him a look that almost seemed to say, ‘I understand’. He looked hopefully at her, and she rolled her feline eyes.

Very well, Juack Hallavasso. I will not hinder your efforts. But know this: you will not have my help in this attempt, nor will Girus should you rescue him. I would be careful if I were you. Because I’m not going to be there tonight.

With those bitter words hanging in the air, Mekara’s fur began to glow a slight blue and she lifted off of the parapet, hovering in midair. She then turned her back to Juack and vanished, presumably flying off into the night.

Without warning, the force keeping Juack from falling through the trapdoor vanished, and he tumbled feet-first into the room below. There was a sickening creak from his ankle as he landed awkwardly on it, and he fell onto his back.

He groaned in pain as he laid there, the will to move all but gone. He waited for a long minute before accepting that nobody was in the room and lurched forward to sit himself up. The pain in his ankle was hot and throbbing, but manageable enough for him to be mobile.

He slowly stood up and found himself in what was apparently a small storage room. There were several piles of crates stacked around him, some labeled as cleaning supplies, others marked as medical. As the pain in his leg spiked again, he found a box labeled as medical supplies and, using the crowbar that was hanging neatly on a nearby wall, pried it open.

In it he found several rolls of bandages and bottles of pain relieving medicine among a few (Presumably) medicinal herbs. He carefully picked up a roll of bandages and a bottle of the medicine and sat down on the stony floor. He then found where his wound was and, after aligning his foot in the most comfortable position, wrapped the bandages around it several times.

Once the cloth stopped his foot from moving too much, he cut the gauze with his dagger and then cut a second strip off of the roll. He wrapped the second strip around his leg over the first, and tied it off at the end to stop the first from unraveling. He then popped the cork from the bottle of pain reliever and guzzled down a few swallows. Though the taste was less than pleasant, he managed to keep his retch in and carefully stood up.

He quietly moved to the door and tried the doorknob, and when it worked, opened the door a crack. He looked outward as best as he could, and when he saw nothing but an empty staircase leading down, he carefully opened the door all the way. The well-oiled hinge glided open silently, and Juack painfully set out down the stairs.
There were no sentries posted even along the doors he encountered as he limped down the carpeted spiral staircase. Nobody to guard the expensive-looking paintings detailing lush country land, rich nobles who had visited in the past, and even those of the king himself.

That one caught his eye as he made his way down: a portrait of the king. Oddly enough, though, there was an additional feature added on to the vision of the king that everybody living in Oherron had. Though the portrait portrayed his long, neatly tied black hair, his unusual garb of a black long-sleeved t-shirt and skintight black pants, and slightly unnerving piercing gaze, it also gave him two extra feathered appendages growing from his back.

Juack gave it a hard look and furrowed his brow. Why would there be a portrait of the king with wings? It wasn’t like the king to have such thoughts of flying above the countryside. Plus, who in his right mind would request such a painting?

Despite his concerns, he managed to break his gaze and continue down the stairs, passing similar paintings (Though no more of the king). When he finally reached the bottom, he met another wooden door that would probably take him out to the main hall of the castle. As with the first one, he first opened it very slightly to let himself look out into wherever the door led.

He had been correct – using a mirror that had been positioned on the wall at head height, he was able to make out the large front gate that he had just an hour ago seen from the outside. But what surprised him was that there were, once again, no guards patrolling the area, no sentinels waiting to ambush him, and nobody watching over the tapestries depicting great battles that the warriors of Oherron had fought in the past.

He felt uneasy as he stepped through the door. This wasn’t right. There should have been somebody watching over the fine artwork that was obviously worth great value to the king. Somebody to look out for any intruders such as Juack. Someone to ensure that nobody could enter unannounced.

As he walked towards the grand twin staircases that connected the second floor to the foyer, he looked to his right to see the huge golden, ornamental double-doors that he knew must go to the throne room. Despite his urges to see where the king ruled from, he stepped down the staircase and looked around for the two suits of armor and the door between them that would bring him down to the dungeons.

Despite his lack of experience in actually infiltrating a castle, he knew from Caelus’ experiences that the dungeon – a place where the young thief’s mentor had been many times – was located just to the right of the entrance to the castle. Despite its appearance (A seemingly weak decayed wooden door), it was apparently enchanted with magic of Mekara’s caliber to stop intruders or escapees.

He carefully stepped down the stairs, silently praising the carpet for its noise muffling effect, and made his away across the torchlit foyer to the door. He carefully made a cursory examination of the door, making sure there were no traps that would explode in his face should he open it. He then put a single finger out and reached for the door.
A spark suddenly jumped from the door to his finger, and he pulled his hand back reflexively. Obviously, the king had trapped the door with some sort of magic, not conventional traps that could be defeated. This would have been a job for Mekara, if she was still speaking to him. Which she wasn’t.

Juack made a short trek around the room to see if there was anything he could do to break into the dungeon. But there was nothing; no switch, no button, and no anti-magic weapon or item to disable the magic field. He was mere feet from Girus, yet he may as well have been thousands of miles away for all the progress he was making.

“Stuck, Juack?” A voice suddenly called out from the top of the stairs. Juack’s head snapped up to see who was speaking, and his stomach dropped into his feet. For standing there was none other than Audric Enoj, Captain of the Royal Guard, standing between a dozen troops. All of them – including Audric himself – were armed with loaded crossbows, each one pointed at Juack’s chest.

“Au-Audric.” Juack swallowed hard and glanced towards the main entrance to the castle. But it seemed like it was miles away, and with his twisted ankle he was going nowhere fast. He wouldn't get within three paces of the door before half a dozen crossbow bolts reached his back.

“Please, try it.” Audric gave him a sadistic grin. “My men haven’t found anything all day, and I’m sure they’re restless.” He patted one of his guards on the back. “I could order him to shoot, and nobody would find your body.”

Juack swallowed again and took a single step backward. Audric raised his hand, and one guard fired a warning shot that hit the ground behind Juack, taking a small slice of skin from his cheek as it passed. Audric frowned and continued speaking.

“Unfortunately, the king has ordered me to take you alive. So if you die, I don’t get paid…” He let out a fake sort of sigh. “If I weren’t so devoted to following Lord Kukua, I might kill you and take the punishment – a sort of revenge for all that you’ve put me through.”

Juack cringed at the threat. He had done a lot to the captain. From stealing purses right under his nose to dropping ripe fruit on his head, Juack had been a nuisance to the leader of the guards.

“To the dungeons with him." Audric ordered. "And feel free to be a little rough...think of how often he's embarrassed us out in public."

“Sir!” One troop barked, and all twelve saluted. Six of them then ran down the stairs to reach Juack, bind his arms behind him, and shove him bodily towards the magically defended door.

Immediately, Juack felt an intense pain spike through his entire body. The spark that had jumped to his hand earlier was suddenly multiplied a hundredfold as his world turned white. He tried to gasp in shock, but the force of the magic ripped the scream out of him before he could give it breath. He pushed away from the door, but it held him fast as though it were a magnet. Finally, a few seconds later, the force was shut off, and he fell to the ground, entire body tingling. The thief tried to speak up, but the strange magic had torn the will and voice out of him. He couldn’t even open his mouth, much less speak. He just lay there mutely as the guards picked him up and threw him over a shoulder. The door opened, and they descended some number of steps to a small prison area.

Despite his condition, Juack was able to identify four separate cells, each one covered in a thin layer of hay and straw, and four torches lighting the barred rooms on the wall opposite each cell door. Of the six who had come down to capture him, only two had entered the prison; one to open the door to the cell (Which he did) and the other to toss him in unceremoniously.

He landed hard on the stone floor, and whatever little breath had finally returned to him after his encounter was knocked out of him again. He groaned painfully as the door was locked, and was just able to pull himself up to a sitting position as both guards left the room.

It took him a good ten minutes or so to finally recover after his painful meeting with the door. It was then that he was finally able to notice the other prisoner sitting in the cell adjacent to his.

But against all his hopes, it was not Girus. Instead of finding his friend, Juack found what appeared to be a middle-aged woman wearing dirty and torn red robes. Surprisingly enough, however, unlike the rounded ears that the inhabitants of Oherron had, this woman’s ears had pointed tips like Juack’s. Could she be another survivor of the disaster at Jilaki? But the robes…maybe another mage like Mekara?

Regardless of what she really was, Juack’s cellmate was unconscious and refused to respond to his attempts to wake her up. After a few minutes of attempts, he gave up and managed to pull a pile of straw into a corner, where it wouldn’t be much help as a pillow but better than the stone floor.
Despite all of his thoughts of lying in sleeplessness, his wounds began to tire his body out, and he began to drift off. Just as his mind began to shut down for the night, he thought he heard Mekara’s voice in his head one last time.

I hate to say I told you so, but…

very nice