Nocturnal - A Thief Never Tells

Nocturnal - Blackout in the sewer

"Action house you dos something quest" - Gaiden Shinji

Ok. Right. So, you're in the HOUSE. You are it is in Skingrad where you got a skin graft for your pox. You inhaled deeply. You had done this kind of thing before. Stealing that is. Because you were very poor due to the recession going on. The Great Depression of Cyrodiil, brought on by the civil war. It had hit hard, the stock market was in shambles. Orphans everywhere, their homes burned to the groud their parents hung drawn and quarted for being talos worshippers. The Thalmor have set up a strict no stealing policy, to the chagrin of everyone who liked theft. You see, you were a kleptomaniac, you stole for joy but also as a ploy for money?// You were in Barthirs house, the long lost cousin of Glarthirs house, who was very very old noew!!!!!! "Ew, aren't the old disgusting," read a sign.Another sign said "Yes, death to the old, in with the new!!!!!" Barthir was a sign maker, he produced and decorated all the signs in Tamriel, he was very rich like Mr Birling. He specialised in ageist signs, which were a common commission in Skingrad, but also Hackdirt, the most beautiful and scenic of towns. A rural Cyrodiilic village, to be sure. Idyllic like Miraak.

Anyway, you were to steal shiny silver plates, a roll of cloth, yarn, clay pots, a paintbrush and some shiny shoes, that squeak when you walk. This would put you on the map! A heist of this calibre hadn't been seen since the Oblivion Crisis, when that Guy stole that special scroll from that big Palace in The Imperial City I don't know. TIME TO STEAL A SWEETROLL!

Anyway, you had picked the lock to the house with a stick of rock. Don't worry it was sugar free! No trace for the Imperial Watch to find! Sugar was your calling card you see.

You snuk in quietly without hassle. You good gear Gartir no wait barthor... breathing from the top floor, through his nose, he was congested. Good, his nose would distract him from the clip clapping of your footsteps. You step on all the rugs only, as it makes less noise because the rugs are so thick they absorb 90% of all sound. They are lined with ridges to bounce the sound betwixt, meaning the sound cannot escape. Because of this increased surface area, the rug could be extended to 15 miles! "Impressive, if I do say so myself" said the narrator. Barthir stirred, he had heard the Narrator, and was deeply ceoncerned. He was the CEO of being concerned, or so say his signs. He's a loser because. Not as cool as an Executive Vice President, amirite???!!!!!????!!!! GO CBARBERS!! WE LOVE YOU DEAR READER! SO CLEVER, TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD HAHAHA.

You swiped his clothes from his back and his laundry, but later gave it to beggars because the beggars are the eyes and ears of the Gray Fox, exclaimed the signs and the Narrator. You loved the Gray Fox dearly, like a father. Because you assumed he was your father. You knew it, felt it in your nape.

The light was low, and while you were searching for more clay pots, you tripped on a pile of books and knocked a shelf. You whipped your head round, and Bathir was upright in bed, but eyes closes still. Strange. But he was strange, like his cousin was. Mad as a sign maker, as some would say, as the common idiom goes. You looked back at the fallen shelf. Books and old letters had fallen haphazardly, all over the floor! You hurriedly tried to put everything back, but as you were doing so, a letter with the most enormous stamp you'd ever seen, caught your eye. It had the Gray Cowl on it and was signed from the Gray Fox, 2 Dareloth Street, Imperial City Waterfront MIDNIGHT. You gasped and grasped the letter. But ALAS, the gasp had alerted Barthir. You turned and he was right behind, eyes closed still, looming, unnatural. "Is someone there?" He said, in a voice that didn't sound like his own. Low, gravelly, like you he wasn't the only presence in the room... (NOT COUNTING THE NARRATOR OF COURSE WE LOVE YOUUUU!)

"NO!" And you made a mad dash to the window where you threw yourself out head first, leg second, feet last. Your torso you didn't count because you didn't know where it began or ended. The letter was still clutched in your hardy left hand, not your foul right hand which we do not speak of, which had the Pox.