Post by Mercy on Jan 21, 2014 4:33:34 GMT -5
She barely dared to breathe as she manipulated the thin pick held deftly between forefinger and thumb, tiny controlled twitches of her hand coaxing the tumblers within the lock. Metal scraped against metal with what seemed like a deafening screech in the silence of the Manse, the darkelf freezing in place as the sought after "click" sounded within sensitive ears as the tumblers fell into place. She remained crouched against the door for a moment more before gracefully unfolding and resting a gloved hand against the doorknob. It turned easily, granting her access to the room beyond.
Without a seconds hesitation she swept into the study and closed the door quietly behind her.
The study was a small room filled from floor to ceiling with books, scrolls, parchments and various trinkets of all shapes and sizes. The owner of the manse was not particularly scholarly, but he liked to maintain an air of dignified intelligence and in order to do so he maintained a collection. Any travelling merchant who dared to boast of finding a rare or valuable text was soon set upon by Ser Harrowmans retainer haggling the price. Once word had got around "rare and valuable" bits of paper were most ubiquitous and popping up all over the city. Most of his collection wasn't nearly as prestigious as he would like to believe, but there were a few items of genuine interest. Which was where Mercy came in.
Moving like a purebred cat she quickly scanned the many tomes offered by the bookshelves, occasionally stopping to flick through the pages before putting them back. Finally her fingers rested upon the object of her little night time jaunt, the book carefully extracted from the confines of the shelf and lovingly nestled within the small pack she carried. A smile of satisfaction for a job well done found its way upon her lips, the darkelf turning around and heading towards the door before something attracted her from the corner of her eye.
It was a statue of an unclothed woman with her arms stretched high above her head. Normally such tawdry decoration wouldn't have peaked her interest, but the statue appeared to be hewn from a single piece of glittering crystal, and so her natural curiosity encouraged her to turn away from the door and inspect the piece. It was large and well made, the curves of her body smoothed down with the patience and care of a master craftsman. Tilting her head this way and that, she wagered she could get a few hundred gold for the piece even assuming the material was that of a more common gemstone. Weighing the pros and cons, she decided that there was room enough in her pack for the statue and reached out a hand for it.
It was then that she felt the world move.
Something inside of her body twisted unpleasantly as her fingers curled around the waist of the statuette, the feeling that her soul was being tugged at little by little until it was suddenly being pulled forward and her body was being forced to follow suit or tear itself apart. Sparks danced in front of her eyes and abruptly she couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't even feel the statuette beneath her touch. She blacked out.
When she finally drifted back into consciousness she did not open her eyes immediately. Breathing slowly, she kept her form as relaxed and calm as possible while she strained her ears for any sign of movement or discovery, opening them in confusion when the sound of a bird high in the trees released its morning song upon the world and shattered her mental perceptions. The view was blurred at first but gradually came into focus, and she discovered that she was lying prone in a forest. Pushing herself up into a seated position, her initial thought was that she had fallen victim to a tactile poison that had somehow gotten through her gloves and knocked her out despite her resistances. This idea was discarded quickly however, if she had been caught out by one of the Manse traps she would have woken in a prison cell - not some .. forest. So what had happened?
Shifting her body she took stock of her physical situation. Everything appeared to be in order, her pack was still open with the contents intact, though there was no sign of the statue. Her clothes had not been interfered with - so whoever had dumped her out here had at least been a gentleman. But why hadn’t they turned her in to the authorities .. ?
Her head was starting to pound so she pressed the heel of a gloved hand to her forehead and closed her eyes tight. There was something unsettling about what had happened beyond the obvious, but she couldn’t put her finger on it and thinking felt like trying to nail water to the wall, her thoughts kept slipping away. Heaving a sigh, she rose to her feet with a fraction of her earlier grace and looked out at the surrounding trees, pulling her hood up over snow white hair and shielding her eyes. She was not at home in a forest.
Without a seconds hesitation she swept into the study and closed the door quietly behind her.
The study was a small room filled from floor to ceiling with books, scrolls, parchments and various trinkets of all shapes and sizes. The owner of the manse was not particularly scholarly, but he liked to maintain an air of dignified intelligence and in order to do so he maintained a collection. Any travelling merchant who dared to boast of finding a rare or valuable text was soon set upon by Ser Harrowmans retainer haggling the price. Once word had got around "rare and valuable" bits of paper were most ubiquitous and popping up all over the city. Most of his collection wasn't nearly as prestigious as he would like to believe, but there were a few items of genuine interest. Which was where Mercy came in.
Moving like a purebred cat she quickly scanned the many tomes offered by the bookshelves, occasionally stopping to flick through the pages before putting them back. Finally her fingers rested upon the object of her little night time jaunt, the book carefully extracted from the confines of the shelf and lovingly nestled within the small pack she carried. A smile of satisfaction for a job well done found its way upon her lips, the darkelf turning around and heading towards the door before something attracted her from the corner of her eye.
It was a statue of an unclothed woman with her arms stretched high above her head. Normally such tawdry decoration wouldn't have peaked her interest, but the statue appeared to be hewn from a single piece of glittering crystal, and so her natural curiosity encouraged her to turn away from the door and inspect the piece. It was large and well made, the curves of her body smoothed down with the patience and care of a master craftsman. Tilting her head this way and that, she wagered she could get a few hundred gold for the piece even assuming the material was that of a more common gemstone. Weighing the pros and cons, she decided that there was room enough in her pack for the statue and reached out a hand for it.
It was then that she felt the world move.
Something inside of her body twisted unpleasantly as her fingers curled around the waist of the statuette, the feeling that her soul was being tugged at little by little until it was suddenly being pulled forward and her body was being forced to follow suit or tear itself apart. Sparks danced in front of her eyes and abruptly she couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't even feel the statuette beneath her touch. She blacked out.
When she finally drifted back into consciousness she did not open her eyes immediately. Breathing slowly, she kept her form as relaxed and calm as possible while she strained her ears for any sign of movement or discovery, opening them in confusion when the sound of a bird high in the trees released its morning song upon the world and shattered her mental perceptions. The view was blurred at first but gradually came into focus, and she discovered that she was lying prone in a forest. Pushing herself up into a seated position, her initial thought was that she had fallen victim to a tactile poison that had somehow gotten through her gloves and knocked her out despite her resistances. This idea was discarded quickly however, if she had been caught out by one of the Manse traps she would have woken in a prison cell - not some .. forest. So what had happened?
Shifting her body she took stock of her physical situation. Everything appeared to be in order, her pack was still open with the contents intact, though there was no sign of the statue. Her clothes had not been interfered with - so whoever had dumped her out here had at least been a gentleman. But why hadn’t they turned her in to the authorities .. ?
Her head was starting to pound so she pressed the heel of a gloved hand to her forehead and closed her eyes tight. There was something unsettling about what had happened beyond the obvious, but she couldn’t put her finger on it and thinking felt like trying to nail water to the wall, her thoughts kept slipping away. Heaving a sigh, she rose to her feet with a fraction of her earlier grace and looked out at the surrounding trees, pulling her hood up over snow white hair and shielding her eyes. She was not at home in a forest.
