Easy Pickings

Easy Pickings is the third of three stories about the "Thieves", Sarcoth and Malokar.

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"Whatever you take, do not wear the boned ring. It is curs..." the old man's words ended abruptly as a pair of powerful hands snapped his frail neck.

Sarcoth glared at the owner of the murderous hands. "You didn't have to kill him, Malokar."
The dark haired figure watched as the limp body slumped over, and collapsed onto the floor.
"I'd rather not have any distractions. Let's take what we can."
The two turned their attention to the bedroom. Satin sheets lined the massive, intricately carved bed. Soft moonlight crept into the room from a window ledge, as the curtains flowed in the gentle evening breeze. Methodically, the two began opening drawers, their trained eyes looking for secret latches and hidden compartments. It was Sarcoth who found the first one, a double bottom to a drawer far too deep. Peeling it open, the soft moonlight made the diamonds and gemstones glitter. Malokar found the second compartment, a push-latch for a storage bin under the extravagant bed. Malokar noticed a slender string tightly wound around the hinge of the opening, and shot a glance to Sarcoth. Without a word, Sarcoth tossed a small tool, which was deftly caught by the other thief in the dim light. Two snips later, the trap was disarmed, and the dark haired Malokar opened the bed's compartment.No word was spoken as the two set down and opened their packs, carefully stuffing the precious gems, jewelery, and trinkets inside.
Sarcoth stitched his pack closed, and took another look around the room. His glance stopped at a painting of a prominent Doglus, presumably the original owner of this estate. Malokar looked up at Sarcoth, and nodded, finishing his looting, and tying his own pack up. The two approached the painting, and carefully pulled it off the wall. A hefty safe was embedded in the wall, complete with an impressive cam locking mechanism. Sarcoth looked towards Malokar, who simply raised his hands and stepped back. The thief stared at the device for a moment, his fingers wiggling by his side, while Malokar began to look for other secrets within the room. The finger wiggling stopped, and Sarcoth approached the safe carefully putting his ear against the iron door. His fingers began to slowly turn the tumbler, his eyes closed and senses focused. Hearing a distinct sound, he rotated the dial back a slight notch, and began to rotate slowly in the other direction. Hearing yet another click, he stopped, and looked at Malokar. The other thief shrugged. Both knew full well how deadly a trap a Doglus would put on such a secure safe. Taking a deep breath, Sarcoth turned the latch, and the safe opened smoothly. A single wooden case lay inside the safe, but it was the red darts that caught Sarcoth's eye. A few inches inside of the safe, poison tipped darts strained against a slender cord, poised to bring a short end to any who dared to pilfer the contents. They were barely visible in the twilight, but unmistakable nonetheless. Sarcoth turned to Malokar, who had by now returned empty handed. The two stared at the safe for a short moment, before Malokar, saying nothing, reached inside and pulled out the wooden box. With his other hand, he closed the door. The sound of darts striking the safe door could be heard a short second later.
"Bouroxian made traps." Malokar quipped.
The master lock pick smirked, and Malokar stuffed the wooden pouch into his comrade's pack.
Tightening the straps, the two left the way they came, stepping out through a side window several rooms down, and ascending a rope left dangling from above.
They silently scurried across the rooftops, making their way to the brick wall of the estate. A short climb later, they were safely out of danger, and back onto the city streets. They split up, each taking their own path back towards their thieves den.

Sarcoth arrived first, and began emptying his pack on the cloth covered table. Malokar came in a few minutes later, and

"So, good find, eh, Sarc?"The other rogue said nothing, continuing to separate the gems from the jewelery, quickly appraising each.
"So, what was in the box, man?" Malokar began, trying to garner a response out of the quiet Sarcoth.
Sarcoth didn't look up, merely pointing towards his pouch on the floor near the table.
Malokar leaned over, and pulled the oak jewelery case out, admiring the fine craftsmanship.
"You didn't have to kill that old man." he began, his eyes still examining a ruby in his gloved hand.
Malokar shrugged. "I told you, I'd rather not have any complications. He was practically rotting as it was. Damned house slaves."
Sarcoth set the ruby into a pile of other gems. It was flawless enough to cause problems when they would go to hawk it. The two glared at each other for a moment, Malokar finally breaking the silence by tossing the wooden box onto the table.
"You've gotten soft Sarcoth."
"We're thieves, not murderers."
"Not much difference."
"You can't see the difference?"
"They won't care whether we take their things, or kill their things. In the end, it doesn't really matter. Those who don't fight to be free are just dead inside."
"Not everyone is willing to live the life of a freeman."
"And not everyone deserves to live. Ever since that revolt, you've been getting all weird on me Sarc. It is just me and you out here, man. We're all we've got. Ain't no one looking out for you out there but me."
"Just cool your temper next time, Mal."
"Yea." Malokar smiled, and pointed at the box. "Let's a take a look see, eh?"
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"Hey, I think this is the ring that old man was talking about..."
"Looks pretty worthless."
To this, Malokar only kept grinning, looking at the small ring in his hands. It looked like it would fit him perfectly. It was a white, simple ivory band. Etched into the ring were strange symbols, the likes of which Malokar had never seen.
"I'll take it then."
Sarcoth shrugged, and went back to staring at a diamond studded ring.

Malokar set the ring aside, and started putting the crystals inside of black gem pouches. It was rarely hard to find a buyer when the bounty was this lavish. Finding a buyer who both would both pay top coin and not be a snitch would mean traveling far from the city.

Sarcoth finished sorting through the trinkets, and helped Malokar with stuffing them into pouches.
"I'll head to Hartak to talk to Syl," he started. "Might as well leave now. Should take about a week or so, depending on the slave riders. See if Dimples can help you off-load the cheap shit."

"Yea." Malokar chuckled. "The cheap shit should keep you and me set for a while. You want me to stash your cut somewhere, or just hang onto it till you get back?"

Sarcoth stuffed the bags of harder to pawn off jewelery into his pack, and threw it over his shoulders. "Hang onto it. I'll be back with your cut from Syl in a few days. And Mal..."

"Yea, yea, I'll watch the temper. Get movin' wiggly fingers. Sooner you get back, sooner I can enjoy this break."
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"Eh, tweny skah for the gorget."
The dark-skinned man tossed the gorget back onto a cloth, laid out over a cutting table in the back of a grease filled kitchen.
"Thirty, you rat bastard. I hawked you a piece better than that last week for less."
"Yea, well times are tough, Mally-boy."
"Dimps, don't try your tough talk on me. You triple up on damn near everything I get you. I don't care much cause you're good for the money. But you, and me, we both know what this is worth, and both know where you'll pawn em."
"Well, this ain't worth that, not to them."
"Thirty or I'll take my stuff to Squirrel. He thinks contrary."
Dimples looked around the kitchen, distraught. His face winced a few times.
"Right, right. Thirty for the gorget."
"And fifty for the medallion."
"What?!"
"I didn't stutter."
"Whatever. God damn you Mal, sometimes I wonder who you're stealin' from."
"We keep each other in business, baby face. If it wasn't for me, you'd be where you were three years ago."
The cook's eyes glanced at his own wrist for a split second. Years of wearing shackles had etched marks into his arm. It was a silent testament to a life no longer lived.
"What the hell is this crap?" Dimples said, picking up a carved bone ring.
"Eh, I won't trouble you to try and sell that piece of junk."
"Yea, good, cause I don't want it!" The merchant dropped the ring on the counter, and it made a soft rattle. Malokar quickly snatched it up, and slipped it in his pocket.
The back-alley chef leaned over and looked into the dining room. The only patrons he had didn't look like they would be ordering any time soon.
"So, eight hundred twenty skah for the lot." Opening a drawer, he pulled out a few pouches of coins.
"Eight hundred twenty skah and fourty pence."
Dimples blinked.
"Seriously?"
Malokar's stoic face was enough of a reply.
He opened one, and dropped a few more pence inside. He looked up at Malokar, and nodded his head.
Malokar paused for a moment, his fingers toying with the ring in his pocket.
"What, you gonna count it now?"
Malokar snapped his attention back to the deal. "Nah," he smirked, "I know where you live."
"Yea, well good seein' you too, bastard. Now get the hell out of my shop."
Malokar smiled, tucking the pouches of coin into a secret pouch in his pack.
"Enjoy making noodles Dimps."
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Tool - The Pot
Malokar stood in the loft, looking out over the city. The sun was just starting to rise, and was casting odd shadows on the buildings beyond. Malokar smiled, and put his hands in his pockets, remarking at his good fortune.
His finger touched the bone ring, reminding him of his odd prize. Pulling it out, he peered at it, noting the odd runes carved over. The old man's words kept echoing in his mind. It was those words that had made him not put it on earlier. Yet such fears were long dead. The thought made Malokar chuckle to himself, as he slipped the ring onto a finger on his left hand. The grin faded instantly as a sharp pain ripped through Malokar's arm. Malokar's right arm shot to his left side, gripping his arm instinctively. The pain shot from his arm down to his leg. Malokar dropped to his knees instantly letting out a small gasp of pain. His right hand squeezed his left arm tightly, and slowly the pain began to subside. Malokar tried to pull himself up, and the pain surged through him again, this time coursing through his veins and through his entire body. Malokar clenched his left hand, and squeezed the ring, forcing his body into his control. He fought through the pain, demanding that his body listen to him. The pain intensified fighting back. Malokar simply squeezed his ring finger harder, his face contorting as he endured the agonizing pain. His lips remained silent as he took the pain quietly.
Malokar's arm felt as if it was on fire, but he let go of it with his right arm, and used it to brace himself on the floor as he again tried to stand up. The pain roared through his system again, but this time, Malokar simply braced his teeth and took the pain, snarling as he fought through the agony. His muscled rippled with strength as he tensed his entire body, squeezing the ring finger with all the power he could muster. He turned his clenched fist towards him, opening his eyes and staring at the circlet. It was no longer bone white. It was a color he had never seen before. It was a deep black, so dark it seemed to draw in light from around him.
"You are mine." he snarled, fighting against the pain, resisting the urge to open his fist and take off the ring. He began to stand one more time, staring down the ring as if it were a foe to be reckoned with. Once he got to his feet, a new pain shred through all his defenses and he crashed to the ground one more time.
The ring began to glow with a dark light. It was almost as if a strange smoke was coming from it, slowly pervading the air around Malokar. The black choking smoke began to take shape, forming a large man sized object in front of him.
The dark smoke figure turned what appeared to be its head towards him. In an instant, the smoke figure lost form, falling to the ground, spreading outwards around Malokar's collapsed form. Malokar began to gasp for air, but still fought, squeezing the ring. The smoke around the kneeling thief reformed, this time several dozen body forms surrounded Malokar, each as black as tar.
Malokar snarled, slowly standing up. The figure before Malokar began to take a more defined form, it's body becoming visible. It appeared to be a man wearing a full set of armor. Slowly eyes formed, glowing red orbs glaring at Malokar. The figure reached outstretched an open palm to Malokar, seeming to demand something. He felt each one of their voices booming inside his mind.
"You are not the one who binds us. You are not the one who wields us. Remove the ring!"
Malokar eyes simply glared back at the figure, his eyes squinting and face snarling in seething anger. Keeping his eyes locked onto the glowing red eyes, Malokar again stood up, defiant of the pain and the dark figure before him. The outstretched hand of the dark knight moved from an open palm, and slid down to a sword visible on his smokey body's right side. Ignoring the other dark knights standing around him, Malokar tried to charge at the Knight before him. The smoky figure had begun to solidify enough that one could make out a smile from the face of this dark knight. It seemed he was smiling at Malokar's defiance.
The other shadowy figures grabbed Malokar, and pinned him down to the ground, stopping his rush. Malokar's face slammed against the ground, but he still resisted the tremendous force of the figures, pushing up against their strength. The pain again surged through his veins, and Malokar let out another gasp of pain through clenched teeth. He kept his gaze on the knight before him, snarling at him from the floor, and not letting his eyes glance away from the figure's red eyes.
The shadow figure charged at Malokar, dispersing into a black haze and covering him entirely. His skin began to burn as the ash made its way into his flesh. Malokar began to realize that this knight was imbedding himself into him. As he realized this, he began to feel the weight of each of the other knights increase and dissipate as each of them too tore through his flesh and entwined themselves in his bones.
He could hold back the agonizing pain no longer, and by the third demon entering into him, Malokar was screaming wildly.
One by one the demons forced their way into his body, choking his eyes, ears, nose and throat with their acrid smoke. He forced each breath, fighting with his will to stay alive. He no longer tried to stand, writhing in pain on the floor, torn apart by the torture of being possessed.
As night arrived, he was still lying there. He had stopped coughing blood, but was still wheezing each breath. The pain he had felt so intensely was no longer there at all. Using both hands to brace himself now, he stood up. His left hand was still clenched tightly in a fist, his muscles locked from strenuous use. He used his other hand to slowly move each digit, until he again gained feeling and movement in his left hand.
The ring. It was still on his hand, its runic symbols still visible beneath the smoke. Malokar touched the ring, and it shattered. The pieces of it floated off into the air, now ashes themselves. It seemed as if his skin was still coated in that ash, as it was now a dark gray color.
He dragged himself to the water basin, and washed the blood, mucus and ash off his face.
Looking at himself in the mirror, he saw that he was not who he remembered. It was the same face, yet different. It wasn't that he was younger. He seemed more assured. More determined. More confident. There was no notable physical change, except for his hair. No longer was it the straight black hair he had remembered. It was now white, an icy white.