The deep, clear chime of the Torregiano clock tower bell rang through the relative stillness of the crisp, cool night air, marking the midnight hour for all to hear. Torregiano was a city that never really slept, and not simply due to a criminal element, either; because of the proximity of the Tripower Tower, these streets always had guards patrolling, and the makou gas lamps dispelled many of the deeper shadows, making it difficult to remain hidden.
The perfect challenge, thought Tarran to himself as he takes advantage of the guards' momentary distraction to duck into another shadowed alley. Luck, he thought to himself.. they didn't notice. Dressed all in loose-fitting black clothing, the dark-haired young man blended in nearly seamlessly with the darkness about, granting him a moment's respite. He wasn't actually trying to steal anything tonight; this was just a practice run. Even if he were caught, there was nothing they could charge him with... this time. Not that it was likely; Tarran was very good at what he did, partly because he was always practicing, and partly because he was simply lucky.
Luck had always been with Tarran. He couldn't explain why, exactly, although his stepfather had mentioned once that it was a strange side-effect of the clash between light and darkness within him. Circumstances surrounding Tarran's birth had been odd, but what exactly had happened he didn't really know. What he did know was that the good fortune had saved him more than once; while not infallible, it was reliable enough that he'd come to depend on it in certain situations. Like tonight.
With a smooth underhand motion, Tarran casually tosses a few pebbles towards the other side of the street; the momentary clatter is enough to cause the guard to look the other way. With a single smooth motion, Tarran grasps the windowsill set into the stone of the building he pressed against; planting both feet on the sill, it was a simple matter to reach up for the edge of the roof and swing himself up. Quickly, he ducks down, laying flat on the roof just as the guard turns away from the alley he'd been investigating. Perfect, he thought to himself. Even here the guards tended not to look up. If only his mother could see him now, the young thief mused.
His mother. Now there was an interesting puzzle. It had been a few days now since she had supposedly left on her fool journey north to find the man named Throm. It was unusual for her; Sanria wasn't much of a traveler. Of course, for most of Tarran's life she'd been in a state of severe depression... maybe this wasn't that unusual for her. Leaving without any supplies, maps, or a plan, though... that was oddly typical. It was a recipe for disaster; and of course, he couldn't have gone with her to make sure she stayed in line. He had business to attend to here... not to mention, local Westbridge authorities were still after him about that misunderstanding at the Huntington estate... There was nothing to be worried about, though. He'd taken steps to ensure Sanria's safety (and, of course, his own amusement). She'd thank him later for it... probably.
It was time to get moving. Smoothly, Tarran rises to his feet, running nearly silently over the roof of the building. Fortunately for him, the shops in this district were packed in tightly; it took little effort to leap from one rooftop to the next. Moving silently was the key here; guards wouldn't be watching for him, but they would be listening, and a telltale scrape of his leather-soled shoes against stone could alert them. He didn't care to be shot at tonight, particularly since his stepfather was away...
Tarran had found an unlikely ally in his estranged stepfather, Thasmudyan. The life of a professional thief was a dangerous one, and despite his luck Tarran did occasionally find himself on the losing end of a fight (though he'd never actually admit it). Because of this, he had acquired a healthy respect for anyone with healing talents... and his stepfather, who had dedicated his life (this one, at least) to those talents, in particular. He'd even come back from the dead to do it... or perhaps to aggravate Sanria, at least to hear her tell it. Whatever his reasons for coming back to life, one thing was certain; while he'd gotten older, he'd also gotten a heck of a lot more powerful. He'd be able to protect Sanria, if nothing else. And fortunately for Tarran, Thasmudyan didn't appear to hold on to any of his old loyalties with the Order of Judgement and the Tripower.
What he did hold on to, also fortunately, was a desire to protect Sanria. As such, when Tarran had showed up and explained the situation, it didn't take a lot of convincing to get the old man to go after her. Oh sure, he'd tried to affect that weird 'don't care' mannerism of his, but it wasn't fooling Tarran any. So now the both of them were off to the frozen north... leaving the young thief to his own devices. Which was how he preferred it, after all.
"Hey! You there! Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Damnit, Tarran thought to himself as he started running, ducking quickly as a crossbow bolt whizzed through the air, just missing him. One of the bastards must have looked up. Oh well, time to get out of here... practice session was over.
