The Banishment of Greypaw.
Chapter one,

Greypaw clamped down his mouth, forcing his heavy breathing to shallow. The dust from the old sack he had hurriedly pulled over himself was beginning to irritate his nose. ‘Silence’ he whispered to himself, as he began to breathe more slowly, almost no breath at all. This was a trick he has practised at great length, nearly able to stop breathing for four minutes now, lowering his body to a state of absolute stillness. It had saved him many times already.

“There! Check that alley…. You, check that cart” he heard the voice that could only belong to Lutenant Grawl, the guards already breathing heavily from the chase he had lead them on through the streets and back alleys of Shar Vahl. He chuckled to himself, he had heard that Grawl had been getting a hard time from his superiors, mainly due to Greypaw escaping from him many times now. Greypaw loved the rush of excitement…! The city guard, supposedly second only to the kings royal bodyguards, and they were putty in his hands. Sometimes after a job he would purposely get seen so the could enjoy a good chase.

“Just a vendors cart and some rubbish sir” a voice shouted from just above him, “nothing here”, and then a voice further away, “there’s another alley here sir, he may have gone this way”

“Aaaarh, I want this thief found NOW, he has evaded me too many times. That alley there… MOVE IT”

The footsteps ran off down the alley as Greypaw pulled off the sack and looked around. He was alone! He scaled the wall of the building that made up one side of the deserted street with ease. His claws giving him extra purchase on the rough stone surface. From the high vantage point he scanned the streets, he could hear the city guard a way off running up the cobbled back alleys and dark streets. ‘Fools’ he thought, as he crossed the roof and dropped silently down to another street. Almost wrath like, he pulled his dark cloak around him and ran, not making a sound, his ears twitching searching for the sounds of the guards. The dark shadows on the deserted streets almost wove themselves into his cloak, making Grey appear to be gust another shadow.

He reached a deserted building, doors and windows barred, Its tired crumbling walls looking like they could give way any moment. A quick glance behind assured that he was alone and then a jump and another scramble took him up onto its flat roof. The trapdoor was locked, but well known to a select few. The Old One looked after his own. Seconds later it was open and he dropped through. Turning he closed the trapdoor and with a few deft hand movements, it was locked and his picks disappeared back into a fold in his clothing.

The interior was bare, but even a simple glance at the walls would reveal that this building was far better cared for than the exterior would show. He ghosted down the stairs and into the main room, searching for a specific spot he inserted a claw into a thin gap in the floorboards, and pulled. Another trapdoor, this one invisible to the naked eye opened and he quickly dropped through the hole and into the sewers.

Despite the darkness his feline eyes easily picked out the way, not that he needed them. The sewers of the city were well known to him and used by a number of the more unsavoury inhabitants of Shir Val, those who wish to travel unseen and unnoticed. The old tunnels also hide one of the entrances to The Beggars Halls, a network of caves deep beneath the city, which are home to many, Greypaw included.

Greypaw moved swiftly through the tunnels, and soon came to a dark hole where the side of the sewer had caved in. He ducked into it and entered a large cave, one of the entrances to The Beggars Halls. Although he could not see them, he knew he was being watched and he guessed that at least three crossbows aimed at him. He continued in, the watchers would recognise him. Any stranger trying to enter the Halls would be approached and either be allowed to do business here in the first cave, or find themselves floating out of the sewer face down with a bolt in their back. No stranger would ever be permitted to go further into the Halls.

Grey moved in, unchallenged, and followed the twists and turns of the passages to his own cave, the place he has called home for many years now. Pulling back the rather ornate tapestry that gave his home some privacy, he walked into his cave. It was furnished with luxurious items, many drapes and decorative items hung from the walls, covering the bare rock. A large table was covered with a large assortment of weapons, vials and glass jars holding different powders and roots, a few items of jewellery strewn carelessly around, like toys discarded by a bored child. In one corner a stone topped workbench covered with various vials, suspensions and evil looking components. A few vials of dank looking liquids stand along a shelf, along with a number of sharp looking knives.

Allowing the curtain to fall, he walks across the room, casually throwing his dark floorlength cloak across a large chair, its weighted hem slowly pulling it to the floor. Suddenly he flicks his wrists quickly and a dagger drops into each paw, spinning, he drops into a crouch, his hands a blur of motion and the daggers fly from his grasp and thunk into a wooden target fixed to the wall. Suddenly from behind him the curtain is drawn back and a breathless young Vah Shir runs in, Greypaw spins again, his hand snatches a slim blade from his belt, ready to throw…

“Grey” he gasps, ”the Old One… he wants to see you”

“Fer’al, don’t run in here like that, I nearly put a hole in you” the blade is quickly slipped back into his belt as he moves forward to greet his breathless friend.

“Your jumpy tonight Grey” he said, as they grasped each other’s left shoulder in greeting.

“Been playing with the guard, after a job, gets me worked up a little” he said with a grin. “So, what’s the Old One want?”

“Dunno, he’s been agitated all evening.” Name scratches behind his ear and collapses into the big chair, relaxing now he has delivered his message. Greypaw pulled a soft leather pouch from the folds in his shirt, weighing it in his hand for a moment he tosses it across to Fer’al, “see what you can get for these” with a wink, “a donation from the good people of Shar Vahl. I better go see what he wants.”

Greypaw sighed to himself as he reached down to pick up his cloak, thoughts running through his mind, a summons from the Old One can rarely be good. With a flourish he spins the rough dark cloak round and over his shoulders, stepping up to the wooden target on the wall, he grasps the hilts of the two daggers there, he pulls them out, and as quickly as they appeared, he slips them up into the sleeves in his shirt.

Fer’al smiled “you don’t need them surely”

With a grin, Greypaw turns to Fer’al and traces a small pattern in the air with his hand, his wrist twists and suddenly a wicked looking throwing knife appears in his hand, then he waves his other hand across it… leaving both hands empty…

“Never leave home without em!” Laughing he steps through the curtain and heads off down the tunnel to his appointment.

Edited by: Pootlepennypincher at: 12/23/03 7:38 am