Member
mickilennial
Spike
Crimson Flame
Angstyrainbow
CitrusArms
Einherjar 906
Foster
Dragonydas
Xaltwind
BunniesOfDoom
Word Count: 1211 (+2 exp)
Level: 10 - Total EXP: 81/100
Monday Evening.
Location: Mafia Town, Deep Blue Seaside
𝙱𝙿 ●●●●●
It had been about a week since Therion had arrived in Mafia Town, alongside Juri, Ms. Fortune, and Captain Falcon. While he hadn't gone out of his way to avoid the other three, he usually only saw them when they met for a meal. Otherwise, he operated separately, doing his own thing. Most days were the same; in the mornings he'd make a few rounds to key spots in town, and by now he knew the places inside and out. His ears were always perked, catching the gossip and chatter of people discussing the last few days... which was how he'd learned about what his comrades were getting up to. After swiping breakfast for himself, and sometimes lunch, he'd restock his cache of pons for his nightly activity.
He spent nearly every night at a bar right on the shore, an old ship apparently having missed the docks and run aground a long time ago called The Rusty Rudder. It's clientele were dockworkers, sailors, and even some of the Mafia's goons - rough and tumble types that weren't shy about their conversations. It was, in Therion's opinion, the ideal place to overhear rumors and gather leads. So he became a regular, sometimes buying a round for the bar and sometimes sitting tucked away at a table and just listening in. Though he didn't have any solid leads just yet, he had managed to get some interesting information out of the place and it's patrons.
...but that wasn't where he currently was.
"If it ain't my new favorite stick-in-the-gunk," a light voice touched with an accent said as Therion pushed through a pair of saloon doors into Bottom Feeders. It was on the opposite side of the port from the Rusty Rudder, and even closer to the water. Usually there would be more than a few sentient sea creatures inside, but at the moment it was just Therion and the owner, who also happened to be the crab that ran the bar.
"It's a little early. Just opened, and I don't usually see ya in here 'til late," Nemma observed. That was true; at the other place the working men practically rushed to the bar after a long day, but by nightfall most of them either had left at a responsible hour or were so deep into their cups that they spoke nonsense or got belligerent. At that time of night Therion changed venues.
"I'm not staying long," he said as he approached the counter. He never did at Bottom Feeders. Few, if any humans frequented this place - the atmosphere of the usual crustacean and other sea life patrons a bit frosty toward them. For all intents and purposes, Therion was human. At least, he still considered himself as such. He resembled a regular man, if a little on the shorter side. A head of fluffy white hair hung to his shoulders, bleeding into blue and black at the tips with long bangs covering the left side of his face. He wore a checkered scarf over a set of simple leather armor dyed purple, as well as an iron manacle on his right wrist. What might have brought his humanity into question was the set of feline ears on his head, and the matching tail. Underground, those few animal traits were enough for the citizens to consider him as a 'monster' like them. But here, apparently, it wasn't enough; and on some nights the other patrons clammed up if he sat too near.
Nemma was really the only person who would give him the time of day, and it was probably only because he was a paying customer. She had two other mouths to feed at home, he'd learned, and needed all the pons she could get if her business was going to compete with the Mafia and every other place in town. Which means I might about to become her actual favorite customer, Therion thought to himself.
"One for the road," the thief told her, not particularly picky about what drink she served him. He'd tried a lot of new ones over the last few days, including what Lakota had recommended him (which he learned was called a mojito). As she fixed him something he placed a hefty bag on the counter. Well, it was more like a burlap potato sack.
When Nemma turned around and pushed Therion's drink towards him, she eyed the bag with a little suspicion. She wasn't stupid, she could tell from the sound as he put it down what was in it. "What's all this?"
"Investment." He shrugged as he said the word, making the whole affair more casual. "So if you hear anything interesting from one of your customers... get some details and make sure to let me know."
He downed the drink quickly while Nemma accepted the money, stashing it away somewhere safe. Then Therion was back out the door and onto the streets of Mafia Town.
A heist in broad daylight was actually easier than some might think. Most people didn't expect it, so their guards were lower during the day. The same was true for the Mafia of Cooks, and they weren't exactly the brightest of gangs in the first place. Even so, it wasn't a trivial endeavor. Slipping into their headquarters, finding and cracking their safe, stealing all he could carry and then making it out without being spotted had been a fine exercise for his skills. A piece of the haul he'd given to Nemma, but he still had a lot of it - part in his hotel room, and part on his person.
Now that the sun was descending, the Mafia would probably soon find out they'd been robbed if they hadn't already. Therion was sure he hadn't been seen, but even so, he was hoping this wouldn't put him on Juri's hit list. It was possible that Juri would assume the cat burglar Ms. Fortune was the culprit and use it as an excuse to go and fight her again, in which case Therion would have to set aside a least a little of the money to give the feral by way of apology. Just a little though.
Therion left the port a little after Captain Falcon had entered it, though he he wouldn't have recognized the bounty hunter in his 'disguise' anyway. The smell of smoke drew his attention up toward the scent, where he spotted a rugged looking man with a horn protruding from his forehead leaning against a railing.
He'd seen this man around a couple of times. Not a lawman, but some kind of peacekeeper all the same. Therion hadn't spoken with him, considering the thief was committing at least one crime daily (even if it was just petty theft most of the time, except for that day), but he had registered the man as someone to keep an eye out for. He looked much more capable than a lot of others on the small island, certainly suited for more than breaking up bar fights... which meant that generally, Therion tried not to catch his attention. The same was true for today, so the thief pulled his scarf up, stuffed the hand connected to the manacle into his pocket, and curled his tail as he went.
Now to combine everyone together. 