Jimmy was doomed, but he kept running anyway. To give up was not in his mindset. Dubbed “The Hand” by “Captain Sharp” his former mentor and guildmaster (now deceased), Jimmy had shown prowess far beyond anything any of the other bagmen, backstabbers or footpads of his former territory could even hope for. Jimmy could dash from roof top to roof top cross open courtyards seemingly invisible, while pretenders to his title fell to breathlessness long before he was already counting the spoils of his “game”.
Today was different however, he ducked as another quarrel flew past his ear, from which direction he oddly could not fathom. Jimmy now even doubted his fleet and nimble skills as much as a Knight would doubt his sword when a seemingly fatal blow merely irritates his enemy.
As he threw a final grappling hook over an ambitious climb twighlight reared itself and started to push the shadows he called “friend” further away, the cloak of darkness now broken. With a leap and an insincere plea to one of the gods he scrambled up the keep wall, thinking to himself, why would his pursuers look for him where he started the merry chase in the first place?
Insane, he thought to himself, the plan was insane, but better than being crow food in an iron maiden, and worse yet, being uncovered for what he was, one of the best shoulder tappers, bag man and box popper there had been, correction he thought, the best there is.
A final scramble pushed him over the top of the wall, the arrows and bolts seemingly having died off in the confusion. There it was down and to his left, his diamond in amongst glass, a piece of gold in the mud, an entry to the sewer, unguarded and easily accessible as he suspected. There was one unfortunate problem, there were no steps down from this wall as it was a defensive structure designed to impede the enemy should they come, with a sigh and resignation he attached his cats claws to his hands and boots and hoped they would help find purchase to the wall where his fingertips and soft boots would not, and he descended.
Fate had other plans for Jimmy, for as he was half way down, with perhaps another twenty paces to go, a door on the courtyard burst open and guards poured in wielding a staggering array of weapons designed to put a rapid end to his adventure and career as a blade for hire and soon, he thought to be his own “Captain Sharp” with his own network.
With no options he dropped tumbling as he fell, he knew a rib or two might pop as he intended to land on his back and roll, a twisted ankle here would leave him wanting and probably quite dead. The impact drove through his body, though even as his breathe was driven from his lungs and the stab of a cracked bone bit deep, he was starting to uncurl and sprint for the open chamber, the guards still slack jawed at what they saw.
Diving through the hole and landing knee deep in flowing water, he ran dextrous fingers over the entry to the sewer and felt a bump. “Exit”, the thieves cant was a lifesaver at times; any other person would not even notice the bump let alone know it meant something. In pain, covered in dirt and with a grin from ear to ear Jimmy padded off his eyes adjusting to the dark like an elves thanks to a trinket he had liberated on some misadventure.
It was time to find an Uncle and be rid of the goods the recent robbery had yielded; the smell of the sewer had never smelled so sweet to his nostrils.
// OOC note: some text will be from the Thieves Cant - translation to follow. //