Sjach's Story - Chapter 1: Beginnings
Sjach wasn't always the best behaved of people, but that didn't mean he had to be treated as poorly as he was. Thrown into the turbulent times known for the desert kingdom that he grew up in, he seemed to at least make as best he could. A little change here, a little bread there and no one would be the wiser! It's not like there was a drought or anything after all. No, this was survival... Shurley no one would fault him for that.
Unfortunately for the rapscallion, no one else truly agreed with his philosophy, made apparent by the loud shouting of "thief, thief!" throughout the crowded city streets of early morning sales. The chase was a race in its own sense: a game, dodging this cart, that dog, or those guards.
It never stopped Sjach from trying.
"Catch that rat bastard!" the owner of the local butchery would cry. Sjach, in the meantime, was already halfway up and over a nearby stall, using the nearby canopy as a stepping stool, and leaping for a low hanging pole. With it grasped firmly in his hands, meat held haphazardly in that dexterous tail of his, the urchin would swing himself on top of said pole and leap for the top of the nearby rooftop, as was truly the only real way to keep from being followed.
"What the Hel..." Sjach would mutter to no one in particular now that he was sure no one would have followed. Leaping over to a lower roof across the alleyway, his expedition would slow to a more reasonable pace. "Honestly. I hardly even look like a rat."
Pausing for but a moment near a pane of glass, he glanced over what little he could make out in the reflection. Sure the ears were round like that of one, but obviously much more so. The mottled mess of tangled locks slew haphazardly over his brow, hiding the hazel eyes partially beneath their sooty and dirty 'nestings'. Fur, well black as it might be, wasn't an excuse for the grievance, covered most that was a body, out to the rather long whiskers that seemed to suspend in such a way to give a permanent look of forlorn upon his features. The only real oddity would be the jet black nose, while the others of his ilk protruded at least some shade of pink; it seemed the flesh beneath the fur was just as dark.
Sjach would turn his head this way and that, as if by some long study, he might see how the human might have made such and obvious mistake, the expression lost long ago on the 'street mouse.'
"Ya ain't get'n any prett'r ya know," a young voice would reply to the mouse.
"Sam, if I could get prettier then this, I'd be living in a palace instead of the hole-in-the-wall as we do now." Finishing his face inspection for but a while, Sjach finally turns to regard the human, "Do I look like a rat to ya?"
"Oh heav'n's no," the sarcastic remark would begin, and finish before Sjach could halt it, "ya look mo'r like sum'th'n the cat done drugged in."
Sjach's whiskers twitch in light annoyance, "Always with the cat..."
"So... Ya gonna share up som'a the goods or are ain't cha?"
With a chuckle and snap at his tail, the rodent flings the dripping meat to the man.
"Oi, what the Hel there? Couldn'ya wait till least it was cooked!?" Sam exclaims as the red juices leaked between lightly parted fingers. "Oh for the love'a... it's leakin'al ov'a tha place!"
"Ya... So?"
"So? So if'n they follow the trail..."
"Oh don't be so dramatic. You and me both know they ain't gonna, so quit your bitching," Sjach replies with a light swat against Sam's stomach with his tail as he passes on by.
"Oi, don'cha want any?" Sam calls out, turning around to the retreating mouse.
"Nah, I'm good," the response was given. Living off of the street meant plenty of free time to do what one wanted, in one of the largest border cities west of the Capital none the less.
Leaping across the high city buildings, Sjach avoids the condensed throngs down below, cutting a path straight towards the academy. Not that he had to attend, those like him couldn't even dream of getting the cash required to do so. Instead he wanted to watch.
It was unsure what, exactly, drew Sjach to that place. It certainly wasn't the book study, but rather the outdoor sparring drills of the soon-to-be-Paladins that got his blood boiling.
Coming up to the last building before the mighty wall itself, Sjach would push himself. For most anyone else, this would end in a trip to the local doctor, but not for this mouse. Many times had he fallen, and many times to learn the wall's best kept secrets. Arms outstretched, fingers would find the stones that offered the tiniest of handholds. With a soft thud of body against stone, fingers would scrape against the sandstone, sliding partially down its rough surface before fingers would find what was needed to stop him from plummeting down to the busy street down far below, and catching his breath for but a moment, feet dangling till he could bring them against the side of the monolithic wall. A quick glance to his left and his path would be clear.
Midway up, all along the wall, were the studs for whatever floor ran along its bowels. Pushing off with feet, hands lurching, his body forward to the next post above the unsuspecting crowds below. This twisting of body stunt would be repeated several times till the outcropping stones would become a tower. From here it was a 'simple' grasping of the grating over the windows and scrambling across the designs carved into the stone of paladins fighting various foes, and the occasional crest between floors.
Before long, Sjach would be hoisting himself up the wall's side to crouch upon the palisades. Down far below, he could see the entire courtyard.
The lush green grass was a nice contrast to the yellow dust of the rest of town. Here, various dirt circles rested where men and women dressed in hardened leather bear each other with wooden replicas. Each one around the circle stood to each as another pointed and shouted directions.
While the climb up was hidden, Sjach knew and could see doing the same down the front would be next to impossible as several individuals would always be patrolling the walls on three tiers, watching inward at the lessons, waiting on either thief own lessons to come, or performing details.
Quiet, like a mouse, the rodent-man would stay, even if only there to watch. Sjach's eyes would focus on that far away spar, imagining him down there or even just watching from the circle nearby. Unfortunately, the University was rather expensive. Normally only middle class or higher could afford the teachings or entry fees, and Sjach was hardly even low class as far as the government was concerned. Still, until someone would try to knock him down from his perch, he would continue with his long distance learning.
Course, today the lessons would be cut short. Midway between the classes, and Sjach's daydreams, a loud shout rang through the courtyard. Now that he had been ripped back into reality, Sjach would push up to peer further down. Right at that moment, the doors far down below would open, and in would walk a bright suited creature, it was impossible to tell exactly what it was at this height. Obviously something was up as the trained quickly were disbanded and sent off elsewhere as teacher and important guest would walk off, leaving the courtyard quite empty.
"Well... Damn," as Sjach realized that all his work to get up were for naught, "just my luck."
Fortunately, getting down was much easier. Moving over to where the west wall met the north, the mouse would gauge before leaping from up high. Eyes close as the wind rushed against his fur, before silenced by a 'thwump' and rustle of high stacked hay. Startled horses would whinny their disapproval as the rodent would roll out of the stacks, land, and quickly jump out the nearby window to the roofs nearby, leaving only the University and a confused stable boy behind.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It would be near mid-afternoon before Sjach would find his way back to 'The Base', the location where he and several others lived. It was like a family of urchins living and supporting one-another. Dysfunctional as it was, it was home for quite a few of these that the rest of society had forgotten.
Pushing aside the sheet that had at one time been a dark royal blue, long since faded to a light sea blue, Sjach's senses would be assaulted by the scent of boiling vegetables, mushrooms, and meats in their own broth. Drooping whiskers quickly twitch in frustration as the heavy scents assault his nose. Alicia, the 'mother-head' figure of this family, was a rather good cook, considering the rag tag bunch of ingredients that the others seemed to bring.
Walking the short walk around the front room, to the kitchen itself, peering across the open portal, Sjach would smile. There stood Alecia, surrounded by the cubs that she had put to work helping around the kitchen. The rabbit, Alecia, stood over the large pot itself, stirring it on occasion. Her long ears were tied against the back of her head to keep them from stealing tastes of the food. A simple one piece dress, toga would be more appropriate, held close against her body, the once vibrant colours of reds and silver having long since faded from years of wear.
Lois, the oldest of the children, was off towards the window with a very familiar chunk of meat and cutting it into long strips for the stew. Hands where shoved into fingerless gloves, stained with the juices of the days catch. The messy tufts of fur poke out from the tunic and shorts, hair matted against his face giving the wolf a rather rag-tag look.
After a time of watching, Sjach would lean forward till gravity would take over, forcing his feet to step forward and around the archway. Silently he stalked those toiling away in the kitchen, unfortunately these were not humans, and so keen noses picked him up long before ears.
"Sjach!" a loud mew from Patricia, a calico kitten and middle eldest, would have the others turning their heads.
Only head-cook Alecia's voice of "Cubs!" would return their minds back to their tasks, leaving Sjach only to chuckle. Of course no one dared to disobey the foster mother. Somewhere already they had to learn the hard truth, everyone in the family had a job, and needed to uphold it if they were to make it.
"Did practice end early?" Alecia would query.
"Hmm? Oh, yes. Someone important came by or something. Where's John? He's normally back before me."
"Yes, but you normally don't come home till much later, either."
"So?"
"So? So! He's probably still out in the fields."
Course, fields in this sense didn't mean like farming. The desert and surrounding lands were filled with monsters. Course there was always money for patrolling the city limits, but the kills also helped make at least decent stews as well. Unfortunately, John was the only one above eighteen, the minimum age the guards would allow such work, and while Alecia could, she left the job up to her brother do that she could take care of the others.
"You know... In a few years, I'll be out there too..." Sjach would start.
"Mhmm..." Would be Alecia's response as carrots are brought over by Serra, a young filly and youngest of the cubs, and dumped into the broth.
"Fighting daemons, ant-lions..." Sjach's mind would wander even as his lips would cease.
"Least it will keep you off the streets. Sol knows how we worry 'bout your 'work'."
"Hey, now. Not like they give is much of a choice. We're like second hand citizens out here, doesn't help we don't have 'Imperial Blood' or shit like that."
"True, but-"
"But noth'n!" Sjach would interrupt. "Sam's like... one of the only decent one out there, and you know it!"
"Sjach!" a male voice would resonate from behind the rodent. Before he could even turn around, a half-metal clad arm would wrap itself around Sjach's shoulder. "Where the guards not to your liking today?"
"Ha ha... Very funny." Course only one person could belong to the arm now draped over Sjach's shoulder. The mouse tilts his head up and over towards the rather tall rabbit whose ears stood tall and nearly to the ceiling itself. John was dressed in his usual blood stained jerkin and single chest-plate, bow slung over one shoulder as a small pouch with what the bounty office probably let him take home for dinner. Red splotches dirty the usually white and black spotted lapine, obviously showing how close the fighting had gotten to him, if the smell of death wasn't a give-away.
"Ooh! What'd ya get? What'd ya get?" little voices would cry out, the preparations having now gone on the back-burner.
Lifting the bag high, out of the little ones reach, John would only chuckle lightly, "Don't worry about it!" Grinning mischievously, he uses his long arms to reach around the swarm to his sister, before backing away. It was a usual ritual for the home. Sam wouldn't be back till later, if at all. At times he seemed more of a guest then one who actually lived beneath the battered roof.
Dinner would consist of stew once more, flavored by stolen meats and slain monsters. Everyone ate what was there, not daring to let any of it to go to waste. The young ones would be scuttled off to bed, while the elders would talk before filing themselves off to sleep themselves.