Cylus 11th 20th break 718
The season of perpetual nightfall had fallen over Idalos. It was often a time of difficulty for all people, a time of opportunity as well. Particularly for those who plied their trade after dusk. Unfortunately for rooftop highwaymen like Vin Krome, the opportunity didn't come without it's share of hazards. He'd seen many of his fellow rooftop travelers slipping and then falling to the snow drifts below. Vin was old hat at this, though. He'd climbed and traversed more treacherous heights back home on his estate as a child.
Nevertheless, he was rusty at this. He couldn't run too fast, or at all really, without risking some major slippage and then a plummet to the snow banks below. It was bitterly cold, not near time for thawing, so there wasn't too much slippage of his feet, or an ice-shell forming over the snow that had accumulated already. Nevertheless, he was careful, carrying on all fours when necessary to keep his balance and taking full advantage of his low center of gravity. At times he nearly slipped, flattening his body against the roof as his extremities slipped against the ice. But he was a capable man, and light of body enough to keep upright most of the time as he craweld.
His reasons for crawling along the thieves' highway wasn't entirely nefarious. He was here to help! He figured if he could get a few residents evacuated through the roofs of their homes, after escorting them to the nearest safe haven, he could come back and help himself to a trophy or two. Most times he kept a token for himself, to remember his adventure, while the rest of his take was fenced. But lately he was getting more desperate, and needed to fence most of his take, without much left over.
As he went along, he glanced below at the people helping to dig out the buildings from the snow, focusing on the entrances to places. Vincent didn't have to worry about any of these folk identifying him, of course, as his face was obscured by his cloak. He had wrapped it around his neck and lower face. This served the dual purpose of warming his face from the cold, while concealing himself from identification later if they happened to notice anything missing on their return.
He crawled along the rooftop, listening intently beyond the ambient noise of the snow and wind. These eventually fell to the wayside, when he was alerted to the murmurs of people beneath his feet. Finally, his chance to be a hero. He crawled to the very edge of the rooftop, and found handholds to grab onto as he alighted to the window sill that looked into the home. Only some sparse candlelight, with no hearth inside. He couldn't make anyone out, but nevertheless tapped on the window shutters to get anyone's attention.
He was nearly startled backward when an old woman appeared at the window, her face wrinkled with age and hair ghostly white. She wore a night gown, and held a candle under her face, giving her a morbid countenance. He held onto the shutters, however, and managed to maintain his balance despite his fright.
Through his scarf, he stammered, "D... d'ya need help ma'am? I'm helpin' wif the digout. S'not safe here fer ye. I know a place y'kin get warm soup and bread. If y'wanna come wif me?"
The lady looked at him uncertainly. However, given the lack of options for rescue, she had to take what help she could get. At least that was part of Vincent's gambit. So she got dressed in bundled up wools and linens, then pulled some boots on. Once she was ready, Vincent gingerly guided her to the ledge adjoining the window. The snow bank wasn't far below, just a few feet. The snow drifts had piled up in recent days, giving way to huge hills of snow that nearly reached the rooves of buildings. So it was a simple matter for the both of them to jump together, and slide down to the street.
From there, Vincent gave her directions to the nearest shelter being set up by one charitable group or another. Vincent only knew the address that Nick had given him to give to others. Once he saw her off, waving at her, he turned on his heel and began climbing back up the snowbank. It was simple enough, making steps in the snow to get to the top of the building. There was a bit of slippage here or there, but he managed.
Once back at the window shutters, he opened them easily, the lock having been undone from within, as she had no way of locking it from the outside.
Once inside, he began rummaging through the place for all sorts of valuables. The first few dressers he checked had little other than some clothing. Some of the buttons were made of copper or tin, which he pocketed after plucking them from the garments. These his slipped into his bindle sack, which was propped up against the bed.
His eyes roved the room, looking for the glint of anything shiny. A candlestick, or a bit of tinware or even silver! It was probably too much to hope for, but these chances to clear out a place that was empty of a night came by only once in a while. He'd be a poor thief if he didn't take advantage of it!
It was dark in there, with no candles or lanterns to light his way, yet the moonlight from outside shone brightly, casting rays of silvery light into the room as the wind rushed through the open window.
He thought he caught the glint of something in the corner there, and went over to inspect it. His arms stretched in front of him as his eyes squinted, until they found purchase on something cold, and metal. It felt like an old shield? A piece of armor? Vincent wasn't sure. He pulled it out a bit, and it was Immortals heavy. No, no good. Even if it was energy efficient to move the thing, it was probably worthless cast iron or something similar. His eyes checked elsewhere, to find his pay.
He searched the apartment urgently, checking for hidden compartments here or there, taking down frames and various artwork to find nothing but wall behind him. Eventually, his search took him to another bedroom, this one looking untouched and unused. He saw various baubles and toys, perhaps a child's room, someone who'd long since left the nest?
Here, he did find something of value. A large box, full of costume jewelry. Just glass and pewter, really, but maybe Sheepshead could make something of it. Seeing the rest of the place as a bust, he took that small box and brought it out toward his entrance. There, he wrapped it in the bindle's sack. Once it was secure, he slid out the window, and down to the streets below. He nestled the bindle against his shoulder, and away toward Sheepshead's hideout he went.
The streets were winding during this Cylus, not least of all because of the prodigious snowfall that had befallen it. People had already gone to work, carving out paths through the snow. The chill was beginning to get to Vincent by the time he arrived at Sheepshead's hideout. It wasn't much nicer or warmer inside. But Sheepshead had his fat to keep him warm. Leaner guys like Vincent had to make do with moving around and bundling up in this weather.
"Sheepshead, I..."
"What do you have, Vin? You know I'm full on stock as it is... If this is another pile of rubble I won't..."
"It's good Sheepshead, some jewelry." This said, Vincent uwrapped the scarf from his face, and placed the bindle sack on the counter. Sheepshead looked at the filthy sack with some obvious skepticism, but nevertheless went on to open it, unwrapping the cloth. There he found the box Vincent had filched. Opening it with a swift motion, he sighed. "Er... this is pewter?" Nick's mouth twisted slightly, and he shrugged. "Worth ten silvers I'd say."
"Fuckin... Y'know tha won't feed me for two days, Sheepshead!" Vincent spat through his teeth, "Give me something here, it's a hell of a find!"
Sheepshead's mouth curled downward, as if he was wounded by the doubt Vincent had for his appraisal. "Well I have to find a buyer, and nobody gives two shits about tin jewelry. So will probably be sending it ahead to the smelter. The tin inside is worth more than these glass jewels."
Vincent sighed, then shrugged. He resigned to take twenty silvers from Sheepshead in the end, which would put him in four days of alcohol before he had to set out again for another run.
Just living hand to mouth, as he did, Vincent left, and went to find the nearest tavern. There he would resign to the rewards of a warm hearth, a cheap lass, and a taste of sour beer.