Break In

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The courtyard was well-lit, the oil lamps burning brightly in the still, moonless night. Two heavily muscled green-skinned humanoids clad in ill-fitted armor shuffled in boredom as they stared off into the darkness. It was a cushy job and they were more concerned about when they would be relieved from duty than the possibility of an intruder. No one would be foolish enough to ever attack the residence of the great Orc King Tarakarsh 'Ogg.

Complacency was a drug that was fatal over time.

They did not see the shadow creeping along the wall.

Foot over foot, Meliadol moved when their gazes were turned away. His Thief ability, Hide, was only effective when in shadow and as long as he stood still. It was slow going, an exercise of patience.

He waited for a long minute, less than a yard away from the two orcs. One could see the stains on their armor, the sweat that ran down their faces in the summer night, the way their nostrils flared with each breath. Not for the first time, Meliadol entertained the idea that perhaps, in a way, these creatures were actually alive. At what point did life end and the game begin?

One guard yawned and in that blind spot Meliadol slipped behind him, into the shadowed hallway that led into what, judging by the smell, could only be the kitchen area. The area was pitch-black, but Meliadol navigated it unerringly, having drank a Potion of Night Vision previously.

Orcs weren't known for their cleanliness, and it was obvious this kitchen also served as a refuse area. Meliadol held his breath as he made his way around the tables heavy with dishes and utensils, taking care to not knock anything over. At the end of the room was another door, and it was here he paused, leaning his ear against it.

Nothing.

He opened the door cautiously, wincing a bit when the rusty hinges protested his intrusion. He stopped again, holding his breath, listening, but no one came running. With the door just slightly ajar, he squeezed through into the long hallway. He then closed the door quietly until he heard a small click.

Oil lamps also lined the walls of the main hallway, creating pockets of light and deep shadow. Meliadol stuck to the darkness, silently moving with a smooth expedience of purpose. He ignored most of the doors, since his target was the living quarters, but still sporadically paused, like a cautious cat, making sure to use all of his senses to reaffirm that no one was aware of his presence. Occasionally he had to duck behind a barrel or alcove as a group of orcs passed, but otherwise it was quiet and easy.

With the courtyard in the middle, this hallway ran in a loose circle, intercepting into the main keep that Meliadol suspected held the bulk of the orc forces. So that was his destination. He crept in the shadows, taking in his surroundings. Everywhere he went, he saw the signs of the battle that had allowed the orcs to claim this castle. Things were breaking down, falling apart, and it was obvious the orcs cared little in maintaining the place.

Still, the positive was that it left plenty of places for him to hide.

It didn't take long for him to reach the intersection, the hallways opening up to a massive well-lit foyer that split off into two entrances that led deeper into the main keep. Here another pair of orcs stood guard, one for each door, but they were noticeably different. Not only were they larger and their armor better kept, but they were more importantly alert and disciplined. Meliadol could see it in their straight postures and how their bloodshot eyes scanned the rest of the cavernous room. It would not be as easy for him to sneak by these particular orcs. Of course better guards meant something beyond them was worth guarding.

It had to be where his quest item would be.

What was he to do? It wasn't as if he could fight them. This was a sneaking quest. The enemies here were of a much higher level than he was to discourage just rushing in and killing everything. Also, even if he could kill the two guards, what was to stop them from raising the alarm?

He dismissed the thought almost immediately. No, there had to be a way around. There had to be a solution. This scenario was designed to test his thief abilities. He just had to grasp it.

He had to think.

Meliadol got as close as he dared, sticking to the shadows along the edge of where the light began. It was from there that he began to really look at the room, his mind churning with possibilities. Even here parts of the castle had crumbled. A fallen pillar here, a pile of rubble there. Several optional routes revealed themselves to him, but they all ran into the wall that the two guards represented. No matter how he got there, there was no other choice than to enter one of those two hallways.

Meliadol did not see a way for him to sneak by without being seen.

That meant he only had one option available: He had to take a risk.

With that in mind, he once again considered his options. There were several ways he might be able to pull this off, but he didn't like his chances with any of them. Still, he had to try something. Sometimes a wrong action was better than no action.

Slowly, with the careful motions of one who's entire future depended on equal part luck and personal skill, he picked up a few rocks that had once been part of the wall and began to creep closer to the fallen pillar. It had broken off, the jagged edge propped up against the wall, but there was enough room for a person to crawl under it on one end.

He jammed himself under the overhang, feet pulled up to his chest. It was a tight fit, but from here he was completely hidden from the two guards. Then he shimmied out until he could see the hallway he had entered from. Holding the rock between his thumb and index finger, he judged the distance and with a flick of his wrist, whipped the stone down the hallway.

The sound of it ricocheting off a wall echoed loudly in the stillness of the foyer.

"Akt'iung z'oak!" Both orc guards took a few steps forward, growling in their harsh language to each other.

Come on, come on, come on, come on…

"U'g saz!" The one orc jerked his chin and the other took the hint, lurching toward the hallway, his heavy ax perched on his shoulder.

Meliadol held his breath, gripping his last stone tightly. What he focused on was the remaining orc's eyes. Everything else faded away into the background as he waited. When the heavy lids blinked, in that split second, he threw the stone into the opposite hallway and, predictably, the last orc's gaze was drawn there for just a moment.

Everything hinged on that perfect moment.

He rolled out from his hiding spot, dashing for the entrance to the keep…

"ARA'KUAR!" A roar bellowed from behind and Meliadol knew he had erred.

Shit.

Still, he had committed too much now to turn back.

His feet pounded down the stone hallway, the sound of pursuit lending speed to his flight. A trio of confused and tired orcs stumbled out of a doorway to his left. They stared dumbfounded at the sight of a human desperately sprinting right at them, but one managed to reflexively swing out a heavy arm, as if to clothesline him.

Half-sliding, half-tumbling, he slipped under the trunk of an arm, spinning, barely pausing his movement to get his feet back under him, riding the inertia and jerking his body back into a full-run to leave the three far behind as their brains caught up with their bodies.

Meliadol could hear the protests behind him, but he didn't have time as more and more orcs emerged from the adjoining doors, drawn by the noise. In mere moments, he had a horde of orcs screaming for his blood right on his heels. He had no illusions on what the end result would be if they caught him.

But he was running out of options.

Every door he tried was locked. Every locked door meant time wasted. Every second wasted meant pursuit got several steps closer. He had just crested a small flight of stairs, the orcs right on his heels, and the sight that greeted him almost made him fall to his knees in despair.

A heavy door marked the end of the long hallway, and even as he crashed into it, he knew it was locked.

"Fuck!" he shouted, pulling the handle several times and banging as if he could somehow magic it open by sheer desperation. The door did not care about his need and remained firmly closed. Thinking quickly, Meliadol pulled out a lock pick, kneeling down, torn between expedience and remaining calm enough to actually insert it.

He just had to shove the pick in and activate his Improved Lock Picking skill…

The pick fell from his hand as he jerked. Surprised, he looked down at the ax head jutting from his chest. There was no blood. With the clarity of his Night Vision potion, he could see his reflection on the wicked edge.

"Can't believe I was…one-shot…" he muttered before falling over, and the last thing he saw was the group of massive orcs standing over him, their pock-marked faces pulled back into savage yellow grins.

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