This is a private role play between myself and Purplebox, although we are the only ones permitted to post anyone is free to read. :)

It was supposed to be a good heist... get into a averagely guarded estate, pick a few locks and fill his bag with gems and shiny things. Delvon had been after something specific on the job, the older guild member had joined Vex, Rune and Corroc in the planning, the four of them going over plan and plan till they felt prepared. Things had gone well till they where 'escaping' back out of the estate, Corroc's two mis-matched eyes strained to navigate the forest in front of him as he ran, his bag making light clinking noises as the thief ran.

They had slip up after being found out, Delvon taking the scroll he'd been after, while Rune and Vex had held onto the gemstones they had found, leaving Corroc with a nixed pair of special and fancy lookign daggers now jangling against all his lock picks and spear coin in his back. On his back he had only his hunting bow and his bag, he'd spilled his arrows a while back when he'd tumbled over a fallen tree.

Black hair fell over his eyes as he landed in a tuck and roll down a hill, hissing softly as it stung his legs on impact. The pale Breton was still running despite his legs giving great protest, he'd always been better at staying still, waiting for that perfect moment as it where. Corroc was in better shape then he had been months prior when a job had ended with him getting a dagger to the gut, he stiff got away with the loot then, and without taking a life. Yet ti had laid him up in bed for a few weeks, something that no one in the Guild wanted if they wanted to keep getting good jobs. His worn Guild leathers creaked as he sprinted for all he was worth.

Corroc had chosen to run in the opposite direction of his fellow Guild members, he knew that they all had to go different direction , yet the Breton had gone in the total opposite direction from Riften. His breath came out ragged as he ran, the dagger where heavy in his bag, defiantly not made to be light like most daggers. His normally pale face was flushed a light pink as he ran, the dusting of freckles he had was almost hidden behind the flush, his throat ached to have some form of liquid yet he dare not stop moving.

If one where looking at Corroc from his left side they would think he had blue eyes, and while looking at him form hsi right they might think he had some dark elf in him as his right eye was unnaturally red, well unnatural for a human that was. Both eyes where a bit bloodshot now from running for so long, the Breton wasnt even sure he was still being followed yet his instincts where telling him to run. So that's what he did.

A fire crackled with a mirth Eleara could not possibly possess, she paced the stone floor before the hearth as a Nord’s voice bellowed in the air around her. “And here you stand, not listening to a word I’m saying!” Drawing in a deep breath into her lungs the Altmer released it slowly to stifle her growing agitation. “My lord, I have heard every word you have needlessly shouted.” She answered in a voice much calmer than she felt, “I understand you're displeased, as am I, but things will not be resolved through mere shouting.” A calloused hand ran through the man’s graying tree hued hair, “do you realize how long it took me to accrue this fortune?” Though the volume of his voice had dropped there was a darkness behind his attempt at calm, “the better part of the last TWENTY FIVE YEARS!” A goblet was hurtled across the room, its contents splattering in various directions. “When I was told you were the best, I only assumed it implied you were the best at your job; not at allowing a band of rats into the cellar.” At that Eleara halted where she stood, amber eyes narrowing as she allowed her anger to consume them. “Oh no. No, no, no.” She shook her head with the words and laughed in spite of herself, “Rats were permitted into the cellar because YOU allowed them. At our first meeting I insisted on bringing better men to guard your wealth, but you claimed your men could last the three days for reinforcements. Did you not?” He sputtered a moment to reply, but the woman gave him no chance to refine his thoughts, “although the fault is your own I will make this right. After all, it is my reputation at stake along with your precious coin.” A curt nod he offered her after a moment, “then be quick about it.” He grunted before turning and casting his gaze in the direction the thieves had escaped.

Eleara stood a long while at the manor’s entrance, momentarily oblivious to the cold that cut past her cloak of heavy snow bear fur. She hated Skyrim. Hated the bitter cold that seemed to infect everything it touched, hated how the inns always smelled of stale mead, and hopelessly inhospitable the very soil seemed to be. Hard snow crunched beneath her booted feet as she closed the short distance between herself and the stables, although she longed for the Summerset Isles there was a job that wouldn’t handle itself.

A soft gentle voice caused the mare’s ears to flick in Eleara’s direction as she approached, although she hated Skyrim there was no doubt they possessed the best mounts. Although not as aesthetically pleasing as those found in Cyrodiil, thus far they had proven themselves to be good tempered and sturdier than most. “Are you ready, my dear?” She asked the mare as she made her way around the side of the horse to ensure the saddle had been properly placed, “we’ve got a long way to go I fear.” She offered the mare a soft kiss on the nose before hauling her small petite form onto her back and giving her sides a gentle squeeze to persuade her forward.

On the road the woman would look like an easy target, although her lineage was pure she was much shorter than most Altmer and her frame looked as fragile as a bird’s wing. Like all high elves her skin was a golden tint, along with her almond shaped amber eyes and long cornsilk hair there was no mistaking her for anything but. Although she could be described in many words, vulnerable was certainly not accurate. A pretty face and quick wit had allowed her the gift of charming any man into giving her whatever she required at that moment, but the Seducer was a role she only liked to play when her back was against the wall. In battle she had trained herself primarily in archery, the elven bow that lay against her back always present, but she had learned to appreciate the closeness of daggers. It only took the one tight spot with too many opponents to convince her of their importance on her person. She almost pitied the poor fool who mistook her for an easy target, because if push came to shove there was always magic.

Pulling her hood to sheild her face from the wind she lead the mare towards the trail, just a day’s ride from Falkreath, the journey to Riften would be a long journey. Already it had started to snow.

He made camp just out side of Shors Stone. His whole body was sore and he had downed a few stamina potions to keep himself going those last few hours. He didn't make a bit fire, just something to keep him warm for the night, he had a feeling he could get lodgings from the blacksmith for the night if he truly wanted to. While he was a thief and qualms with stealing he wouldn't put someone innocent in danger by housing him after a big heist like this.

With a huff he pulled his guild armor hood over his head, hiding his pitch black locks that where cut in a choppy manner, part of it covering his right red eye, as it had always bothered other people to see such a strange eye on a HUMAN. The others in teh guild though nothing of it now though he kept his un even hair style out of habit. He held his hands up close to the flames to warm then, the pale skin was smudged with dirt and sweat, the tips and skin around his nails seamed to permanently hold a little grey to black pigment form all the charcoal he used to write his thoughts down or partake in a conversation.

After all here in Skyrim sign language wasnt common, he had spent two years teaching the basics to the others in the guild so they would understand him when he 'flailed' his hands. The thieves guild had been his home for years now, they might not always get along but they all seamed to fit together. He hoped to the nine and even some of the oblivion princes that Delven and the others got back to Riften with no trouble... Vex could be a sexy minx to get herself out of things and Rune was charming in his own way. He rubbed a car on the left side of his face absentmindedly. The his hand drifted down to the jagged and rough scar across his neck as hsi mind began to think about his past. He slowly drifted off as the embers of his small fire died down, his stomach growling at his softly as he ignored it.

He ended up sleeping very lightly that night, the sound of early morning birds waking up the mute thief. He jolted away like usual when ever he slept outside. He quickly cleaned up his camp and within minuets it looked like someone had camped in the area over a week ago, he'd had years of practice with faking a scene. He eat a apple as he walked threw the land just off the road to make sure he didn't get lost, he had changed out of his guild leathers and into some miners cloths, the boots from his guild armor was the only thing he'd kept on as he had no other shoes. Wiggling his toes inside the worm leather he mused that he might need to cozy up to the redgaurd women in the guild to get a new pair...

He passed threw Shors Stone with ease, the inhabitants knew him because he'd cleared out their mine a few months back, they greeted him but didn't hold him up, he greeted then back with a soft smile before waving good bye. Once threw the small village he left the road and kept to the untamed land, he didn't like to follow the roads if he knew where he was going, he had a good memory for patterns and the placement of things. Made it easier to be a look out if he could predict the guard rotations from time to time.

Corroc Began to relax the closer he got to Rifften, his home, the once place he didn't feel out of place even though he knew he was. Lately Mercer the guilds leader had been snippy with everything the mute thief had done in the past few months since he's been stabbed, knit picking absolutist everything. Even commenting again and again on Corroc's mute nature... despite the clear evidence that Corroc had never been able to talk by how deep the scar on his neck was.

The black haired Breton was looking forward to seeing Brynoff again... the tall red headed Nord seamed to have a soft spot for the smaller male. Taking Corroc under his wing when the mute male had stumbled into Rifften years back.

It took him another few hours on the back roads and wilds to get to Rifften. His bag didn't jingle and clank with the sound of daggers anymore as he's wrapped his guild leathers around them to muffle the sound, his bow and quiver of arrows where still nestled against hsi back and on his hip he wore a very sharp steel dagger that glittered with a faint enchantment.