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[Melchior Shepard]

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"It was funny how things worked, it seems like everything just falls into place when you need it too"

Melchior scoffed as the voice he could only assume was his father's. Darker than his, grimy, like the ink on the parchment of the only documented case of his father acknowledging his existence. It was a curious thing to mull over as he re-laced his boots, realizing that, for the sake of his feat, it may be better to place his mind elsewhere.

Taking a moment to writhe his feet inside the boots, Melchior stood, surveying the new camping area.

He had chosen the new location in lue of his common residence for the simple reason of safety. Apparently the Umbrans knew where he hid his loot. Melchior turned and hopped against the tree, returning with only handful of bark and a prematurely stretched shoulder.

Rolling the joint's stiffness away, he lept again, caught hold of of the burlap sack he'd hid there the night before.

With a moment's worth of shuffling he'd found what had undoubtedly brought that raccoon by earlier in the night.Unwrapping the small kerchief Melchior enjoyed the refined taste of pilfered vittles. A loaf of bread with some amount of cheese stuffed into it.

Finishing the morsel over, Melchior tucked the now empty sack into his belt and began walking back towards the road, suddenly acutely aware of the lack of food last night's excursion into civilization had produced.

Wwwrrruuunnn..KURK

About that time, the mournful sounds of wood straining against the higher forces. The cry was punctuated with a snap, the Rogue's eye's lit up as he noticed the source..

Through a thicket and within a clearing, the balcony of a very dated looking estate had given way, offsetting the entire upper floor away from the load baring wall. With reserved ambition Melchior bounded through the overgrown forest floor and made for the structure

[Melchior Shepard]

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Acquisition 2

Stepping awkwardly through the carpeting of thick vines, accent occasionally with the aged roots of a nearby tree, Melchior made his way to the decrepit structure, eying the surrounding pasture for anything that might have heard the ruckus. For once, it was clear.

Stopping just shy of the house Melchior turned and pressed his back to the wood, it was wet and almost instantly he could feel it seeping through the threadbare cloak he was wearing. Coyly he introduced a small amount of his body to the open precipice that had once been a window. The glint of a mirror caught his eye and he made idle note of his appearance. Scanning the room through the aged glass proved more difficult. Pulling himself back under cover he mulled over the shapes he'd seen within and made a sound hypothesis.

"Something in there was definitely shaped like a human.."

Recalling his appearance, the crafty rogue pulled a dagger from his belt, pulling the blade to his face Melchior knocked the stubble of the week. Pushing away from the wall he slung his pack to the dirt with a barely audible thud, unbuckling his belt he splayed the greater portion of his possessions across the sac. Taking another quick glance there was no discernible change in the scene, unclasping his cloak he wrung the moisture into his hand and tossed it over the collection, kicking some leaves over it.

Melchior made for the corner of the home and rapidly smoothed his hair back, stashing the dagger in his sleeve he muster the best story he could produce and a tone to match.

"Pardon me Sire or Madame! I am the royal tax collector for these parts, it seems the trek here has cost you more than the few pence I was after!"

Moments passed in silence. No cross bows being brandished, no traps, nothing, just silence.

Melchior chuckled merrily as he took a few steps back to survey the property, this expedition was going a lot better than some of the conversations he'd attempted to strike up at the taverns.

BAM!

Melchior's back peddle had given his kick enough room to generate the force needed to practically obliterate the door. Glancing about the contents he noted the dress form and let the the dagger out of his sleeve, satisfied at that figure but still doubting of the security of the digs.

The room was mostly barren, the only real eye-catching portion being the stairs which were sadly rotten beyond usefulness. Eager to prove that the location wasn't a waste of time Melchior made a dash for the door, and with a turn stood at the standing portion of a support beam for the elevated porch and mounted it. Grunting as his boots slipped at the wet wood, Melchior sighed as his hands took hold of the banister and finally he rolled his weight out onto the patio.

Rolling to his feet dagger drawn Melchior checked the scene. A much more intact door leading to what he hoped would be the main chambers. Testing the door, metal politely informed him he would not be entering. Smiling coyly he tossed the dagger into the air and caught it again, aligning the tip to the lock on the door and commented "I beg to differ." Shoving the blade into the slot and throwing his weight into it remedied the predicament that using the dangerous stairs could have only complicated.

Smiling triumphantly Melchior gazed at an almost barren room, but the rusted strong box and trunk only stood out more.

Two hours passed rapidly between exploration, scrounging, and poking at strange piles of things with sticks, leaving Melchior with an entire pack full of useful, or profitable, practical supplies, he'd even found an emerald and a new cloak stuffed behind the drawers in a dresser.

Now leaning over the strong box he considered a few things. It wouldn't really matter what was in there, the trip had been worth the time, but this could put him up in a cozy inn for a month or have him licking a serious, and possibly infected, cut.
The box had long lost it's yellow luster and to add annoyance to the entire process had a large padlock dangling from it. Melchior placed the fire poker he'd found on the padlock and loomed over, holding it up and then driving it into the dull metal.

CLANG

Instinctively flinching from the sound, Melchior could hardly contain his laughter at the scene. Lock, intact, sat driven into the ground by the poker, while a large portion of the box had either exploded into dust or been littered into the mud. Melchior didn't take the time survey the contents, suddenly acutely aware of the feigning sunlight and the amount of things he had to carry back to Trinsic. Pulling the linen bag from the box he tossed it over his shoulder and took up the new pack, making course for his hidden belongings and the march ahead of it.