Selective Test pulls all those elements together. It is…the final test, if you truly wish to be a Master. ” Silverfist replied steadily, flatly, emotionlessly. The only giveaway that he was excited at all was his half smile.
Veronica stood up and walked casually over to the small bowl of incense, letting it fill her nostrils and cover her clothes. Tiny wisps of smoke emanated from the coals in the bottom of the bowl as the spices burned on top. Clove, with a pungent acidity. She breathed deeply and took a drink of water to calm her excitement and moisten her suddenly dry mouth.
“So, Master, tell me about my assignment for the third Test , for I am ready to become a Master myself.”
~Trevor~
The memory of his Concealment Test helped take Trevor’s mind off the daunting task ahead of him. He needed to sleep, and while he fit snugly up in the tree it was hardly comfortable. That, and his mind was overactive. He found it satisfying—even confidence building—to revisit the accomplishments that brought him to this point in time. Having recollected his success with concealment, he found his mind now wandering toward the second part of his challenge to become a Master Thief: The Technique Test. Though he wrapped up this portion of the test a month ago, the memories were still fresh, probably because he made it a point to recall them so frequently.
***
The Technique Test required a Thief to employ several elements of their training—resourcefulness, lockpicking, trap setting/neutralizing, etc. The Test was straightforward: on the outskirts of Shoal was a cave that led underground. The system of caves led to a bag of gold. The challenge was simply to return with the bag, which, as an added bonus, the successful thief could keep. Of course, nothing from the Guild is that simple.
Armed with the small supply of silver he was able to keep, Trevor decided to look at some potions. Some thieves who made it this far spent their money on love potions, or gambled it away on dice. More focused thieves tried to find something practical, like a weak healing potion or more extensive lockpicking tools.
Trevor’s eye was caught by something else in the apothecary shop. He decided to spend his silver on a small vial of “sticky draught.” He had no idea what he would face in the caves, but he had an idea that if he could hide from an animal, he might be able to set a trap of some sort with the potion. Rations, a glow ball, extra water, rope, stiff wire, his usual makeup and lockpicking tools, his blow darts, and some poison rounded out his supplies.
It was a humid, summer morning, with a hazy heaviness blanketing the cave opening. He turned around to see if one of the Masters was still watching him enter. He had the honor of having the Head of the Thieves Guild, Nathaniel Mist (whom the students just referred to as “the Mist”) to see him off. Should I wave? That would be weak. Turning, he plunged into the cave, which magically sealed behind him.
Plunged immediately into darkness, Trevor reached into his pack for his glow ball. Instead he found a crumpled piece of parchment that appeared to have some writing with light embedded in it. Smoothing it out in the pitch-black cave, the glowing letters fairly jumped off the page.
Be thankful we stole nothing else from you. Guard your provisions better—you aspire to rank of Master within a Guild of Thieves, and it is a Dark World, after all.
N. Mist
Utter darkness. This would never do. He wondered if they always stole something from would be Masters, or just him. Probably just me. This world always seemed to close in on him, to deal with him unfairly. There were no breaks for a short, ugly, red-headed thief with mis-matched eyes. Nothing came easy for Trevor Blink.
So be it. Waving the parchment in front of him slowly in every direction, the glowing ink provided a foot of
Veronica stood up and walked casually over to the small bowl of incense, letting it fill her nostrils and cover her clothes. Tiny wisps of smoke emanated from the coals in the bottom of the bowl as the spices burned on top. Clove, with a pungent acidity. She breathed deeply and took a drink of water to calm her excitement and moisten her suddenly dry mouth.
“So, Master, tell me about my assignment for the third Test , for I am ready to become a Master myself.”
~Trevor~
The memory of his Concealment Test helped take Trevor’s mind off the daunting task ahead of him. He needed to sleep, and while he fit snugly up in the tree it was hardly comfortable. That, and his mind was overactive. He found it satisfying—even confidence building—to revisit the accomplishments that brought him to this point in time. Having recollected his success with concealment, he found his mind now wandering toward the second part of his challenge to become a Master Thief: The Technique Test. Though he wrapped up this portion of the test a month ago, the memories were still fresh, probably because he made it a point to recall them so frequently.
***
The Technique Test required a Thief to employ several elements of their training—resourcefulness, lockpicking, trap setting/neutralizing, etc. The Test was straightforward: on the outskirts of Shoal was a cave that led underground. The system of caves led to a bag of gold. The challenge was simply to return with the bag, which, as an added bonus, the successful thief could keep. Of course, nothing from the Guild is that simple.
Armed with the small supply of silver he was able to keep, Trevor decided to look at some potions. Some thieves who made it this far spent their money on love potions, or gambled it away on dice. More focused thieves tried to find something practical, like a weak healing potion or more extensive lockpicking tools.
Trevor’s eye was caught by something else in the apothecary shop. He decided to spend his silver on a small vial of “sticky draught.” He had no idea what he would face in the caves, but he had an idea that if he could hide from an animal, he might be able to set a trap of some sort with the potion. Rations, a glow ball, extra water, rope, stiff wire, his usual makeup and lockpicking tools, his blow darts, and some poison rounded out his supplies.
It was a humid, summer morning, with a hazy heaviness blanketing the cave opening. He turned around to see if one of the Masters was still watching him enter. He had the honor of having the Head of the Thieves Guild, Nathaniel Mist (whom the students just referred to as “the Mist”) to see him off. Should I wave? That would be weak. Turning, he plunged into the cave, which magically sealed behind him.
Plunged immediately into darkness, Trevor reached into his pack for his glow ball. Instead he found a crumpled piece of parchment that appeared to have some writing with light embedded in it. Smoothing it out in the pitch-black cave, the glowing letters fairly jumped off the page.
Be thankful we stole nothing else from you. Guard your provisions better—you aspire to rank of Master within a Guild of Thieves, and it is a Dark World, after all.
N. Mist
Utter darkness. This would never do. He wondered if they always stole something from would be Masters, or just him. Probably just me. This world always seemed to close in on him, to deal with him unfairly. There were no breaks for a short, ugly, red-headed thief with mis-matched eyes. Nothing came easy for Trevor Blink.
So be it. Waving the parchment in front of him slowly in every direction, the glowing ink provided a foot of
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