Best laid plans have nothing on barely any plan at all. Story was done but I got into a serious [i]thing[/i] with the sample post, and then I struggled with how to end it. Ashamed to bring in another rogue, but I'm having fun at least. Sorry about the delay.

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[color=FF4500][h1][b]Mirza[/b][/h1][/color]
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[color=FF4500][b]Name:[/b][/color] Mirza

[color=FF4500][b]Age:[/b][/color] 24

[color=FF4500][b]Class:[/b][/color] Thief

[color=FF4500][b]Level:[/b][/color] 1
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[color=FF4500][u][b]Personal Skill[/b][/u][/color]
[b]Plunder[/b]
Confers a 10% chance to steal the user's choice of a target's weapon or item upon a successful melee weapon hit, this raises to 20% upon a killing blow.
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[color=FF4500][b]Skills:[/b][/color]
[Lvl 1] [b]Locktouch[/b] - Unlock doors and chests without needing keys

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[color=FF4500][u][b]Equipment     [/b][/u][/color]
[u]Weapons     [/u]
[list]
[*] [20/20] Iron Sword (D-Class Sword)
[*] [20/20] Iron Daggers (D-Class Throwing Knives)
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[u]Items     [/u]
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[*] [x2] Vulnerary
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[hider=Story]
Although of Zuiterran descent, he was born in seclusion and has no memory of his parents, much less the life he might have had, if fate had dealt an altogether kinder hand to him. For the longest time all he had were whatever information his benefactor, the supposed friend of his late mother, had opted to tell to him, and even then Mirza grew to doubt the validity of such explanations, cryptic and evasive as they tended to be. No life for the boy was not a quest for answers just yet but a struggle to survive day by day, true to the day said benefactor Imran smuggled him out of southern Zuiterra and into Latis when he was old enough, about 11 years old.

Waiting for him on the other side was a teenage knight in training, who had volunteered to hide away the boy when her father had openly refused to take him in prior to his exodus from his homeland. The man's refusal had come on suddenly and left little opportunity for a new arrangement, and while the would-be soldier Carmen was selfless enough to see to hiding away the boy herself, she was altogether ignorant of what her father knew, insight into the forces that threatened the young refugee's safety. Yet though it was agreed that he couldn't stay for nearly as long as was originally the plan, the two children were eager for some answers and took it upon themselves to seek out the truth of his past.

And that crusade largely continues to this day, long after Mirza had left on his own, taking to the life of a less than scrupulous vagrant, a means to an end that served him throughout his dealings among the outskirts of society. For years, he's taken whatever he's needed to in order to gain the advantage and support his endeavor, and from around the age of 17 that included jobs from a number of different employers within Latis, Coris and eventually Nuniel.

Mirza is an accomplished thief and formidable agent, but he suffers from the occasional string of bad luck and/or lapse in judgement. Days after a job had gone south, leading to the death of his entire team, he wandered in search of a supposedly quick opportunity to restock. Yet he underestimated just how vigilant the owners of said supplies could be and soon he was at the mercy of the Red Branch Company. Now Mirza has aligned himself with his fellow sellswords, the work he'd undertaken for all these years not harmed by the Company's usual ventures. But their latest foray on the front of another Nuniel campaign presents an irksome distraction from his real ambition.
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[hider=Sample Post]
[center][h3]Apple Accord[/h3][/center]
The gesture itself seemed pretty simple in his head, at least conceptually. Then again, Mirza had a lot on his mind. That was what partially accounted for his underestimating the sheer number of stones he needed, what felt like hundreds scattered around the dense wilderness that resembled equal parts shelter as it did a threat in and of itself. His imagination had an easy time of it, flooding him with plenty of good reasons to hurry about his work. It was beginning to get distracting, and now was not the time for it. He wasn't out of the woods yet, literally in fact.

Anxiously glancing up passed the high plethora of obscuring foliage, he couldn't mistake the quickly receding veil of burnt orange sunlight. Night was approaching, meaning the load of rocks and firewood he gathered and hoisted over his shoulder, using his cloak as a makeshift bag, would have to be the last bit of supplies he had to work with. He winced in pain at the investigative touch of one of the more sizable bruises on his head, just above his left ear. This was the longest day he's had in a long time. What was he thinking?

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Vengence, partly. The assailants, of which there were three, also looked to have some quality gear which he could steal. He'd seen them in action after all - very effective. Unfortunately, his impromptu plan of attack left little in the way of opportunities, but at the time he was willing to accept the consequences of playing things by ear. Said enemies had brought their own  wagon along for this job, atop which they stored their extra provisions and equipment. Exceptionally tempting if circumstances were different. At the time however, they were packing it in, disappointed over a job unfinished but not deterred from picking up his trail the next day.

"[i]Damn coward[/i]. As good as hid'n their corpses, he did," complained one, haphazardly packing a pole arm and sword he fancied with the rest of the spoils, part of a consolation at best, a spiteful precaution at worst.

Careful steps on the softest and least obstructed ground he could find and a deftly cautious eye from behind a tree.

"What'd you expect from a [i]thief[/i]? I bet he's a running his legs ragged away and still hasn't looked back!" another laughed derisively while seeing to the two horses waiting patiently at the wagon's front.

No signs of suspicion. Taking cover from behind another tree trunk, then to a rather large bush, then to yet another tree. Closer and closer to the rear and side of the wagon.

Those two were regrouping, not paying any attention his way. Swallowing steadily, Mirza inched with renewed purpose towards the back entrance. Might there be just a fleeting chance for him to maybe grab something...

"That fool will have to wait!" shouted the approaching third, loading some final supplies before preparing to get in the back himself. "This won't be our last opportunity, and so long as the wildlife don't get to him first, then his best chance at making it alive is the next town over. (Boisterous Laughter) Either way, he's a dead man this time tomorrow!"

Ducking away immediately from view at the voice of the third, Mirza rushed to the side of the carriage, a second lapse in his pulse when he then heard the words "Huh? What was that?" before the hooded hunter tilted his head from what he was doing, only to find nothing.

It was in the moments that followed, rustling on his back in a silent panic under that wagon, that Mirza realized that maybe his plan to sabotage their departure wasn't as well thought out as it could have been. He needed more time, his mind and body scrambling in tandem towards a solution to get him the time he required. Not a very good one he'll admit, a small commotion and hushed scraping sounds from underneath the good sized cart before silence, [i]painful silence[/i].

There was [i]some[/i] takeaway from all this, he wagered. Perhaps a testament to the truism of how you never know what you're capable of until it comes right down to it, or something like that. It wasn't as if he needed any more proof that he could be remarkably persistent when he puts his mind to something, especially after the hunters rode the wagon over a few very uneven and rocky patches of dirt road.

But there was a payoff at the end of this ordeal. One way or another, these men were going to pay for what they've done. Nothing was going to stop him now.

"(Annoyed Sigh) You said these horses were the best you could find!"

"They were!"

"[i]Might'a fooled me![/i] At this rate we won't even be able to sell our extra loot before nightfall!"

"Shut up, you two! Complaining will get us nowhere. Let's just cut across the shallow end of this lake coming up ahead, try and make up the time... [i]?[/i]... You idiots hear something?"

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The spirited dancing flames were a much welcome change in the otherwise prolific darkness of night. Mirza was soaked from earlier and pitched his damp outerwear in makeshift stands a healthy distance from the large bonfire, the stones he'd gathered surrounding the kindling and making sure the whole forest didn't burn to the ground.

The thief himself was naturally warming up near the bonfire as well, sitting, huddled listlessly and attempting to bandage himself up. He was exhausted, the kind of exhaustion that made sleep, especially in this circumstance, a death sentence. He couldn't stay here, if for no other reason than that the fire reeked of decay and failure, the latter mostly being his own.

His body ached all over, nowhere near as much as it was going to later, but he didn't even [i]want[/i] to think about that at the moment, the growling of his stomach actually coming as a relief since he could deal with [i]that[/i] right then and there. Unsteadily rising to his feet, the weary vagrant paced over to his pack lying on the ground nearby and started to rummage about, sighing in contentment at the first bit of relief since he woke up that previous morning.

It was a small string sack full of apple slices, a modest portion of comfort food to tie him over until he could eat something more substantial later. It never looked so appealing, a meager smile on his face as he admired the eight or so he produced from the bag. Between the food and the fire, he actually didn't even notice the sound of hooves drawing closer, the first slice not even passed his lips when he suddenly heard an ardent whinny grab his attention, his head lifting upward in surprise, his legs rushing him to his feet.

"[color=FF4500]Wha-[i]Y-You!?[/i]... But I thought I tied you...[/color]" Mirza's head momentarily glanced to a tree, the low hanging branch of which he'd tied the animal's reins to. Sure enough, he only needed to see the two halves of said strap dangling down the horse's bridle to surmise that shoddy craftsmanship was the culprit here, his hand just silently covering his forehead, clearly annoyed.

"[color=FF4500]... Seems those guys hadn't fed you in a while, huh?...[/color]"

The creature turned its head to get a better look at him and the food he held especially.

"[color=FF4500][i]Hmph[/i], well can't you just hold on until we make it out this forest!? I need this more than you, you know?![/color]"

It neighed loudly and waved its head, as if protesting.

The thief sighed in defeat, coming across another fight he just couldn't face right now, and in looking at the horse's bruises, its tousled and grimy coat and mane, he nodded wistfully. The choice was too clear. "[color=FF4500]I guess you did get me back here, even after what I did... Tell you what? How about I give you these and in return you take me to the next town, okay?[/color]" He blinked expectedly, tilting his head for some kind of affirmation.

Hard to tell. Mirza's eyes squinted at the beast of burden, suspicious, but nevertheless taking a single slice of apple at a time and lifting them straight to the horse's mouth, one after another.

He could just tell this truce wasn't going to last.
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