The Long Con

The Shadow watched as the thief struggled to pry open the sewer grate. She gave a mad laugh, a laugh that would echo all around them in what sounded like a bout of insanity. She continued to stalk toward her prey, holding out a hand. The magic fog glided onto the ground, a thick mist of darkened clouds obscuring what lay beneath them. The grate would disappear with the fog as it becomes too thick to see through. Continuing to hold out her hand, she directed it towards the thief. She could smell his rushing blood, hear every quickened beat of a panicked heart. She relished the sensations, stimulating her desire for hunger. She wanted to flay this man in every direction, see how each beat of the heart spurts a stream of blood out of every artery, until he was ripped apart and splayed about by her own two hands.

Except, she wanted to try something new today. Today, she would enthrall the man, force him to serve her until his usefulness was at an end. He would live a bleak life of forever being under her control, at her beck and call, until it was time to consume him like so many walking corpses before him. He would learn a very painful, very long lesson of stealing from the wrong mage. Avorra continued to move her hands toward the thief, moving her fingers in a strange fashion. She sensed the blood in his veins, and commanded that his arms restrain themselves. She forced the thief to his knees, arms behind his back, as she slowly and slowly paced towards him, like a cat stalking a mouse. What would he ever do now?

My darling thief, I think you're well in over your head now. How about we discuss the coin you took from me, and the box you left empty?