Arcane: Theft at the Village Bridge
It might have surprised the residents of the Village Bridge to learn that there was a hidden watcher in their midst. This grey-skinned lurker, naked aside from a pair of lime green shorts, crouched between two of the houses on the ancient, stone crossing. If the shadows were very much deeper around him, and if this stranger's teal eyes glowed slightly as he turned his attention from one person to the next, no-one seemed to notice. He frowned in concentration as he listened to the conversations going on around his hiding place, only moving to brush a strand of his strange red hair away from his face, or to switch his attention to a different person.
Finally he focused on someone new; a hiker with a large bag on his back was making his way to the end of the bridge. Instantly, the scarecrowish figure leapt upwards, grasped the edge of a roof with both hands, hauled himself onto the tiles, and darted soundlessly across the rough, ceramic surface. For a moment, as he ran, he was outlined in scarlet light. When it faded, he'd apparently changed shape; one second he'd been a human with a strange ash-grey skin colour, and the next he was a Patrat that seemed to be keeping a lookout from a place on the edge of the roof.
Arcane had seen a group of the tuft-tailed rodents earlier; no-one seemed to pay them any mind when they clambered onto the roof to look around, so it was a fair illusion to use. For a moment, the striped rodent sat there, looking off into the distance with one paw shielding it's eyes from the sun, and then it leapt from the roof and ran across the street as the lone hiker turned the corner near the last house. The patrat quickly followed; the instant it's tufted tail turned the corner, it was briefly outlined in red light and became the mostly-naked stranger from before. The skinny figure barrelled into the back of the man with the giant pack on his back, knocking him forward a few steps, then raised both arms above his head. His long red hair billowed around his skinny shoulders as he crossed his wrists and became outlined in a terrifying ruddy glow. The shockwave when he brought both hands down to the ground shredded the hiker's pack, sent scraps of shadow and clouds of dust flying, and knocked the man off his feet. In an instant, Arcane had the damaged pack off it's owners shoulders, and was running towards the edge of the trees. He hopped over the fence with surprising agility and vanished into the undergrowth.
He grinned wolfishly at the shout of 'Thief!' from behind him and continued his headlong flight through sparse woods. He needed no-one. At least, he needed no-one under normal circumstances; right now he needed to find his friends and work out what had happened to him. So far, he'd spent several hours listening to random conversations around the village. No-one had mentioned any strange pokemon, or funny-looking humans like himself, so it was time to move on. Another man with the same style pack had mentioned travelling, and taken something out of his pack that apparently showed where he was and the way he needed to go; and if there was something the ex-Zoroark needed to know, it was where he was, and where he was going next. No doubt he'd find something good in the pack.
A clearing loomed, and Arcane stopped to look around at the trees. A few grey-feathered pidoves watched him from the trees, before turning and fluttering further into the woods. For a moment, Arcane's green eyes narrowed, and then they began to glow; instantly, a thick, tangled barrier of thorns and nettles sprang up all the way around the clearing. More growth filled the area with a dense thicket of vines and creepers, each with inch-long thorns, so that only a small area was left clear in the centre. When he was sure he wouldn't be followed, Arcane sat, brushed his long, red hair away from his face again and pawed at the bag as he worked out how to open it.
It didn't take him long.
The first thing that he pulled out was a pack of sandwiches. They were inspected minutely as the ex-Zoroark turned them over in his hands. He sniffed at the packaging gingerly and caught a whiff of what could only be food. His stomach burbled noisily; he hadn't eaten since the day before, and he hadn't really thought about having anything since he'd woken up. As before, it took him a little bit of time to work out how to get at the contents of the packaging, but within a few moments he was busy stuffing his face.
Things were starting to look up.
It was only after he was on the last few bites of the sandwich that he tasted what he was eating; there was the distinctly sour tang of a Sitrus berry buried in the bread. Instantly, Arcane screwed his face up in disgust. For a moment he considered just leaving the half-eaten remains of his purloined breakfast, then decided against it. He didn't know when he'd next get to eat, after all, so he simply finished eating and tried not to taste it.
He wasn't very successful.
Next up was a change of clothes, which he put into an untidy pile next to him, and a tube which, when he unrolled it, looked a lot like the thing the last hiker had called a Town Map. He turned it every which way as he tried to work out how to use it, and barely heard the sounds of pursuit getting ever closer to his hiding spot.
