Isolation can be sought, but once achieved, is destined to be disrupted. The inevitable disruption of alienation can translate either into angst or growth. He sought isolation.

Flies circled around his limp body which was lazily propped up against a stack of hay. The irking buzzing of fly wings and a sliver of sunlight on his eye woke him up. He sat up, briefly adjusted his leather shin- and forearm padding before swatting the insects from his face. The sunlight continued to stream through the vertical crevice in between two wooden planks of the barn wall. Standing up, he stretched, yawned, then headed towards the large double doors.

Stepping out into the rising-sun-lit sloping hills, his longish, maroon hair flicked about due to the passing zephyrs. As customary to any peaceful awakening, he took a deep breath, sending a tacit thank-you to whatever deity guarded his life. The figure in front of the barn looked to his left. His trustworthy steed was grazing a few dozen yards off.

"Decus," he called in a slightly raised voice, summoning the black horse.

His head rose. The horse trotted gracefully across the short distance between the two companions. Decus stopped close in front of his commanding human, allowing him to touch his brown diamond marking. The steed stayed steady as the fair-skinned hand felt the distinctive shape on his forehead. Then, the man - young man, rather - proceeded to mount the personable beast.

His legs came down on either side of the horse, accompanied by a practiced "yah". Decus began the swift departure from the barn, across the hills of the open expanse. Stoical expression, loose cotton clothes and hair blown back, steed advancing - a common sight when around Perdid Unam. This vaguely known traveler, sometimes considered a myth, wanders from settling to settling, assisting those in need. With his short sword and long bow, Perdid mainly attempts to keep peace, however violent the method.

Those in the Guilds know his existence to be more than a legend, but a hindrance to some, while a help to others. Guilds such as the Vigilante and Rogue look to him for guidance and mainly physical assistance. Others, as in Guard and Bandit, have a rancor for him for unorthodoxly interfering in the justice system and frustrating crime, to each respectively.

At the moment, Perdid wasn't considering others' opinions of him, but where the source of his breakfast would be - and maybe a bath. He hadn't showered since his last "mission". Riding Decus across the sloping plain, he thought about this recent adventure.

Three days ago, he had gotten word of notorious thief being sighted near the outskirts of Reshiik, a small city. Stopping this criminal would put many civilians at ease. So, venturing into the crowded streets of Reshiik's central marketplace, Perdid began his search. This hectic area would be perfect for the common thief; people wouldn't know the difference between a simple bump and a pickpocket. However, Perdid wasn't scrambling around in the mobs, he was resting atop a tall building, watching for signs of thievery. Even though he had gotten the basic description of the criminal's appearance, habits, and tactics, spotting someone specific would not be easy.

He kept his hand ready on his stone hilt at his waist. The decorated but faded leather sheath with its copper tip occasionally bumped against the stone roof.

Tik. Tik. Tik.

Perdid's turquoise eyes peered into he crowds, searching relentlessly for the thief.

Tik. Tik. Tik.

He brushed back his maroon hair to make sure I wasn't interfering with his vision; he just witnessed someone inconspicuously take something from a distracted merchant. This was no major crime, but the culprit's appearance matched descriptions of Perdid's target. All the physical characteristic aligned, but most uniquely, there was a very small dagger attached to a chain around his neck.

The boy, no older than seventeen, watched as the suspected man continued to casually steal small, unnoticeable goods and hide them within his beige robes. As the sun began to set, not much more than an hour or two after Perdid arrived at Reshiik, the thief receded into a shabby building. After a short wait, Perdid saw him come out, robes not burdened by the weight of stolen goods. A storage house.

He watched the criminal stroll out of the congested market and into the less-crowded streets. Luckily, Reshiik's streets were all lined with tall buildings, all within close quarters, so Perdid was able to follow along on the rooftops. It had always amazed him how seldom the busy citizens cared to look up. Stealthily making his way across the left side of the structures, he saw his target take a right turn. Silently cursing, Perdid realized he would have to cross the gap between the adjacent rows of homes and workshops. He didn't have time to contemplate other options; he was losing sight of the thief.

Backing up to allow a running start, he took a deep breath. Then, he began his sprint, trying to be as quiet as possible. When he reached the edge of the roof, he leapt with all of his might, soaring through the air and across the space between rooftops. With a not-too-soft impact, his body slammed against the other stone brick building, grasping feverishly for a ledge or crevice. Perdid pulled himself onto the roof, praying that no one noticed, then swiftly located his target once more.

He had to run to catch up, making shorter leaps between neighboring houses. His sword clanked ungracefully at his side, not meant for such travels. Finally, the thief stopped by a home without lights, a sign of sleeping or not present residents. He was in a much less congested area of Reshiik now. This meant less witnesses, which was a good thing for both Perdid and the fugitive. Making sure no one was around to notice, he knelt and picked the lock of the door. Perdid was surprised by how quickly the criminal's goal was achieved; he must be quite practiced.

Ninety-nine out of one hundred times someone picks a lock, it means that they are not supposed be on the other side of the door. Perdid scanned the roof of the invaded building, and his eyes found a trapdoor that would likely be the first option of escape. He jumped across the small but still dangerous gap and waited. Impatient, he creaked the trapdoor open and checked inside. There was only dim lighting, but he could see a wooden switchback staircase leading to the hatch he was looking through. Then, he hastily yet silently closed it; the thief could be heard ascending the steps.

Crouched, Perdid awaited a confrontation with his target. There was no telling how the invader would react - the things Perdid did for no reward. Snapping him to attention, the hatch was opened. The man was relishing in the presence of his stolen treasures - lamps, perfumes, bottles of alcohol, sacks of coin - when he abruptly noticed Perdid waiting for him.

"Back away, son," he had grumbled. "Son"? This had only angered the pursuer; any mention or call to attention of his parents was seen as disrespectful. The criminal unceremoniously placed his goods to the side and whipped out a long, serrated dagger, but not the one from his necklace. Unlike the miniscule blade around his neck, this knife was possibly a foot long, including the poorly wrapped hilt. Perdid stood, undaunted.

His target then charged, ready to swiftly end a life and move on. Perdid unsheathed his sword and parried the strike in one, practiced motion. The infuriated criminal staggered back slightly. He considered this vigilante, then engaged in combat once more. Swinging slovenly, he was easily blocked by Perdid, who tried to stay defensive, but couldn't help but strike when the opportunity arose. He had managed to cut the bandit once or twice, but he hadn't been able to land a severe blow. The mysteriously dark blade deflected the long dagger again before the target realized his efforts were futile. He fled.

Perdid did not accept this, seeing as he scooped up a coin sack and small piece of silverwork as he ran. Dirty thief. He began pursuit again, this time both of them were flying across rooftops. Even though he was making steady progress, Perdid was ungraceful with his sword in hand; as he leapt from roof to roof the slightly heavy weapon caused him to flail his arms. Still, he was catching up to the fleeing thief.

Finally, he managed to slash at his calf, sending him tumbling across the bumpy stonework of a roof. Blood spewing from his leg and onto the bricks, he still attempted to get up and run, only to fall back to his knee. However, as Perdid approached, he managed to stand, albeit unsteadily. He faced his justice-bringer, looking him up and down with his jaw hanging slightly. A look of terror but mainly shock came to his face.

Then, he shed this look. Daringly, he mustered his remaining energy and charged with his dagger above his head, yawping. Perdid was a bit surprised by this risky attempt to succeed, but reacted in time. He drew his blade back and, grunting with effort, ran him through. With the attacker's hand already in motion to strike, his dagger went flying as he was stabbed. Perdid struggled, both hands on the hilt of his long-ago crafted sword, to heave the weight of a dying man. Their faces were close, no less than six inches apart.

"Who - are you?" the thief asked in a weak whisper. Criminals like this man didn't deserve the peace of knowing their killer. He just gave a cold stare as the bandit agonizingly died. The building they were on had only two floors, and they were close enough to the edge, so Perdid let the corpse slide of his sword and onto the nearly deserted street. The thud attracted civilians to the scene, forming a mob around the body.

Perdid made his way down the side of the house, sheathing his blade. He struggled to make his way through the encircling people, but when he did, he knelt to search the body for any remaining stolen objects. He seemed to have dropped the silver and coin on the roof - that would be recovered later. But what puzzled Perdid wasn't the lack of loot, but the necklace - more specifically, the fact that the miniature dagger and chain weren't on the corpse. He dismissed it as being pirated by a desperate onlooker.

A few of the crowd questioned Perdid, thankfully yes-or-no questions; he admittedly didn't fancy speaking. He would nod or shake his head, honestly answering the brief interrogations, but he was eager to get back to the outskirts where Decus awaited in a trustworthy stable. Before he departed, he made sure to leave a slightly mocking note at the Guard Guild headquarters, informing them of the thief's death and a need for object replacement, along with the storage house location. Just to irk them further, he climbed the prominent tower that served as their base, and left the twice-folded paper in the unattended office on the top floor. This office was owned by the guild leader, a none-too-friendly veteran that goes by the name Atolocus, who seemed to especially despise Perdid's antics and vigilante style.

After descending the frighteningly tall tower, he advanced out of the town. As he was leaving, he luckily realized that someone of the Rogue Guild was following him through the streets. Rogue Guild members are rather easy to distinguish once one becomes familiar with their usual attire: almost always they don a hood, dark robes, and no visible weapons except a dagger of sorts. One of these men following you is not usually good. Perdid sped up his pace, and so did the Rogue. Seeing as the Guard Guild headquarters was near the center of Reshiik, reaching the city limits would take some time. The moon was beginning to show its face, and Perdid knew that night would only make the Rogue's job simpler.

Breaking into a light jog, then to a run, then an all-out sprint, he hoped to be able to escape the mysterious follower. He created distance, but his pursuer did not give up easily, following him to the stable. Perdid tossed his pocket change at the stablekeeper and mounted his steed. In his usual form, Perdid brought his feet into the horse's sides with the instinctive "yah" and rode off into the night, not knowing if the Rogue would continue his chase.

The sight of a village in the far distance grabbed Perdid's attention from sifting through his memories. It didn't seem to be too large in population or size, but the hut-like houses appeared welcoming enough. Maybe he could find "work" in this settlement. Maybe he could bring justice to some unlucky soul in this settlement. Maybe he could take a bath in this settlement.