If I were an expensive, perhaps irreplaceable stealth-property charmed band...where would I be?
"I'd be in the damned trunk along with the rest of the cargo," Crendle responded to himself quietly, taking no note of what talking to oneself might imply. He'd done it for years, along with a few other peculiarities that weren't about to up and crawl away any time soon. The tall, wiry elf rifled through several leather packs of varying sizes and colors all contained in a large, dark brown trunk. He was practically radiating frustration.
There were upwards of a thousand possibilities concerning what could have happened to the valuable trinket, and none of them were improving Crendle's mood as they ran, one by one, through his head. In Zantaric, of all places, he had done well preventing the loss of cargo over the years. He had taken precautions - so many precautions, but when he had been distracted from his work, his guard was violated. Crendle blamed himself for being careless, but more so his memory for failing to remind him of the village's unpredictability.
Nevertheless, he had a reputation to uphold in the shady little village that housed a traveling network of corruption of amazing proportions and stamina. Losing a magical item, even as simple and seemingly unexceptional as a band of fabric with a small jewel attached, when it was due for departure and deliverance, was absolutely unacceptable. Therefore, Crendle was not in the highest of spirits as he turned his room in the inn above a familiar tavern upside down searching for the object. He had considered staying at his actual house before, but decided that disturbing things that were...best left alone for a mere night's stay was unecessary. It was not unusual for Crendle to avoid his origins like the plague.
Crendle pulled himself back from his thoughts, piercing crimson eyes darting about the cramped space as he paused, clawed fingers poised above the trunk, as if threatening it with further defilement. His gaze narrowed as it settled upon the open door from which he had just entered to discover his room in disarray. Well, less disarray than now, of course, but significantly more than when he had first left it.
He'd be damned if some little street rat with greedy fingers and no respect for privacy was going to interfere with his business going as usual, as planned, and as perfectly as always in the passing through his home. Pale, cross Crendle would even have welcomed foul play of a larger nature at this point, but suspected the more embarrassing and unfortunate possibility of run-of-the-mill, unorganized thievery attracted by the blue jewel that had adorned and enchanted the small leather band.
Mumbling to himself as he stood, he decided that it would be better to search the tavern below and then the surrounding area for any signs of suspicious activity. He laughed mirthlessly at his own thought, savoring the irony. Correction: suspicious behavior in relation to his own problem. He couldn't be consoled until he found the one item that had gone missing from his possession while he was seeking out the messenger that had left no more than a few minutes ago.
Crendle's mood was ambiguous and chaotic - a mixture for trouble. He felt ridiculous and furious at the same time, among other things, though he knew that this change of consistency had everything to do with the news from his sister, Crendle quickly dismissed the thought in order to see to the present. As long as he kept himself in check, only the source of his dilemma would receive the brunt of his emotions.
It was the principle of it, really. Petty thieves never endangered business unless the Dealer was incredibly careless, foolish, or a mixture of the two. Because of what was at stake, particularly due to the location of the commotion as well as a number of other tumbling factors, it would be safe to assume that the odd-looking elf was probably glaring daggers and fuming with a degree of intimidation even Crendle didn't normally take on while trudging purposefully down the hall then descending the stairs down into the tavern as if it were the pits of Hell.
The unidentified thief could not have gotten far with Crendle's speed, observance, and senses, as well as the time alone. Crendle was interested in both intentions and the item - but relief from this "cherry on top" trouble more than anything.
