Crystals- Chapter One: Nadroj by Benjamin Hampton

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Not just any old Skoorbian, either, but a Warrior Skoorbian. That meant that the man in fur was probably as important as he made himself out to be and doubly as rich.

While trying to maintain a calm and relaxed image he pushed himself off of the building and into the crowd. He brushed past a few people, and bumped into some others, but soon he was easily able to follow the pair. He didn't have to worry about staying back and trying to trail them, however; people didn't feel unsafe walking down a busy street in broad daylight, and they certainly didn't notice if someone was behind them.

As they reached the fountain the man was still complaining overdramatically, and Toner was almost ready to make his move. The purse was pointed appropriately towards the Skoorbian, so speed would be even more important than it usually was.

Everything seemed to slow down as Toner focused on the purse. He reached forward and grabbed down inside of the wallet. He felt money and felt filled with happy excitement. The feeling was quickly replaced by pain.

The Skoorbian had Toner by the wrist, and then twisted. Toner screamed in agony and doubled over.

The ghost of his mother was smirking at him.
*
Skoorbian were generally considered fierce and were not to be reckoned with. A Warrior Skoorbian were one of the strongest and most fearsome group in the world, and Toner had been caught off guard by one he had pissed off. Not a good combination to say the last.

Toner had, in his greed, momentarily let his guard down, which was his first mistake—a big one at that. Additionally, the Skoorbian was much stronger than Toner, who relied primarily on speed and what sometimes seemed like invisibility. He had chosen the life of a criminal. He had been since he was thirteen, and in the last five years he had been caught his fair share of times. But none of those times were more painful as the beating the Skoorbian was giving him.

He had made a big mistake, and was suffering because of that. Greed.
Greed was what he had been taught to avoid, and the words Ol' Cyle had said to him years ago went through Toner's mind: Never—and I mean never—go after two people unless you have two people. Three unless you have three, and so on. Nothing good can come from it, kid, and the chances are very good that you'll get your ass kicked in the process.
If only he could have remembered that two minutes ago; then he wouldn't be in the current predicament. Sweat trickled down the Skoorbian's head and fell off of his face and dropped onto Toner, who
was in enough of his own sweat as it was.

"You just made the worst mistake of your life," he said, pulling his fist back. "And I'm going to make sure you won't forget it as long as you live."

Toner felt his pulse quicken. He nervously looked around for any kind of help. The wealthy man was looking down at Toner with a sick look on his face that was a mix of a sneer and a grin. A crowd had formed around the trio, and the area had grown eerily quiet. Yet no one reached down to help Toner.