The City of Naveh–if you could even call it that–was more akin to a red crater. The structures were formed out of the thick, red clay, forming tunnel-like abodes with several sets of doors and windows. The tallest red brick buildings formed the watchtowers, which were visible well outside the stone-tooth perimeter wall.

Though it was only late day, the sky above was an eerie dark purple that tinted the buildings and pelts of inhabitants. It was better than the long desert that the two had been languishing through–especially considering that Skritch had drunk all of the water for the both of them only five minutes into the trek–but not by much.

"What an ugly looking place," Skritch blurted through his cloth-face mask. "Shh!" Hamster, the master thief, scolded him. "This is my home, you know," she rolled her eyes harshly. Her recent apprentice–if you could call him that: He'd just begged her and refused to leave until she agreed to teach him thievery–was a constantly whining companion.

"So what if it's your home?" Skritch boldly asserted, "I don't care if it's a tarkee nursery, I'm here to plunder xen and loot stones of power." Hamster suddenly cut through a red-clay alleyway, the belemoid intentionally making a series of sharp corners to try to knock Skritch off her tail. His white pelt plodded after the swing of her brown-tipped tail, issuing curses as he was carried through a series of shifty scenes of the city's underbelly.

Two tsabhua, worse for wear with mattered pelts and scarred faces, sat around an oil can fire and lifted their head up when they noticed Skritch, hissing at him in unison. A green belemoid with markings similar to Hamster was spray-painting the rebel logo onto the backside of a building, shaking the can with her claws as she worked with a fierce concentration.

He chased Skritch into a tight squeeze of a red tunnel that opened up into a back alley marketplace, sellers' stands claustrophobically stacked together. He nearly stepped in a display of rare spice-paints as he scuttled by a female tarkee who loudly–and boldly–auctioned eggs of her own lineage to a set of shifty colonies.

"Still in there, squirt?" Hamster narrowed her eyes at him harshly as though she was disappointed that he hadn't been lost or stabbed along the way for seeing something he shouldn't have. She sat down at the frame of a massive metal door, reminiscent to that of a bank's treasury but kept with a homemade lock: A metal block of latches, differently-sized keyholes, and linked chains.

"The thieves guild is right through there–if you can get in, first." Hamster explained gravely as Skritch narrowed his gaze at a set of eyes through a sliding peep-hole watching them. "Consider this the ultimate test of my training," Hamster flicked an ear, "Either you pass this exam, or you don't, and quite frankly, then you'd be out of my hair, so that's a win for both of us, too."

Skritch's sleazy yellow eyes set upon the locking mechanism. He scratched his chin, inquisitive as he followed the lines of metal chain, knobs, cylinder, and the latch plate. The two suns fell from their place in the sky over Naveh, and the three moons rose in their stead. Hamster had returned, just once, taking pity on the runt and throwing a blanket over his back.

The tsabhua became gradually more certain that it was all interconnected to each other, though not through the obvious keyhole–the one outfitted for a bizarre skeleton key. Instead, Skritch brought forwards a single claw, poked it into a pinprick's dot on the side, and the mechanism fell open, jingling to the ground as a dead serpent. "That was… It?" Skritch raised an eyebrow at the puzzlingly easy task.

"Maybe you do have some potential, kid," Hamster admitted dryly, "Thieves need to be smart, but they need to be practical, too." The inside of the thieves' den was that of a damp underground irrigation canal. A light at the end lit up the silhouettes of several forms playing an intergalactic card game around the table.

A bright-colored tarkee's eyes widened as she saw Hamster, and she squeaked, "Now now, who have you brought with you?" Though in a sense regretful that Skritch had passed the test, she gave him a rough–yet triumphant–push into the den, initiating him to come sit at the desk among the other thieves.

Before long, the white tsabhua runt had kicked up his feet onto the wire-spool table, and was playing decks of symboled cards out of each hand. "Blackjack!" He called to a one-eyed thief, raking a large pile of gold coins into his lap. "Bingo!" He yelled to another, claiming victory in yet another game–one Hamster didn't think any of them were playing. The fuzzball had managed to fit right in without even stepping onto any toes… Yet.

"And why wouldn't I fit right in?" He boasted for himself, taking on a smug grin. "I'm a con artist, you're a bunch of theives... It's a perfect relationship!" The captain did plan on keeping one secret to himself, however: The fact that DPIP authorities were still tracking him down for his outstanding balance of over 1-million-xen for the construction of his underwater colony. No biggie for the hiding theives guild, right?