"What makes someone become a [
thief with "no bones"]?" Det. Carter mused, standing with their arms crossed looking at the board which correlated all of the recent heists that seemed to have no entry point. There were blurry Spellsnaps of the magically gifted catburgler, but nothing enough to try making a move on their likely suspects. The only clear photo was of something that looked like a single wave of inky-fluid reared back like a grizzly snake.
"We've been o'er this, like, forty times, Derek," said Det. Hills looking up from her morning newsroll. "'sides, regardless of how they're doing it, we've got to find 'em."
"Carter, Hills," their sergeant barked, "My Office."
Later that morning, the pair of Westeria constables were speaking with a Witch of the Hearth named Dessma, who did security for buildings in the heavily commercialized East Ward. She dutifully handed over a sketch from her familiars who had been watching the targeted warehouse that night. It was a really well drawn picture of... a cat.
"Damn those little pixies--I could taste us cracking this one, Moyra!"
After interviewing a half-dozen witnesses, the effort seemed as futile as ever. Not one of them had a clear story about the Boneless Bandit. It was as if something about the thief's abilities seemed to obfuscate their identity and hoodwink most wards-based security.
For what it was worth, there was one compelling, if ephemeral account.
Adena, a woman of short stature and equal temper, insisted the thief was a woman who had stopped in her store last night just after the eleventh bell.
"She had an otherworldly beauty," the cafe shopkeeper had said, before griping that neither of the officers had bought anything.
Then, a few days later, they got a break. Hills had spoken with her contact down at the sky docks, and they had seen someone wandering around a few days before the break in. A woman who made them feel similarly awed by their appearance.
"They said the woman looked like this..." [Choose One]