http%3a%2f%2fi.imgur.com%2f3hkpqaA.jpg [http://i.imgur.com/3hkpqaA.jpg]

--The guild’s back room was once a changing room for the old theatre’s actors and actresses. Some of their costumes were still in stock, hanging neatly in their place; albeit now covered with a thick coating of dust. Amongst them, scheming faces gathered. Zarak and the twin blades, for starters, were there. They were some pretty shady characters, to begin with. Then there was Donovan, another young(ish) thief that’s made it far in the guild’s hierarchy, although he was a whole 8 years older than Zarak. Donovan’s face was handsome and had a knowing smile stuck on it, most of the time. And then there was Far. He was the owner of a wrinkled face, so shady that you wouldn’t let him take care of a drawn sheep for you. Zarak wondered sometimes if Far’s face was always painted with lies, or if it became that way due to years in the business. Be that as it may, Far was the one person he trusted most in this room. The others seemed to think of him as competition, and were quite keen to impale his innards with their various tools of the trade.

--Some nods and waves were exchanged, and a plan began to unfold. Not much courtesy here, this wasn’t a merchant’s meeting with pompous phrases overflowing with hypocrisy. Nope, these men were the antonym to those gold digging bastards. They too craved the touch of coins, but Zarak was fonder of their method of obtaining them. He found it to be more honest.

--The method of the day was elaborated by the smug Donovan, who has had his spies following around a servant of one of the biggest names in town – Alphonse LaForge. Mister LaForge was the unofficial ruler of Bartertown. Unlike the other merchants, he used most of his income to bribe various officials, thus gaining unparalleled influence over the matters of Bartertown. And, coincidentally, any man who wanted to do business in Bartertown, had to answer to LaForge. How did this function in practice? The servant that Donovan has had tailed for months makes a round of all the biggest shops in Bartertown, each month. And every time he leaves one of these shops, his backpack grows quite a bit heavier, with the bribes these men had to pay to LaForge so he wouldn’t interfere with their business. All this time, such a juicy target has eluded the thieves gaze, and yet Donovan had finally spotted it. The best part was that no official retinue was apparently following this servant. Since he was collecting bribes, he couldn’t exactly do it with all the fanfare and the clatter of armour-clad men that usually followed merchants around. It would be a tiny bit too conspicuous to the public at large. The time of the next tour? Tomorrow. LaForge’s reach was so great and frightening in Bartertown that no man outside of this crummy old theatre changing room knew of the plan. If word got out, their plan would likely get foiled. In fact, the people carrying out this plan – will be the very same people who just heard it. Such a daring feat will bring unparalleled glory to the thieves guild, and to those who carry it out. This idea had Donovan and the twins quite obviously excited, but Zarak was apprehensive of the gravity of the situation. If all of the leaders of the guild are operating in one place, much stood to be lost. Far on the other hand was as difficult to read as always, as a cryptic gaze graced his sexagenarian visage.

***

--After the meeting, Zarak handed eight hundred gold pieces to Rosencrantz. More than he himself had gotten after any single job. He knew he had no obligation to hand him more than half of the given amount, but doing so would have made him feel as if he was one of those pricks he’d worked for over the past few years. While he was shopping for new gear for himself, he even bought Rosencrantz a concealable crossbow, which one could carry around in one’s sleeve. A tricky device that was rare even in the thieves’ guild, and forbidden outside of it, as it was seen as an assassination tool. It was a sure sign of a truly devious mind. With it, Rosencrantz at least looked the part of a man who belonged in the thieves’ guild. Following the relatively modest shopping spree, Zarak made his way to the Bartertown post office. Once there, he scribbled a crude letter about getting a raise at his job for all the hard work he’d been doing, and how he hoped to see them soon. The letter was accompanied by half of his earnings from the bloody endeavour. Whomever the letter and the package were addressed to, he seemed to have sunk into a deep melancholy, thinking about them. He left the post office in a bit of a hurry. He made his way to a nearby tavern, where he had a few shots of hard liquor. Downed them fast, he did, after which time seemed to freeze, as he gazed into the empty glass in his hand. After a while he simply upped and left, with a slight stutter in his step. As he was trudging the rather empty streets of Bartertown, he realized it must have rained while he was in the tavern. The streets were muddy, and his steps occasionally made a splash as he wandered on.

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--Somehow, he expected the city to be different now. He thought that he himself had maybe become different after this particular excursion. Nothing had changed though. It was just like the first day he got here – shops and stands everywhere. Large posters advertising anything from not so fresh fish, moustache wax and fur coats, to gold plated wagon wheels. Smiling faces all around. They were nothing but masks, covering up vain people wrapped up in greed.

--He noticed a bounty poster on a wall along the way. It said “Red Demon that breathes fire, award 1000gp”. He smiled to himself, as he remembered how he earned that nickname.

--As he wandered on, Zarak heard the jubilus song of a witless drunk, echoing in the streets. He paused at a crossroads to look around, searching for the song’s source. The song was vaguely familiar, and rather annoying. His eyes at last glimpsed another stuttering silhouette in the poorly lit streets. A bit like himself, though this one was obviously farther down the road than he was. The crooked figure which he had viewed, as it paraded towards him, belonged to none other than Rosencrantz. Upon this realization, Zarak’s mind became clearer and he instinctively lowered his posture as if preparing to dash away. However, as his feet were about to take him in the opposite direction, a couple of armoured men grabbed Rosencrantz. A debate ensued. Apparently, the men were town guards arresting Rosencrantz for drunken and disorderly conduct. It was only a matter of time before they found the contraption hidden in Rosencrantz’s sleeve... His own fault, nothing to do with Zarak. Not his problem. A rope is what you get for being so stupid. How unfortunate though... Rosencrantz won’t be guarding his back tomorrow, during the big jig. Or is it, really?

http%3a%2f%2fi.imgur.com%2fn8iFDHi.jpg [http://i.imgur.com/n8iFDHi.jpg]

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--Turned into a zombie while working on this one. Had not slept tonight and I have to go to work in 3-4 hours. o.0 Thank you for reading. Next update will be on Wednesday. If you liked my work, please rate, follow or favorite, to support my content. Saude!