Greetings Fellow Britannians!
The other evening in Felucca, the Guard was called in as spies to gather intelligence on the Blood Cult and those who would rally around them. The following report comes from Napa's favorite thief, and hopefully, our future reporter.
~~
His informant was late, his wasn't always late, he just was never usually on time.
*Note to self: Kill current informant after finding a suitable replacement.*
Leaning against the back wall of the Cat's Lair tavern, King Fisher impatiently waits for his informant's message to arrive. Casually flipping a gold sovereign and catching it, flipping and catching over and over. The repetitiveness of this simple thing calmed him; on the outside he looked calm, bored even. On the inside he was a coiled spring, a taught heavy crossbow just waiting to let loose a fury of concentrated thieving. The hours of the day crawled across his skin, itching and tingling, slowly driving him mad. The time draws near, a time when the good people of trammel mingled with danger and death, dancing with the murderers, bandits and (ridiculously good-looking) thieves who call the shadowed lands of Felucca home. Tonight was a night seamlessly knitted together by the threads of fate to form a tailored loincloth which only comfortably fitted one man, and he was that one man.
*Cracks Knuckles*
In his peripheral vision he catches a stunningly attractive barmaid giving him a wink from the bar, calling him with a Come hither look in her eye. On his approach she offers him a frosted mug of ale and a seductive smile. It's always free for you Fisher! is what he heard in his mind. I'll be taking that gold piece. And ill thank ye to watch where your eyes be roaming! Is what she snapped, in reality. Muttering something about false advertising he walked to the door. Feeling under the raised bottom of the mug he pockets a parchment into his sleeve, and dumps the ale out. You can never be too careful, it's not like I'm a well liked model citizen. Smiling to himself he darts into the nearest alley to read the message from the soon-to-be cadaverous informant.
Bloodstone cult on the hunt for Red Warrior, last seen in Buc's Den.- from Y.K.H
Excellent! Few people of Britannia know the catacombs of Buc's Den as well as the thieves who run them. He calls out to the darkness of the alley Detective Marcus is a troll lover! A shadow quickly emerges from the darkness and nuzzles his shoulder. Ah, good to see you Bill, onward to Buc's Den! Unguarded backpacks await!
Teleporting into the Buccaneers Bath house (and Day Spa), Bill and I quickly take a rose scented bath, a very manly bath indeed! Feeling fresh and rejuvenated I took to the fray which was occurring outside the front doors. (Bill remained in his bath too comfortable to move.)
A knot of fierce warriors were circling and parrying. Mages were casting death and destruction, weaving spells of energy and flame and hurling them towards a most fearsome beast the diabolical hind?!
As soon as I recovered from my bout of uncontrollable laughter, I wiped the tears from my eyes. Upon noticing all the corpses of fallen combatants I took to my work, opening backpacks of warriors who were too busy to realize they were being watched. Dancing around mages while cutting away purses and slashing open pouches. Noticing that the demonic hind was near to its second dose of death, I froze. Waited with abated breath for the untold treasures, jewels, and magical what-nots to fall into the backpacks of the deserving heroes. Heard beneath the thuds of maces and hack of swords the anguished filled death cry of the hind fills my ears.
Just as the hind hit the dirt and to my sheer disbelief, I could feel the tip of a dagger pierce my shoulder and the burn of some cheap low quality poison begin to course through my veins. Thankfully the daggers owner was quite attached to the infectious blade and happily withdrew his property from my now throbbing shoulder. Making the injured site much easier to clean and heal, but his distraction tactic worked as planned because I lost sight of my marks open packs. Muttering a few choice words under my breath I took off to the next battle, against another woeful creature from beyond the grave. The undead.............dog! (Truly terrifying indeed!)
From that moment on I was completely aware that I was a definite target of the anti-thieves in the area. I was labeled, and stereotyped before the first item was even liberated! Now I was feeling as unaccepted as a clown at a mime funeral. I slid into the shadows, like a murderer slides into a pair of fitting leather gloves. As the dog hit the dirt with a whimper, I scanned the backpacks around me with a hawk like gaze. Much to my delight a pile of gray fluff drops into one of my marks open packs. Wasting no time, I grab the fur and dash into the jungle.
The previous owner completely oblivious to my deed stands there dumbfounded, but much to my displeasure his friends take up the chase. They were on my wolf heels as I darted through the underbrush looking for a safe place to hide. I quickly disappear behind a tree and embrace the shadows, and slowly begin doubling back as the hunting party stampedes past. I could see the fury in his eyes as the previous owner of my newly obtained trinket bellowed in rage. I happily trot down to the bank and tell the banker to keep his mouth shut and nobody gets a shuriken to the groin. He rolls his eyes, as if he hasn't heard it all before. He gives me the stink eye as I throw my ill gotten goods into my bank box.
Hearing the soft crunch of the dirt behind me I turn ah a skilled tracker eh? Too bad your cheap boots give you away! I mock the invisible man openly. The smell of nightshade fills the air as the invisible tracker draws his poisoned blade. With the speed of an agile mongoose I slam a smoke bomb into the ground, shadow jump well over the height of anyone's head and run out the door. I make it back to the bath house just as an odd looking man dressed in a jet black death robe appears.
Have you seen him?! It must be found! the mysterious stranger calls out. Apparently this mysterious man was looking for the Red Warrior that picked up some super powered red marble in Ilshenar. The Red Warrior, apparently now mad with necromantic power stole some moldy old books from the Blood Stone Cult. (Me being a Thief myself I support stealing by any race, and if this Red Warrior wants some moldy books over treasure and gems, great! More for me!)
Keep an eye out for the Red Warrior we must find him before the guard does! He yells into the crowd. Laughing to myself I head into the bath house and wrestle Bill from the masseuse. I silently head back through the moongate towards home. This Bloodstone Cult created a monster it can no longer control and now it falls to the rest of us to keep a watchful eye out?! Not this dashing rogue, no sir, not without some kind of compensation of course!
(Arriving home he removes the series of traps and locks on the warehouse door. King Fisher calmly steps inside and quickly re-arms the door. Walking past his collection of treasure and antiquities into his personal study; he sits in his padded chair pondering what else could this Bloodstone Cult be hiding? I seem to have another mission for my expendable informant! he proclaims while chuckling quietly to himself.)
King Fisher
~~
And what else spawned that night?
And the prize drop... nine total...
More...
The other evening in Felucca, the Guard was called in as spies to gather intelligence on the Blood Cult and those who would rally around them. The following report comes from Napa's favorite thief, and hopefully, our future reporter.
~~
His informant was late, his wasn't always late, he just was never usually on time.
*Note to self: Kill current informant after finding a suitable replacement.*
Leaning against the back wall of the Cat's Lair tavern, King Fisher impatiently waits for his informant's message to arrive. Casually flipping a gold sovereign and catching it, flipping and catching over and over. The repetitiveness of this simple thing calmed him; on the outside he looked calm, bored even. On the inside he was a coiled spring, a taught heavy crossbow just waiting to let loose a fury of concentrated thieving. The hours of the day crawled across his skin, itching and tingling, slowly driving him mad. The time draws near, a time when the good people of trammel mingled with danger and death, dancing with the murderers, bandits and (ridiculously good-looking) thieves who call the shadowed lands of Felucca home. Tonight was a night seamlessly knitted together by the threads of fate to form a tailored loincloth which only comfortably fitted one man, and he was that one man.
*Cracks Knuckles*
In his peripheral vision he catches a stunningly attractive barmaid giving him a wink from the bar, calling him with a Come hither look in her eye. On his approach she offers him a frosted mug of ale and a seductive smile. It's always free for you Fisher! is what he heard in his mind. I'll be taking that gold piece. And ill thank ye to watch where your eyes be roaming! Is what she snapped, in reality. Muttering something about false advertising he walked to the door. Feeling under the raised bottom of the mug he pockets a parchment into his sleeve, and dumps the ale out. You can never be too careful, it's not like I'm a well liked model citizen. Smiling to himself he darts into the nearest alley to read the message from the soon-to-be cadaverous informant.
Bloodstone cult on the hunt for Red Warrior, last seen in Buc's Den.- from Y.K.H
Excellent! Few people of Britannia know the catacombs of Buc's Den as well as the thieves who run them. He calls out to the darkness of the alley Detective Marcus is a troll lover! A shadow quickly emerges from the darkness and nuzzles his shoulder. Ah, good to see you Bill, onward to Buc's Den! Unguarded backpacks await!
Teleporting into the Buccaneers Bath house (and Day Spa), Bill and I quickly take a rose scented bath, a very manly bath indeed! Feeling fresh and rejuvenated I took to the fray which was occurring outside the front doors. (Bill remained in his bath too comfortable to move.)
A knot of fierce warriors were circling and parrying. Mages were casting death and destruction, weaving spells of energy and flame and hurling them towards a most fearsome beast the diabolical hind?!
As soon as I recovered from my bout of uncontrollable laughter, I wiped the tears from my eyes. Upon noticing all the corpses of fallen combatants I took to my work, opening backpacks of warriors who were too busy to realize they were being watched. Dancing around mages while cutting away purses and slashing open pouches. Noticing that the demonic hind was near to its second dose of death, I froze. Waited with abated breath for the untold treasures, jewels, and magical what-nots to fall into the backpacks of the deserving heroes. Heard beneath the thuds of maces and hack of swords the anguished filled death cry of the hind fills my ears.
Just as the hind hit the dirt and to my sheer disbelief, I could feel the tip of a dagger pierce my shoulder and the burn of some cheap low quality poison begin to course through my veins. Thankfully the daggers owner was quite attached to the infectious blade and happily withdrew his property from my now throbbing shoulder. Making the injured site much easier to clean and heal, but his distraction tactic worked as planned because I lost sight of my marks open packs. Muttering a few choice words under my breath I took off to the next battle, against another woeful creature from beyond the grave. The undead.............dog! (Truly terrifying indeed!)
From that moment on I was completely aware that I was a definite target of the anti-thieves in the area. I was labeled, and stereotyped before the first item was even liberated! Now I was feeling as unaccepted as a clown at a mime funeral. I slid into the shadows, like a murderer slides into a pair of fitting leather gloves. As the dog hit the dirt with a whimper, I scanned the backpacks around me with a hawk like gaze. Much to my delight a pile of gray fluff drops into one of my marks open packs. Wasting no time, I grab the fur and dash into the jungle.
The previous owner completely oblivious to my deed stands there dumbfounded, but much to my displeasure his friends take up the chase. They were on my wolf heels as I darted through the underbrush looking for a safe place to hide. I quickly disappear behind a tree and embrace the shadows, and slowly begin doubling back as the hunting party stampedes past. I could see the fury in his eyes as the previous owner of my newly obtained trinket bellowed in rage. I happily trot down to the bank and tell the banker to keep his mouth shut and nobody gets a shuriken to the groin. He rolls his eyes, as if he hasn't heard it all before. He gives me the stink eye as I throw my ill gotten goods into my bank box.
Hearing the soft crunch of the dirt behind me I turn ah a skilled tracker eh? Too bad your cheap boots give you away! I mock the invisible man openly. The smell of nightshade fills the air as the invisible tracker draws his poisoned blade. With the speed of an agile mongoose I slam a smoke bomb into the ground, shadow jump well over the height of anyone's head and run out the door. I make it back to the bath house just as an odd looking man dressed in a jet black death robe appears.
Have you seen him?! It must be found! the mysterious stranger calls out. Apparently this mysterious man was looking for the Red Warrior that picked up some super powered red marble in Ilshenar. The Red Warrior, apparently now mad with necromantic power stole some moldy old books from the Blood Stone Cult. (Me being a Thief myself I support stealing by any race, and if this Red Warrior wants some moldy books over treasure and gems, great! More for me!)
Keep an eye out for the Red Warrior we must find him before the guard does! He yells into the crowd. Laughing to myself I head into the bath house and wrestle Bill from the masseuse. I silently head back through the moongate towards home. This Bloodstone Cult created a monster it can no longer control and now it falls to the rest of us to keep a watchful eye out?! Not this dashing rogue, no sir, not without some kind of compensation of course!
(Arriving home he removes the series of traps and locks on the warehouse door. King Fisher calmly steps inside and quickly re-arms the door. Walking past his collection of treasure and antiquities into his personal study; he sits in his padded chair pondering what else could this Bloodstone Cult be hiding? I seem to have another mission for my expendable informant! he proclaims while chuckling quietly to himself.)
King Fisher
~~
And what else spawned that night?
And the prize drop... nine total...
More...