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The Cult of Thieves
Chapter One: Wolfsbane
The rain had dulled to a mist of droplets that slicked the cobblestone roads of Windfeld. The port city reeked of the Glassy Sea and its plunder of fish and whale. Faledrin's populace was mostly comprised of the weary poor, overworked and broken as each day they toiled on. There was a forbidden utopia beyond the wall that separated the poor from the Noble District. There, glittering houses and dense gardens surrounded the castle in a seemingly otherworldly beauty in comparison to the muck and grime. The common folk envied them and despised them all the same, for they grew rich off of the labor of the people beneath them. What was their king really ruling when there was merely a speck of prosperity in Windfeld where the rest of the kingdom suffered in perpetual ruin?
The corrupt made their home in the slums and squalor, and none cared less or more about it. Not like they had much to lose or plunder from these smugglers and thieves. Being a port city, it seemed they had more to gain from the shady endeavors as citizens found it more easy to indulge in exotic goods. Harsh punishment was divvied to those foolish enough to get caught sentenced to a life of imprisonment. Either way, citizens of Faledrin were left to rot in sorry states, and neither their king nor the Allied Kingdoms cared.
"Shut the gates!" an urgent voice commanded in repetition. At the center of the city, the clanking of metal resounded as the iron gates shut to divide the nobility from the rest of the world. Those close by murmured concerns, some even rushing away from the walls to report the sudden close. It was known throughout Windfeld that the wall was created specifically to keep out anything the rich deemed unsavory, but the gates were never closed unless there was some form of threat.
Sothal's pace slowed through the Barrows as he listened to the distant commotion. The echoes of gates quickly falling shut cut through the soft patter of rain. Two guards rushed past him on the narrow road as they headed toward the nearest gate, and Sothal followed their trail curiously, and approached just as the guards were quietly briefed. At his distance, and with the rain clattering against his jacket, he could not make out the conversation. One of the other guards turned, face perturbed under his helm as he drew his sword and walked before Sothal.
"Get on your way," the guard said. Sothal raised his hands in the air to denote his non-violent intentions.
"I merely wish to know what is happening," he said in return. "The gates only close when-"
"I said get on your way!" the guard repeated, and faked an advancement with his sword in warning. Sothal stepped away in compliance. Clearly he would not get any answers from the source. But that would not be an issue he could not overcome.
Being a member of the Cult of Thieves had its considerable advantages. The network they weaved of both members and veterans was enough to keep them ahead of the game and above the order. If there was something greatly amiss in Windfeld, the common folk had the right to know. But while they pissed on street corners and dithered about in their off hours, the Cult of Thieves would already have the answers. He needed to locate Oracle, and he hoped the others would do the same.
It was a simple task, really, yet quite unpredictable. Oracle was a difficult woman to find, and impossible if she desired not to be found. But a system was given in order for the Cult of Thieves to locate her in times of dire need, and Veterans long retired from the Cult of Thieves were the only ones to hold the clues within a deck of cards. The nearest Veteran to Sothal was Calter Black in the Barrows not but two blocks and a stone's throw from the gate he departed. Guards began to aggressively command the gathering crowd away from the gates, some using more force than was really necessary.
The rain began to pick up again in heavy, fat drops that soaked the man through to the bone. It cooled down the stifling Summer's heat well enough that he didn't fully care he was drenched. Stepping into the butchery, he waited behind an elderly lady for a chance to speak with the shop owner, Calter.
"Them guards closed the gates again," she muttered. "Summat abouts an I got to make a meager meal out of this."
"It's good meat," Calter Black assured, though his tone carried a hint of frustration. He spared a glance to Sothal, nodding to the man knowingly as he carried on with his customer. "You don't get to complain with as long as you've lived in this wretched place. Ten croones, Mrs. Tallay."
"Don't mean I can't bitch about it," Mrs. Tallay responded in kind. "Lived here all my life and ain't no domestic threat gonna keep food from me belly. But it's right small for ten croones, Mr. Black."
"Lord Calidron raised my fees," he admitted. "I can't sell for the same price anymore."
Mrs. Tallay reluctantly removed ten copper pieces from her pouch with twisted, bony fingers. Her wrinkled lips were pulled thin and downturned in a deep frown that touched the falling tip of her nose. "T'ain't right," she spat as she gathered her meat. "T'ain't fit."
"Have a pleasant day, Mrs. Tallay," Calter called out as she shuffled away. "And steer clear of whatever's out there!"
Sothal stepped up to the counter and met Calter's expectant gaze. "Do you happen to have the card of the day?" he inquired.
"It's your lucky day," the butcher responded as he reached into the pocket of his pants. His hand slapped the counter, and from underneath was revealed a singular card with the symbol of a lion wreathed in thorns. "Just got word not but before Mrs. Tallay."
As soon as he saw the card, Sothal immediately knew which location Oracle was hiding. The card of the wreathed lion was the symbol designated for the Seawatch Inn just out near the main pier. He thanked the butcher and quickly set off on course.
It was a rather seedy looking inn whose patrons suited the tone harmoniously. The façade looked as though the three story establishment had sighed and slumped to a sit from a dreary day, the building seeming to bend and droop. It still held together, and its patrons tested the limits when indulging in both drink and harlot. It was thankfully, despite it's prime realestate, well overlooked, and Sothal entered with only the innkeeper to acknowledge him who merely pointed down the hall.
Knocking twice on the far door, he spoke into the frame. "It's Sothal," he said before entering. There, in the dingiest of rooms surrounded by dim lighting was the bright-eyed Fallenite known appropriately as Oracle.
@Doctor Jax @Red Thunder @rissa @Elle Joyner @Gossamer @RiddL @Dovahkiin
- Currently
- In your intro post, your character should somehow discover the gates being closed to the Noble District. It is known that the nobles only do this when there is a threat in Windfeld, and so it is cause for concern, especially since this time no warning was given to the people before the gates closed. Your character is then to think to find a Veteran, aka a retired member of the Cult of Thieves, who will eventually show them the card with the lion wreathed in thorns. Your character must ask the Veteran if they have the card of the day. This card will direct them to the Seawatch Inn. Your Veteran can be anyone you'd like.