Newbie
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: "The Manager"
Race: Tainted Elf
Gender: female
Age: Unknown
Clan/Family: Sef
|
Post by Natalia Sef on Jun 22, 2017 17:09:55 GMT -8
There were rumors about a secret society operating within the capital's ugly underbelly, whispers of shadowed figures slipping in and out of the sewer system at various points within each district.
Every bit of it was true.
The Thief Guild existed, employing beggars, thieves, pick pockets, cut-purses, confidence men, thugs, enforcers, and in the deep dark of the whole operation - they had assassins for the wet work, too.
Ask a beggar who their boss was and they'd mention Whiskers, The Rat Man. Whiskers ran the streetrats and guttersnipes, too.
Ask the thieves and quick-hands and they'd say it was Sisco Downy, a cat-kin with yellow eyes and a chipped left fang. Sisco kept an eye on The Rat Man and reported the things-gone-bad to the guy above him - Bedgrun Brighthand.
Bedgrun was an old dwarf with greasy white hair and a matching beard he wore in a braid that reached below his silver belt buckle. Brighthand sent out the tough guys with meaty fists, nasty tempers, and shoulders broad enough to intimidate a stubborn bloke into paying up... or else.
"Or else" might mean a bloody lip, broken nose, busted ribs, and a myriad of colorful bruises battered into your flesh. If you ran into the Guild's "or else" chances were you'd survive it. The message you didn't want to get came on cream colored stationary scented with honeysuckle and signed with a bright red kiss.
|
|
Newbie
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: "The Manager"
Race: Tainted Elf
Gender: female
Age: Unknown
Clan/Family: Sef
|
Post by Natalia Sef on Jun 22, 2017 17:46:19 GMT -8
The owner of that unique stationary currently lounged in a cushioned leather seat with her boots kicked up on a polished, cherry wood desk. They were the only pieces of furniture in the small, stark room they all called The Office, as if the room itself had some sort of powerful sentience.
"Got a message from The Office..."
"The Office says to have the cut-purses slack off a little in the market district..."
"Sorry, man. Not my call. Word came down from The Office..."
The Office was the hub of the entire Thief Guild network. It only made sense that the person running it would call themselves "The Manager."
Only two people knew The Manager's true identity: Regna and Sirius Sef. To everyone else she was a masked and hooded figure in an eerily bare room with a whole lot of power in those black gloved hands. Those who tried to defy The Office died, plain and simple. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. No extensions. No exceptions. No mercy.
The Manager idly sharpened one of a wicked set of daggers laid out on a black velvet cloth across the desk.
"Tell me again what the blacksmith said?"
The Rat Man nervously wrung his flat cap in his hands. He knew that tone in her voice. Knew that his answer was as good as signing the man's death warrant. Also knew that lying would have him bleeding dead right along with the blacksmith. "Dorwin s-said he ain't payin' us protection anymore. S-said we c-could come p-pry the coins from his cold, dead hands..."
She never stopped sharpening the blade, the loud *sniiiick* as she drew it across the stone made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He could see the razor glint of its edge from where he stood.
"You know what to do. Have one of the kids slip the message into his coat tomorrow morning." She paused the sharpening long enough to point the dagger tip at the neatly folded stationary laid out on the desk in front of him.
She'd already known. A chill rattled down his spine.
"As you wish," he croaked. He gingerly picked up the stationary between thumb and forefinger as if it had teeth. In a way it did.
*Sniiiiick*
The Manager never said another word. The Rat Man didn't need one. He scurried out of the Office with all the shivering, nervous speed as his rodent namesakes in the sewers.
|
|
Newbie
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: "The Manager"
Race: Tainted Elf
Gender: female
Age: Unknown
Clan/Family: Sef
|
Post by Natalia Sef on Jun 24, 2017 14:30:59 GMT -8
Nat flopped down on the dead guy's bloated belly with a huff. Dorwin Blackwell was...had been...nah, even dead he was still big. Feet on either side of his head and rump directly on his bulging middle she at up nearly as high as the chair she'd knocked him out of when she'd swung down from the rafters.
She hated killing blacksmiths. Blackwell had been a good one, too. The apprentice lacked his master's spark. She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and considered the shivering boy cowering beneath his master's desk. Blood dripped from the tip of her blade to spatter on the dead man's face.
"You know why he's dead?"
The boy's eyes practically rattled in his skull he shook his head so fast.
Nat nodded then leaned back to drag a crinkled sheet of paper out of Blackwell's inner pocket. She tossed it over to the boy. "He ignored the warnings. You gonna repeat his mistakes?"
The boy held the paper to his chest without opening it and rattled his eyeballs again.
"Good. Congratulations, kid. The shop is yours. One of your neighbors will come by in the morning. Listen to them. Learn. Don't be stupid."
|
|
Citizen
gender: Male
status: offline
|
Post by Regnasef on Jun 24, 2017 22:15:17 GMT -8
The criminal Underworld was never his forte, he never visited he stopped in he never messaged her he let her have her freedom, but he knew. So it would be a suprise when she would step into her office this night to find one of the two men who knew of her existence standing there nearby was his Undertaker Squad a Myth to proper Denizens a group of 5 men and women who wore the dead masks of men and women whose Identity for better or worse did not exist.
He had not had the patience to sit this was a deep held Secret while above ground the Sef were a Political group follower of the land down below the murder, the killing it was all Orchestrated by her, he did not turn her head when she entered but the Undertakers did there cold dead unseeing eyes glancing at her, she'd seem them work once, at her behest they had worn the skin of the enemies waited until there allies had walked into there clubhouse and they then murdered the whole room. The creepier fact was the Face of the Sef Regna the man who had come to visit her tonight was there leader.
When he did turn there was no smile the cocky portrayal he layered in the above world the Madman was missing in place was a very mature looking man. "It's been a while" were his first words "We have much to discuss".
|
|
