Penny

Penny's Pencils

City of Thieves

Kashvi sized up the newcomer. There were alot of reasons why the guild might tap too particular thieves for a job. Not all of them were good. This one might be a minder, an enforcer, or just a rube plucked off the street. Fortunately The last did not seem to be true. Kashvi had a knack for guaging people, the skill had carried her to great heights in her distant homeland, heights from which she had crashed down from before fleeing to the west. He looked vaugley familiar, but that wasnt too strange. Members of the same guilds tended to visit the same places. Taverns, alchemists, fences, all tended to have an afilliation with the guild that controlled the nearby streets, even if they weren't paying protection, which most of them were.

"So long as it pays," Kashvi replied, her Indran accent clipping the words much more sharply than a local.

"'ats the spirit," a new voice interjected. Both thieves turned to see a heavy set man with sandy blonde hair pushed his way through the door like a giant shrugging his way out of a cave. He was muscular but the bulge of his biceps was accented by the fact that every inch of his arms was covered with glypic tattoos. Some of those tattoos could shatter rocks, others allow the wielder to leap a dozen feet in the air. It was all very expensive.

"Joe Shipwreck," Kashvi said, her voice certain.

"Aye somen' call me that," he replied with a grin that showed several golden teeth. Joe Shipwreck was a ledgend among the thieves of his cities for punching his way out of a prison hulk and sending it to the bottom of the bay. A hundred thieves had escaped that day, though another hundred or so had drowned. His exploits since were the stuff of legend. Kashvi had never met him, nor met anyone who claimed too outside of drunken boasting. Word had it he was high up in the Guild, even among the big three. One of the Thirty Three Worthy Gentlemen.

"I got a littl' job for ya," he said with a spreading grin.

Penny's Pencils

Kashvi

City of Thieves

Kashvi's time with the Nightmaster had been brief. He had been happy to toke her money but he had refused to give her a writ. Writs were official guild permission for burglary. Word was that they came down from the big three, another tool in their seemingly infinite arsenal of influence and power. Immunity from robbery was probably a more profitable stream of income than the twenty five percent cut the guild took from thefts. Burglary was Kashvi's stock and trade and a good score could set her up for a week or more. Normally it wasnt a problem to get a writ, but tonight she had been sent to the planning room for some kind of assignment. Such assignments were rare, but as a service to the guild it would clear her dues for the month which in turn would net her a substantial profit.

Cooling her heels was not how a woman who had once been known as the Tigress of Maharastra cared to spend her time. She wasn't made for idleness, but obviously had been the first to reach the planning room. The room itself wasn't impressive save for a large table with a raised lip which had been filled with witch sand. Witch sand was painstakingly enchanted so that it could be formed by a practiced user into any image one could imagine. In the planning room it could be used to create models of buildings or streets that were of interest for a particularly tricky heist or job. Kashvi had amused herself creating miniature elephants trampling even more miniature men for several minutes before giving it up as a bad bargain. Even such minor use of magic was taxing and her skills were that of a dilettante rather than an adept.

She had no idea what the job was or who she would be partnered with. To make matters worse she was exhausted from the fight, now that the adrenaline had faded she was tired and her fists and feet ached from the blows she had delivered. She wanted to be back home and getting some sleep. It was already too late to pull a job in darkness tonight and she doubted whatever she was about to be asked to do would be a daytime job.

City of Thieves

The roar of the crowd is deafening. Kashvi circled working to keep her breathing steady. The sand that scrapped between her boots and the stones below hadn't been changed in too long. In places it was pebbled by clumps of black blood and other less identifiable matter, several times she had to adjust her footing to avoid human teeth. With a roar, her opponent charged, reaching out with bear like arms to enfold her in a crushing hold. She pivoted right, slapped his left wrist aside and ducked under his hairy arm, driving her elbow back hard into his kidney, dropping to a mobile crouch and delivering a second blow to the side of his knee. The brute, a vast tattooed bruiser with thinning hair howled like a wounded bear. Kashvi came up out of the crouch and twisted into a spinning kick that landed on his hip. Unlike the first two strikes this was a low percentage shot, it felt like kicking a slab of beef but the momentum carried her clear of his lunging fist as he spun to follow her.

"Ox! Ox! Ox!" the crowd roared in blood thirsty enthusiasm. It wasn't suprising, almost all of them had money on 'Ox' to easily dispatch a slip of a girl with nothing to recommend her but the prospect of a good thrashing. It wasn't likely to be a fatal beating, these fights weren't to the death, but that didn't mean bones couldn't be broken.

Inspired by the crowd, Ox charged again trying to use his bulk to pin her against the seven foot stone wall that encircled the arena. Kashvi shifted right, as though she were about to repeat her previous trick. Ox was ready for her and swung to intercept. She caught his wrist and vaulted over him, landing with both boots on the rim of the arena before twisting and flipping backwards to land between the brutes shoulder blades. Kashvi didn't weigh more than a hundred and thirty pounds, but a that much weight focused on a small area couldn't be ignored. Ox staggered and smashed into the stone wall with a crunch that added a few more teeth to the carpeting. His bulk bounced off the stonework and she sprang back, landing on her hands and spring backwards to land in a fighters crouch. Ox wheeled around, blood streaming from his mouth and nose, eyes blink with pain. Seeing no reason to be charitable she kicked sand and grit into his face, ducked his bear like arms and rabbit punched him under the armpit. He kicked her with his trunk like leg and she sprawled away, narrowly avoiding the follow up kick. She set herself again, waiting for his charge, but the brute was finished, he staggered and sank to his knees with a sound like a blacksmith bellows gusting out. Kashvi hesitated for a half second, analyzing for a desperate sham and then danced forward to deliver a crushing kick to the side of the Brutes head. Blood and teeth flew in a tight arc and the Ox faceplanted into the dirt. The crowd errupted in fury, a good portion of them having lost considerable sums and filled with the understandable desire to beat it out of those few who had taken the long odds. A hail of bottles and refused rained down on Kashvi as she retreated to the iron grated entry gate, a pair of guild guards pulled it open and yanked her through out of the shower of improvised missiles.

The guild guards escorted Kashvi back to the book keepers 'office' the office was little more than an alcove fronted by a wooden desk. Behind the desk a dirty little man with bright brass spectacles sat on a pay chest in which the official guild wagers were kept. A sheet of slate was chalked with wagers and odds, including Kashvi's recently completed bout. Twenty to one.

"I guess you can dance girly," the book keeper wheezed. He pulled a pouch from under the desk and tossed it to her underhanded. She snatched it from the air like a cat intercepting a tidbit.

"I took the guilds cut, I'd get the rest to the Nightmaster, dues in two days," he wheezed and then guestured her away. The two guards didn't exactly drag her, but they would have shoved her if she hand't headed for the exit. She hefted the bag. It clinked pleasingly, it wouldn't be enough to cover her dues, but it would buy her a little extra time.

City of Thieves

Nox-Khalsa

Pop: 400,000
Ruler: Arch-Duke Lor'Goden (Ex-Military Commander)
Ethnicity: Mixed.
Religion: Multi-Religious.
Class Structure:
Upper Class (Lives apart in the Old City)
Guilds
Clergy
Craftsmen/Merchants
Citizens
Visitors

---

Thief Guilds

Major Guilds:

The Malika Guild
The Raziq Guild
The Whitewell Guild

Minor Guilds:

The Jackals
The Red Blades
The Silent Sorority
The Beaumont Guild
The Guild of The Seven Ravens
The Darkmoons
The Rashajazra Guild
The Dogs of Disfavor
The O'Dunne Guild
The Thieves of Thaldor

Other (Non-Merchant/Working Class) Guilds:
Alchemist's Guild (Calls themselves the Golden Order)
The Ironshods (Mercenary Guild)
The Citadel of Magisters (Mage's Guild)
Occult Bastion (Illicit Mages Guild)
The Ring of Death (Assassin's Guild)

---

Thief Character Sheet

Name: Galt Blackrunner

Alias: Jackwolf or 'Jack'

Sex: Male

Age: 20's. He either doesn't know or keeps it a secret.

Physical Description: When not leaning against a wall or crouching, Galt's lean form is an inch shy of six feet. His ethnicity is just as ambiguous as his background, swarthy of skin and sporting a shock of black hair that's just short of needing to be tied or groomed. On his right hand, his middle finger is stubbed; the appendage only as long as his pointer now, though it's hard to tell unless you look for it. His eyes belie he's possibly nearing his thirties, though his face still has the fine luster of youth, so people can never tell how old he really is. The one scarring line he has runs along his nose, though it doesn't exactly mar his face in any true way.

Weapons: Cudgel, Messer, Custom-built Crossbow, Caltrops.

Likes

• Music
• Dancing
• Animals
• Trespassing
• Magic
• Wood Carving
• Betting/Gambling
• Precious stones

Dislikes

• Spellcasters (fearful)
• The Arch-Duke
• Bullies
• Necromancy/Undead
• The Color 'Yellow'
• Assassins
• Snakes
• Deep Underground

Skills:

• Acrobatics (Skilled)
• Climbing (Skilled)
• Lockpicking (Moderately Skilled)
• Crossbowmanship (Very skilled)
• Close Quarters Fighting (moderately skilled)
• Singing/Dancing (Skilled)
• Knife Throwing (Getting better)
• Trap-Finding (Not Trap-Making nor Trap-Dismantling)

@POOHEAD189

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

test

Shields of the Empire

"Are they idiots?" Eudoxia asked as the Khareeds thundered across the intervening terrain, the hooves of their great chargers throwing up a pall of dust. Phaedra shook her head. The Khareeds weren't idiots, but they were used to their way of war, the frontal charge of heavy cavalry, producing results. Those results had been good for close to a thousand years, dating back to when Atvari princes had carved their homeland out of the bloated corpse of decadent Urdesh. They were reckless though, spurred on by the notion of rescuing a princess and under the eyes of their Satrap to boot. A more logical response would have been to menace the Imperial troops without actually attacking, stalling their march so the remainder of their field army could move into position.

"Close enough," Phaedra agreed with her sub-commander. Imperial forces had their traditions too, but those traditions were borne out of desperation. Imperial armies tended to be bastard conglomerates of various semi-barbarians, they were almost invariabley outnumbered and survived only through discipline, cunning and using every advantage of tactics and terrain they could beg borrow or steel.

"Want us to feather them with arrows as they approach?" Eudoxia asked. Phaedra looked back over her shoulder, as though measuring the distance back to the coast, hundreds of leagues off.

"One volley, just before they hit the creekbed," she said after a moment.

"Its a long way back to Kestos and I think we are going to need our arrows before too long, its a shame we cant just..." she trailed off as an idea occured to her.

"Cant just what?" Eudoxia asked. Phaedra shook her head. It was something she would need to discuss with Brasidas, and anyway no one would have the option to do anything if they didn't pay attention in the next few seconds.

"One volley only, spread the word, then its blades and the Huntress take the hindmost."

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

@rush99999
See answer in form post where guy doesn't know you

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

@rush99999

The priest walked confidently down the isle his face open and friendly. He was a tall striking man of dark Hispanic features. He was dressed in traditional Jesuit black.

"St Anthony welcomes all those who are lost," he said glancing between Yuki and January. They made quite the contrast.

"I am Father Ramon, can I be of service to you?"