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7 mos ago
Current Achmed the Snake
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11 mos ago
It's kind of insane to me that people ever met without dating apps. It is just so inefficient.
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1 yr ago
One, polyamory is notoriously difficult to administer
4 likes
1 yr ago
I'm guessing it immediately failed because everyone's computer broke/work got busy/grand parents died
9 likes
1 yr ago
In short: no don't use basic acrylics.
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Bio

Early 30's. I know just enough about everything to be dangerous.

Most Recent Posts

"It is a shame that we cannot rely on the good Count to hire you as a minstrel," Kashvi remarked as she emerged from the darkness.

"Come," she gestured and took off at a run, vaulting up onto the edge of the roof and launching herself across the gap to the next roof, landing quietly on the glazed tiles, her soft shoes muffling her falls. Galt followed without comment, leaping across the gap with his lit pipe still trailing smoke in one hand. Well he was a thief and if he wasn't up to the job it was better she learn in advance. Without comment she took off again, leaping from roof to roof as they traversed the Thieves Highway through the darkness. This was the last night of the waning moon and there was only a dull glimmer of moonlight to suplement the torches and lanterns in the street below. That made the following night the dark of the moon, which was too the good as it provided the most darkness, but also a problem as it was the night when the common folk new to best guard their valuables.

It wasn't possible to reach Dimascu's manor via the Thieves Highway. By the time they reached the more opulent sections of the city the jump between roofs was growing too wide for easy leaps to cover, and the likelyhood of being spotted was increasing. Worst of all the manor itself was in the so called Green Quater. This was an area beyond the old walls in which nobles had constructed detached manor houses amidsts modest gardens and over groomed woods. The area was heavily patroled by the footmen of the various nobles who had houses there, and there was very little in the way of natural foot traffic. Passing the Garden Gate and into the Green Quater would have been obvious, even if they weren't both dressed rough, so Kashvi instead curved north to the Old North Tower. The old tower had been a cornerstone of the defences when the old walls had been the outermost ring of defences, but since the city had expanded and the new walls had gone up it had been left to crumble, a haunt for ravens and for the occasional couple who wanted a romantic view over the city at night. Fortunately there were no such romantics tonight.

The top of the tower did provide an impressive view of the city though, from its crumbling pinnacle they could see all the way to the Black Harbor and glimpse the Ducal Palace with its thousand glass windows. The streets below bustled even at night and the steady fog of a thousand fires waved in the cool night air. Kashvi reached into her cloak and produced a small glass spy tube. She extended it with a snap and trained it on the distant manor. Staring through it for several seconds. The tube had been enchanted so that it rendered the scene as though it were daylight, albiet a slightly greenish and unnatural looking daylight. Finally she pulled the tube from her eye and passed it to Galt.

"A difficult nut, as you people say."
"What's it worth?" Kashvi asked as she watched the witch sand. She lifted her hand and the view of the manor twisted and reformed at a greater remove. The Count was clearly no fool having kept some considerable areas clear between his manor and the teeming streets of the city. The spell wasn't a reproduction of reality per se, rather it was an abstraction of Shipwreck's understanding of it. That understanding was considerablely greater than Kashvi's own. There were several routes she could see that might allow access, with greater or lesser degrees of risk. Shipwreck snorted.

"That is the right question, this month and next months dues, plus a years access to the Kitchens." The Kitchens were not, as they might first sound, eateries or places of food preparation. Rather they were a series of alchemy labs, fabrication shops, forges and other manufactories that the guild maintained to equip its members. In theory any thief above a certain rank could rent access. Most new members tried it out once, only to learn that the cost usually prohibited what you could make back. A skilled artisan might use the tools to his or her advantage tough, even sell on what they made.

"Ok, body count?" she asked. Joe sucked in a breath, not in shock, but in consideration.

"Well we don't want a blood bath, but we don't want to avoid killing so bad we dont want the job done," the elder thief replied. Kashvi frowned at the equivocal answer. She had killed, more than once, but she wasn't a footpad or an assassin.

"Well I don't have other questions, need to see the ground before I can make a proper ... before we can make a proper assessment though," she continued, casting an eye across at her new partner. Working with others mitigated some risks and multiplied others. Still this seemed like it was more than a one man job.

Moonrise on Tephis

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.


Kashvi
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.
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.
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)



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