Den of Thieves

As guild members finish up, they go into an opening along the eastern wall. After a few minutes they return and head back up to the main level.

One of the tables behind them empties so Carr snags a chair with a back on it to sit down. Wanting the same chair Burt gives an evil eye.

Glimpsing Burt, Carr ignores the look pointing to the opening in the east wall, “is that some sort of pisser in there?”

Toad burps a “yup”. Cal nods biting into an apple.

Slowly the hall begins to empty out. The younger members having left first, take most of the noise with them. A table of mixed beings sit and talk. A few tables from them, near the kitchen sit a dozen of the guild’s oldest members. The old guys quietly pass a pipe of galenous to each other.

The sound of dice and small bones hitting a table draws Carr’s attention. Five males are playing a game Carr has seen before but has never played. Behind them three Orcs are playing their own Orcish game slugging each other in the shoulder. Who ever gets hit, gets laughed at.

Having seen the game played many times Carr shakes his head. Beyond them the dark Elves remain and are watching his way.

Seeing the Orcs as well Cal asks his brother, “hey Toad why do those Orcs always point and hit each other.”

Not knowing why Toad shrugs, “they must like that.”

Slyly grinning Burt can’t wait to teach some poor unaware fool. Burt points to nowhere, “that’s it.”

Foolishly Cal looks to where Burt pointed, “what’s it?’

Burt stands quickly slugging Cal in the shoulder, “that’s what.” He sits chuckling to himself.

Rubbing his shoulder Cal utters. “Hey! What’d you do that for?”

Unsure what to do Toad glares at Burt for hitting his brother.

Laughing Burt says. “You wanted to know.”

“Huh?” Cal glares at Burt.

Carr explains it to them, “if someone points at nothing and you look you get punched in the shoulder once. If they point and you don’t look you get to hit them in the shoulder once.”

Still chuckling Burt adds, “if someone points at something that is there and you don’t look, everyone gets to punch you.”

“Oh yeah?” Toad smiles, “sounds fun.”

“Sounds stupid,” mumbles Cal.

“I agree,” Carr leans towards Cal, “sometimes when you’re spending time with different beings, things you consider foolish or stupid maybe their idea of good sport or a rite of passage.”

Trying to make a point of his own, Burt comments, “some things we crush under our boot maybe a delicacy like pastries to others.”

“Like grubs,” utters Glar approaching the table, “soft and chewy with a bitter goo. Mm-mmm. Tasty.”

Three other males are with Glar. Two are large Humans in their early thirties, with the distinct appearance of mercenaries. Both are dressed like the other guild guards and carrying wood clubs.

Standing in front of the guards, an older man with noticeable crows’ feet around the eyes. His black, hair is graying strangely like zebra stripes, even throughout his well, groomed facial hair.

Standing quickly Burt pastes on a smile, “good evening Marten. Good evening Glar.”

Knowing thieves are wary of friendly males Carr waits until spoken too.

Gesturing a backhand slap at Burt, Glar snaps out, “sit down fool.”

A little shaky Burt sits.

One of the henchmen grabs a backed chair, “a chair for you Marten?” Setting it down at a table beside the four young males. The light on the guard’s face reveals a scarred X on his right cheek.

Feeling nervous Burt starts babbling. “There just wasn’t many travelers,” pointing to Carr, “we ran into him and knew you’d want to see him.”

Rolling his yellowy eyes Glar swats once at the air near Burt. Cal’s surprised and disappointed in Burt’s behavior.

Marten turns the chair to use the table’s edge for an armrest. Studying the young males Marten eases into the chair.

Not worried about anything Toad tells Marten, “Burt lost a bet with Carr and we had to bring him here.”

One of the henchmen stands with his back to the back of Marten’s chair. The other stands next to Marten.

Glar notices Burt is mad with Toad for saying what he did. Marten leans forward to view Toad better.

Nervous of Glar and Marten’s mood Cal mentions, “Carr beat us in a fight. He took me and Toad out before we had a chance to attack.”

Toad is an easy read to the seasoned males. Marten speaks with an accent, “that true?”

Toad nods, “sure is sir.”

Looking to Glar, Marten inquires, “what’s your take on these young apprentices?”

Grumbling Glar points to Cal, “this one has some brains. His brother is the brawn. Both are just green maggots to me.”

Digging out a leather coin pouch from his simple silk robe Marten comments, “if Glar considers you maggots. He thinks you still have a chance here. But your pickins were slim.” He hands the brothers a gold coin each, “it should only be eight silver but I’m feeling generous.”

Carr finds a gold for three weeks work pitiful. Toad takes it just happy to be there. Glar seems to be glaring at Burt. Though happy Marten is speaking with them, Cal feels as Carr does, cheated.

Marten starts to speak. “Now…”

Cal interrupts, “Excuse me sir. I’d like to ask a question, if I may?”

Everyone stares at Cal. Sitting back Marten is curious what’s on his young mind, “ask away.”

“Thank-you sir,” Cal nervously speaks, “ah, I just ah, thought we’d get a better share. Sure, we only got thirty gold and five platinum.”

Hearing five, platinum causes Burt to twist in his seat a look of worry can be seen in his eyes.

Not seeing Burt, Cal keeps talking, “there was almost seventy silver and over a hundred copper. Not to mention the jewelry.”

Gulping, beads of sweat form on Burt’s face. Toad too becomes concerned as his smile disappears.

Glar subtly directs the one henchman to stand beside Burt while he stands behind Toad.

Watching Glar, Marten calmly chuckles, “you’re right again Glar about each one.” Looking back to Cal, “you’re right son. You should get more.” He reaches into his pouch.

Smiling at first Cal humbly responds, “thank you sir.” He turns noticing his brother and Burt look to be in trouble.

Handing Cal five gold Marten tells him. “Even in a guild of thieves honesty is worth something.”

Taking the coins Cal wonders if he said too much, “thank you sir. Is my brother in trouble?”

“You did good son,” Marten points to the passage back to the main level, “now do us a favor and go back up. Your brother will join you shortly.”

Concerned for Toad’s well being Cal hesitantly gets up turning to his brother, “I’ll see you shortly, then?”

Thinking he may never see his brother again Toad tries to stay strong, “yeah, yeah. Just take care of yourself.”

Looking strangely at Toad, Cal quietly says, “Oh-okay then.” Glancing at Carr, “good luck Carr,” he slowly walks away.

Carr softly replies, “thanks guy. Stay pure, eh.”

With Glar’s hand resting firmly on Toad’s shoulder they watch Cal walk away. For a Hobgoblin Glar has an almost innocent smile, pasted on his face while waving good-bye with the other hand.

Marten’s attention is momentarily drawn to Carr’s comment, “he is still pure, isn’t he? Carr is it? Or should I say Ralston?”

Carr nods, “yes that’s me.”

“It’s a good thing I admired Alfred.” Marten speaks sternly, “otherwise I’d have you strung up in the lower caverns for molds and slimes to dine on.”

Now Carr begins to wonder how much trouble he’s in.

Marten focuses on Burt and Toad, “and these two are suppose to be guild members.”

Checking his position Carr suggests, “I think I understand your dilemma. Since this is guild business maybe I should wait somewhere else.”

Now Toad is beginning to sweat, Burt’s losing color and Glar seems to be enjoying the event. At the far end of the cavern Cal turns back for a last look at Toad before slipping into the passage to try and spy.

The remaining people in the hall sit quietly waiting to see what’s going on.

“No stay,” Marten responds to Carr, “you may learn something.” Pointing to Toad, “tell me Toad, why is it you go by that name?”

Swallowing Toad struggles to speak, “ah, ya, s-see.” He pauses to cough, “sorry sir. My brother Cal called me that when he was learning to talk. It just stuck. My real name is Todd.”

Glar laughs, “sorry Marten. I think I’d rather be called Toad. What kind of name is Todd or Ralston?” He points at Burt, “including this worm sounds like we have a table of critters.”

Raising a fuzzy brow at Glar’s name Marten replies. “Yes, Glar, what kind of name is that?” Turning his attention back to Toad, “so you’ve been looking after your brother ever since your parents died?”

Nodding Toad informs them, “they died in our village when the barbarians raided it for helping King Darvel.”

“Terrible,” Glar mutters without care, “and as I recall most of the villagers were forced to help Darvel.”

Marten remembers it too, “that was almost five years ago. How old are you?”

Toad squeaks out, “seventeen.”

“That’s a lot of years for two young boys to be on their own.” Marten hears these stories occasionally mostly rouses to get into the guild. Seeing Toad as simple he asks an unimportant question just to get a better feel for the boys. “What did you two do?”

Put at ease by the question Toad rambles on from the day they escaped the village, going over basic stories that happened over the four years.

Burt calms down as Toad talks, Glar paces around trying to stay awake from the boy’s droning. Carr’s certain Toad and Cal’s village was the village he, Hal and Violetta went to help. After awhile Carr wishes he had a younger sibling to look out for.

Hearing way too much Marten remarks, “alright son that’s more than we needed to hear,” he leans in, to look Toad in the eye, “If you’re still interested in becoming a full guild member, I have something for you and your brother to do.”

Toad simply nods yes.

“Good,” Marten points out what’s known, “Burt was in charge. Most in charge keep a little something for them selves. When Glar told me your haul had no jewelry I became just as suspicious as Glar. When your brother spilled his guts, Burt gave himself away,” Marten gives Burt an evil eye, “so did you Toad. So it will be in your best interest to tell us what we don’t know.”

Burt starts to open his mouth.

Marten jumps to his feet pointing at Burt, “not a damn word!” Seeing Burt become nervous again, Marten eases back into the chair, “go ahead Toad.”

Without looking at Burt and concerned for his own skin, Toad lets them know, “I caught Burt taking the jewelry. He said he’d cut me in if I kept my mouth shut. I even know where he stashed it.”

All color washes from Burt’s face resembling one knocking at Death’s door.

A little astonished Marten is quietly cheerful, “you know where his stash is? Isn’t that something?” He looks to Glar.

Scowling at Toad’s weak spine Glar mutters, “he’s something alright. Just not sure what.”