Baruzur awoke to heavy pounding on the door of his private room at Mama Joko‘s.

     "'ZUR!  Get your lazy ass up!" called a familiar voice.  The door opened a moment later, and Andur strode in with his thumbs hooked on his belt.  The messenger was thin for a dwarf and often mistaken for a tall halfling.

     "There you are.  You just going to sleep all day, is that it?" he commented.  Based on the light coming through the small, high window, Baruzur guessed it was about two in the afternoon.

     "Bettomir has a job for you down in Lowtown," he said.

     Bettomir was one the Guild Master's favorites, a skilled assassin and dancer.  He had recently started giving orders to the Enforcers.  He had been the one that sent only ten of them to collect the monthly tribute from the Beggar's Guild at the Court of Miracles.  But they had been vastly outnumbered, and returned penniless.  For that, the Guild Master had punished them while Bettomir stood silently by his side, accepting no blame nor responsibility for the failure.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:08, Mon 02 Jan 2017.

 There was a sound, one that penetrated the pleasant sleep of the one sleeping. He attempted to ignore the sound, but it continued, and become more insistent to be heeded. One blood shot eye appeared then shut just as quickly.

A groan escaped the large lump in the bed, covered in a thread bare blanket, as the lump rolled over to reveal a large brutish figure of a half-orc. “ By the gods of death and destruction. I put in an all-nighter, standing guard down at the docks. I ain’t due to go on duty till dusk. What does that…… what does he want? What job?” he asked.

  The messenger, while no foe, was certainly not a friend either. Baruzur almost let an insult slip thru this lips, due to a sleep fogged brain. It would never due to let it be known, that he had insulted the Guild Master’s newest pet.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:08, Tue 03 Jan 2017.

     "He didn't tell me.  Just said to come get you.  You'd better hurry down to the Guild House," Andur said with a shrug.  He walked away without closing the door.  The busy sounds of Mama Joko's tavern drifted into the room, as did the smell of roasted meat and alcohol.

  The large shape finally emerged from its hibernation, and rolled to his feet. The half Orc’s body was an artistic master piece of scars in all shapes and sizes. Baruzur had come up hard, the school of hard knocks only offered survival in way of a reward for attending that institution.

 Baruzur garbed himself in woolen shirt and breeches, a gambeson was tugged over his head, and then he struggled into the mail shirt he always wore outside of his own quarters.  Barazur took hold naked arming sword that was always within easy reach by his bed side, and slid it into the well-oiled scabbard. A brace of throwing or fighting axes completed the weapons the Basher carried on the job. The dagger didn't really count, as he used that to eat with, more than killing.

 “Someday, someday … that little weasel is going to wake up with a smile under his chin. Or maybe be dinner for a Goblin.”

 These things where muttered under his breath, as the large man made his way out the back door of Mother Joko’s Brothel, and down the alley to the street beyond. He attempted to make sure, he was not being followed, as was an old habit. While he was no thief, the current climate in the cities underworld, made it wisdom to have eyes in the back of ones head.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:26, Thu 05 Jan 2017.

     The blur of a shape caught his notice.  A small, dark-robbed figure took up trail behind him, clumsily trying not to be noticed.  He wasn't worried though, for he knew who it was.

     Then there was a loud clatter behind him, and turning he saw young Fiona in a dark robe, sprawled on her face near the edge of the streets, a bunch of apples bouncing around her.

     "Hey, you thief!  What do you think you're doing?!" and irritated shopkeeper said, turning to notice the mess.

     "I'm sorry!  I'm sorry!  I was ... I slipped," Fiona insisted, scrambling for the apples on her knees.  The shopkeeper grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet with a yelp.

     "Slipped trying to steal from me I'll bet!" he shouted.

  Baruzur heard a noise and turned to see a diminutive figure wearing a tattered cloak, doing their imitation of a Master Thief. The Half-Orc could not help, but smile, and that was an expression that did not happen very often. Not in the dark life ways that Baruzur chose to walk, by choice and circumstance.

 The sudden noise had his right hand gripping the wooden handle of a throwing ax, but it relaxed when he saw she was  accosted by an irate vendor. When the Half-Orc saw the man grab the child’s wrist, a low rumble that was half grunt, half growl, escaped his lips. In a deep baritone sounding voice, He spoke.

“ Let her go. I will ask ye, but once.”

 This said as the Basher headed toward the two, long strides eating up the distance.

     The balding man turned to see Baruzur storming toward him and he immediately let go of Fiona.  He staggered back into the doorway of his shop for protection.

     "But she's a little thief!  Trying to take my apples," he complained.  Fiona rubbed her wrist and smiled up at Barazur like he was nothing more than a big stuffed toy owlbear.

     "I'm sorry, Zur.  I was trying to sneak behind you and I tripped.  I need to get better or Li-Shan won't let me into their club," she said sorrowfully as she continued picking up the apples and returning them to the crate.

     Li-Shan was considered the leader of a gang of urchins that picked pockets and ran small-time scams on visitors.  They also occupied an old warehouse downtown and actually kept it in good repair.  May orphans and street kids joined them just for a dry, safe place to sleep.

 With one last glare and growl, at the merchant, just for effect, the Half Orc locked his eyes on the waif. Without warning, Baruzur scooped up the little girl, and sat her on his shoulders, with her legs held for support. The Basher of the Guild walked on down the street, like nothing was odd about the odd spectacle they both presented to casual passersby.

 He stopped at a street corner vendor, and with a few coins from his purse, bought a brace of meat pies, and offered one up to his passenger. As they walked along, Baruzur had a smile upon his lips.

“Little one, ye should nay try and rob folks. Ye nay be part o’ the guild, for one thing. And ye av nay training for another thing. Just stay in the market with your alms bowl, and leave it at that.”

 They had this same conversation more than once, in their brief association. But the child had the will of a Dragon, and  a stubborn streak worthy of a Dwarf. No matter how many times , had offered to get her into an apprenticeship with a Weaver friend of his, she had flatly refused.

Fiona claimed, she was a creature of the streets, and wanted to someday be a great thief, like her hero, Melaka the Dark. A Master Thief, and the rumored leader of the breakaway faction. It was said of Melaka, her heart was as dark as her raven tresses.

     Fiona steadied herself with an arm over his head, and stuffed her face with the meat pie.

     "But Li-Shan says that if people are dumb enough to let us take their stuff, they deserve to lose it," she tried to justify.  "I gotta learn to take care of myself somehow."

     Several familiar faces greeted Baruzur, but gave Fiona second glances.  It was curious for a huge Half-Orc to be carrying a young human child with such familiarity, but no one dared to question it.  Finally, they entered Lowtown, the oldest part of the city built next to the docks.  The roads were crooked, the buildings were old, and everything else was shady.

     A stray goat wandered toward them, wobbling as if it were drunk and braying constantly.  An elvish city guard with a silver mace on his belt leaned against an apothecary shop, deftly scanning the street as he chewed on a strand of wheat.  A halfling merchant is struggling to pull a cart of broken swords and shields through the foul-smelling streets.

     Up the road is a stone tower, said to once belong to a wizard.  It now Bettomir's headquarters in Lowtown.

     "Ooooo!  The old mage's tower!  Can I come with you, Zur?  Can I?  I just wanna see inside!" Fiona insisted, wiping her mouth.  The child's voice carried a bit, catching the attention of the elf guard, who straightened up from where he was leaning, but he did not approach.

 As the two of them walked along, Baruzur chided his small passenger on the folly of her actions. “ Now Fi, I told you to stay away from that lot. Li-shan is a bloody loser, and odds are, he will be on a Slavers coffle, or face down in the gutter sooner than later. I want ye to stay away from that lot. Let me get ye with the Guild if ye want to skulk in the shadows."

 As they drew more near to his destination, Fi asked to see inside of the Tower. The Basher took note of the Law Dog, and quickly changed the subject. "Never ye mind that, lass. What about I deposit ye on a safe corner, so ye can ask for alms. Aye, that be the thing for ye. Let’s be about it.” And off he went, his long strides eating up the cobble stones. He wanted to get away from the Law Dog.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:40, Thu 12 Jan 2017.

     "Yes, Zur," the girl seemed to accept as he carried her a couple of blocks over and put her on a corner facing an old well.

     She waved after him as he left, then seemed to miraculously transform into a poor, sickly waif of a girl, holding out one hand and begging others for money.

     Continuing to the tower, the guards let him in and he headed up to Bettomir's office.  Past another guard, who gave Baruzur a knowing nod, the half-orc found the blond-haired assassin sitting behind a large desk made of mammoth tusks, piled with books, bags of money, and fat candles.  The room smelled like a whore house.

     "Ah, Baruzur.  My favorite Half-Orc.  Took you long enough to get here," he said flippantly, tossing him a bronze key.  He came out from behind his desk, wearing a dressing robe.  His leather armor and clubs were hung on a nearby stand.

     "Lady Finnichi is complaining about something in her cellar.  Asked for you by name ... For some reason.  Check it out," he said, checking himself in a fancy mirror.

 When Baruzur arrived at the Tower, he nodded to the Bashers on duty, and went into Bettomir's office. There was the preening fob, admiring himself as usual. What the Guild Master saw in this peacock was beyond Barauzur’s thinking.

 When Bottomir laid out the job he wanted the Half Orc to perform, Bar was tempted to ask questions. But he knew better, so  he just took the key, grunted in way of a response, because most people just assumed Half Orcs where dull witted.

 Once he was out of the Tower, the Basher made a quick check on Fiona, then headed for this place, where he had to inspect some wenches cellar. Odds where, it was just rats….

     A young man was leaning against the wall chatting to Fiona.  Baruzur didn't recognize him, and he was a little older than she was.  She was standing up straight with her hands behind her back, no longer playing the role of a sickly street urchin.  The young man had a dagger at his hip and surprisingly fine boots.

 The Half Orc took notice of the young man that was talking with Fi. Unless she seemed in distress, or not happy with his attentions, Baruzur would head on to the place where Lady Finnichi lived.

     Arriving at Lady Finnichi's two-story estate on the edge of Lowtown.  The house was fenced in and surrounded by gardens and greenhouses.  The Lady Finnichi was the owner of a popular chain of Apothecaries, and she was an acclaimed botanist herself.

     Two gardeners were tending various plants and hedges when he arrived.  The double front doors loomed, but he could see the entrance to the cellar on one side.

 When the Half Orc arrived at the house, he had to admit, it was a nice place. Perhaps someday, he might have a fine house like this. But back to the business at hand. He would have walked into the place and asked questions, but he had been given a key. Baruzur assumed she did not wish  to be bothered, by the likes of him.

 The Basher walked over to the cellar door, and if there was a lock on it, he would attempt to use the key to gain entrance to the cellar.

     Unlocking the chained double doors, Baruzur descended into the dark room down a set of stairs.  Light from behind him flooded the room to reveal a dusty workbench with various woodworking tools, two spiderweb-covered tailoring dummies, and shelves full of preserves.  There was another door on the far corner of the room.

     He could hear muffled sounds beyond the door.

 Baruzur slowly went down the stairs, stopping at the bottom to allow his eyes to become adjusted to the darkness beyond the light from the door. He wished he had brought a torch with him, but too late for such thoughts. He attempted to spot anything that might serve as a light source, Lantern, candle etc.

 No matter what, hearing a noise from the far door, did cause the Basher ot slowly draw his sword. Part of him thought he was rather silly, as the sound was rats, more as like. Baruzur advanced towards the door.

     Checking the shelves and the workbench, Baruzur found an old old lantern covered in dust.

     Approaching the door, he could see a slight hint of flickering light coming from underneath it.

 Seeing the light from under the door, Baruzur tested the door,to see if it would open. If the door could be moved, he would push it all the way open, so as to detect someone behind it.

     Baruzur pushed through the unlocked door easily, revealing a row of wine casks along the wall of another narrow room.  At the far end of the room, a human male was holding a torch and rifling through an open crate.  A crowbar was laying at his feet.



     The man was startled by Baruzur's sudden appearance.

[Private to Baruzur: Don't worry about rolling initiative.  State your action and movement.  Drawing a weapon is a free action.]

  Baruzur spotted the man across the room, which seemed to be searching for something. The pry bar on the ground raised a question or two, to his mind. Was the fellow a thief, or someone that thought to imitate one of the Guild.  The half orc figured he was here because the owner of the house was either paying protection or was connected to the powers that be. But in the end, it really didn’t matter, he had a job to do.

 The enforcer at first, thought to draw his sword, but then discarded that notion. He was wearing mail, and as soon as the other heard his clinking, he would either take off like a rat, or turn and fight. If he fought, all well and good, but if ran, the other would be faster. A hand ax seemed the best choice, as he drew it for throwing.

  Baruzur advanced upon the man,with a steady place. " Stay right where ye are,Lad. If ye run,I will throw this at ye."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:38, Fri 27 Jan 2017.