Tournament of thieves

[maker]

Link removed his trademark skull bandana as he walked inside the broken bottle inn. He walked through the bar into a backroom. The broken bottle was a front for Links band of thieves the red skull gang. They were so good at stealing from the rich that they were recognized by the legendary thieves guild the previous year. Link knew that he was on the rise and being a part of the thieves guild meant protection from the local kingdoms and other gang of thieves or even solo bandits. Link looked around to see if anyone was watching before reaching for the candlestick which was really a lever for the hidden door heading to the basement the real hideout for the red skull's heading down the steps Link whistled the all clear tune. The guard at the door sheathed his sword and bowed to his leader before handing Link a letter with the guild seal. Link saw the seal and opened the letter.


You are chosen tomorrow meet the other chosen at valo point in the dark forest from there journey to castle dormund and retake the guild crown for the master thief is dead. the remainder that return are invited to the tournament of thieves to decide our new master. Remove the seal from this letter and burn the letter the other's will know you by this seal wear it on your shirt over your heart.


Link removed the seal and buttoned it to his shirt. Grabbing his gear he left the same way he came and before he left the broken bottle he casually tossed the letter in the fireplace. Outside in the snow Link walked to the stable mounted his brown colt and made his way toward the dark forest

 

[JadedAnarchist]

Pendleton stalked around the outside of a pub, listening to other people's conversations. As she passed an extremely dark alley, she heard two thieves whispering to each other. One of them had been chosen to go to valo point in the dark forest to meet the other chosen. As they continued speaking in hushed voices, an idea dawned on her. Nobody ever thought she could do anything because of how young she was and her handicap: her eyes. She couldn't see because her eyes were forced shut by scars that ran over eyes. Perhaps being the new Queen would change everyone's mind. She smirked to herself and stalked away, using her magic to help her find where the man's horse was. There she waited until she sensed him; then she attacked him, making sure he passed out and searched him blindly for the seal that she heard him say he had to wear. Once her hands found it, she attached it to her shirt and mounted the man's Iberian Andalusian, riding off towards the dark forest.

 

[CharChar45]

Smirking, Eirlys patted her satchel, three rings made of the finest of jewels clanking lightly together against pieces of gold and silver. It had been an easy night, with lots of treasures and foolish rich men, prey that was merely fun to play around with. And now, it was time to celebrate. Slipping down the alley, Eirlys pulled her hood down, her long, glossy brown locks tumbling past her shoulder as she paused, raising her fist to a dusty wooden door and knocking three times. There was silence, then loud bursts of laughter as the door flew open, a man with a gray beard and grimy face greeting her with glittering blue eyes. "'Ey, dearie! Come 'ight on in."


As Eirlys stepped inside, she couldn't help but smile, green eyes twinkling at the sight of mugs of beers being passed around. Shouts, cheers, and jeers as people danced their feet stomping with the steady beat of folk music. Some had weapons strapped to their waist and backs, others had tossed them aside, joining in on the fun. Carefully, Eirlys raised her bow and sheath of arrows over her head, gently placing them on the table nearby. Briefly, she stood their, intaking the sounds of music, smelling the sweet scents of sweetbread and beers, closing her eyes and feeling the heat of bodies dancing in glee. Then, with a small step forward, she joined the celebration.


She was twirled madly in dizzying circles, laughing wildly as she held a mug of beer in her hands, cat calling teasingly to others with her Celtic lilt. Her hands clapped, her feet stomped, sweat trickled down her forehead. Yet she could care less, for she was free, dancing in a crazed manner, grinning and giddy as can be. All their was were men spinning her in circles, holding her hands as they danced to and fro, cries and shouts for beer and foods, and the sweaty bodies surrounding her in a gleeful dance.


Then came the startling halt. From all sides, glass broke, doors swung from their hinges. The clanging of metal and feet, not light and carefree, but heavy and conforming, marched through. And, they were surrounded, by soldiers, by their enemies. As fast as it happened, the room of thieves and refugees reacted. People dived for their weapons, giving out battle cries and running forward with rage. Eirlys lunged for her bow, loading it in one, swift movement, not wincing as the arrow flew through a soldiers neck. She dashed forward and yanked it out of his bloody flesh, tossing it in her sheath and sprinting towards the door. All around her were fights and death, bottles being smashed against heads, metal striking against one another. Even the younger ones were fighting, the ones of age twelve or thirteen, beating their fists madly against a soldier's side, crying out in pain as he shoved them aside. He raised his sword, ready to strike, but froze midway, eyes wide with shock as he stumbled, falling forward and hitting the floor with a smack, and arrow in his neck.


Eirlys met the children's eyes and mouthed one word: Run. They did as she said, scrambling to their feet and dashing towards the doors, Eirlys right behind them, pulling out her daggers to strike away swords and arrows, using her own body to shield the innocent. Then, once in the alley, the children went their own way, as Eirlys jumped on a nearby horse, nudging her heels into its sides as it burst into a gallop, sprinting for the forest. For a while, it was just her riding, wind whipping back her hair, the trees flying past in a blur of black and grey. It was silent, except the whistling of the breeze, and Eirlys felt nothing but numbness.


At last, they arrived at their destination, a small cottage, enough room for a single person, and Eirlys's home, in a way. She jumped down from the horse, tying it to a branch, before running inside. It was dark and cold, and Eirlys struggled to find the matches, her fingers shaking as they brushed them, picking them up and lighting it with a quick flick of the wrist. In the corner, lay a fireplace, the wood in it dry and burnable. Eirlys tossed the match in there, watching briefly as it flared upwards in an array of orange and yellow flames, dying back down just as quickly, yet remaining warm and lit.


Eirlys curled up beside it, watching the fire flicker and burn away the wood, leaning back against the wall. Her eyes wandered, then landed on an envelope, one with the seal broken, the letter out and read, just not yet decided. She had received it this morning, yet was unsure at the time what to do, for she loved her life here. Now, she knew what she wanted. In one motion, she snatched the letter up and tossed it into the flames, clutching the seal to her chest. Standing, she clipped the seal to her cloak, in the place where the two strings met, and flung her satchel over her shoulder, storming outside.


"Time to go, darlin'," she whispered to the stolen horse, her Celtic lilt dancing on her tongue. Jumping on the mares back, Eirlys gave the cottage one last glance, clutching the reins tightly in her hands. Then, turning her back, she nudged her heels and rode off towards the dark forest, where he journey would truly begin.