Rules      FAQ       Register        Login
It is currently March 19th, 2018, 4:47 am

All times are UTC - 5 hours [ DST ]

Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 1 post ] 
Author Message
 Post subject: The Goblin's Run
PostPosted: March 9th, 2018, 9:13 pm 
User avatar

Joined: 01 November 2017
Posts: 390
Location: The Forbidden Pool
Country: Australia (au)
Gender: Female

OOC: This is a Mary-Sue and Marty-Sam free zone. Should either one be unwise enough to wander into this place, upon their own unfortunate heads be it. It is set in the opening years of the Third Age in AnnĂºminas. All are welcome to join provided that you understand that you and only you are responsible for your character. There is no plot or arc, per se. That is for each of us to develop.

It was late spring in the eighth the year of the Stewards Reckoning of the Third age. The Goblin's Run was now as it ever had been - a den of illrepute. It stood, or rather leaned, in the Old Quarter of AnnĂºminas. The Old Quarter is a place few of good birth and comfortable circumstance dare to tread. It is a place of footpads, thieves and a good number of desperate folk very good at plying their various trades. Whilst the Old Quarter uncomfortably rubbed shoulders with some of the most exclusive areas of the city, the Goblin's Run was the Old Quarter's dark heart.

The fire-darkened wood spoke much of its history. It had a dozen rooms, six small windowless ground floor rooms that held a straw mat and a rickety table and chair. They were three to each side of a dim, narrow hall that ran back from the left corner of the large stone fireplace. Just inside the hall to the left, a narrow gap led up an open stair that curved hard left in a spiral over the common room and back by the stone fireplace to an upper hall. The six rooms above were little larger than the lower ones, but wooden windows that could be opened were in two of then at the far end. This slope of the roof made part of the room good for only sleeping, but the first one immediately to the right at the top of the stair had the advantage of a wall to the backside of the fireplace. This provided warmth in the wet and chill months, but was a bane in the hot summer months.

Now, whilst Goblin's Run was the dark heart of the Old Quarter, Nasty Bob was it's master and there was abundant reason for his name. No one knew where Nasty Bob had come from. No one dared ask. Some things were not worth your life. For the few long term denizens of the Goblin's Run still alive, all they knew was that on a night of blood, screaming and fire, he had emerged and that was that. Debate ended. Nasty Bob had the sort of cruel streak one might expect of a man with a name like that. It made him abundantly overqualified to rule, with ruthless aplomb, the various and many undertakings centred at the Goblin's Run.

Nothing escaped his notice, including the Goblin's Run's resident thief. This young woman had shown up unannounced. Blonde curls bouncing, Nasty Bob had been only too pleased to let this fresh morsel in. That had been three years ago and since that evening, Nasty Bob and Farien had worked out an accord. Such as things went in this place. It did not mean that one or other did not look for the first opportunity to strike. There is no honour amongst thieves or indeed whatever profession Nasty Bob claimed. That said, Nasty Bob served Farien and well and she did the same for him. There was a lot to be said for that for the other lines of business operating out of the Goblin's Run were not nearly so mutually convenient. The assassins nearly always made a mess. Wet work, as Farien called it, crinkling her nose in feminine distaste. The corrupt City Guards kept dangling on a hook lodged deep in their greedy gullets, drank too much and then vomited all over Nasty Bob's floor boards. This, then, made pick pockets operating under the tables howl in protest and on it went. Farien kept her business to herself. No mess to clean up and this was why she was now one of the most sought after thieves in the city.

Liars, cheats, criminals, corrupt officials and those simply down on their luck (and in possession of particularly poor judgement and discernment) kept the common room full. The professionals, those of the ilk of Farien and others, kept their distance. And so Nasty Bob was particularly surprised when Farien came down the sprial stairs just before midnight. She strode through the common room without pause or hesitation, stepping over those prone on the floor and skipping various puddles, for the bar. Her expression was not a happy one and it grew unhappier still when she slapped a coin onto the bar.

Nasty Bob frowned, for Farien rarely if ever paid for her ale. The thief flicked the coin closer to him.

"Give it a good look," she muttered and scowled at a drunk man leaning against the bar and peering closely at her belt - and what it wrapped around. The unfortunate fool grinned at what he thought was a young, unescorted woman. Farien rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Nasty Bob.


"Legal tender,"
Nasty Bob muttered and Farien lifted her eyes again.

"That matters?" she pointedly observed and Nasty Bob plucked up the coin to consider it closely.

Then he saw it and his eyes shifted to Farien's and locked. After a tense moment, Nasty Bob shook his head.

"No," he said and Farien cocked a blonde brow at him, "I'd know otherwise were it so."

Of course, Farien did not take him at his word because of all the things that could be purchased or earned at the Goblin's Run, trust and credibility were not amongst them. She turned to consider the common room warily. Aside from the leach at the bar, those not unconscious knew better than to meet the thief's eyes.

"Where'd you come by it?" Nasty Bob asked behind her as her blue eyes bounced across the room.

Farien propped her elbows on the bar and flexed her fingers. Nasty Bob knew what she was capable of.

"One of marks upstairs set it down in a wager."

"It's him, then!"
Nasty Bob exclaimed and Farien shook her head.

"He said he got it down here," Farien continued, "And I'm inclined to believe him."

"That is the last time I let you and knife boys run a gambling ring,"
Nasty Bob grumbled, because Farien's tone suggested that there was a mess to clean upstairs. The knife boys she'd been running that ring with would not have taken the production of this coin lightly and wet work always, always left a mess.

"He didn't get it from me," Nasty Bob declared and shoved the coin towards her elbow.

Farien sighed, gave off her study of the common room and dropped the coin in question into the pouch she kept at her belt. As she tightened the pouch again, she gave the common room another look. There was a Ranger in the Goblin's Run. Slipped right under their collective noses. The Goblin's Run had been compromised, on Nasty Bob's watch. That was the sort of carelessness that had gotten his predecessor...replaced. The thief shook her head irritably as Nasty Bob thunked a tankard onto the bar, a golden curl swaying where it had escaped the mass she had gathered it into that morning.

"It's from the good barrel," he said.

Farien crossed her arms under her breasts, "It'll have to wait until I'm finished."

She had a job to do yet and she'd see to it clear headed. And Nasty Bob would not buy her off so cheaply. A Ranger in Goblin's Run. And where there was one there were more. And their various collaborators and informants. As she eyed the sorry collection in the common room, Farien pushed out a heavy breath.

~Dancing 'twixt southern stars~

Believing in something does not make it true

(other stuff too but my poetic license expired)

Display posts from previous:  Sort by  
Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 1 post ] 

All times are UTC - 5 hours [ DST ]

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest

You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot post attachments in this forum

Jump to:  

Powered by phpBB © 2000, 2002, 2005, 2007 phpBB Group
Boyz theme by Zarron Media 2003