The FATE of Guilfort

Mixed Motivations

Alec put his face in his hands as he sat down outside the house of the Windrider family. The journey back into town was spent mostly in silence as the wounded Sisters didn’t really inspire the most lively conversation amongst the group. Alec trailed behind, walking with Torg, as he seemed the only one amongst them that had anything interesting to offer. While speaking to a tall, red, tattooed lizard wasn’t usually his style, Alec thought it best to make friends with the most menacing of a group of new companions…

Companions…is that what he really was thinking? No, these were merely some wayward travelers who nearly got him killed. Bravery and valour weren’t exactly the trademarks of the thieves guild and his actions were definitely not inspired by any desire to help these people. But when you see a blue man and a red lizard sprinting after a magician on a horse, you can bet something profitable is about to happen.

After spending 6 weeks in the region, traveling through Greystone, pillaging what little there was of Guilfort, it was about time someone other than the regular mud farmers came along. The Path of Iron were of little interest to Alec, seen mostly as a “local problem”, far removed from the blood soaked squabbles of the royalty and lords of Piriniri. That was much more his pace. A true war is fought in the shadows and discrete back rooms, not on battlefields. That is just where patriotic fools go to die for their misguided ideas.

These new characters were of interest to Alec. He liked people with secrets. Secrets are always valuable to someone, and this crew seemed to have many. But what were they? Who were they, and what could possibly bring such a mismatched group of people together? This thought alone provoked Alec into staying.

Torg, as cynical as ever, kept a vigilant eye on Alec as he moved to get up.

“You make no effort to hide your profession, thief” Torg commented as Alec checked all his various pockets and devices to make sure they were still there.

“Exactly, it’s a profession as noble as the most fair merchant. Where he trades in goods, I trade in secrets…and other people’s goods” Alec quipped back with a smirk.

“Fair enough, but just keep your hands where I can see them around me. I have no interest in becoming one of your marks” Torg said as he strode into the Windriders house.

Alec knew that Torg was either hiding something or truly deadly…both qualities that were appealing.

The companions mostly made preparations to leave Guilfort the next day. Alec could catch bits and pieces of discussions involving a mysterious box and a journey to Lorindale but the talk quickly died out as they noticed him casually trying to overhear their conversations. He was treated apprehensively as a guest. Alec claimed to be traveling from the far east, looking for steady employment, but said little else of why he just happened to be at the right place at the right time.

His looting of the plague homes remained a secret. While thieving outright was noble, stealing from the dead was often seen as the lowliest form of employment. It was akin to begging food at the feet of nobles in the plazas Piriniri. No skilled tradesmen would ever stoop that low.

But Alec was far from home, in a land where his history meant little to nothing. Going home wasn’t an option for now and he needed everything he can get. Maybe it was curiosity, desperation, or maybe it was the blind generosity of these strangers, but ultimately, as the night wore on, he decided that traveling back towards Lorindale would be much more exciting and potentially profitable than sticking around the unfulfilled promise of Guilfort’s easy pickings.


wildmage xbluelinex

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