Daggers

The Blinking Dog was a respectable, upstanding establishment during the day. But when night fell and spirits were high, it belonged entirely to the court of The Rogue. The various scoundrels of the city gathered there to celebrate a fine night's work, or to carry out deals and negotiations. It was generally considered to be safe ground, protected by its Guild status and the money paid in bribes to the watch each week.

The bar was dimly lit and rowdy, the air rife with the sounds of laughter and revelry as the patrons indulged in all manner of recreation. Gamblers in varying degrees of success crowded around long tables that were host to games of dice and cards. Silvers and coppers changed hands as other patrons placed bets. The more respectable women sat with their men, while the less respectable ones plied their trade in the rooms above. The place thrived on its steady stream of coin, information, and ale.

"Aha! Ten high, suckers! Am I the championess or what?" The voice rang out over the crowd. The woman's clear, alto voice had an infectious laugh and she flipped her shimmering blonde hair over a shoulder as she slapped her hand down for all to see. She was obviously proud of having bluffed the others, and not for the first time. "I love poker!"

She waggled her eyebrows suggestively at the men across the table from her. She looked ridiculous wearing two hats, a man's oversized shirt slung over her own form-fitting top, and two pairs of gloves. They always agreed to play with her in the hopes of getting her topless, and she only ever let it happen often enough to keep 'em coming back for more. "Drop 'em, 'Fingers. And Dharts, that'll be your shirt."

She cackled gleefully as she gathered all the cards and began shuffling them. Dharts happily obliged by peeling off his shirt and showing off a lean, muscular chest. However the scruffy and somewhat older thief, dubbed 'Lightfingers' for his nimble hands, grumbled. "Lass, with the way ye've been bragging 'bout your latest catch, why're we playin' for jollies instead o' coin?"

Dharts butted in with a cocky grin and threw his shirt across the table at their opponent. "It's 'cause Daggers here likes the view, isn't that right?"

"Well, there is that." She giggled while she draped the shirt over her shoulders like a shawl. He wasn't far off the mark. "And I like embarrassing my old teacher, of course. Anyway Dharts, you aren't the only thing that's hot around here." She eyed his chest with an openly pleased expression. "So's that coin. I'm just gonna sit on it a while longer yet."

Glad for any opportunity to steer the conversation away from the necessary removal of his pants, Lightfingers was quick to shake his head at his former charge. "Daggers me girl, if ye don't git that loot back t'the Rogue sharpish, ye're gonna be in even more trouble than usual."

She laughed and waved his words away. "Well, I'm always in trouble for one thing or another. But I always manage to charm my way out of it. Besides, I bring in tons of extra coin for him, I'm valuable and I'm like family. Although… It kinda rankles, doing all the work and losing most of the profits. And I had to arrange that last job myself because he won't assign me to anything exciting."

She knew well that she was bound by the law of the thieves' guild to allow a portion of each profit to be taxed, and that she shouldn't carry out any unauthorized thieving. She even knew that a good deal of that money went toward putting away stockpiles of food, clothes, and resources for all those who paid protection to the guild.

She just felt like her abilities could be put to so much better use if she could govern them herself. She even voiced her opinion aloud to her companions. "I just wanna live a little! C'mon 'Fingers, you and the old boys taught me everything I know and I've been doin' it ever since I were small. You know I'm wasted picking pockets in the marketplace."

Lightfingers grumbled again and looked exasperated. "Lass ye jes' don't git it. The Rogue's been lookin' out for yeh since ye came to us, true. But he can't be seen bein' soft on ye anymore! Ye've come of age now, an' like as not he's gonna have t'keep ye on an even tighter leash unless ye can learn t'actually follow th'rules."

"I hope you know how that sounds," She replied, rolling her eyes. "We're rogues. By definition, we break rules! Isn't that what we do best?"

She didn't really understand that by setting up her own jobs and keeping the loot, she was undermining her Rogue. She just wanted to make a name for herself, have fun, and be free to do as she pleased.

However, the conversation was interrupted by a banging at the door. It opened to admit a grim-faced guard who quite obviously looked as if he'd rather be anywhere else than traipsing into the bar full of thieves to arrest one of their own. But he had his orders, and his warrant, and little choice in the matter. His eyes roved over the crowd until he caught sight of Daggers, then he pointed and murmured to the innkeeper.

"Better make yerself scarce, lass, this 'un means business." Lightfingers warned her, while at the same time Dharts leaned over, his eyes flinty and his smile confident. "Yeah right, you know either one of us could nail him from where we sit and get away with it." He pulled a wicked-looking blade and ran a finger gently along its length. "I'll take one eye, you take the other?"

While they were speaking, the guard was nervously making his way across the room in their direction. Daggers scoffed and glared her namesake at her two companions. "Boys, boys! Come on now, that's no way to treat someone who came all this way just to see me."

She stood up, shedding the clothes she had stripped from her companions and dumping Dharts' shirt on his head. "No funny ideas, you. I'll be fine."

An idea coming to mind, Daggers patted Lightfingers on the shoulder. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you two around again. Don't come after me, I can take care of myself." With that, she walked around their table to go meet with the guard, a smile on her face and her hands open in a friendly gesture.

"Ah, corporal… I see the boys gave you the short end of the stick again tonight. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You shouldn't have hit the Baron's coffers, Daggers." The corporal was a young man, with a new family and a perpetual nervous tick. She knew that he had only taken the job with the Guard because it paid more and he needed to care for his wife and brand new twins. On more than one occasion she had used her ill-gotten gains to drop off a loaf of bread for his wife here, leave some coppers there. "He's paid up with the guild, and livid."

"Aww, how'd you know it was me?" She asked with a pout, while she openly held out his hands for him to cuff. He did so, although he was reluctant to. He spoke to her more like a friend, than like an officer of the law.

"Because, you're the only one around here hot-headed enough to go for it, and the essence spells put you at the scene."

She could see the way he glanced around nervously at the room, which had long since fallen silent except for the drunkest of patrons. Funnily enough, she actually took hold of his shoulder – he had been kind enough to cuff her hands in the front – and spun him around, and began ushering him out the door. "Well then, come on now. We don't want any of my friends here getting ideas. We'd best be off."

Once out in the street, she fell into step alongside the guard. He rested a hand at the small of her back and steered her toward the station at a stroll. His expression was glum, though also slightly confused. "I'm sorry, to have to do this, but… Why aren't you trying to get away? We both know you could."

"Perkins, I know you haven't made your quota yet this quarter, and the commander's got it in for you since 'Fingers gave you the slip last month." She chortled and gave him a mischievous shake of her head. "Nah, I'll wait 'til you've got me booked and in he slammer, that way the blame won't fall to you and you can keep your job another day."

True to her word, she didn't cause any trouble to the young guard and he got all the credit for booking her. She was straight-up jovial as they locked her into a cell. She joked with some guards, while others she inquired after their families or complimented on well-executed raids. She made it a point not to hold grudges against most of them. They were, after all, just workin' folk like herself. They didn't make the rules, just enforced them.

She only stuck around in her cell long enough to get some plotting in. She lay there on the cot, hands comfortably resting on her stomach, while she contemplated her next move. Finally she had some peace and quiet in which to think – something she'd never have gotten at home in the Blinking Dog. It didn't take her long to decide life was getting a little too dull around here. Yes, it was high time for her to get out of everyone's hair, strike out on her own, and live a little. She knew she could make it big, and she wouldn't help anybody by sticking around and furthering her reputation as 'rogues pet'.

It was with a grin that she finally got up off the bed. She began whistling a merry little tune, one that some of her closer friends among the guard might recognize. Then she took off the peculiar bracelet she wore – it looked simple enough, if a little plain. But in reality it was several long lengths of wire woven together to look like jewellery. She unwound a few strips and shaped them into picks. She made fast work of the lock, and apparently her timing was quite convenient. It was curiously easy to sneak past the few guards who hadn't suddenly decided to go on patrol, and grab her personal affects. It was just as easy to slip out of the station entirely, and melt into the shadows.

It always paid off to be on good terms with folk.

Daggers skipped town, feeling optimistic. She was off to make a name for herself.