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Max Grubfield
Posts: 11
Joined: Wed Jul 13, 2016 8:18 am
Guild: Thieves

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Post by Max Grubfield »

Sitting atop the rooftop, Max swings his short feet back and forth, gazing down at the street below. Gently, he taps out a small beat on his drum, the rhythm lulling him into his thoughts.

With a smile, he lets himself get lost in his thoughts for a minute as he remembers the look of the monk as the small children of the orphanage had played their music for the Brotherhood after his kind donation of wolf pelts turned into instruments. The task had been given to him to test his ability to survive in the wild, as he'd had to defeat not only natural wildlife like wolves and bears, but also some unnatural things like eye demons. Then to design a piece of art. Creating art was something that he'd truly fallen in love with since he'd left his village. Music lifted his soul, and, as he very confident, he had quite the talent for. Poetry and writing tested his mind, causing his mind to be as nimble as his feet and fingers were being trained to be. He knew very well what many people thought of him, but he also knew that the less they thought of him, the less they found value in watching him, which just made it all the easier to take what they were not guarding. It was how he had moved forward in the Thieve's guild.

Testing his ability to use his natural talents in such a way to leave the art for the Brotherhood made him think outside the box, something that every thief had to learn to do, and the more often, the more successful the heist. He had found the task daunting and dirty, but also challenging and creative, taking something that seemed gruesome, but turning into something that had both been beautiful, and amusing at the same time.

With a frown, he stopped the tapping of his drum and climbed down from the rooftop. Unfortunately, it seemed the leaders of the guild felt that testing his skill in the wild, and his creativity to approach the issue weren't very thief-ly of him. He had thought that he'd found a good home for him, everyone had been so kind to him, and welcomed his unique approach to their skills, or at least he'd thought. But he'd the discussions of how his quest wasn't good enough. Just like all the kids who'd made fun of his father and the rest of his family, giving them the surname "Grubfield" to mock their bad investments. Quickly, he brushed a finger along his cheeck and steeled his gaze, "Don't do it, don't let them see you cry!"

He briskly hands John Quail a note, then turns on his heels and sets out, Sally padding gently behind him, the large wolf's face low to the ground as he follows the halfling closely.

Looking down at the note, John opens it,
"Dearest friends,
Jericho, Vespers, Argent, Ardet, Alfie, and Nefiris,
Thank you all for helping me find my way, for giving me confidence and strength and skill to survive. I guess I was wrong on what it meant to be a thief though, so I'm off to my village to see my family, father hasn't been doing well for some time, I was putting off going to see him because I was hoping to return with the gold needed to buy the new land so he could see his life dream come to pass before he did. Things have gotten more dire, and I'd rather spend time with my family who values my skills, then among those who think I am not worthy. You taught me to listen carefully to what people say and to know that there are always at least two meanings of words. The obvious, and the intent. Words have been said recently that have caused me to doubt that I am looked at as a thief because I accepted a challenge that others thought wasn't "Thief-ly" enough. I had quite a bit of pride in how I interpreted that task and made it my own, and thought I had learned very thief-ly lessons from it, after all, I survived, I snuck around, and I got away with no loss of life or profit, but apparently, it wasn't enough. Mr. Higgenbottom said I could perform at his tavern back home while I keep an eye on my family for a bit. If you require me, you can reach me there. Until then, you won't see me around the halls.

-Max"
Looking up, John noticed , the halfling and his wolf had already turned around the corner at the end of the street, but leaned against the corner of the building next to John was a snare drum and drumstick...when had that been left there?
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Vespers
Posts: 179
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:10 pm

Re: Return home

Post by Vespers »

Vespers made her way to the edge of a roof. The sky here was different, greyer than the bright skies of Devardec, but for once the red haired woman was looking down. In her hands was a small stone glowing with its faint inner light. At her feet was a roll of parchment. She’d written words there, unsure whether they would ever be read by the person they belonged to, but just in case, she spoke them to the sky.

“Profit isn’t always gold. Gain isn’t always wealth. To take a situation, a task, a moment and turn it on its ear until it suits you, to take chances and in your clever way turn the world to your will. Those are the things a thief can do. You know how to hold a room’s eyes Max, and their hearts. Whether it’s a tavern in Frostfall or all of us in our cocoa-haze of cheer. And you know how to reach people, which is a gift most rare. There are words of yours I will never forget, and stories I’ll long for.

When you are home, I hope you spare a song for us. I hope some day your path will come this way again. Until then…. You need not steal the world. It’s already yours.”

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