does one choose a path of evil? I often ponder that thought as I
walk through the streets of Trinsic. Dirty stares follow me wherever
I walk. I cant even go to the bank without some tailor or thief
shouting, "Murderer!" The townsfolk seem even more riled
up than usual tonight. A tailor glares at me with hateful, yet attractive
eyes. I give her a little wink and she spits at the ground in disgust.
I ask myself the question again as I bask in the glory of
heated eyes. There are many reasons. For one, its quite
profitable. On a good night I and my companions can pull in a
hefty sum of money. However, the more I think about it, I realize
that its not the correct answer.
Because its fun? Well, yes. It is also quite scary too.
British would love to have my head on a platter. He has his spies
on the lookout, but he's never quite able to get the evidence
that he needs. Maybe its because the spies who do catch us
usually are slain.
Finally I come to the answer. I am an egotistical attention
whore. I am riveted when I and my guildmates are accosted in the
streets with shouts of unmitigated rage. I love the way in which
they stare at my freakish clothes and wonder why a man would even
bother to wear a pretty yellow dress stained with the blood of
his victims. "Its Magical Bubba!" a beggar shouts and
flees into a building, causing me to giggle.
"Psychotic traveling clown!" a rather menacing
swordsman yells at my back as I walk by. Ah, how sweet it is, I
think to myself. I feed off the attention like a mongbat on some
tired old sow. Its practically nourishment to me.
I always remain civil to my enemies in town. The perfect
gentlemen. Never show anger, no matter how outlandish their lies.
Simply remember their face for future reference and hope that
someday you find them outside the safety of the town walls.
I started out as a thief. The guards tolerated me because of my
charms. Soon, I realized that thievery can only get one so far.
You will never accumulate much more than weary respect as a
One day while lurking on the docks of Trinsic I saw a fellow
thief reach into the pack of a mage of high standing. My mouth
dropped as I watched the mage simply freeze him with a wave of
his hand. The thief begged to be let go, but the mage summoned a
lightning bolt from the sky and my friend fell to the ground, his
arms still twitching even in death. The mage then created a
moongate and fled town before guards could even think of catching
I have been obsessed with magic since that day. I have read
every book in Britannia that I could get my hands on. The
libraries in Moonglow and Jhelom were particularly helpful with
their vast knowledge. Now that I have mastered magery I have
turned my obsession towards pagan magic. I have found some
interesting clues, but the solid information that I need still
eludes me. I suspect it has something to do with the strange
sacrificial altars that I sometimes find while wandering the
wilderness of our fair land.
The crowd is still leering at me as I arrive to my
destination: The Trinsic Meeting Hall.
I give them a cute little curtsy and enter the hall. The sounds
of their boos and hisses are music to my ears.
As I enter the hall a bald bard is playing "Stones." I
walk up and whisper in his ear. He turns white and flees from the
building. I hate that foul song! Why is it that all of Britannia
seems to be in love with it? Bards are annoying enough, but bards
who play "Stones" are just begging to be killed.
I smile at my guild mates as I sit down at the table. Let me
introduce them to you.
Drake Casanova is the one with the most lust for power. He has
even less regard for human life than I do. One time I watched
with amusement as he slayed a young fighter for not bowing to
him. At the moment, Drake is the most powerful mage in the
brotherhood. I am glad he is on my side.
Broad Johnson looks at me and smiles wickedly, his bright
blond hair sticking out from under his jester hat. He is our
guild thief. He makes so much money at his profession that it
sickens me. I am in awe of his thieving abilities. He can steal
from a pack without the victim even knowing that he was even
Cockface Mcgee is our resident psycho. Cock will kill
anything, even small children. Though I know he is loyal to the
brotherhood I still find days where I think dark thoughts about
him. Will his wildness ever be contained?
The Butcher is an enigma. I often see him staring out at the
sea with longing. I believe that he lost something in life that
he truly loves. The loss hardened him. He is staring at his
reflection in the mirror of his cleaver and smiling mysteriously.
Sometimes his brutality scares me. He seems to slam his cleaver
into a skull with a kind of dancer's grace.
Big Daddio pulls his long hair back and bites into an apple. Dads
is the friendliest of our crew. He is sort of a public relations
manager of our guild. While he does commit the occasional murder
on occasion, he doesn't seem to have the heart for it. He is a
valuable friend and I always seek his advice when I have a
Atagro is a charming little murderer. He's the quiet member of
our guild. Most townsfolk realize he is even part of us. Though
he kills, he is able to disappear back into a crowd while many
other members take the heat. He too is a vauluable ally.
Reverend is prone to outbursts of anger. I pity the poor soul who
Rev aims his explosions of rage at. Once, when we were betrayed,
Rev made a victim beg while he tortured him slowly. I will never
forget that day.
Our guild grows every week. It is hoped that one day we will
have our manipulative hands in all aspects of Britannian society.
The Insidious Brotherhood already owns many acres of land around
Trinsic. There is talk of a rebellion against us, but the
townsfolk rarely get organized enough to really startle us. I
fear the day that a charismatic enough hero will empower them
with the will that they need to take the brotherhood down.
At the meeting it is decided that we will go on a little money
making killing spree. On horseback we will leave the gates of
Trinsic, travel all the way to the mines of Britain, then head
southeast towards Vesper. We will kill every person with a
disreputable look about them we see.
Our guild found early on that killing the disreputables in
society is the best way to survive. When we kill nobles and high
lords we find the heat of British's guards to intense. However,
when we kill the the thieves and brigands of the land, British
tends to look the other way. Fine with me. Although one day, I
hope to carry the head of British in my bag. I despise him and
his quest to bring virtue to our lands. I'm a Blackthorne man.
As we exit the meeting hall and the townsfolk once again
surround us with meaningless threats and stares I cant help but
grin. Oh yes, I say to myself and smile widely feeding on the
power of my own reputation. Its the attention all right. A good
attention whore feeds off his own legend.
Long live the Insidious Brotherhood.