Magical Bubba


Why 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 professional thief.

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 him.

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 near.

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 problem.

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.