"You heard the rumors tonight lad? They say the thieves are thicker than fleas on a stray dog. Run home and stay to the light, unless you want to find yourself a heck of a lot lighter, and a worryingly amout poorer."
So this is my new idea for Guild. We are The Cloaks, those furtive glances across a crowded marketplace, the swift slashing of a blade against your hard earned gold, carefully placed into a money pouch. That cry for help when you find that your favourite piece of jewellry has gone missing from its stand. Or even, when you've gotten to big for you boots and someone has wished for you to take a little 'vacation'. The Cloaks are a fairly standard group of theives, spies and the occasional murder. They answer only to their leaders, and all their services come at a price.
Honour is earned. Is it never granted.|
Blood and Gold my friend, Our Blood and their Gold.|
Aa' lasser en lle coia orn n' omenta gurtha.