Rumors

[Yari Rafanas]

((Closed to invite))

There had been word spreading throughout Corone; a warning that the dead legends of Concordia were alive again, walking dirty trails and dusty highways in search of their leader, their friend, and the potential riches and fame he would bring. Men and women of all ages crawled from their hiding places in the various forests and mountains of countryside to take over trade routes for an evening, and then were on their way again. Their victims were left with only one message in their possession.

“The Bandit Brotherhood is back.”

The hushed tales of the group sent a spark of nostalgia raging through the city of Radasanth, and things were going exactly as Taydrius “Yari” Rafanas had hoped.

The young man sat arrogantly in the corner booth of the Silver Pub, his armored leather boot propped lazily up on the table in front of him. He winked on occasion to the passing barmaids and smirked defiantly at the off-duty soldiers and adventurers spread throughout the tavern, not afraid of announcing his presence to anybody who dared look his way. That night was not about hiding beneath the lonely darkness of his cloak and shady dealings under the table. No, Rafanas knew that those who were looking for him would find him, and that is exactly what his greedy heart desired.

Several rowdy members of the bandits were spread throughout the pub, drinking and laughing the night away, but always keeping an eye on the young man they called their leader, ready to lend a thieving hand when need be. With the atmosphere so lively with such a healthy social gathering all around, trouble was not entirely expected. Company, however, was.

[Storm Veritas]

Just as sure he was that loneliness would suit him just fine, the passing company of some fellow “opportunists” seemed just as appetizing. After all, the entrepreneurial nature of the man had faded with his lost youth, and picking up the pieces of deals gone wrong had come to be something of a specialty for him. Leaning up against the dusty wall, he struck a match on the brownstone before bringing it to his lips. The paper lit quickly, and within seconds he was composed again, the agitation knocked away, that cynical demeanor back. He pilfered his own pocket for the letter he had received, something that was vague on the face but perfectly descriptive between the lines.

Yari Rafanas, eh? Time to put a face to the name, see if that silly sum’bitch is half the legend he’s cracked up to be. Must not be that great, because I’ve still got the coins in my pocket NOW.

The Silver Pub was a cordial enough place, and he entered with an unassuming gait. His tall, lean physique was fitted perfectly with another freshly tailored suit, and his slicked obsidian locks would look perfect upon a banker. His eyes sought briefly before settling on the little tough in the back of the room. Feet kicked up, flirting with the women, he held an air of confidence. It had to be his man.

The short walk was not interrupted by the few passing barmaids that tried to throw themselves at him. Whores like this flocked to money, and he knew that a pressed suit cried extra change better than a bugle. He was business, a stern yet passive-aggressive gaze transfixed on the smallish so-called leader. In full stride he swiped a stool from the bar, and pulled it to the front of the table to use as a seat. The crashing collapse of a chairless imbecile returning from a lingering lean over the bar was nothing more than background chatter. The chuckles of that same man’s supposed friends only further clouded that same white noise.

“Rafanas, I suppose. Got your letter, and I find it odd that we’ve yet to meet.” His arrogance was subtle yet distinct, and he continued without pushing the envelope. Extending a knowing smile but not a hand, he continued. “Storm Veritas, and I’m the best you’ve never met.”

[Yari Rafanas]

“Well I don’t care for anything less, Storm,” Yari replied, sliding his boot from the rickety table and leaning forward on his elbows. “And I hope you’re not lyin’, because this growing family doesn’t need any dead weight.”

Rafanas grinned wide, glancing over the gaunt man before him. Bland as he was, the slick demeanor and prominent amount of arrogance radiating from him was enough to get the young King of Thieves excited about the possibility of a new brother. He, however, did not let his enthusiasm become too apparent.

“I’m not one to waste time, friend, so I will tell you exactly what is going on here,” he spoke loudly, more afraid of his voice being drowned out by the loud social roar than he was being overheard. “There was a war not too long ago that left my family and Brotherhood defeated, disbanded, and swept away in foolish ideals of a young rival of mine. It took away the hard-earned reputation and fame of the Bandit Brotherhood and threw it into the past, leaving only legends and stories for farmers to tell their children at night. I am here to make the Old Ways of my family have another chance at life. We will own the highways, thrive in the forests, and submit to no ignorant politician or dimwitted ruler. It is our right to embrace the freedom we are born with.”

The scruffy bandit chuckled, pointing a finger across the table at Veritas.

“Think a guy like yourself could help at all with that?”

[Storm Veritas]

Storm’s eyes widened a touch at the words of Rafanas. There was little need for discretion in the Silver Pub; as things turned out generally everyone had their own skeletons they’d prefer to keep buried. The weathered old bastard peaked a smile from the corner of his mouth, attempting not to appear too childish with the prospect of such a succulently immoral code of morality.

Before he could utter a word of approval, however, a brief ruckus from behind him. The felled drunk was embarrassed, and coming at him. It was easy enough to hear. Storm turned at the man, glaring at him. The soft and lifeless gray eyes flared, hopping with electric and powdery blue flickers of ire. Terrified at the sight, the drunkard stumbled back, unsure of what he had seen or what he could believe.

Yeah, that’s what I thought. Sit down, bitch.

Following the brief and quite rude interruption, Storm turned back to Yari, no doubt a bit amused by the ridiculous anti-altercation. Smiling and the ludicrous nature of the issue, Veritas spoke in a facetious and jocular tone.

“You’ll have to excuse my friend there, he seems to have seen a ghost. That said, I do believe that taking what’s mine seems to be right up my alley. And I certainly wouldn’t hurt to have a few like-minded allies.”

[Yari Rafanas]

Yari watched the impressive display of power with a smirk, and it reminded him just how useful those who dove deeper into dark arts could be when running a group of scoundrels and rebels. This Storm Veritas felt to be a very solitary individual with a shaded past, but he also held with him a large amount of promise. Yari had no problem accepting the individual.

“You’re in, then, Storm.”

With a discrete wave into the crowd, Rafanas summoned a young lad—possible sixteen—over to the table. The boy made sure not to make any sudden movements around Storm, mainly out of fear, but partly out of courtesy, and he opened up his jacket. He dug around momentarily before withdrawing a little perk package for their newest member—a simple iron dagger wrapped in a dirty cloth, with a crumpled paper tied to it. Handing the weapon to the Storm, handle first, of course, the youth pointed out the symbol of the Bandit Brotherhood engraved on the pommel, and then walked away.

“That has what little guidelines we follow and some simple maps of where we can gather. When we get together for something big, I’ll let you know, but until then, have a drink!”

The bandit king waved his arm again, this time a bit less subtle, and one of the nicer looking waitresses came bouncing over happily. The entire pub was still lively, the party having yet to dive down into the inevitable drunken low, so there was no telling what other brothers and sisters lie waiting in the crowd. The round of drinks he ordered for the myriad of brigands spread throughout the tavern was well deserved.

He would not be paying for them in any event.

[Slayer of the Rot]

He could remember a time when he'd been welcome here, once.

Now, as he walked down the streets, shrouded in a cloak the color of Fallien's sands, and just as haggard, he felt the eyes on him. Terrified eyes that had been brought on perhaps three months ago, bringing unwarranted fear he hadn't seen in the people of Radasanth before. It hurt his heart, but Dan Lagh'ratham only kept his eyes down.

Up and off the street he went and into the place he once called his home. He'd never had to hide himself any other time, but now he pulled his hood down closer over his face, though he had a feeling none would recognize him. His hair had grown, black locks spilling out and down past his shoulders. The stubble on his jaw had thickened past the usual five o'clock shadow he'd always had. He refused to take the chance, anyways, and once his sharp eyes had ascertained that Tshael was nowhere to be seen, he moved farther in.

The carousing and raucous patrons of the Pub quickly wheeled out of the cloaked man's way that night, his path straight and sternly determined. The youthful looking man at the back was his goal, feet thrown lazily across the tabletop, speaking freely to another, though his eyes failed to pick up the details of his appearance. He paused in front oh the table, eyes hidden beneath a fold of the hood. "The Bandit Brotherhood. I'm looking to -- "

"Mister Lagh'ratham?!" The enforcer visibly cringed under his cloak. Maybe it was the way he stood. Or maybe it was some familiar scent he carried? He wasn't sure, but he uttered one grudging cuss before he felt small hands grab at the tan cloak and pull it away, revealing the grizzled man beneath. "It is you! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Like, where have you been?!" One of the waitress hopped into view beside him, and he gave her a pitious grimace. "Err...Fallien," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest, the titanium of his prosthetic winking in the light. He recognized her face; one of the girls that they'd hired before he'd vanished for the Adventurer's Crown, but a name didn't come to bear. Squealing with delight, she raced off towards the back, and the enforcer let his head fall.

"Piss," he grumbled, and tossed it back, his long hair falling over his back. "All right, maybe if we finish this quick, I can get out before it's too late. I'm here to join the clan. I admire your ideals."

[Slavegirl]

It had been a long time, and they'd not been on the best of terms, but Ghaun had instilled something deeper than friendship between those she took under her wings. Natalya and Seth were the two she'd pulled closest, and that necessarily brought them close to each other, in a strange way that could only be called family. Now, once again, circumstance had thrown them together, and on the way to find the man who would lead the Brotherhood, she and the thief had run into each other.

They travelled together wordlessly the rest of the way across the city to the pub. Natalya was silent because there was nothing to say, she wasn't sure if it was the same for Dahlios, but it didn't matter.

Reaching the dimly lit place, she stepped into the bar before him, and glanced warily around. In the back was Rafanas, who had apparently returned to take over the shattered Bandit Brotherhood. After a long moment staring at the man who would be her leader, Natalya bucked up the courage and walked to the booth where he sat surrounded by other members of the Brotherhood who'd found their way back home so to speak.

"Rafanas. I hope that I'm still welcome, even though I came in under a different reign than yours," the former slave said quietly, her voice barely loud enough to be heard over the din of drunks and musicians tittering away. Raising an eyebrow, she was sure that even if he didn't hear her words, her expression would be plenty to get her point across.

[Dissinger]

Seth had journeyed across Althanas. It wasn't that he was seeking the fame or fortune that drew him at the dawning of his time, but instead to fulfill a promise. As he met up with Natalya a simple hello was spoken leaving out all the gritty details of his sordid past. It was an amicable silence, much as he would have given any other shadow member. It said that there was no distrust of the other, if only because there was nothing to fear.

As he moved on towards the pub the lights and the boisterous laughter made him shake his head, muttering under his breathe about the wild bandits he used to drink with. He would get thoroughly sloshed only to wake up the next morning hung over worst than the day before, begging the gods to stop torment him and making the promise never to drink again, till the next time. Tonight though, wouldn't be one of those nights, even as he heard the voices of some of his drinking buddies. No, tonight he fulfilled a promise.

Moving behind Natalya he stopped when she did, waiting for her to drink in the details. As a thief he already could recognize the more rowdy people in the tavern and didn't bother trying to call out to them. They were in their own drunken worlds, enjoying the company of friends and family. As Seth followed Natalya he moved his foots steps light.

Then he saw Yari Rafanas, the Bandit King, a title at one point in his life he coveted strongly. As he drank in the details of the rogue he yawned almost bored of the rowdy crowd that accompanied him. Seth waited as Natalya spoke before he spoke up almost in chorus, "Well now, seems that the rumor was true, that was you in the Theater of War. I guess I can put my mind at ease now that I know the Bandit King really did give me a thoroughly working over. However, I wonder if you're interested in someone like me joining your group?"

He let the question hang in the air as he moved forward, "I never got to tell you my name, but I'll spill it out for you anyways, Seth Dahlios. I'm a thief, a mage, and gods know what else people have called me, but I'm offering to fulfill the vow I gave Gild when I joined this little troupe the last time. Call it fulfilling a promise if you will..."

[Yari Rafanas]

The younger brigand with the jacket moved out of Dan’s way, heading back into the crowd to disappear. The lad did not get far before Rafanas reached out and pulled him back to his seat.

“Don’t be afraid, kid,” Yari said with a reassuring grin, “This brute can’t hurt you. Why don’t you give him one of the packages and let him be on his way. Seems busy with a girl, after all.”

The youth raised an eyebrow to his leader and then took a long, contemplative glance at the large man before them. He had always heard Rafanas was a strange one, but accepting a monster of a man without even a question asked? Odd as it was, the young thief knew better than to second guess a legend that had mysteriously come back from his shallow grave in Concordia. With a shrug, he tossed another dagger-and-note bundle to Dan and got comfortable at his spot around the table.

“There,” Rafanas chuckled, turning his sharp blue eyes to the couple who approached in tow of Dan. One was a small young woman, perhaps the same age as he was, and the other was a warrior Rafanas had faced at some point in time—as if it mattered exactly when; the only important detail was that he had been the victor.

“You two were part of Gild’s Sanctuary?” he asked with a smirk, his attention focusing on Natalya. “And you’re with him? Hmm. You both are aware that I am against building a place to hide and shy away from Althanas, right? When I handed my spear to Gild, I expected him to carry it into battle, fighting like I had shown him, protecting my family and their home…”

The bandit king grimaced momentarily.

“But he left Concordia for that island of living stone. He abandoned the home I died for. If you have any loyalties to Gild, leave them behind when you decide to follow me, or there will be no deal.”

Two parcels were placed on the table almost on queue.

“Got it?”

[Dissinger]

Yari quickly spoke up with a proposal. He could hear a bit of his bitter tones in the words as he spoke of Gild's actions. Seth could more than understand that. Yari had built up a Bandit Brotherhood, one focused on the first name, while ensuring the last. Gild however had focused more on the brotherhood and less on the Banditry. That was part of the reason Seth had gone into the Shadow, he was a thief, and to be unable to use his skills went against the very core of who he was.

As he looked across the table at Yari he looked down at the package briefly. It was almost innocent of the actions that had hallmarked Seth's life. As he closed his eyes he pondered his next words. He knew that what he was about to say would have been tantamount to treason, had Gild still been around. In fact he subconsciously felt the ring on his finger before he looked at them. Pulling it off he threw it in his pack before he looked at Yari his mind made up.

"I could care less what Gild wants anymore. The man disappeared and left a vacuum, Kaosi could only fill it so long before he too disappeared. It’s clear to me that we went the wrong way. So, if that’s what I need to do to fulfill my promise to uphold the Bandit Brotherhood, then so be it. I will not only renew that vow, I will spill my own blood to seal it," Seth said firmly as he began to undo his gauntlet. Pulling off the mythril plated item he drew the dagger before offering it handle first to Yari his hand gripping the blade, that with a single pull, it would cut his hand.

To the Lavinian, the act of sheding blood over a promise was a sacred thing. The blood of Lavinya being one of the greatest things of pride a man from his home would have left. Even though Seth was seen as a traitor to Lavinya and more so to Althanas itself, he knew that the offering of his blood might show his dedication to his cause, for even the traitors of Lavinya would be loathe to break such a vow. And so he unflinchingly held his dagger, waiting for the Bandit King's next move.

[Yari Rafanas]

The lead bandit waved dismissively at the offering from Seth.

“Save your blood for the battles ahead, friend, where it will be better given. I only want your word,” spoke Rafanas, scratching his scruffy chin. “Besides, you’re givin’ the pretty girls a bit of a scare.”

[Slavegirl]

"My loyalty was never to one man," Natalya said in a low voice after a very long while of contemplation, "It has always been to my family, the Brotherhood. If you are the leader then so be it."

She wanted to make very clear where her loyalties lay. If Yari betrayed the Brotherhood, or the Bandit Brotherhood as it was now called once again, she would no longer be loyal to him. It was as simple as that. Family was family, be there shared blood or not, and if there was one thing she held precious after everything she'd lived through, it was that.

Nodding her head to show her submission to Rafanas, and laying her hands palm up before him for a moment as was a symbol of her people, Natalya reached for the proferred package on the table. She did not open it, or glance at it even, she simply slid it into the small bag she carried, and stepped back.

Seth had chosen the Brotherhood, and so had many others, and Natalya hoped that she had made the right decision in choosing these people as her family as well. Perhaps this was something she could stand for - she had little else.

[Yari Rafanas]

The quiet girl accompanying Seth spoke up, rather adamant about her loyalty to her newfound brothers and sisters. Yari turned his attention to her, ignoring the other thief’s blood ritual for a moment so that he could share a few words with Natalya.

“That is all I ask,” he replied, his eyes looking at the table for a moment.

His mind wandered the many faces and friends belonging to the Bandit Brotherhood replaced by these new and eager brigands. Those that had suffered and died for the ideals were not remembered, and would only be thought of as crooks and murderers in the tales to come. How would the new generation be thought of?

The King of Thieves looked towards his new family, grinning. “Just be ready for anything and protect what’s close to you. If we can’t keep that, then we shouldn’t have had it in the first place.”

[Slayer of the Rot]

"I wouldn't want to hurt you, anyways," he said to the kid as he tossed him the little bundle, snatching it out of the air smoothly. The enforcer tore the soiled cloth loose, and pulled the paper free of the dagger, placing it deep within his pocket. Holding it by the point, he tossed it easily up into the air, caught it by the hilt and spun it deftly around one finger. "It's against what I believe in, these days."

The enforcer seemed to forget about the wiatress, lingering a bit longer, looking down towards Natalya and Seth, then turned his attention towards Yari. "I was in The Brotherhood as well. After Kaosi left it, I became The Sword division's captain. If there's ever a time that one of the Bandit Brotherhood's members seek training, I can give it to them." He stuck the dagger into an empty leather sheath hanging from his belt. "And like them, my loyalty was only to the family that I'd managed to make there. Trust doesn't come easily for me these days," he added, reflecting on the lies of the Wilmhearst.

"I'm assuming you'll be wanting your spear back...well, when you do, call on me, and I'll be happy to come. There isn't a vaulted door in that ghost of a city that will be able to hold up to my hands." He turned away from them then -- and right into the arms of a gaggle of off work serving girls, most of their faces familiar. they swarmed around him, surrounded him, then pushed him towards the back, vanishing into the kitchen.

He'd be spending the night telling them exactly what he'd been doing, and he knew it.

[Yari Rafanas]

There were many encouraging yells directed at Dan as he was led away by the handful of women. All the bandits cheered, not exactly sure what they were so excited about, but it did not matter much. They’re family was thriving already, living the life it was meant to be; A life of drink, women, and adventure awaited them. There would be no menace from the darkness this time, no sick and twisted grey beasts taking away the freedom they rightfully earned. Glyce Deliton and the Mindless were gone, and the great Concordian Hero had returned.

Yari Rafanas was not celebrating alongside his brethren. Momentarily lost at the mention of his spear, the bandit king thought only of revenge, hatred, and betrayal that came from the Sanctuary—from Gild Sorrain. Despite the young rivals collaborating in an attempt to allow Rafanas access to the Sanctuary’s Vault, Yari still held with him a very heavy heart. His chosen successor had destroyed everything to hide away on an island, far off from the life and world others had loved. And he had given that man his spear.

A simple hunger consumed the Bandit King, and he looked to his newly recruited members in hopes that his eyes could convey the message.

“That ghost of the city—the sanctuary,” Yari paused. “We’re going there to take back what should be ours.”

[Storm Veritas]

The words were electric, exciting, and dangerous. They carried with them an implication of something from a lifetime past, something that Storm had seen and witnessed, but never actively been involved with. Yari proposed an invasion of Sanctuary, the former homeland of the Brotherhood. What was it now? Desolate? Abandoned? Overtaken? Anything could have happened between then and now, a broad and open question that was both frightening and arousing.

Whatever has become of that crazy-assed place, you’re out of your f*cking mind, Rafanas.

“Sanctuary?” he began, a quizzical tone wrought with skepticism. “I know of Sanctuary. The place where the once heralded boy-king Damon Kaosi brought me. That place is positively psychedelic mind-f*ck crazy. Big stone golems, walls that act of their own accord… that place is a goddamned fortress.”

His eyes peered around the silver pub, taking hold of several familiar faces, and legendary names. Seth Dahlios, the elfish super thief. Lagh’ratham, the brutish barbarian. Natalya, the seductress. Yari Rafanas, the mysterious legend, shrouded in anonymity while maintaining incredible power. Storm knew that he, too, could be an important cog in the works, driving the pistons of action to the point of possible success.

The thought of such a mission was incredible. Failure was inevitable, but he waxed poetic at the prospect of success. Success would be fantastic; fame and instant legend status. None to laugh at the misdeeds anymore. He could be one of the few that accomplished the impossible. He could be one of the few that took down Sanctuary.

In seconds, he had moved from hopelessly skeptical to wildly excited. Power hungry and eager, a smile spread across his face like wildfire, an unabashed jubilance in the perfect place to celebrate such an endeavor.

“….It’s a fortress… and we can take it down. We’re going to shake up the whole f*cking world, baby. I’m in!”

[Nanza]

How many times had Nanza walked through this same doorway to be greeted by the sight of a room filled to the brim with drunken revelers? How often had he weaved his way in and out, side to side, narrowly dodging a stray tankard of ale that flew through the air past his head, jumping quickly out of the way of the waitress who had kissed one too many intoxicated adventurers? “More than a few,” Nanza muttered to himself. The Vanda walked quickly down the path to the Silver Pub, his hood drawn tight around his face and his tail tucked up beneath his cloak.

Why the secrecy? In the past Nanza had learned the hard way that not all humans accepted humanoids, and most were especially biased against reptiles. A good number of fights had been started on account of Nanza’s scaly visage, but after the dust settled and the victor stood alone, the humans turned on the victor. Surely such an abomination could only defeat a skilled human fighter by cheating or foul play! Enraged, Nanza had once asked, “How the hell do you cheat in a man to man fight?” It didn’t matter. Weapons would be drawn, threats would be made, and the lizard man was given the choice of slaughter or surrender, at which point he would retreat into the shadows of Rasadanth where no man could see the tail, the scales or the glowing eyes that marked this creature as a Vanda.

“Ignorance is a bull piss excuse,” Nanza muttered again. In three more strides he reached the door of the pub, braced himself mentally, and walked in. Nobody noticed him. Breathing a miniature sigh of relief, the Vanda pushed all thoughts of fighting from his mind, drowned out the raucous cries of the inebriated, and focused on his goal; Yari Rafanas. Word had been going around the back alleys of Rasadanth: “The Bandit King has returned to Concordia,” “Watch your back, the Bandit Brotherhood is on the rise again.” Nanza had heard of this “Bandit Brotherhood”, and did a little research. The organization of thieves and cutthroats were based in Concordia. Previously a great power in Corone, the Brotherhood disappeared for a while after the death of its leader Yari Rafanas. Apparently his death was a sham, for now he was alive and again rallying troops to his underhanded and greed-driven cause.

A group of men were standing around a small table in the far corner of the pub. At the table sat a man that looked old enough to be battle warn but still young enough to be in his prime. The air of confidence with which this man held himself, flirted with the waitresses, addressed the men around him, all betrayed his identity. This must be Yari Rafanas,[i] thought Nanza, [i]and I must speak with him.

Well versed in the art of pushing people out of his way, the Vanda quickly crossed the room and came to stand within the ring of men around the table. He caught the snippet of the conversation that was going on when he arrived, something about taking over the world, but he dismissed it without any further thought. Without lowering his hood, Nana spoke directly to the man he believed was the Bandit King, saying, “Are you the one called Yari Rafanas? I’ve heard of your “Brotherhood,” and if you’ll have me I want in.”

[Yari Rafanas]

Storm, who had been silent for most of the conversation after his introduction, finally spoke up and revealed that he too had been part of the Sanctuary. The thought of so many former Brotherhood soldiers crossing Corone to come and restart the Old Ways nearly drove Yari mad with excitement. His successor’s empire had truly fallen and now his old subjects would march across the coward’s island and extract sweet revenge. Could this mean that Yari would finally be satisfied? He prayed silently that the answer was yes. The void must be filled.

“Yes!” Yari pointed towards Storm, laughing. “And then we’ll return, riches and power in our hands, and remind Corone of what we’re capable of.”

And as he finished his boasting, a man emerged from the crowd, heavy in black and his eyes covered by shadow. A creature of the dark not reeking of the undead or carrying his shoulders threateningly was asking for a place in the rising bandit force. Yari, being only slightly cautions and just a bit of a jerk, smirked and replied to the applicant.

“If you have a name and face, I’ll consider it.”

[Letho]

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