The scene in Southall was like any other in Florin during the "dark times" as they would later come to be known. Our story begin's in the marketplace of the small settlement..a ragtag collection of tents and stalls all layed out in a single row along the road leading to the village square…throngs of people swarming around each other as they searched for that illusive bargain..to walk through the market without any notion to either buy or sell took considerable stamina..if the crowds did not disorientate you, the noise did..a wall of competing voices washed along the entire street..the sound of a thousand men haggling..it was generally agreed that the sellers were the worst of all..their booming voices cutting above the din as they pronounced the days special must buy at all costs deal that no one could apparently live without..right into your ear of course, as you passed. A few voices In particular would seize ones attention with the promise of low price goods, from the mundane…"Pots!..get yer pots ere!..all kinds of pots for all kindsa needs!.. flower to piss pots!..get yer pots ere!" to the more specialized items… "Shrunken witch heads!..lucky shrunken heads!..buy two, get one free!", amoung this model example of commerce strode the point of our story..two men..two thieves to be precise..not the foul mouthed cut your throat rob your purse sort of thieves, but rather the well spoken Cut your throat rob your purse sort of thieves, the tall one went by the name of Garrett..who definitely looked the part of the Rogue..his face concealed behind a hooded cloak which draped itself nicely over his lanky shoulders..his most striking feature being the mangled stump of a left eye, the story of which is unremarkable..except perhaps to say that daggers and rum were involved, the other fellow who followed closely behind went by the nickname "Smithy", a name he earned due to his rare talent with locks.
"Why must you insist we walk this accursed road?..I swear by God I'll cut somebody's bloody throat if they shove me again" Garrett snapped as he pushed yet another browser from his path, Smithy..following in his masters shadow, replied in his usual stoic manner.. "Well it would certainly not be the first..", Garrett stoped in his tracks at this ..turning to stare down into the face of his sidekick of sorts "now look here..I've never cut a throat that did not need slitting first..", Smithy..unmoved by his masters protests, quipped "but a moment ago you sai.." "I know what I said Smithy, I do not need to be reminded of my less than saintly past with every idle thing I say!" with that Garrett turned and began walking again towards the town square with purpose..Smithy now reprimanded, continued to follow..the pair weaving through the maze of body's until they reached the town square..which normally remained empty..the purpose being to accommodate large crowds for any event which required the populations attention..today was one of those days..a crowd of sorts had gathered in its centre..drawn to the large makeshift pyre of dried wood which had been hastily erected..at the centre of which stood a single tall wooden post..held in place by the mountain of loose wood below..tied to this post could be seen a person..or at least from the distance the pair stood from the scene it looked to be a person, "Look Smithy..they're burning another one.." "It would appear so..another witch perhaps?".."of course it's another witch..every woman in this village is a witch waiting to be burned if you believe these madman.." Garrett replied in his usual terse manner..Smithy peered up at his master inquisitively "A thief with a social conscience?..isn't that ironic?..", "actually it is not ironic..but that's another matter entirely..I may steal for a living but it does not mean I enjoy the smell of burning flesh or the wails of a dieing woman just because she happens to be intelligent.."
"So you are saying none of them are witches?..that they don't exist?", Garrett sighed at Smithy's simpleton like reply "You amaze me at times..you can disarm all the locks in Florin with ease yet simple logic eludes you..these women are not witches..they are merely the victims of fanatical priests..raised to fear and despise Women for reasons too complex for your little mind Smithy..", the short man at Garrett's side blinked..his attention shifting between his master and the now baying crowd ahead before he replied "well your opinion doesn't appear to be all that popular in Southall at the moment.." as Smithy stated the obvious Garrett began walking towards the pyre..motioning his accomplice in crime to follow, which he did "If experience has thought you anything Smithy..it should have thought you this…that the popular opinion is rarely the correct one, come …lets have a look see shall we, the priest is about to start babbling I think", As the pair drew closer the baying crowd seemed to grow.. all men of course, their voices becoming clearer and more vocal until certain jeers and taunts could be heard distinctly above the general din of the mob, "burn the witch "Set aflame in her evil flesh!" "Shrunken witch heads!..get yer shrunken heads!", the two thieves ignored the raised voices and began to push their way through the assembled crowd ..stoping near the pyres edge…the perimeter around the pile of wood clear of people save a lone priest..a wretched looking old man dressed in a black robe..his body hunched as if the earth summoned it..his beady eyes bulging from his thin skull as he began to speak..his shrill voice silencing all others..spit bursting from his lips with each fevered word spoken "The scripture sayeth the truth always...we all of us know this to be the right ..as true as Gods love I say this!..the thing you see before you now is no woman..it is an agent of evil..a WITCH!".
The crowd erupted into a fierce cry..a kind of fevered burst of indignant rage that seemed to grow as the many voices competed to be heard..silenced only by the priests hand as he raised it to speak once again "her crimes shall not be uttered here as I have not the strength to speak such profane evil in the presence of good folk such as yourselves.. But know this, as a witch she must be set aflame as the scripture commands..lest she spin lies and turn the hearts of men to evil!" again the entire crowd erupted into a cheer mingled with howls of anger, all except the two thieves of course..Garrett and Smithy had been silent as they listened to the priest..watching him as he informed the crowd of the witches fate…it was at that moment she drew Garrett's attention.. His single eye moving to the wooden post perched high above the pyre and crowd below.. A woman lay straped against the vertical beam..thick knots of rope fastened to her feet, torso and neck..the latter wrapped so tightly that the woman found herself unable to speak or even scream..only managing a pathetic whimper which could only be heard when the crowd went quiet at various intervals… her hair had been cut away almost completely ..save a few clumps dotted around her skull..her swollen eyes ringed with red sores..probably from the lack of sleep and the sheading of many tears..they searched the crowd furiously for a sympathetic face..darting from the left to right in vain until they found him..the hooded thief who stared passively at her amongst the legion of the red faced rage filled majority, Smithy watching them both ..knowing now that his master intended some action.. Whatever secret words had been spoken in the glance between the condemned and the thief we will never know, but right at that moment Garrett's voice cut through the crowds baying even if it was much the louder ..perhaps it's tone and manner were in direct conflict with the murderous voices of the many " I say she is not a witch!…..