CHAPTER XIII

A group of unsavory looking men sat around a table in a dimly lit La Noscean tavern. The other patrons gave them a wide berth, taking pains not to look at the rowdy group as they hooted and hollered, drunkenly bickering over games of dice. All except one man.

/

Marcellus Stryder was a member of the Rogue's guild. As a child, he had lost his parents to Pirates, and was forced to provide for him and his sister, Lylian. Life as an orphan was rough in Limsa Lominsa, and soon he found himself stealing daily to provide for him and his sister. On one, particularly daring theft, he was caught by Captain Jacke of the Rogue's guild, and instead of turning him into the authorities; Jacke took him under his wing, and raised the siblings within the guild.

Today, several years later, he had taken his first independent job as a Rogue. A small group of thugs had shipwrecked a small Limsan merchant ship, by putting out coastal beacon lights that would normally warn the merchants off the impending shallows. Then they swarmed out of the darkness and onto the floundered ship, killing the defenseless merchants, and carrying their loot back to their camp.

/

Marcellus sat unnoticed, in the back of the tavern, studying the hooligans quietly as they bickered. He kept an eye on one of them in particular, a nervous looking, shifty eyed, Lalafell that opted out of playing dice. The weasel-y looking Lalafell looked on the verge of saying something. Finally, the little man piped up, and Marcellus' ears twitched intently as he listened from the shadows.

"We've best get outta La Noscea, 'afore them damned Rogues get wind o' our pilferin'." He protested of his, seemingly unconcerned, companions.

One of the men, a large, brutish looking Roegadyn, turned on him angrily, hissing urgently. "Oi'! Pipe down ye' good fer' nuffin' ankle biter." He scanned the room nervously, failing to notice the Miqo'te watching him from the shadows. "The 'ole damned guild will know before the night is done, wif' all yer whinin' and cryin'…"

The Lalafell sunk away from the Roegadyn's glaring stare, and sulked. "But…but…"

"Stow it, we' earned a nights celebratin', and we'll be gone first light, afore' the pretty lil' sneak rats 'r even stirrin' in their nests."

Marcellus raised an eyebrow, "Well he got the pretty part right..." He finally had his confirmation that these were the men he sought. He scanned the group carefully. There were four men, the Roegadyn, two Hyurs, and the Lalafell, and all but the last was staggeringly drunk. "Easy enough…" Quietly, he stalked to the bar, and asked the barkeep to clear the place out, taking care not to alert the table of five.

/

The group didn't seem to notice until the very last patron left. The Roegadyn looked up, and growled angrily. "Oi' old man, where'd all those folk go so suddenly?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the barkeep, who quaked visibly under the stern gaze. "What'r ya tryin' to pull?

One of Hyurs laughed dumbly. "Don' worry boss, dey' probably run, on account 'o the big bad men what wer' scarin' em."

"Or maybe they couldn't stand the smell o' yer sour arse breath." A voice chimed in from the shadows.

The Roegadyn surged to his feet, knocking over the table, and drawing his axe from his back, pointing into the shadows.

"Whoosat?! Show yerself, sneak rat!"

Suddenly, two throwing daggers came spiraling out of the darkness, taking the Hyur who had spoken, in the shoulder.

The Hyur slumped over in pain as Marcellus stepped out of the shadows, two wicked daggers at the ready.

"Ye've got it all wrong, my friend. In "this" game, you 'n yer mates are the rats, and I," he bowed mockingly, "Am the cat. Ye've gone an' broke the code, and I'll 'ave ya up by yer' boot strings for it!"

"Like hells ye' will!" the Roegadyn charged forward swinging his axe and knocking over tables and chairs as he went.

Moving quickly, Marcellus kicked a chair at the man, and as the brute smashed it in half, he flew through the debris, planting a knee in the man's chest. With a great crash, they fell together, smashing through a table that had been knocked over.

"Boss!" The remaining Hyur shouted, rushing forward, followed at a distance by a shaking Lalafell.

Drawing sword and shield, the Hyur swung a sloppy, overhand slash at Marcellus.

Marcellus caught the sword on the larger of his two daggers, using the smaller one as leverage behind the other, and stopping it in its tracks. With a twist of the large dagger, and a grin, he disarmed the drunken thug, and stabbed him in the thigh with the smaller.

The Hyur collapsed beside his boss, clutching his bleeding thigh. The Lalafell attempted to make a break for the door, but moving with uncanny speed, Marcellus snatched the poor fellow up by his coat, shaking his head.

"Sorry mate, can't let ya go an' hop the twig so easy like, I gotta 'ave wids wit' you, or the boss will 'ave me ears."

/

As the sun rose over the little La Noscean port, a curious sight was waiting for the residents. Four drunken thugs, hung upside down by their boot strings off the docks from a Maelstrom banner, mere inches from the rising tide.

The loot they had stolen was piled neatly above them on the dock. The Lalafell had spilled everything the moment he was caught, and Marcellus had worked the rest of the night carrying the loot from their hidden camp in the hills.

"So he cried cockles as soon as ye' put mitts on 'im? That's fortunate fer' you colt, sometimes it takes a bit o'… convincin' to get 'em to blow the gab."

Marcellus grinned cockily as he stood before his master. Jacke sighed, and rolled his eyes as he looked the young Rogue over.

"Wipe that grin off yer' face, colt, ya' got lucky. Don' need ya' gettin' a fat head now."

Marcellus' ears twitched, irritated. "Does it kill ye' to admit that I did well? Yer' always lookin' to put me down. I'm better'n the other new recruits and ya' know it, Jacke. Gimme a real assignment, and I'll show ya'!"

"Ye' ain't done nothin' but mill up a bunch o' drunken thugs. Yer' just a hot headed colt, don't get ahead o' yerself."

Marcellus stormed out of the guild, ignoring the questioning look of Lonwoerd, the guild's Gatekeeper.