"People are real friendly where I'm from, they can never keep their bleedin' hands to themselves and nothin' makes them happier than sharin' all our stuff. Course sometimes there's so much sharin' they hire me to make sure we ain't sharin' too much."
For the world to make sense in Sunberth, it had to be seen in black and white. There weren't enough shades of gray for someone to truly reach an accord with what was right and wrong in this shithole of a city, you either had to blur the lines to such an extreme that there was no difference at opposing ends or draw a line so clear and concise that it was impossible to traverse. Truthfully most citizens fell into the former as those who preached the latter could seldom handle Sunberth's nature and those that could were subject to its brutal and unrelenting chaos. Justice was blind in Sunberth, faith was pried from cold, dead hands.
While fair less eloquently, Dale's mind lingered on this topic as he paced around the Seaside Market. It was fair to say it was an unpleasant day, dark and furrowed clouds canvassed the once idyllic blue sky while a fierce winter wind whistled through the narrow gaps between stalls, whipping up the thickest heads of hair while leaving a sharp cold burn, announcing that summer was indeed over. It didn't seem to bother the man as he rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, the bitter wind flowing almost pathetically of his coarse skin while his eyes tightened, not to battle against the wind but age as he peered around the market, clearly looking for something but that could have easily been a face in the crowds or a particular stall.
It wasn't a surprise that such a though seemingly popped out of nowhere as he weaved through the busy crowds of the market with a tad more grace then a man of his size or age should have. While in the clouded light of day the market looked honest enough, Dale himself could spy a bustling group around a stall laden the last of the fresh fruit and vegetables of summer as another merchant sold a rather pretty young women something that glittered brightly in the sun, but in the shroud of night it was a place of nefarious conversations and unsavoury transactions.
As another man passed they shared a quick yet knowing glance in the others direction, all that was needed was a sharp and short nod between them before turning off in opposite paths. This is why Dale was in market; he desired no trinkets or bauables as of late but was in fact working. Whether it had been the after affects of autumn's food shortages or just the inevitable effectof winter to Sunberth's shores but the number of thefts had skyrocketed from its already high figure. The unscrupulous merchants of the market didn't tolerate thieves for a tick, it was rare sight to see a stall that didn't have a guard in some way, shape or form but the situation had spiral out of control as more citizens of Sunberth had joined the already plentiful supply of cutpurses, pickpockets and crooks.
But that wasn't the problem. The Daggerhands often made "investments" in some stalls, some genuine while others were just extortion and given the state they were in right now, the gang wanted as much money as possible in the coffers. So, in the most discrete possible way, word was spread around to the Brothers and Sisters of the gang that anyone who managed to nab a couple of thieves in the act they would be paid for it. They meant to keep as many thieves in the dark about this fact, too many had their ears pressed up in the right places so this venture was barely more than a whisper or a rumour amongst the Daggerhands. But they would be there; the money was needed to much not too even try.
Dale counted himself among the desperate, armed with only his old, knackered yet trusty cutlass by his side if things got ugly. Why? Because he didn't want to just deter the thieves, he wanted to catch one in the act. Sure, the merchants would notice the drop in crime if their enterprise worked and they would all get a small pouch of gold and maybe a pat on the back and the Daggerhands would be happy from the fact that they were still a force to be reckoned with, but if he could bring one in they would be ecstatic. It wasn't a good thing to do, he knew that, most of them had little choice to either beg for back breaking work to whomever might employ them or turn to a life of crime and even he daren't think what a particularly fierce merchant might ask of him or even worse if the Daggerhands themselves wanted them brought in. But then again; Justice was blind in Sunberth, faith was pried from cold, dead hands.
Finally the heaviest clouds gave in, blessing them with a splattering of invigorating mixture of rain and sleet that bordered on the painful as Dale furrowed his brow once more and got back to work, pushing any thoughts of moral far back into his mind.
.12th of Winter, AV 514 - 9th Bell- The Seaside Market
For the world to make sense in Sunberth, it had to be seen in black and white. There weren't enough shades of gray for someone to truly reach an accord with what was right and wrong in this shithole of a city, you either had to blur the lines to such an extreme that there was no difference at opposing ends or draw a line so clear and concise that it was impossible to traverse. Truthfully most citizens fell into the former as those who preached the latter could seldom handle Sunberth's nature and those that could were subject to its brutal and unrelenting chaos. Justice was blind in Sunberth, faith was pried from cold, dead hands.
While fair less eloquently, Dale's mind lingered on this topic as he paced around the Seaside Market. It was fair to say it was an unpleasant day, dark and furrowed clouds canvassed the once idyllic blue sky while a fierce winter wind whistled through the narrow gaps between stalls, whipping up the thickest heads of hair while leaving a sharp cold burn, announcing that summer was indeed over. It didn't seem to bother the man as he rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, the bitter wind flowing almost pathetically of his coarse skin while his eyes tightened, not to battle against the wind but age as he peered around the market, clearly looking for something but that could have easily been a face in the crowds or a particular stall.
It wasn't a surprise that such a though seemingly popped out of nowhere as he weaved through the busy crowds of the market with a tad more grace then a man of his size or age should have. While in the clouded light of day the market looked honest enough, Dale himself could spy a bustling group around a stall laden the last of the fresh fruit and vegetables of summer as another merchant sold a rather pretty young women something that glittered brightly in the sun, but in the shroud of night it was a place of nefarious conversations and unsavoury transactions.
As another man passed they shared a quick yet knowing glance in the others direction, all that was needed was a sharp and short nod between them before turning off in opposite paths. This is why Dale was in market; he desired no trinkets or bauables as of late but was in fact working. Whether it had been the after affects of autumn's food shortages or just the inevitable effectof winter to Sunberth's shores but the number of thefts had skyrocketed from its already high figure. The unscrupulous merchants of the market didn't tolerate thieves for a tick, it was rare sight to see a stall that didn't have a guard in some way, shape or form but the situation had spiral out of control as more citizens of Sunberth had joined the already plentiful supply of cutpurses, pickpockets and crooks.
But that wasn't the problem. The Daggerhands often made "investments" in some stalls, some genuine while others were just extortion and given the state they were in right now, the gang wanted as much money as possible in the coffers. So, in the most discrete possible way, word was spread around to the Brothers and Sisters of the gang that anyone who managed to nab a couple of thieves in the act they would be paid for it. They meant to keep as many thieves in the dark about this fact, too many had their ears pressed up in the right places so this venture was barely more than a whisper or a rumour amongst the Daggerhands. But they would be there; the money was needed to much not too even try.
Dale counted himself among the desperate, armed with only his old, knackered yet trusty cutlass by his side if things got ugly. Why? Because he didn't want to just deter the thieves, he wanted to catch one in the act. Sure, the merchants would notice the drop in crime if their enterprise worked and they would all get a small pouch of gold and maybe a pat on the back and the Daggerhands would be happy from the fact that they were still a force to be reckoned with, but if he could bring one in they would be ecstatic. It wasn't a good thing to do, he knew that, most of them had little choice to either beg for back breaking work to whomever might employ them or turn to a life of crime and even he daren't think what a particularly fierce merchant might ask of him or even worse if the Daggerhands themselves wanted them brought in. But then again; Justice was blind in Sunberth, faith was pried from cold, dead hands.
Finally the heaviest clouds gave in, blessing them with a splattering of invigorating mixture of rain and sleet that bordered on the painful as Dale furrowed his brow once more and got back to work, pushing any thoughts of moral far back into his mind.
