May 18, 011
"We're off," he said with such authority that even Evror, in all his years as master of a thief's guild that should not have even existed, was apt to start from. The empty hall loomed around him, Anaton calling from the far side where the entrance sat in dusty silence save the still lingering echo of his single command. He turned from the door and walked off loudly leaving Evror to sit alone in this large room to look around him and see, for the last time, what was left of the Brakra Thief's Guild of which he was master. Slowly he rose from his seat and walked off in the direction the command had come, the dust billowing up from the unused table that stretched in its center.
Outside the air was still and heavy. Laden with fumes from the bowels of the earth. Most travelers feel the weight of the heat and steam that belches around them and slowly bend to its pressure as they pass slowly through these lands on their travels from one country to another. In the end of the journey it takes some time to be able to stand as straight and strong as they did before they stepped into the stones. But not Evror, nor Anaton either who was brushing the dust off his tunic at the mouth of the large wooden building they just recently exited. They have spent years in the Broken Lands living among the very scum of the races that swept through on their avoidance of law, order and responsibility. Brakra was once a very active settlement and one whose ill nature affected much of the civilized world. But now it has rusted away to a few buildings standing dilapidated in the dust and darkened by soot blown from the hot craters that populate this region.
Brakra lies on the western side of the Broken Lands. The first settlement of its kind, it was a haven for the wretched of society. A destination for the thieves, murderers, outlaws and those of such horrid spirit that on their tails hung the very knives of the Sting Squads who's job it was to seek out and bring to justice the outlaws of Albinor. Brakra thrived on blood stained gold and ill gotten goods. Whenever a man did something that could incarcerate him and the constabulary began to close in on him to make his life unbearable, it was to Brakra he fled to survive for a time only to return after his crimes had been forgotten. Evror established one of the world's most terrible thief's guilds here, one whose members would kill for a copper. But Evror didn't stop to think that the thieves who gathered at his knee were those already branded within other guilds; far away guilds that were now upset at the betrayal that the existence of the Brakra Thief's Guild was causing in their ranks.
Eventually the greed of men and the horrible disposition that exists in the type of person that would populate a town like Brakra began to take its toll in the form of drunken bar brawls that would find men dead and beatings in the streets over naught more than a misplaced word. These are men that, again, would kill for a copper. And they did all over the village. There was a time just before Brakra's eventual decline and demise where the stench of death that hung about the town was even greater than the sulfurous gasses that escaped from the crevices. By this time the existence of Brakra as anything more than a den of infighting murderers and brawlers had ceased. The popping in of a few well-placed and ill-meaning members of other legitimate thief's guilds, if any of such practice can be considered legitimate in the first place, helped seal the fate of Brakra. Eventually only two men remained in the fallen shacks that was once a village. These men were Evil-Doer Anaton Evlin, dedicated to the path of evil and a man who, though he hasn't met him, stood opposite and against the Paladin Johannesonne Lobanna. He hated what he stood for, he hated his deeds and actions and he even hated the whole idea of the man at all. With him was Master Thief Evror Bobbin who once ruled the thief's guild from which Brakra sprang. A man hated even in circles of brigands for helping wanted men betray the guilds that had taught them everything they knew about their profession thus far.
"Which way?" asked Evror as he stepped out of the shadow of the decrepit and abandoned guild halle. Evror paused his tunic brushing long enough to point eastward towards the only trail that ran through the Broken Lands. It wasn't long before the men were off, walking slowly yet assuredly in step with each other. They are the last to leave and their doing so has ended Brakra's history. Albinor's den of thieves, once the only shelter for outlaws from the lawful forces of Albinor's good countries, lies desolate, barren and empty.