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Ambergris, Abstentious, Payterish:
Vesta Haggerton winces thinking about Ambergris' teeth, but agrees to give him the jar as well as the gold, then hurries back home to the Lower Rung.

The men have turned down the steep sidestreet past the market, heading back to the docks.


Molly:
“Us? Start trouble? Surely not!” Breadbeard says with a coy grin. ”It is fortuitous though, I believe, that events conspire in our favor.”

“A refugee? Do tell!” The dwarf listens eagerly. ”Refugee from where, exactly?”

With so many collapsed and still collapsing states along the length of the Old Kingdom’s crumbling expanse, there are many souls who would rightly be called “refugees”. The harsh regime change in Robokov has created many, such as Oxana. There has also been an influx of migrant elves from the Southern Plains, catmen from the Western Jungles, and escapees from the tyrant Lich King’s lands.

”Here is what we propose: If you can get a team together and pull off a heist on your target—this wealthy immigrant, perhaps, or any other sufficiently well-to-do mark, the Shadow Guild will accept you into our ranks. You get to keep your take. It is merely the success of the job which concerns us. Do these sound like agreeable terms?"

Molly

It might could be. You'll excuse me if I don't give away my target. She has the smell of Old Money, but I'll need to case her home thoroughly before I know.
And I suppose, if I choose not to bother joining the Guild, there will be a succession of hulking Strongarm types who'll come to see me every time I filch an apple from a fruit stand.

Molly says this with an open, honest smile.

Abstentious darts after the men in order to keep them in sight, but not entering the side-street until his larger friends have caught up with him.

Molly:

Urson wrote:"And I suppose, if I choose not to bother joining the Guild, there will be a succession of hulking Strongarm types who'll come to see me every time I filch an apple from a fruit stand.

Molly says this with an open, honest smile.

Breadbeard laughs gently. "Oh yes! Of that you can be certain," he assures you. "If you are able to pull off your heist, simply return to the tavern and the waitress will summon me. Good luck!" He crosses his arms and sits back down in the garden.

Molly

Of course. Molly says, her voice dripping sarcasm. She glances toward the mouth of the alley, knowing the Robokovian is long since vanished into the crowd. With a sigh, she re-enters the tavern, hoping to find one or more of her companions. When she doesn't, she'll leave the tavern, taking to the roofs as soon as possible to look for them.

Payterish

"Be well, Vesta." Payterish says as the woman leaves them, but probably not loud enough for her to hear him in the busy street. He shakes his head and blinks his eyes for a moment, then notices that his companions have already started off after the strangely affected men. He springs into action and chases after them.