The night is thick with mist, the kind that clings to cobblestones and muffles the footsteps of late wanderers. Lanterns burn low in crooked iron sconces, their dull glow barely piercing the gloom. The scent of damp earth mingles with acrid smoke from dying hearth-fires, and every shadow feels heavier than it should—alive, watching.
From the corner of your eye, movement stirs: a cloaked figure leaning against a warped wooden post, half-hidden by the mist. His voice slithers through the air before you even see his face.
“Ah… you’ve heard it too, haven’t you? The whispers. A plan bold enough to make paupers into princes, if only one’s hands are steady and heart sharp. But fortune does not favor the clean-handed.”
He steps forward, the hood slipping just enough for the lantern light to reveal a crooked smile and a glinting scar across his cheek. His breath smells faintly of bitter ale and clove.
“The Guild watches, always. They’ll not take any stranger into their fold. No, you must prove yourself first—show them you’re not afraid to stain your fingers. A trinket of crime is your key… commit some mischief, leave your mark, and the city doors will open to you. Do this, and perhaps you’ll walk the line between legend and ruin with the rest of us.”
The figure fades back into the fog as quickly as he appeared, leaving only the echo of his words, and the faint chill of unseen eyes upon you.
[Obtain a Crime Token and Head to The Thieves Guild to continue…]