City of Thieves

Orphanage Troubles

The Crimson Fucker spat, and muttered a curse under his breath. This was getting messy, they had just killed a second nun. Good thing he wasn’t religious.
This was supposed to go quickly, a diversion to let them use the rest of the night to perform the actual heist. And it was quickly turning into a clusterfuck.
Oh well – now that the nuns were out of the way, maybe they could speed this along. Now where were Babyface and The Knife with the orphans?

A moment later, The Knife came down the stairs, carrying a child. Where’s the rest of them? the Crimson Fucker wondered.
She looked concerned. “Crimson, the children have disappeared.”
Fuck’s sake.
“Also, we’re not alone in here. Something is sneaking about, and there’s cackling coming from the coal basement.” She continued.
The Crimson Fucker twitched.
“Ah, that’s probably the same guy who killed one of the pigs. Followed us from the forest, I think” The Drip said from the kitchen.
At that point the Crimson Fucker was about to snap. Nothing could ever be fucking easy.
Noticing the build-up of rage, the Knife shot him a murderous look. “Don’t you dare swear in front of the child.”
The Crimson Fucker could not have stopped himself any more than he could an avalanche, but he knew better than to piss off the Knife, and he had just enough self-control left to apply some self-censorship:

SON OF A GUMCHEWING FUNKMONSTER! Why the FRUIT does all the FUNNY STUFF always happen to me? It’s like this whole city just likes to BEND ME OVER, and FIND ME IN THE ALPS! FUDGE my life. Well, as far as I care, these MISERABLE COWS can have a FANCY BARBECUE, WITH A GODDARN PIG!”

“You done?”
The Crimson Fucker spat. “Yeah, I’m done. Let’s go check the basement.”
He didn’t have many rules, but one of the few he did have was that you don’t hurt kids. Growing up here their lives would be fucked up enough without that kind of shit.
Whoever – or whatever – had taken the orphans was in for a world of hurt, followed by a gruesome death. And then, they would be out of The Crimson Fucker’s life forever.

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Just dont make it a habit...

Well crap, I try s hard to live a life that whilst not actually good- in no way good, at least I generally try to veer away from the more serious crimes. However in the last couple of days I have murdered two nuns and a swineherd, okay not the first people I have killed and one was a genuine mistake but still I feel wrong and annoyed at myself. Well I guess I can put it down in part to the company I keep- they are crazy. Yes, they get the job done but they are worrisome people; Crimson Fucker (hard luck getting that as a handle) is proficient at simply breaking people down and killing them as a farmer on wheat, the knife is someone who seems to blur the lines between life and death a bit too much. babyface is the least murderous but she is still fairly violent and then there’s the barber- a man who has not been caught by the law due to being good with a blade and so mindnumbingly incompetent he wouldn’t normally be suspected.

So what led to the murderous tendencies who ask? Well as I am saying this in my head, noone did but oh well. We had the plan and the materials, so we needed a distraction to cause the guards to be duped. So I jokingly suggested we burn an orphanage and after some discussion we worked this as a viable plan- though unlike someones suggestion without the kids inside. So for added woe we added some pigs in as pigs cause the fire to grow stronger and simulate humans, so we robbed a swineherd of his pigs- did I need to kill him? no. Was it the best option? Probably, as otherwise we need to worry about him squealing on us or him dying from exposure. So we drugged the pigs and put them in the orphanage, after drugging a nun, and then went to ensure all other aspects of the plan were set. This went well. So we went to the orphanage to rescue the kids and start the fire- i was forced to shoot one nun to stop the alarm and beat aotherr nun with a pig (I honestly never thought I would say that). Me and crimson went about ensuring everything was set on the ground, whilst babyface and knife went getting the kids and the barber was off distracting guards. Turns out there was an unexpected complication from some crazy guy who wanted to steal the kids but the team dealt with him, whilst the barber led guards to us. He did take care of the guards but not well, though allowed more of the plan to progress.

So now we have robbed the facilities, have started to get the bombs in motion and will soon get a nice big payd…hmm the bomb seems to have already started, crap I may have messed up.

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If you want a job done...

The Crimson Fucker spat. The wound in his chest bled quite heavily. It had been a while since he’d got shot – he remembered it hurting more than this.

The heist was not going quite as he had intended, because nothing could ever be fucking easy, could it. First the sodding barber had gotten captured, and then, as they were about to start loading the cargo, he had shown up with armed escorts.

And now… Now the Crimson Fucker had a bullet-wound in his chest, and through it he was losing a lot of blood and the last of his patience.
The diversion at the front gates wouldn’t hold for long. They needed to finish this, and quickly. He glanced around the corner. The Black Barber had sprung to action, distracting the man with the gun. Perfect. Now it’s your turn to bleed, you son of a bitch.


He watched from the cart as the last of the mob broke and fled. Many of them – probably most of them – had died. No matter, they had served their purpose.

All in all, it could have gone a lot better. Although they had gotten away with the cargo in the end, and they were all still alive, so it was technically a success, things should have gone a lot smoother. The Crimson Fucker wanted to blame someone, to make an example, discourage these kind of failures in the future, but when he cast blame he tended to do so violently, and as he reminded himself, this was not his operation, but The Knife’s. It was her call, and she would probably want full manpower for the big showdown.

Now, that was something The ’Fucker looked forward to – big payday, and pretty fireworks to go with it.

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The back of the barracks

Charlie sat on the back of the wagon, legs swinging off the edge as they trundled away into the night. The Barber was lying between the stolen barrels, groaning loudly and leaking from several new holes that the military man had made with his shotgun. Crimson was sitting at the front of the cart with similar wounds, although he was being much less whiny about the whole thing. You would think the barber would be able to deal with the injuries, given his chosen specialty. Apparently he wasn’t as good at taking as he was with dealing.

Things hadn’t gone exactly as planned.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Charlie had executed everything exactly as Crimson had intended. Unfortunately there had been other contingencies involved in the final raid; namely two army men who had unfortunately had to be silenced and had done a fair bit of damage before they were taken down. And of course the Barber had been captured after he hadn’t done the job properly the first time around, so now he was hurt.

In a way it had been a good thing. Charlie had been able to quietly roll out everything they needed into the corridor entirely unhindered, whilst the two burly gentlemen fought with the officers. And Reno was fine, he’d been waiting on the other side of the wall with the wagon. Besides, everyone had survived, and they had got everything they had come for once the officers were dead. It hadn’t been that easy to get things over the wall with two injured people, but Charlie had held the illusion until they were done – not that any of the soldiers were paying attention anyway. From the sound of things the riot had been quite impressive. Charlie would have to come back in the morning and see the damage.

It was the Barber’s own fault the he was incompetent enough to get caught and then injured. Besides, if the officers hadn’t hurt him then Crimson probably would have done it instead. The big man didn’t seem to tolerate failure and he had a temper to back it up. It was an admirable trait, assuming you were also a competent leader. Hopefully he was, in the event that Harriet’s big event went to shit and they had to get out fast. If not, Charlie would be looking out for number one first.

Charlie’s legs swung back and forth as the wagon pulled away from the screams and flames into the darkness of the night. This would be interesting.

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Current Events
Things you have fucked up

Following the death of Captain Tellier of the Mellanford Dragoons and the attack by riotous mob on the 17th City Barracks, the officer corp are taking notice of the recent unrest. Mounted squadrons now patrol the streets, aggressively breaking up groups before they can form and acting quickly to restore order.

Political ramifications of the riot are felt regardless. Several top officers are blamed, disgraced and removed from command. They are replaced with deeply patriotic members of the nobility whose bloodline and breeding are unquestioned but may be lacking in actual military skills.

A recent food scare has broken out over the sale of ‘tainted’ oats to city stables. The long-quoted observation that the rich treat their horses better than their servants is truer than ever, as supplies of more expensive grain are bought up to feed work and warhorses, whilst the people are left the ‘tainted’ oats. Rumours of terrible sickness spread wildly but seem impossible to verify.

Finally, rural workers travelling to the city this week spread fireside takes of the Beastman! This monstrous creature, part-animal, part-man, prowls the night, taking out its bloody fury on all men or horses that cross its path. Some say its was born of a mare up in the mountains where men lie with animals! It knows itself an abomination, and takes revenge against its mother’s and father’s bloodlines both. Beware his menacing spike!

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