Zephyr
"Life is a hoard of meat. And gold. You jealous?"
The Heist
Rating: PG-13 for moderate violence, insulting and swearing, slight drinkingInspired By: Playing as a thief in Skyrim too much
Dedicated To: Skyrim fans and people who like heist movies
Genres: Action, Romance, Humor, Fiction, Mystery
Setting: Skyrim, Thieves' Guild
About: The Thieves' Guild's savings are declining at an alarming rate. More clients are becoming upset at their quality of work lately and have decided to quit from the guild everyday. They are losing vital clients and more importantly, gold. Their remaining money has been spent on renovations on their homes and bribes, hoping that the clients would give them one last chance to prove themselves. They need gold badly. But one day, the Thieves' Guild leader's attention was caught by an enticing opportunity. Having heard of a newly opened treasury room whose construction has been kept a secret, he decided to swipe this opportunity and host a heist that not will only help the guild, but more importantly will get them running off with the gold they had been spending their whole lives searching for. But the newly opened treasury room is heavily guarded not by ordinary soldiers, but by elite archers, swordsmen and agiles and worse of all, it's owned by the Silver-Blood family itself, the big men around Markarth. Nothing happens in Markarth without their say so. Worse still, with the Forsworn troubles threatening to wreck Markarth apart, this makes the city a fragile ice to walk on and betrayal lurks at every corner. But time is running out. Failing to get the treasures inside the treasury can spell the end of the Thieves' Guild and them spending the rest of their lives behind iron bars. Will Cyverus hoard the gold before the conspiracy is unmasked?
I will try and update this fanfic monthly. Hope you enjoy it!
Chapter One: Rotten Luck
The torch mounted on it's sconce heaved and licked the air with it's orange-red fury, illuminating the dark tunnel as the light came in contact with his hood, lighting the lower half of his pale face.
His boots splattered miniscule amounts of water across the damp tunnel as he made his way through it. He halted in his tracks.
Twisting his hooded face to his right, he reached forward the hidden cabinet just a little bigger than him and clutched the handle. Smart one. He chuckled at the thought as he pushed down on the handle. Brynjolf's cunning as a Khajiit. The hooded man pulled back on the hidden cabinet. It's door creaked as it flung open, revealing a torch mounted on it's sconce to the right and another pathway to the left.
The pathway to the Ragged Flagon. An underground bar filled with only a few people waiting to get their mouths fed with mead.
The hooded man worked his legs again. He headed to his left and raised his gaze.
The place was filled with round tables and fancy chairs which were all lined up neatly in three small rows. A chandelier with eight holders were filled with candles, their lights blazing and heaving with ferocity and hunger, hung on top of the rounded ceiling. The normal entrance to the bar itself had wooden planks to walk on and was guarded by a broad-shouldered Nord wearing buffed up leather armor. And finally, the wooden counter just to the back of the tables is owned by the renowned man(at least in the guild), Vekel. The hooded man walked in and saw the bartender in his usual crimson shirt.
The crimson-shirted man raised his eyes. "Hey, hey!" Vekel cast aside the white clothe he used to wipe the table and patted him on his broad shoulders. "The big man around here! Care to hit up a round?" he greeted him warmly.
The sides of his mouth spread into a grin. "I wouldn't mind." he gazed at the bartender. "My old friend, how's the business around here?"
Vekel handed him a fresh mead underneath his counter. "Never better, my brother!" he replied in a thick accent. He gestured at the whole bar. "My strongbox's been getting fat on the amount of gold I get from customers each day!" He locked gazes with the hooded man. "Well, not from you, you know."
He chuckled. "What is that supposed to mean?" He popped the cork from the mead and gulped down a mouthful. "If you want to keep it up and running, I need to pay you for this." He pointed at the mead he was drinking.
A worried look crept on the brown-haired Nord. "Like I said, you are the big guy around here."
The hooded man patted Vekel on the back. "But that doesn't mean I'm free to do as I wish." He ran his hand on the pouch at his left side and pulled out a small bag. It chinked on the counter as he dropped it. "Here, take it. Say it's a gift from the Guildmaster." He grinned.
Vekel's face couldn't conceal his surprise. "Well, thanks anyway." he clutched the bag of gold and placed it underneath the counter. "What brings you here?" Curiosity shadowed his voice.
"Just here to meet up with some old friends."
"Good luck with that." Vekel pressed his fist on his shoulder playfully.
The hooded man nodded his thanks as he stood from his sit and moved on. Where is he? His eyes restlessly scanned the whole bar. Great, just when you need him. His attention was broken by a seriously loud laugh. Locating the source of the sound, he twisted his head to the right. There in the dark corner of the Ragged Flagon, four people sat down. Two massive males and two striking females. He nosed his way to them.
A heavy hand landed on the wooden, round table. "Seriously, you don't know?" the hooded man could tell he was about to break into a laugh.
A shocked look crept on the face of a strikingly beautiful woman. "I asked! What's wrong with it?" she demanded.
Found him. About time! The hooded man approached the group. "What's what wrong?" he asked in amusement.
A blonde-haired, well-built Nord dressed in the guild's armor answered. "Khayla over here doesn't know my story." he could barely hide his amusement.
Her crimson hair flared to life as the torch illuminated it. She whipped around defensively. "Hey! It's not my fault!" she snapped hotly. "Besides, I was just asking!"
The hooded man chuckled. "Don't worry." he gazed down at the woman. He placed a hand on the tough Nord. "Vipir over here tends to tease every new member."
The blonde-haired man shot him an annoyed look. "Hey! I was just kidding!"
A lean woman right across him spoke. "You sweated like a pig at that time!" Her blue eyes glinted teasingly.
The dark-haired woman looked over in confusion. "What does Vex mean by that?" she threw a challenging gaze at Vipir.
"What she meant--"
A bald man cut in as he spoke with a sharp accent. "It simply means that instead of taking the bloody horse to ride back, he forgot to check and instead ran from Windhelm all the way back to our cozy little home." the bald man gulped down a mouthful of wine. "That's why ever since that day, we've decided to call him a 'sweating pig'."
The broad Nord gave him a wounded look. "Hey, I was just teasing! Besides, it's Vipir the Fleet! Not Vipir the Sweating Pig!"
"But you were sweating like one that day!" Vex pointed out as she broke into a laugh.
"Don't hide it Vipir!" Khayla challenged.
Vipir gave them an irritated look. "Alright, alright!" He stood up from his chair.
"What's the matter now, mate?" the bald man wearing the guild's armor teased. "Baby's going to throw a temper tantrum?"
Vipir rolled his eyes. "Just going to get another round of wine. That's all I can stomach these days." he left the table and walked across to the bartender.
Vex gazed at the hooded man. He could feel the force of her gaze scorching his skin. "It seems I forgot the most important part."
"What part?" he replied as he arched his back and sat down on the soft chair.
Vex looked at Khayla. "Khayla, this is Cyverus. The guild's one and only Guildmaster."
A smile lighted on her striking face. "It's an honor to meet the Guildmaster." she extended a hand.
Cyverus gazed at the gleaming ocean-blue eyes. There was something he liked about the way she gazed at him. "Pleasure to meet you too." he extended a scarred right hand in return and shook it.
"Want to get some wine?" Vex bumped her shoulder.
"What? Sure."
"Bye for now Cyverus." Vex gazed playfully at him. Was she mocking him? Cyverus shook his head as the women left the table.
Cyverus locked his gaze the bald man. "Finally found you, Delvin."
"What did you need me for, mate?" Delvin asked in a sharp accent as he sipped from the bottle.
"How are the contracts and clients?"
Delvin's pale face instantly grew serious. "What do you mean?"
Cyverus hated it when he did that. "Don't avoid the question, mate." He hardened his voice. "How's the work going?"
Delvin stood up. His eyes restlessly gazed around the cistern. "Come with me." He gestured with an index finger.
"Tell me now." he demanded.
"Alright, alright!" He sat back down again. "I'll just keep spilling it until you're satisfied."
He repeated. "How's it?"
His eyes clouded with worry. "Not too good." he sipped again from the bottle. "We've been losing a lot of good clients"
His young face is twisted in confusion. "What happened?"
"I don't know. I was really confused too. First thing you know they give you a job and then the next they flash their anger at your face and stomp off, shouting out loud of not making deals with the guild anymore."
Then maybe it's the reason for the low profits and savings! Cyverus scowled in frustration.
"One thing I do know is that if this continues, who knows if the guild is still able to hold it's feet together." Delvin's face darkened. "I'm afraid the guild might crumble at the lack of gold lately."
Then that is not good. He clenched his fists tightly.
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Please let me know what you think of this! I'm always looking for ways to improve myself!
