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Description
     All Odilon Andrews wanted was a melon.
     He stood across the street from a fruit stand, and was staring at the fruit. He hadn't had a melon in years, and he was starving. Trouble was, how do you get a melon without paying?
     The illustrious town of Lempdale was as such because of its law enforcement- or lack thereof. The Lempdale Watch was primarily known as the the local team of drunks. They mainly gravitated around the pub, trading epic cop stories. These stories were largely fictitious.
     Odilon knew all of this, having lived here his entire life, so he wasn't duly concerned about stealing a single melon. He had impressive ways of liberating objects from their owners, but he didn't like to utilize them in large metropolitan areas. There was always a chance that someone would see.
     He decided to go fo it. He was starving, and it was too late to bolster his reputation.
     He opened his right hand, without raising it. The pavement under it began to crack, and a small hole crumbled away. A thin vine, dark green with tendrils and leaves in abundance, rose out of it. It curled up and wrapped itself around Odilon's wrist. He squeezed it tightly, then released. It shot back down into its hole.
     Odilon waited for results.
     He watched the fruit stand across the street, peering through the storm of carriages and pedestrians. He was nervous. The bright white wall he leaned agains seemed to grow cold.
     Across the street, that glorious, shiny melon glinted in the sun.
     In a hidden corner, away from view unless you were really paying attention, the vine emerged from the ground. It curled in the darkness, moving up the leg of the cart. The melon was only a few feet from the grasp of the vine. The vine creeped slowly, and wrapped slowly around the melon, not wanting to draw attention to itself.
     Just then, the mustachioed proprietor of the stand grabbed the melon.
     "Shit!" Odilon hissed.
     The vine whipped behind the cart again. The owner of the cart was showing the melon off to a potential customer, but apparently this particular consumer was uninterested. The owner scowled and put the melon back in its place.
     Odilon muttered, "Screw it."
     The vine shot around, grabbed the melon, and burrowed back into the ground. Fortunately, the owner of the stand was not paying attention.
     At Odilon's side, a mound of earth erupted. The vine shot up under his coat, deposited the melon in one of his many pockets, and retreated back into the ground. Odilon patted the obvious lump in his pocket and grinned to himself.
     On the other side of the street, the the owner of the fruit stand was becoming aware of the absence of melon in his cart. He looked at the spot where the melon was, then noticed a hole at the scene of the crime. He then looked up and scanned the surrounding area, the purpetrator could not have gotten far. His eyes stuck to Odilon, but more importantly, the hole in the ground next to him. The mustachioed man put two and two together and yelled, "That guy stole my melon!" He was pointing directly at Odilon.
     A mildly inebriated man in a uniform looked up at the noisy man, with all intent of telling him to stop that, but then saw the noisy man's pointing finger. He followed it across the street and layed eyes on a distressed Odilon Andrews. Whatever was left of his beer-drowned cop instincts must have kicked in then, and he bolted at the funny man in the bulging brown jacket.
Odilon ran. With the melon banging around in his pocket, he sprinted down the street, his coat billowing in the wind.
     He jumped over a water pump, weaved between crowds of people, and dodged speeding buggies. He utilized all his escape skills he had learned in case he was ever discovered. Before changing streets, he checked behind him.
     The cop had friends. Three of them now.
     He ran faster.
     He kept changing streets, taking a zigzag path that involved jumping over boxes, trash cans, and small children. He stopped in the face of a brick wall. A dead end!
     He could hear the cops gaining on him.
     He opened both palms and kneeled, planting them on the ground. A colossal vine blasted out of the ground, throwing dirt and concrete high into the air. It stopped halfway up the building's wall in front of him, and bent ninety degrees at the tip, forming a sort of gymnast's bar. Odilon summoned up his thieves' training and jumped as high as he could, kicked off the wall, and grabbed the tip of the vine. He spun rapidly around the makeshift bar, then let go, catapaulting into the air. He landed on the roof of the building. He picked himself up, and ran across the roof, leaving a stream of quiet chuckles in his wake.
     When the team of officers rounded the corner, they were puzzled. All they saw was a deep hole in the ground, with debris all around.
     The officers just stood there for a few moments.
     One piped up, "D'you think he just... I dunno... dug his way out?"
     The one with the most shiny things on his uniform patted him on the shoulder. "No, lad, don't be thick. It was obviously the gnomes that got him."
     The first one nodded sagely. "I guess that would explain the hole, Chief."
     "Very good, Smitty. Alright, everyone, we obviouslt couldn't get our hands on that slippery character. We'll just contact the Ironsburg boys and leavit it to them. Who's up for a drink?"
There was unanimous agreement, and the cops left.

     Odilon chuckled to himself as he bounded across the rooftops.The melon jumped cheerfully in his pocket, a reminder of a successful job.
     He hopped across gaps between rooftops, vaulted over chimneys, summoning vines to grab him and throw him up to places he couldn't reach.
     Eventually he had traveled long enough, and was confident he had lost them.
     He stopped on a rooftop that had a comparatively low amount of grime and sat against a chimney. He pulled the melon and a knife from his many pockets and sliced the melon neatly in half. He then cut a slice of dripping orange flesh from the rind, stabbed it, and levered it into his mouth.
     He grinned behind the mouthful, it was delicious. One of his sayings was, 'Stolen goods always taste better'.
     He ate the rest of the melon slowly, then stood up. He tossed a rind half into the air, and slashed it with his knife. A thin sliver popped back up, Odilon caught it and gripped tightly. Juices ran down his arm, and his fist was enveloped in an orb of green and orange light. The orb pulsed up his arm and disappeared under his clothing.
     He let the crushed rind fall to the floor, and left the rest for the birds.
     He deftly jumped over the roof railing and fell two stories to the ground below, landing on his feet. He stayed there in a crouched position, rose to his feet, and started swaering loudly and creatively at the pain in his ankles. He walked gingerly out of the alley and down the street.

     The Thieves' Guild of Lempdale is only a myth. However, if you knew the right people, and had the right skills, it became very real.
     The Guild was located in Lempdale for two main reasons. First, the Watch's incredible incompetency made it easy for even a novice pickpocket to get away with a thing or two, second, it was the founder's birthplace.
     Odilon had been born into the Guild. His father, when alive, had been Grandmaster, and everyone expected Odilon to take his place at the top. The Thieves' Guild hierarchy wasn't typical of the other Guilds. Most of the time, you were born into your position, given to you by your father and mother. In the Thieves' Guild, you were simply recruited by finding an appropriate member that could induct you into the society. Instead of being elected, the Thieve's Guild Grandmaster was chosen every ten years, or after the current Grandmaster dies, whichever comes first. The new Grandmaster was picked from the elite five members in the Guild, the five that had stolen the most net worth in goods in the course of their career. The five candidates were then placed in a duel style match in which they were given one night, from sunup to sundown, to steal as much as they could carry.At noon the next morning, the stolen goods' value would be calculated, and the one that had stolen the most valuable batch would be elected Grandmaster.
     The Guild had a reputation for being brutish, violent, and belligerent. Any more and you'd think they were tallking about the Fighter's Guild. Although the Thieves' Guild was technically a rumor, with over half of the population of the kingdom thinkning of them as a myth, they had managed to put out a personage of evil and ruthlessness. This served to dissuade investigation by the authorities.
     The truth was, in fact, that the Guild had fences in far away lands, people that would buy the stolen goods. After the Guild had amassed a large amount of money, they would distribute it evenly to the poorest of the towns. In return, the beggars and homeless became the eyes of the Grandmaster, marking potential jobs for members of the Guild.
     Although Odilon was the son of a Grandmaster, he had no intention of taking his father's place. He liked the feel of helping the poor, and he always got a rush from liberating a wallet from a rich, pompous, stupidly unobservant man.
     His unique abilities also helped his progress through the Guild. It was a persistent rumor that Odilon's family was descended from a tribe of Elementals, mages that held dominance over one of the five elements of the earth. These tribes were  legendary in the lore of the land, and it was said that the five Guilds had been formed from the five elements. The Thieves' Guild was founded on the shadows of the earth and rocks, the bellicose Fighters' Guild was forged from the flames, the Merchants' Guild was brought about on the good graces of the wind, the Guild of Seafarers surfaced from the depths of the oceans, and the Mechanists' Guild was endengered from the dynamicism of electricity.
     All the Guilds were inexorable linked in one way or another, they all depended on one another for success. For instance, the Mechanists' Guild would never be able to manufacture all of its machines without the raw materials provided by the Merchants' Guild.
     And although the rumors were true about the old Thieves' Guild Grandmaster' powers, they were always denied.

     Later in the day, when the sun was setting over the white walls of Lempdale, Odilon made his way to an alley in the corner of the city, where he and his friends had met since childhood. The alley was formed between one of the main walls of the city and a few houses. It was only about ten feet wide, and came to a dead end. Odilon and his two good friends had added objects to the end of the alley, such as armchairs, an icebox, food stores, built a roof over the alley, and added gates, effectively making a sort of hideaway that could serve as lodgings in times of trouble.
     Odlion walked down the alley and opened the gate, where his two friends were waiting for him. Laying on a hammock above the couch was Trakta. He was a shrimpy kid, with short black hair under a blue Mechanist's cap, and oil splattered denim overalls. His shirt was white, and also marked by oil stains. His black boots seemed to leave prints everywhere, and his clothes normally had enough oil on them to keep a printing press lubed for years. He was a young member of the Mechanists' Guild, age fifteen, and like most Mechanists, he had an affinity for machines and mechanisms. He could be arrogant, and frequently irritating, but he had redeeming qualities.
     Sitting in a chair off to the side was Trianna, a pretty girl who belonged to the Fighters' Guild. She wore simple cotton clothing, with leather pants and boots. Her shirt was black and long-sleeved, and her forearms were covered bt leather bracers. There was a rapier strapped to her left hip, a symbol of her status in the Fighters' Guild. A member was allowed to carry a weapon outside the Guild Hall ony when he or she had passed a proficiency exam for the weapon of his or her choice. Her long black hair fell to just beyond her shoulder blades, and was tied out of her way by a red sash. She was the most sensible of the three friends, and was also the eldest, age nineteen.
     Trakta said to Odilon, eyes still closed, "Hey, flower boy. You're late."
     Odilon chuckled. "You should learn to respect your elders... and tallers, shrimpy."
     Trakta opened his eyes and sat up, feet hanging over the edge of the hammock. "Look here, Andrews. You've only got a few years and a foot on me."
     "Well, I'm still older and taller. And since when have you called me Andrews?"
     "Since it made me sound older than you. What took you so long?"
     "I was hungry. I stole a melon with a bit of difficulty, at it on a roof and came here."
     Trianna spoke up, "Needed vines?"
     "Yeah. It was all the way across the street, you know, that fruit stand on Collander and Main."
     "I know the one."
     Odilon walked past Trakta as he headed to the icebox for a drink. He cracked open a bottle of fyerka, a drink brewed and sold by the Fighters' Guild to stimulate the muscles and awaken the mind. It was also minty and refreshing.
     He took a pull of the cold drink and sat on the couch. Trakta said to him, "Odilon, I bet if you didn't have those vines of yours you'd be a terrible thief."
     Odilon chuckled quietly. "Right then. By the way, you seem to be missing your wallet."
     Trakta looked down and checked his pockets. "How did you-" He looked up and saw Odilon holding his wallet in the air, grinning. "Does this belong to you?"
     "Dammit Odilon, give that back."
     Odilon tossed it to him. Trakta said grudgingly, "Alright, point taken."
     Trianna spoke, "Boys, quit flirting and listen up."
     They shot her dirty looks.
     "Did either of you hear about that tussle between the Seafarer and the Merchant?"
     Trakta said, "Oh yeah. That was a nasty one."
     Odilon raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"
     Trakta explained, "Out on the Market District square, this Seafarer started arguing with a Merchant about the price of fish. The Seafarer said something about how he had to go out and catch the thing, the Merchant said he didn't care and the Seafarer would still have to pay full price, then the Seafarer punched the Merchant in the gut, then there was a huge fight that didn't stop until a couple of Mechanist blokes came over and pulled them apart."
     Odilon whistled. "Man. Is it just me, or does this kind of thing seem to be happening more often?"
     Trianna said, "I know what you mean. Instability among the Guilds is becoming more and more common."
     Trakta said, "Well. My Guild held tribunal over it, because there was Mechanist envolvement. We know there's going to be a trial, and the Mechanists want to stay out of it. And, franky, I agree. If we get mixed up in this, all our projects are going to get set back, and one side or another's gonna get sore at us. So we want to be neutral."
     "Hm. The Fighters' Guild wants to take the side of the Merchant. We had a meeting as well, and we came to the conclusion that the Seafarer started it. So if any Fighters are called up, they'll testify for the Merchant."
     Odilon was silent.
     Trakta said, "Well? Did your Guild come up with anything?"
     Odilon replied, "I don't know. I didn't even know about until you guys told me. I guess we'll go neutral as well, it's not like we can testify anyway."
     Trianna looked sympathetic. "It's a shame you can't have a say. The police are always protecting the Neutrals. I agree with most of the Fighters' Guild when I say that I think the Thieves' Guild is sketchy, but some of the stuff you guys do is honorable."
     Trakta backed her up. "Yeah, I think you guys have a bum rap. Those damn corrupt nobles need stuff stolen from 'em anyway."
     Odilon shrugged. "I don't know. I just like the fact we're helping out the less fortunate."
     Everyone was quiet for a moment, then Trakta said, "Oh yeah, there's something else, it's really important."
     Trianna and Odilon looked at him.
     "I heard tell of Kardeshes massing in the Barren Plains. A few Mechanist skyprobes even detected some on the border of the Bloody Crags. No one but the Mechanists know about this, but the Prime Technician plans on telling the Council tomorrow."
     Trianna's eyes widened. "Really? I think this new is a bit urgent to wait until tomorrow! The Fighters' Guild is going to have to mobilize completely! This is terrible!"
     Trakta looked unassuming. "I don't know, Trianna. I don't make the rules. We don't know if they plan on attacking any time soon, if at all, but looking at their migration patterns, they appear to be ranging on us."
     Trianna looked angry, then distressed. "This hasn't happened in over thirteen years. It looks like this entire kingdom is going to have to go to war soon."
     Odilon interjected, "Yeah, look at the instability in the Guilds, the failing of the economy and all the other recent troubles. It does seem like something's going to happen soon, something big."
     Everyone was silent in thought. Odilon took this time to roll a cigarette.
     Trianna stood up. "Ok. Who's it going to be tonight?"
     "Not me, I'm tired," Trakta yawned."
     Trianna looked at Odilon. He blew a cloud of smoke and looked at her. "Yeah?"
     She smiled, her gaze boring into his. There was fire in her eyes.
     Odilon stood up. "Alright, lets do this." Both of them walked out of the alley-house and onto the pavement.
     Trakta jumped off of the hammock and ran out, grinning.

     At one end of the darkened alley stood Odilon, who had his back ot the street beyond. Trianna stood at the other end, near the house.
     Odilon turned and raised a hand toward the street. A smooth plank of wood grew up from the ground; it spanned from wall to wall, sealing off the alley. The lighting in the alley dimmed as the streetlamps on the main road were blocked from view.
     Trianna drew her silvery rapier, its tip glinted in the dim light. She adopted a neutral stance, sword held at arm's length, point first, in front of her.
     Odilon, on the other side of the alley, adopted an offensive stance, one foot forward, one arm forward, knees bent. This was at odds with his usual defensive position, Trianna was taken off guard.
     They waited, and Odilon surprised Trianna by making the first move. He motioned with his front hand, little fleshy pods grew out of the ground. They blended in with the ground perfectly, if Trianna hadn't been present when they grew, she wouldn't have seen them. They contracted and released clouds of spores, spraying smoke into the air and clouding everyone's vision. Odilon had been practicing this technique, he was curious to see how Trianna reacted. He drew his knife.
     Trianna, thought stnading confidently, was worried. Odilon had disappeared in the dense smoke cloud that now filled the alley. She had never seen this done before.
     She heard footsteps rushing at her. A knife strike!
     She rolled to the left and slashed into Odilon's path. She was rewarded with a grunt of pain from Odilon. Shelooked back in time to see his shadowy figure retreat into the smoke.
     Odilon winced as he felt the long gash in his arm. It was shallow, and didn't bleed badly, bu       it hurt. He should have known better than to charge Trianna, even when she couldn't see.
     The smoke began to dissipate. It only lasted long enough for an initial strike, and Odilon had wasted it.
     Across the alley, Trianna said, "Nice try."
     She charged him, jumping high into the air, swinging her rapier. He had just enough time to roll out of the way and run to the other end of the alley after she landed.
     "What, scared, Odilon?"
     "A bit."
     Vines exploded from the dirt underneath her and anchored her feet to the ground.
     "Odilon, that's not fair!"
     The vines retreated. "Just a little joke!"
     "Enough fooling around!" She charged him again. He ducked under her horizontal slice and rolled underneath her legs, running to the side of the alley he had started from.
     "Stay still!"
     "What, and let you cut me?"
     He planted both hands on the ground and a huge, purple, bulb-like stem rose from the ground on a thick wooden stem. The bulb was bean shaped, with the wider part facing Trianna. Odilon snapped his fingers, and a loud crack was heard from the plant. Four limbs branched off of the main stem and the plant became a quadruped, independent of the ground. Two other limbs, larger than the ones on the ground, rose out of its back and grew long scythes. The purple bean part split in half and grew sharp teeth, forming a large jaw. It thrashed its scythes and  stabbed the ground, eager to drink the blood of Odilon's enemies.
     "Odilon, what is that?"
     "New trick." He snapped his fingers once more and the creature rushed Trianna.
     It brought its jointed scythe branches down, Trianna barely had time to roll out of the way. The scythes bit into the dirt. Trianna knew that Odilon would never seriously hurt her, but what about this thing?
     It spun around and launched into the air, going for her neck.
     Trianna fell to one knee, brought her rapier up and pointed it at the plant-thing. It couldn't change its course in midair, and fell on the blade, impaling itself. Trianna drew her sword from the thing and sheathed it. She turned around and said to him, "Odilon, that thing was pathetic. I expected better from you."
     She started to laugh, but stopped. She felt something sharp and vaguely wooden slide across her throat.
     "Don't move, Trianna!" Odilon laughed.
     Trianna wasn't laughing. "Call it off, Odilon."
     He snapped his fingers and the thing burrowed its way into the ground.
     He said, "Say it."
     She scowled and said grudgingly, "You win."
     He smiled and said, "Lets go inside, shall we?"

Description
     All Odilon Andrews wanted was a melon.
     He stood across the street from a fruit stand, and was staring at the fruit. He hadn't had a melon in years, and he was starving. Trouble was, how do you get a melon without paying?
     The illustrious town of Lempdale was as such because of its law enforcement- or lack thereof. The Lempdale Watch was primarily known as the the local team of drunks. They mainly gravitated around the pub, trading epic cop stories. These stories were largely fictitious.
     Odilon knew all of this, having lived here his entire life, so he wasn't duly concerned about stealing a single melon. He had impressive ways of liberating objects from their owners, but he didn't like to utilize them in large metropolitan areas. There was always a chance that someone would see.
     He decided to go fo it. He was starving, and it was too late to bolster his reputation.
     He opened his right hand, without raising it. The pavement under it began to crack, and a small hole crumbled away. A thin vine, dark green with tendrils and leaves in abundance, rose out of it. It curled up and wrapped itself around Odilon's wrist. He squeezed it tightly, then released. It shot back down into its hole.
     Odilon waited for results.
     He watched the fruit stand across the street, peering through the storm of carriages and pedestrians. He was nervous. The bright white wall he leaned agains seemed to grow cold.
     Across the street, that glorious, shiny melon glinted in the sun.
     In a hidden corner, away from view unless you were really paying attention, the vine emerged from the ground. It curled in the darkness, moving up the leg of the cart. The melon was only a few feet from the grasp of the vine. The vine creeped slowly, and wrapped slowly around the melon, not wanting to draw attention to itself.
     Just then, the mustachioed proprietor of the stand grabbed the melon.
     "Shit!" Odilon hissed.
     The vine whipped behind the cart again. The owner of the cart was showing the melon off to a potential customer, but apparently this particular consumer was uninterested. The owner scowled and put the melon back in its place.
     Odilon muttered, "Screw it."
     The vine shot around, grabbed the melon, and burrowed back into the ground. Fortunately, the owner of the stand was not paying attention.
     At Odilon's side, a mound of earth erupted. The vine shot up under his coat, deposited the melon in one of his many pockets, and retreated back into the ground. Odilon patted the obvious lump in his pocket and grinned to himself.
     On the other side of the street, the the owner of the fruit stand was becoming aware of the absence of melon in his cart. He looked at the spot where the melon was, then noticed a hole at the scene of the crime. He then looked up and scanned the surrounding area, the purpetrator could not have gotten far. His eyes stuck to Odilon, but more importantly, the hole in the ground next to him. The mustachioed man put two and two together and yelled, "That guy stole my melon!" He was pointing directly at Odilon.
     A mildly inebriated man in a uniform looked up at the noisy man, with all intent of telling him to stop that, but then saw the noisy man's pointing finger. He followed it across the street and layed eyes on a distressed Odilon Andrews. Whatever was left of his beer-drowned cop instincts must have kicked in then, and he bolted at the funny man in the bulging brown jacket.
Odilon ran. With the melon banging around in his pocket, he sprinted down the street, his coat billowing in the wind.
     He jumped over a water pump, weaved between crowds of people, and dodged speeding buggies. He utilized all his escape skills he had learned in case he was ever discovered. Before changing streets, he checked behind him.
     The cop had friends. Three of them now.
     He ran faster.
     He kept changing streets, taking a zigzag path that involved jumping over boxes, trash cans, and small children. He stopped in the face of a brick wall. A dead end!
     He could hear the cops gaining on him.
     He opened both palms and kneeled, planting them on the ground. A colossal vine blasted out of the ground, throwing dirt and concrete high into the air. It stopped halfway up the building's wall in front of him, and bent ninety degrees at the tip, forming a sort of gymnast's bar. Odilon summoned up his thieves' training and jumped as high as he could, kicked off the wall, and grabbed the tip of the vine. He spun rapidly around the makeshift bar, then let go, catapaulting into the air. He landed on the roof of the building. He picked himself up, and ran across the roof, leaving a stream of quiet chuckles in his wake.
     When the team of officers rounded the corner, they were puzzled. All they saw was a deep hole in the ground, with debris all around.
     The officers just stood there for a few moments.
     One piped up, "D'you think he just... I dunno... dug his way out?"
     The one with the most shiny things on his uniform patted him on the shoulder. "No, lad, don't be thick. It was obviously the gnomes that got him."
     The first one nodded sagely. "I guess that would explain the hole, Chief."
     "Very good, Smitty. Alright, everyone, we obviouslt couldn't get our hands on that slippery character. We'll just contact the Ironsburg boys and leavit it to them. Who's up for a drink?"
There was unanimous agreement, and the cops left.

     Odilon chuckled to himself as he bounded across the rooftops.The melon jumped cheerfully in his pocket, a reminder of a successful job.
     He hopped across gaps between rooftops, vaulted over chimneys, summoning vines to grab him and throw him up to places he couldn't reach.
     Eventually he had traveled long enough, and was confident he had lost them.
     He stopped on a rooftop that had a comparatively low amount of grime and sat against a chimney. He pulled the melon and a knife from his many pockets and sliced the melon neatly in half. He then cut a slice of dripping orange flesh from the rind, stabbed it, and levered it into his mouth.
     He grinned behind the mouthful, it was delicious. One of his sayings was, 'Stolen goods always taste better'.
     He ate the rest of the melon slowly, then stood up. He tossed a rind half into the air, and slashed it with his knife. A thin sliver popped back up, Odilon caught it and gripped tightly. Juices ran down his arm, and his fist was enveloped in an orb of green and orange light. The orb pulsed up his arm and disappeared under his clothing.
     He let the crushed rind fall to the floor, and left the rest for the birds.
     He deftly jumped over the roof railing and fell two stories to the ground below, landing on his feet. He stayed there in a crouched position, rose to his feet, and started swaering loudly and creatively at the pain in his ankles. He walked gingerly out of the alley and down the street.

     The Thieves' Guild of Lempdale is only a myth. However, if you knew the right people, and had the right skills, it became very real.
     The Guild was located in Lempdale for two main reasons. First, the Watch's incredible incompetency made it easy for even a novice pickpocket to get away with a thing or two, second, it was the founder's birthplace.
     Odilon had been born into the Guild. His father, when alive, had been Grandmaster, and everyone expected Odilon to take his place at the top. The Thieves' Guild hierarchy wasn't typical of the other Guilds. Most of the time, you were born into your position, given to you by your father and mother. In the Thieves' Guild, you were simply recruited by finding an appropriate member that could induct you into the society. Instead of being elected, the Thieve's Guild Grandmaster was chosen every ten years, or after the current Grandmaster dies, whichever comes first. The new Grandmaster was picked from the elite five members in the Guild, the five that had stolen the most net worth in goods in the course of their career. The five candidates were then placed in a duel style match in which they were given one night, from sunup to sundown, to steal as much as they could carry.At noon the next morning, the stolen goods' value would be calculated, and the one that had stolen the most valuable batch would be elected Grandmaster.
     The Guild had a reputation for being brutish, violent, and belligerent. Any more and you'd think they were tallking about the Fighter's Guild. Although the Thieves' Guild was technically a rumor, with over half of the population of the kingdom thinkning of them as a myth, they had managed to put out a personage of evil and ruthlessness. This served to dissuade investigation by the authorities.
     The truth was, in fact, that the Guild had fences in far away lands, people that would buy the stolen goods. After the Guild had amassed a large amount of money, they would distribute it evenly to the poorest of the towns. In return, the beggars and homeless became the eyes of the Grandmaster, marking potential jobs for members of the Guild.
     Although Odilon was the son of a Grandmaster, he had no intention of taking his father's place. He liked the feel of helping the poor, and he always got a rush from liberating a wallet from a rich, pompous, stupidly unobservant man.
     His unique abilities also helped his progress through the Guild. It was a persistent rumor that Odilon's family was descended from a tribe of Elementals, mages that held dominance over one of the five elements of the earth. These tribes were  legendary in the lore of the land, and it was said that the five Guilds had been formed from the five elements. The Thieves' Guild was founded on the shadows of the earth and rocks, the bellicose Fighters' Guild was forged from the flames, the Merchants' Guild was brought about on the good graces of the wind, the Guild of Seafarers surfaced from the depths of the oceans, and the Mechanists' Guild was endengered from the dynamicism of electricity.
     All the Guilds were inexorable linked in one way or another, they all depended on one another for success. For instance, the Mechanists' Guild would never be able to manufacture all of its machines without the raw materials provided by the Merchants' Guild.
     And although the rumors were true about the old Thieves' Guild Grandmaster' powers, they were always denied.

     Later in the day, when the sun was setting over the white walls of Lempdale, Odilon made his way to an alley in the corner of the city, where he and his friends had met since childhood. The alley was formed between one of the main walls of the city and a few houses. It was only about ten feet wide, and came to a dead end. Odilon and his two good friends had added objects to the end of the alley, such as armchairs, an icebox, food stores, built a roof over the alley, and added gates, effectively making a sort of hideaway that could serve as lodgings in times of trouble.
     Odlion walked down the alley and opened the gate, where his two friends were waiting for him. Laying on a hammock above the couch was Trakta. He was a shrimpy kid, with short black hair under a blue Mechanist's cap, and oil splattered denim overalls. His shirt was white, and also marked by oil stains. His black boots seemed to leave prints everywhere, and his clothes normally had enough oil on them to keep a printing press lubed for years. He was a young member of the Mechanists' Guild, age fifteen, and like most Mechanists, he had an affinity for machines and mechanisms. He could be arrogant, and frequently irritating, but he had redeeming qualities.
     Sitting in a chair off to the side was Trianna, a pretty girl who belonged to the Fighters' Guild. She wore simple cotton clothing, with leather pants and boots. Her shirt was black and long-sleeved, and her forearms were covered bt leather bracers. There was a rapier strapped to her left hip, a symbol of her status in the Fighters' Guild. A member was allowed to carry a weapon outside the Guild Hall ony when he or she had passed a proficiency exam for the weapon of his or her choice. Her long black hair fell to just beyond her shoulder blades, and was tied out of her way by a red sash. She was the most sensible of the three friends, and was also the eldest, age nineteen.
     Trakta said to Odilon, eyes still closed, "Hey, flower boy. You're late."
     Odilon chuckled. "You should learn to respect your elders... and tallers, shrimpy."
     Trakta opened his eyes and sat up, feet hanging over the edge of the hammock. "Look here, Andrews. You've only got a few years and a foot on me."
     "Well, I'm still older and taller. And since when have you called me Andrews?"
     "Since it made me sound older than you. What took you so long?"
     "I was hungry. I stole a melon with a bit of difficulty, at it on a roof and came here."
     Trianna spoke up, "Needed vines?"
     "Yeah. It was all the way across the street, you know, that fruit stand on Collander and Main."
     "I know the one."
     Odilon walked past Trakta as he headed to the icebox for a drink. He cracked open a bottle of fyerka, a drink brewed and sold by the Fighters' Guild to stimulate the muscles and awaken the mind. It was also minty and refreshing.
     He took a pull of the cold drink and sat on the couch. Trakta said to him, "Odilon, I bet if you didn't have those vines of yours you'd be a terrible thief."
     Odilon chuckled quietly. "Right then. By the way, you seem to be missing your wallet."
     Trakta looked down and checked his pockets. "How did you-" He looked up and saw Odilon holding his wallet in the air, grinning. "Does this belong to you?"
     "Dammit Odilon, give that back."
     Odilon tossed it to him. Trakta said grudgingly, "Alright, point taken."
     Trianna spoke, "Boys, quit flirting and listen up."
     They shot her dirty looks.
     "Did either of you hear about that tussle between the Seafarer and the Merchant?"
     Trakta said, "Oh yeah. That was a nasty one."
     Odilon raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"
     Trakta explained, "Out on the Market District square, this Seafarer started arguing with a Merchant about the price of fish. The Seafarer said something about how he had to go out and catch the thing, the Merchant said he didn't care and the Seafarer would still have to pay full price, then the Seafarer punched the Merchant in the gut, then there was a huge fight that didn't stop until a couple of Mechanist blokes came over and pulled them apart."
     Odilon whistled. "Man. Is it just me, or does this kind of thing seem to be happening more often?"
     Trianna said, "I know what you mean. Instability among the Guilds is becoming more and more common."
     Trakta said, "Well. My Guild held tribunal over it, because there was Mechanist envolvement. We know there's going to be a trial, and the Mechanists want to stay out of it. And, franky, I agree. If we get mixed up in this, all our projects are going to get set back, and one side or another's gonna get sore at us. So we want to be neutral."
     "Hm. The Fighters' Guild wants to take the side of the Merchant. We had a meeting as well, and we came to the conclusion that the Seafarer started it. So if any Fighters are called up, they'll testify for the Merchant."
     Odilon was silent.
     Trakta said, "Well? Did your Guild come up with anything?"
     Odilon replied, "I don't know. I didn't even know about until you guys told me. I guess we'll go neutral as well, it's not like we can testify anyway."
     Trianna looked sympathetic. "It's a shame you can't have a say. The police are always protecting the Neutrals. I agree with most of the Fighters' Guild when I say that I think the Thieves' Guild is sketchy, but some of the stuff you guys do is honorable."
     Trakta backed her up. "Yeah, I think you guys have a bum rap. Those damn corrupt nobles need stuff stolen from 'em anyway."
     Odilon shrugged. "I don't know. I just like the fact we're helping out the less fortunate."
     Everyone was quiet for a moment, then Trakta said, "Oh yeah, there's something else, it's really important."
     Trianna and Odilon looked at him.
     "I heard tell of Kardeshes massing in the Barren Plains. A few Mechanist skyprobes even detected some on the border of the Bloody Crags. No one but the Mechanists know about this, but the Prime Technician plans on telling the Council tomorrow."
     Trianna's eyes widened. "Really? I think this new is a bit urgent to wait until tomorrow! The Fighters' Guild is going to have to mobilize completely! This is terrible!"
     Trakta looked unassuming. "I don't know, Trianna. I don't make the rules. We don't know if they plan on attacking any time soon, if at all, but looking at their migration patterns, they appear to be ranging on us."
     Trianna looked angry, then distressed. "This hasn't happened in over thirteen years. It looks like this entire kingdom is going to have to go to war soon."
     Odilon interjected, "Yeah, look at the instability in the Guilds, the failing of the economy and all the other recent troubles. It does seem like something's going to happen soon, something big."
     Everyone was silent in thought. Odilon took this time to roll a cigarette.
     Trianna stood up. "Ok. Who's it going to be tonight?"
     "Not me, I'm tired," Trakta yawned."
     Trianna looked at Odilon. He blew a cloud of smoke and looked at her. "Yeah?"
     She smiled, her gaze boring into his. There was fire in her eyes.
     Odilon stood up. "Alright, lets do this." Both of them walked out of the alley-house and onto the pavement.
     Trakta jumped off of the hammock and ran out, grinning.

     At one end of the darkened alley stood Odilon, who had his back ot the street beyond. Trianna stood at the other end, near the house.
     Odilon turned and raised a hand toward the street. A smooth plank of wood grew up from the ground; it spanned from wall to wall, sealing off the alley. The lighting in the alley dimmed as the streetlamps on the main road were blocked from view.
     Trianna drew her silvery rapier, its tip glinted in the dim light. She adopted a neutral stance, sword held at arm's length, point first, in front of her.
     Odilon, on the other side of the alley, adopted an offensive stance, one foot forward, one arm forward, knees bent. This was at odds with his usual defensive position, Trianna was taken off guard.
     They waited, and Odilon surprised Trianna by making the first move. He motioned with his front hand, little fleshy pods grew out of the ground. They blended in with the ground perfectly, if Trianna hadn't been present when they grew, she wouldn't have seen them. They contracted and released clouds of spores, spraying smoke into the air and clouding everyone's vision. Odilon had been practicing this technique, he was curious to see how Trianna reacted. He drew his knife.
     Trianna, thought stnading confidently, was worried. Odilon had disappeared in the dense smoke cloud that now filled the alley. She had never seen this done before.
     She heard footsteps rushing at her. A knife strike!
     She rolled to the left and slashed into Odilon's path. She was rewarded with a grunt of pain from Odilon. Shelooked back in time to see his shadowy figure retreat into the smoke.
     Odilon winced as he felt the long gash in his arm. It was shallow, and didn't bleed badly, bu       it hurt. He should have known better than to charge Trianna, even when she couldn't see.
     The smoke began to dissipate. It only lasted long enough for an initial strike, and Odilon had wasted it.
     Across the alley, Trianna said, "Nice try."
     She charged him, jumping high into the air, swinging her rapier. He had just enough time to roll out of the way and run to the other end of the alley after she landed.
     "What, scared, Odilon?"
     "A bit."
     Vines exploded from the dirt underneath her and anchored her feet to the ground.
     "Odilon, that's not fair!"
     The vines retreated. "Just a little joke!"
     "Enough fooling around!" She charged him again. He ducked under her horizontal slice and rolled underneath her legs, running to the side of the alley he had started from.
     "Stay still!"
     "What, and let you cut me?"
     He planted both hands on the ground and a huge, purple, bulb-like stem rose from the ground on a thick wooden stem. The bulb was bean shaped, with the wider part facing Trianna. Odilon snapped his fingers, and a loud crack was heard from the plant. Four limbs branched off of the main stem and the plant became a quadruped, independent of the ground. Two other limbs, larger than the ones on the ground, rose out of its back and grew long scythes. The purple bean part split in half and grew sharp teeth, forming a large jaw. It thrashed its scythes and  stabbed the ground, eager to drink the blood of Odilon's enemies.
     "Odilon, what is that?"
     "New trick." He snapped his fingers once more and the creature rushed Trianna.
     It brought its jointed scythe branches down, Trianna barely had time to roll out of the way. The scythes bit into the dirt. Trianna knew that Odilon would never seriously hurt her, but what about this thing?
     It spun around and launched into the air, going for her neck.
     Trianna fell to one knee, brought her rapier up and pointed it at the plant-thing. It couldn't change its course in midair, and fell on the blade, impaling itself. Trianna drew her sword from the thing and sheathed it. She turned around and said to him, "Odilon, that thing was pathetic. I expected better from you."
     She started to laugh, but stopped. She felt something sharp and vaguely wooden slide across her throat.
     "Don't move, Trianna!" Odilon laughed.
     Trianna wasn't laughing. "Call it off, Odilon."
     He snapped his fingers and the thing burrowed its way into the ground.
     He said, "Say it."
     She scowled and said grudgingly, "You win."
     He smiled and said, "Lets go inside, shall we?"