![]() "Boys and girls, Crow's Foot's gone to shit and back, things are starting to heat up all across the city, and if you're all with me, we're gonna use all that to take our place as top dogs and be living like kings by this time next year." When dinner was served, goat cheesecake was in the oven, and beer was being poured, Monty looked at all the crew with his trademark grin the one that said he had a plan and something very worth noting was about to happen. ![]() When he got to the crew's lair, he gladly took up his role as the cook, and began making dinner, chatting all the while and enjoying the company of friends. He stopped to get some chicken and greens, wanting to treat the crew with something more than simple eel pie and rice portage. It wasn't much, but it serves them well enough, and if Monty had his way, it would be expanded before the year was out. Monty planned to see that his crew prospered, for they were his friends, his comrades, his dear confidants for whom he would match through fire and lay down life and limb.Īs the night grew from young to full, Monty had gotten his thoughts in order, and walked back to his crew's lair. But with the old powers fallen, the field had been leveled and untold hordes of wealth and power were up for grabs. They had been getting by, starting from the bottom, subsisting on the crumbs and scraps that fell their way when the big players were done with the feast of the day. ![]() Monty knew he had a responsibility to his own crew, and he intended to make something of them out of all this. The Crows had been the uncrowned kings and queens of the city's underworld, which meant in the end that they fell with the force of a dying leviathan, tearing asunder the web of grudges and favors they had woven and throwing the city's underworld into chaos. The Crows had collapsed, following one daring heist too many, and had cast the Crow's Foot, the city's most crime-ridden district, into war as the scavengers convened to pick up the pieces and fill the power vacuum. He saw many people on his wanderings that night a Bluecoat patrol he had narrowly escaped, a thief he knew well and claimed several favors from, a crew of Railjacks that had helped him with smuggling operations on the trains in days not long past, and many others, for he was a well-connected man with a finger in many pies and an ear to many grounds.Īs he wandered, he thought, for he found it claiming and focusing to walk through the city, following no path and pursuing no errand. From the views of the Spark Wall that kept out the legions of ghosts from the Deathlands, to the park that was lit with trees than glowed with light both eerie and comforting. His walk took him from the industrial district of Coalridge where machines belched smoke and noise and workers labored to keep the Imperium's production needs met, to the many-hued vice dens of Silkshore where any imaginable pleasure or illicit product could be found if one knew how to look and who to ask. He had all he needed for such an activity the discreetly-armored clothes on his back, the trusty knife and pistol on his belt, and the wits in his head. The moon setting in the west marked the end of another day for the folk in the city of Duskwall, and Monty was glad to be out on one of his evening walks. "The criminal is the creative artist the detective only the critic." -G.K.
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