"I can't wait for the Nephilim to get their hands on you one day, Sylv! Just you wait. Karma will settle everything."
At a certain pottery shop in the Lower Markets was a certain shop keep, by the name of Earl, who was a frequent target of Lark's. Earl was a spineless fellow who was all bark and no bite. In the beginning all it took was a few threatening words and a broken vase to coerce Earl into giving up his hard earned coin. While Earl had started out cooperative over the years he had begun to become more and more violent with Lark as his frequent extortions had run most of his business away. Things had yet to come to blows between the two of them, but Earl could only hold on for so long. Lark didn't mind Earl's foul diction or increasingly violent temper as the man's coin was good and he was one of his easier marks to handle. Thus Lark would often come around to extort coin from Earl whenever the mood took him.
"Oh Earl why d'ya have to be like that, eh? Best friends can't go around wishing such dreadful things on each other. Especially not when this best friend helps promote your business," Lark mused as he paced the shop with a beautifully crafted urn in hand, "Plus those Ghosts wouldn't lift a finger for a lowly commoner like you." He spat as he gently placed the urn back on the shelf.
"Promote? If you call stealing my wares to give to those nasty street rats promoting then I'm Raziel himself!" Earl stood there gripping the counter-top until his knuckles turned white and glared at the smug fiend wishing nothing more to beat him to a bloody pulp. Instead he watched as all his business sneak out the doors while some petty thief had his way with him. There was nobody that was going to help him as the Guard were useless when it came to handling Lark. The only thing he could do was glare and spew more and more profanities out of his mouth until his face turned blue.
"How about this," Lark chuckled as he walked up to the counter, "I'm feeling rather generous. I wont take half your sales today like I normally do. Instead I'll only take, oh, one hundred pieces of gold. How's that sound? Today has been oh so busy after all so I can imagine you have made quite a few sales. We commoners oh so love our trinkets and yours are quite beautiful."
Earl, close to his breaking point, slammed his hands viciously on the counter, "One hundred pieces! Why don't you just rob me blind already. You, of all people, should know just how poor business has gotten for me especially when you take nearly all the coin I earn!"
Lark frowned as he listened to the man rant and rave. It was true that he knew Earl's business was faltering, but he cared not one whit. In fact he had begun resorting to heavier extortions due to boredom. When Lark had first come to Wellborough the Lower Markets had started out as an enormous wonderland of opportunity for him. During the few years he had spent in the markets, however, Lark's appetite for thievery had not lessened one bit and instead continued to grow more. Presently Lark felt that the Lower Markets was, in fact, rather small and its prospects seemingly smaller. There was no challenge anymore for him. No sense of thrill or accomplishment when he stole. His main purpose for staying in the Lower Markets were the children abandoned much like he was when he was young. Long ago he once held a burning passion to see Raziel crushed, his hope shattered, and his soul forever dispersed. His desires for revenge were still there, but they no longer burned like the sun at its highest. Instead they smoldered inside his heart as the Lower Markers continued to turn him more and more complacent.
"Now I'll have ya listen real close, alright? All I want is ya coin not your tongue so it'd be best if ya kept it locked up in that hole of yours before I completely lose my patience with ya," Feeling annoyed Lark grabbed the man by his wool-spun tunic, "If ya don't want to hand over any coin that's fine. I can just take everything, and break whatever it is I can't carry. I'll personally carve your precious little pottery shop into pieces and watch ya starve out on the streets! Maybe you'll turn to thievery just to survive, who knows, but you and I both know just how scary I can be when I want to be."
This was the reason for why many of the merchants who've been able to set up permanent businesses in Wellborough were all willing to deal with Lark's extortions. Even if they wanted nothing more than to see him tortured in the Wellborough dungeons they all stayed their hands for it wasn't Lark they feared. His power alone meant very little. It was his deep connections he had set up in the Lower Markets they feared. If Lark wanted he could have an entire business dismantled by the end of the month by starving them of the one thing a business needed, customers. Just by spreading the word he could have any would be criminal targeting Earl's pottery shop; Accosting anyone who came in or out and causing property damages at any time of the day. The Guard is capable of stopping the criminals from completely wrecking his shop, but in the end the most painful hit would be to his reputation. People would be far too scared to even approach his shop let alone enter it. In the end Lark and his gang of thieves, muggers, and any other petty criminal in the Lower Market area would get away scotch free. With exception to any who were caught in the process.
Earl, completely scared out of his wits, quickly snatched a wooden box from under his counter, "Fine! Fine I'll pay, I'll play! Just, please, don't send those murderers after me. I beg of you just take this coin and leave me be!" Thrusting the box at Lark, Earl backed away from the counter ashen faced and trembling. With a frown Lark opened up the box and pulled out an assortment of coins that added up to one hundred pieces of gold leaving behind a meager amount of coins and some dust. "I am a man of my word, you know, and as such I will only be taking one hundred pieces of gold." With that Lark strode from the shop leaving the frightened Earl behind with a feeling of distaste in his mouth.
"Tch, that was far too easy. These useless, spineless, scumbags are all too easy to push around. At least there are still some interesting marks out there, but how long will it be before I've exhausted them all?" Lark thought to himself as he strode through the markets ignoring the many looks of scorn and fear aimed his way. Suddenly a thought came to mind that brought a smile to his face.
"Oh I know! I'll go visit Mink and the other little ones. See if I can't get any information out of 'em." Visiting the children always put a smile on his face and Lark immediately sped up his pace.
At the eastern border of the clearing of the Lower Markets was what was essentially a "Lawless Zone." Here crime was at its highest, and the presence of the Guard was nearly non-existent with exception of the few who stayed in disguise. It wasn't just common thieves who called this place a haven. From bandits, looking to spend their plundered coin, to murderers looking to take advantage of the lack of guards to hide. There rest an old, dilapidated building that was once a great tavern before the Silver Swan was built and promptly ran them out of business. They weren't the only ones, however, and thus the building was completely abandoned to nature as nobody cared enough to take up business in such a remote and dangerous region of the markets. It was here that many orphaned children called their home along with other criminals who populated these lawless lands. Here they set up their own tavern where they could all eat, drink, and be merry away from the prying eyes of the Guard. The Rogues' Gallery; Home to anyone willing to call it such.
"Uncle Lark! Uncle Lark!" Cried many of the children as Lark walked into the Rogues' Gallery, "What have you brought this time? Any gifts, any gifts?" Smiling, Lark made his way over to a table and sat down on a creaky chair as he looked over the children. "Of course I have gifts! How could I not bring any to my favorite group of troublemakers?" Lark chuckled as he hefted a bag off the ground and opened it up. Inside were many various objects he had picked up on his way to the tavern. There were small pieces of jewelry such as bracelets and necklaces as well as balls and wooden figures for the children to play with. The children's eyes all began to glow as they scrambled forward to accept Lark's gifts each one trying their best to be the first.
"Easy, easy! One at a time ya lot! Don't go makin' me angry now else I'll take these all back," he chided at the children as they apologized and lined up, "Hey where's Mink?" Lark asked as he gave the last child in the line an amethyst which shone with a deep purple light. "'Unno. He left this mornin' and hasn't come back yet." With a sigh Lark shook his head and tossed the empty bag aside.
"Now, kiddos, I have deal for you all. For every piece of interesting information you tell me I'll give you one piece of gold. Sound interesting?" He didn't even need to confirm their interest as each child immediately began to vomit out anything and everything they could to earn that piece of gold. It may not represent much in general, but to them it meant being able to eat when Lark wasn't around. Much of the information was useless bits of gossip such as rowdy drunks being tossed out of the Silver Swan or whatever queer races entered through the gates of Wellborough. This sort of information was all old news as far as he was concerned. Despite all the useless gossip there were a few things that stood out to Lark. He was far more interested in the report of a Nephilim, or 'Ghosts' as they're called behind their backs, sighting in Wellborough. These was even rumors of a monstrous creature that had attempted to sneak into the city, but was thwarted by the anti-magic structures and was self howling and screeching in the road. Giving out coins to the children who had provided him with important information he was about to stand head back out when suddenly the door crashed open letting bright sunlight illuminate the world inside the tavern.
"Lark! Lark! Terrible news!" Shouted a voice as a small weasely child ran at Lark eyes full of terror. Getting up from his chair and rushing to Mink Lark tried his best to calm the frantic child down, "Mink what has gotten into ya, calm down. Grab some booze and take a seat." Snapping his fingers at one of the tavern wenches Lark had her run off to grab a dusty bottle of some unknown alcohol that was kept in stock.
"There's no time for drinking you stupid Klepto! I spotted the Grey Wolf in Lower Market!" Cried Mink as he shook his head and dragged on Lark's sleeve.
"Gellert? That old sellsword? So what if he's in Lower Market. He's probably just come back after killin' some fool outside the city." It was at this point the woman returned with bottle in hand setting it down on the table with a scowl as Lark paid her.
"You don't get it at all! He's not here to shop he's here for you. The Grey Wolf's been asking around for you. He wanted me to tell him where you were, but there's no way I'd talk. The bastard would have to kill me first." Mink said with a proud look in his eyes and he continued to urge Lark to leave, "You have to go. Get out of here, Lark. That Grey Wolf is sure to come by here eventually."
Lark frowned as he slowly sat back down in his chair. He, like most others in Wellborough, was well versed in the stories that surrounded the Grey Wolf. Each one described him in an even bloodier tone not a single one left Lark feeling confident about his well being. Ripping out the cork in the bottle and taking a deep swig of the foul liquid inside Lark repressed his nervousness and smiled at Mink and the others, "Oh please as if there was a soul alive that could even hope to catch me here. Let him come. If he wants a chase then he's going to get one. I'll show you all that the rumors surrounding this Grey Wolf are just that, rumors."
