Jul. 10th, 2014

i_love_freddie: (Freddie)
“No boss, please – not the chair! I'll do anything, I swear! I'm innocent!”

The young man's panicky pleas could be heard throughout the main floors of the guild headquarters. Assassins paused in their training, those who were sleeping briefly opened their eyes, the ones who were eating stopped in their tracks. Then, registering relief that it wasn't their turn, they resumed their tasks.

“Seems like Lance is in trouble,” Kane Theaza observed, setting down his tankard of ale. “What's going on, Benny?”

The shapeshifter glanced around the table. The only others in attendance were the half-elven assassin Cory and Phellan the young wolf-man; Riandur hated the city and was hunting rats in the catacombs, Jonas was studying scrolls at the library, and Valia had gone shopping. Leaning forward, he lowered his voice.

“You know that smuggling job last night? It was a set-up. The guards got several of our boys and now they are in the city jail.”

“Someone betrayed us?” Cory asked, wide-eyed at the thought that one of their own men would turn against the guild. It was an unwritten but very strong rule that thieves watched out for their own, and backstabbing was never tolerated.

“It looks that way,” Benny said seriously. “The guards knew exactly who was there and what was happening, information that could only have been given to them by someone involved in the planning.”

Kane nodded, pondering this for a while. “What an idiot,” he said finally. “So Randal - ” referring to the cold, calm and highly effective master of the entire guild “- gets to do what he does best, huh? A few minutes on the chair will make them crack.”

Cory nodded, looking terrified. “No one could stay silent when faced with that thing. It is so scary.”

“A chair?” Phellan had been listening intently, but something was puzzling him. “Like what we are sitting on? What is scary about a chair?”

That was quite a question. Every man in the Howling Wolves assassin's guild knew of 'the chair'. Made from solid oak with a straight back and two thick arms, it did not look threatening at a glance. But a closer look would reveal the strong leather wrist and ankle restraints, the adjustable mechanism that could be adjusted so that the sitter could be gagged. Once restrained, varying degrees of torture could be used to encourage the subject to talk.

It had been in the guildmaster's chambers for as long as anyone could remember. They called it 'the confession chair' and many of the men had been subjected to it at one time or another. It was the ultimate punishment.

Kane, Benny and Cory exchanged a long look. “Want to take this one?” Kane directed at Benny.

The long-suffering man only sighed.

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