Why We Love Thieves
The smoke from the fire pit drifted lazily in the dim light of the ancient pub, weaving vaporous wreathes around the innkeeper as he polished a dirty glass with a dirty rag. The only sound in the room was the crackle of the fire and the sound of scrabbling claws from somewhere in the cellar below, and the innkeeper sighed with appreciation of the unusual peace and quiet.
Short, fat, and balding reddish hair, he appeared to be a jovial sort, but in reality, he was not so pleasant. A greedy man, with never the nerve to seek wealth out in the world himself, he settled for watering down drinks, short counting change, and using "alternate meats" to cut down on food costs. The rats in the cellar came in handy, and he wouldn't have dreamed of letting anyone exterminate them.
Suddenly, the door flew open, and in walked four strangers, stamping their feet shrugging their way out of their bulky fur cloaks. Using his experienced eye for such things, the innkeeper judged from their various attire that the four were, respectively, an assassin, a warrior, a thief, and a mage and no doubt on some adventure or other seeking wealth.
As the four stepped up to the bar, the smiling innkeeper greeted them politely. Aloud he said "Greetings good sirs, I have food for the hungry, and drink for the thirsty." To himself he said silently "Ya never know, the survivors of this crowd might come back rich, eh? Best treat them well..."
The assassin, the warrior, and the mage quickly ordered a variety of reasonably priced (but not expensive, no, not expensive at all to the innkeepers disappointment) drinks. The thief, however looked in his shriveled coin purse, and ordered the cheapest mead in the house. At this, the thief's companions roared with laughter, and the thief scowled and snarled in reply. "You fellows all know the damnable guards took almost everything I had to cover my bounty. It's no laughing matter!"
Just then the door again flew open, and in walked six heavily armed and armored men. Three appeared to be hired thugs, and three wore Imperial armor, but didn't actually look like real soldiers. The six arranged themselves in a ragged line facing the four at the bar, and the largest of the thugs spoke. "We're here to teach you a lesson!"
For their part, the four at the bar were unsure of exactly who the thug was taking to, so their response was swift. The assassin with his incredible skill and poisons took out two thugs before the third dealt him a smashing blow to the back with a steel warhammer, and he sank lifeless to the floor.
In the meantime, the warrior had waded forward into the fray and two swings of his steel greatsword took the life of the thug who had killed his companion, and slew the "soldier" who was wearing studded Imperial armor. At this, the orc in heavy Imperial Steel turned and, shouting a great warcry, decapitated the warrior with a single blow of his orcish battleaxe.
The mage had summoned a frost atronach, who attacked the remaining "soldier" with a thunderously crashing blow of his tremendous fist... but just as the blow struck home, the "soldier" loosed a lightning bolt that fried the mage to ash on the spot, and both fell dead to the floor as the atronach faded to nothingness.
Looking about the dim room, seeing that he and the innkeeper were the only survivors, the orc muttered "That's the last of them!" With that, he turned and walked out of the Inn and into the snowy dusk of early evening.
The innkeeper, leaned forward on the bar, surveiling the carnage that decorated his floor. Corpses, bloody weapons, and body parts were scattered about everywhere, and pools of blood formed while rivulets of blood seeped between the cracks of the floorboards seeking their way to the dark cellar below. His knees were wobbly, he discovered he was in need of a fresh loincloth, and he almost had a heart attack when the thief stepped out of a shadowy far corner. Thief and innkeeper exchanged stares for a moment, then the thief (stepping gingerly between the pools of blood) calmly wandered around the room gathering valuables from the fallen, friend and foe alike.
When he was done, he stepped up to the bar and threw a pile of gold septims on the counter. With a huge grin, he looked the innkeeper squarely in the eye, saying "I believe I'll have a shot or two of your finest Colovian Brandy, my good man..."