Mcteeth screamed as he fell into the Demonic Statue's belly and screamed again as he realized he was falling much further beneath the city. His screams alerted two ghouls that were looking for scraps nearby. They'd been trapped in this small part of the underground and looking for food for over a hundred years, but they were certain that they would find something to eat if they checked each nook and cranny of this small cave once again. It was an understatement to say they were overjoyed when a sack of meat fell into a pile of rotted wood. Mcteeth gained a few seconds as they fought over who got to eat his liver. That was enough time to draw his weapons and toss a coin over his shoulder. He hated paying for luck, which is why his patron spirit delighted in taking it. He'd have had to pay more if he wasn't about to engage in violence, something Ekwensu also delighted in.

He threw one dagger into the smaller of the two ghouls, hoping to slow it up with a leg wound, and circled to put it between him and the larger. As it stumbled toward him, he slashed at its instep. The crippled creature collapsed, and the other took advantage of the opportunity to fall on it and take a bite. As the two ghouls fought, Mcteeth circled quickly, stabbing again and again, trying to keep the fight even so the two undead wore each other down. Once both had stopped moving, he leaned back against the wall. There was a click, and he fell through the secret door and tumbled further into the bowls of the city. This time he ended up rolling from another secret door into a large room, and nothing was trying to eat him. Yet. A dozen skeletons were on the floor, and five sat around a large table. Overhead a chandelier cast an eerie light on the scene, its candles burning with a reddish glow.

The room was large and resembled a tavern. A bar at one end was covered with dirty mugs and wine glasses, bottles of dubious spirits arranged on the shelf behind them, their hand written labels faded with the years. There had been more tables at one time. Shattered furniture littered the room and more than one skeleton held a chair leg in their claws. Many had rusty daggers in their backs. Some had several. Mcteeth noted that most of the daggers would have been critical hits that severed a spine. A stage was across from the bar, the remains of red velvet drapes piled around the remains of a harpsicord and harp that would never play again. Doorways led to other rooms, sagging on hinges or laying broken on the floor.

The five dead gentlemen around the table had been there for a long, long time. The finery they had worn was rotted and torn, and their bodies were reduced to dry, brittle bones. Scraps of leathery flesh sagged on the bones, ready to fall off. Each had a shot glass in their left hand and a bottle on the table next to them. A pile of money and objects was piled in the center of the table. Hundreds of gold, silver, copper, and other strange coins. Two rusty daggers, one glowing rusty dagger. Three green gems. The deed to a small keep in Estallia. And on top of it all, an ornate ring made of tarnished silver.

Mcteeth moved slowly around the room, touching nothing and careful not to touch the bodies lest they animate. He would be terribly surprised if they didn't. This was Gadobhra, after all. Even after all these years, he could smell the poison in the bottles: Nightshade, Hemlock, Snakeroot oil, Castor Bean extract, and Phytolaccaceae Belladonna. The last was a nasty one native to Sedgewick. Each man had picked his own poison, as the saying went. Four of the skeletons had hands of cards on the table in front of them. Numerous aces and kings were also visible in rotted sleeves and tattered finery. He wondered about the contents of the deck they played with but didn't touch it. The cards were in good shape. Vibrant inks were visible under the layer of dust. The skeleton who had preferred Nightshade held three jacks and two tens. A winning hand in most games and better than the one next to him, consisting of two jacks and three sevens. Jacks were as popular as Aces. The next hand was three jacks and two eights. The fourth man had been disgusted with his busted straight flush consisting of 2, 3, 4, 5 of spades and a 7 of diamonds. He'd stabbed the cards with a dagger.

The last man's hand was face down. He had one skeletal hand wrapped around the winnings and a long dagger in his back. His poison of choice was the local Belladonna. Unable to resist his curiosity, Mcteeth turned over the cards. They were thick paper and the size of a tarot deck. The images stared at him. Ace of Spades, Ace of Clubs, Eight of Spades, Eight of Clubs, and finally, the Queen of Hearts. The Queen had a drop of blood on the card.

Mcteeth shook his head. "Two pair wins over a full house? What kind of rules were they playing?"

A bony hand grasped his wrist, and he was suddenly so cold that he couldn't move. "The Queen of Hearts is always wild, kid. You must not have much experience with women. I won the game but took a knife in the back. Ignoring an assassin while playing cards is bad, especially when you marry her. Spiteful and jealous, she was a real firecracker. I'm gonna miss that gal, but she sure didn't miss me."

"But enough chit-chat. What brings you down here? Last I heard, things were closing up. Druid troubles. That's what led to some disagreements between the brotherhood. What have I missed?"

Mcteeth could barely stammer. "Druids are gone, and the baron is back. The statue..it ate me." He managed to pull a dagger from his belt and stab the arm holding him. The silvered knife cut into the rotted arm, but fell to the ground, smoking. That hurt McTeeth. He'd paid a halfling paladin in Marlsburg 50 gold for a knife guaranteed to slay undead. It seems no one could be trusted these days.

The skull looked at the arm and back at Mcteeth. "You got Moxy, kid. Normally I hate recruits with too much of a spine, but I'm low on choices, and you come recommended. You picked up my hand, and now you have to play it. Welcome to the Brotherhood of Thieves. Put on the ring, and let's get to work." The skeleton released him and tossed him the tarnished ring.

Mcteeth looked at it. It was old, and while it looked like silver, it gave the feeling of being much harder.

The skeleton nodded. "Congrats, kid. You're the new Guild Master for as long as you can keep it. I'm Gestas or Gus for short. I'm your wise and cryptic advisor. I'll be around to kick your ass in gear until you get the guild set up properly."

"Your mouth is hanging open, kid. Hungry? Trying to catch flies."

Mcteeth knew when to take a deal. He slid the ring on and saw a series of notifications. "Ready to get to work, sir. What's first?"

Gus swept the coins and loot in the center of the table into a bag on his belt that was still in passable shape but far too small to hold all the items. Then he gathered up the cards and shuffled them. He pulled out a card and tossed it on the table. The seven of swords looked up at Mcteeth, six rogues sharpening knives and glaring at him, while one was running off with most of the loot. "A good card to start with. Time to put the band back together. The door by the bar leads out. Left goes up to a quaint village full of pretty girls and good food. The other way heads out to one of our main camps. Behind the bar is a privy, a secret door that leads up to the big city. That's not known to many. Check both the other places for new recruits. And kid? What's your name?"

The new guild master looked at his ring and smiled. "Call me Mcteeth."

The quaint village turned out to be a group of a few dilapidated buildings around a dried-up fountain and a massive, crooked house that loomed over the rest. Nothing moved except a couple of ghouls looking for a bone. Mcteeth closed the door to the shack and climbed back down. Hungrytown could wait for later. Billy was determined to kill every ghoul. Mcteeth had better things to do. The other tunnel dipped downward and twisted and turned, sometimes through natural caverns. After what felt like miles, it angled upward. A short ladder led to a concealed door in a wooden shack. Nothing was in the shack except a table piled with small pamphlets and penny dreadfuls. Mcteeth carefully looked out a crack in the door.

Men in patched clothing sat at a table or on logs by the fire drinking ale from a keg and roasting fat rabbits on the fire. "Good grog, Isaiah. Where did you steal this one from?"

One of the men smiled proudly. "Went to the inn with a wagon to 'gather up the empties and make a delivery. I took in three empty barrels, pulled three full ones from the store room, and they even paid me for them, thinking I was from the brewery. Sold two of the barrels to the goblins and brought the third down for the enjoyment of the brotherhood."

Mcteeth slid out from the door and calmly walked to the keg, pouring himself a beer. It wasn't bad. Definitely brewed in Sedgewick. A few of the bandits noticed him and looked around, confused.

"Who the hell are you stealing our beer?"

Mcteeth smiled. "I run the Thieves Guild in Gadobhra, and lucky for you fine fellows; I have some openings I'd like to fill."