Consecrated in Blood
Lightfoot Halfling Rogue
Tilly never knew whether her parents left her infant self at the orphanage out of an inability to care for her, or an unwillingness. Frankly, she didn’t much care, either; it’s not like she stayed there long. Well before she hit puberty, she left the bleak walls and stern matron behind in favor of the grimy freedom of the streets. Through a combination of pick-pocketing, small-time cons and running errands for professional criminals, she managed to survive to adulthood, even managing to make a few unexpected friends along the way. For one, her pet mouse Ignacius, who kept her company on countless nights spent curled up in a cold alleyway.(She insists that Iggy is magical and can understand everything she says, but as of yet there is no evidence to support this.)
Tilly had always found that it was always safest to rely on people’s greed. Usually this was with gambling, but it also applied to the target of her current scheme, whose visions were less of money and more of recognition. For a military officer, this Alphonse was painfully young, and obviously far less experienced than his peers; she had immediately picked him out as a weak link daydreaming of being respected.
The con had started out simple, and technically true – she approached him with the offer of being his eyes and ears on the street, in exchange for fair compensation. She fed him mostly tidbits on his fellow officers, scandalous yet harmless gossip on who was seen exiting which brothel and whose son had gotten into a drunken brawl at what bar. As a way to make a quick few coins when times were tough, it worked well enough, and he came to see her as a reliable source. Time went on, and Tilly upped the ante. She offered him bigger pieces of information, for a larger price.
“Somethin’ evil’s been snatchin’ children in the poor districts,” she informed him, and brought him to meet a group of mother’s who all swore that their precious angels had gone missing.(Little did he know, she had already paid each of them a silver piece to say what she wanted.)
“Someun’s bringin’ in mystical artifacts tonight,” she said in a hushed whisper, and showed him a crate at the docks filled with magical weapons.(Although they weren’t weapons so much as minor magical toys smuggled in by a gnome trying to avoid tariffs.)
“A lad swore ’e saw a giant spider in the sewer last week.” “Ah heard a courier say there’s been more goblin scouts headed our way than usual along the country roads.” “Farmer’s at market’ve been talkin’ ‘bout ’earin’ orc war horns at night.”
Eventually, she had the man convinced that the city was about to be attacked on multiple fronts, by a goblin and orc force at the city walls, a drow incursion from the sewers, a child-sacrificing warlock hiding out in the slums, and magically-armed criminals in an all-out gang war. And he believed he was the only one who knew about this “looming crisis.”
She cut ties with him shortly before he chose to act on the information, but she heard tell a few weeks later of a disgraced captain who had gone completely mad, screaming at his superiors about delusional menaces to society. As far as she was concerned, that was that.
She should have known better than to get complacent. When he tracked her down to her favorite rooftop haunt, he caught her completely flat-footed and unprepared. She had counted on him being made a laughingstock by his outrageous claims, with no pull to have her hunted out or imprisoned. What she hadn’t realized was that his father was a powerful noble, with more than enough sway to have his son’s position maintained and mistakes swept under the rug.
All the same, Alphonse was furious, and determined to kill her himself for humiliating him. She barely managed to escape, seriously wounding him in the process, and fled the city with what few items she carried with her.