The remaining men from the failed raid years ago finally caught up once again.
Blackboot ran off after the job, which was unforgivable. Was he suddenly putting his morals into question? Weak. He was never seen again. His right hand man, Half-tooth Jon, had enough of his life in civility, and decided to write to the original group, the core of Blackboot's Gang. It took some time, but they eventuall replied.The group met in the Prancing Pony, a familiar location to all. Buxley, Prentice and Windgard came through and met their sullen, rough former leader in Halftooth. their gang-names a nostalgic afterthought.
The men ate and drank, remiscing about the old days. No one had changed much. As the men recalled the details of their failed raid, and their runs before that, Halftooth began to explain the meaning behind their meeting.
Halftooth smirked at a stray comment from Buxley. He leaned back against his chair, an air of relaxation and superiority about him.
"Funny. And you're right. Should've gone as easy as our rum runs. Hell, even the armoury raid went better than the sheep. Blackwolds were happy with that one."
Windgard said, 'Oi, I remember that...'
Prentice leaned forward; crossing his arms across the table, peering at Halftooth.
"But really," he said lowly. "What's with this meetin'?"
He shook his head. "It's been fuckin' years since we last saw eachother. Why now?"
'What, a man can't miss his old friends?'
Prentice smirked, and his eyes glistened with playfulness.
"There's always a reason."
Halftooth explained his proposition of starting the gang back up again with authority.
Buxley considered the propisition for a moment, wringing his hands together in thought.
"Mate, as interesting a proposal as that is, ultimately, we've got less man-power now than an alley-rat missing his two front legs." He gives Halftooth a look of smug self-satisfaction.
'Lad, these town-folk are itching for adventure. I've already scouted a few potentials, believe me.'
'All we need are a few good hits.. gold flashing wherever we step.. and they'll come running.'
