Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25146201-20140108121051/@comment-12599067-20140109040757

Makoru pushed past the fake cabinet and stepped into the Cistern, where the Thieves Guild was waiting for them. Brynjolf glared down at the two of them while a small legion of thieves whispered amongst each other and glowered at them. They were obviously far from welcome here.

"It's been a while since the two of you came down here," Brynjolf observed. "Whatever you're here for this time, I can assure you that you will likely need to wrestle it from my corpse."

"That's still an option, Brynjolf. You know exactly why I'm here, don't you?" Makoru asked.

"Forget it. I'm not rallying the Nightingales, no matter what you and your pet sorceror decide to do to me. If you're smart, you'll leave now. It'd be much better for your health."

"What if I told you the fate of Tamriel was hanging in the balance?"

Brynjolf arched an eyebrow but paled slightly, a sign that he might actually be taking Mak's word on the situation. "You. Witch. Explain. Now," he ordered.

(I must go. G'night, all.)