Lords of RPG

Lucien winced as he pulled the fake beard from his face.  The spirit gum he used to adhere it to his face always seemed to pull a stray hair when he removed the beard.  Next came the dark brown wig, then the rubbery fake nose.  He placed them all with care into his disguise kit – a small chest bulging with fake beards, moustaches, makeup, props, etc.  He shut and locked the kit before shoving it under the bottom bunk of the bunk bed.

The young performer seemed quite different without the disguise.  His hair was a light brown, not the dark of the wig, and he had no beard, just a pencil thin moustache.  His features were smoother and more regular, as well.  Lucien had long since learned to disguise himself when making illicit deals.  It was regrettable that the fence Gregori had accurately pinned him as the Lord of the Daggers.  He made a mental note to be less obvious next time, and not be festooned with daggers when he conducted such shady business in the future.  He shook his head.  Foolish, amateur mistake.  

Lucien shared a small cabin with three other performers on the Jour de Chance.  His three cabin-mates were away now; out carousing or whoring he guessed.  Nevertheless, Lucien locked the door before he laid down on the floor and reached under his bunk.  In moments, he retrieved a small leather pouch that he had stashed under the bed.  He never took his full pouch with him when he did deals like the one with Gregori.  It was too easy to get robbed, or worse.  Having retrieved his prize, he sat up and sat tailor-fashion on the floor.  He opened the pouch and dumped Gregori’s fifty gold pieces inside.

The young performer smiled as he hefted the weighty pouch in his hand.  Between his wages, his gambling winnings, some theft here or there, and now the proceeds from the sale of the witch’s hairbrush, Lucien had accumulated a tidy sum.  Enough to jump ship and get his own place in a city.  He would be able to settle down.  Not have to live in cramped quarters with three other men.  Not have to be on the move, all the time.  

Who are you kidding, mon ami? he thought to himself and chuckled.  Settling down with a fat wife and some bratty kids is not for men such as us.  He pulled out five gold coins from the pouch and stashed them in a hidden pocket before hiding the pouch back under his bunk.  He stood and regarded himself in the small, cracked mirror in the room.  No.  Even if we wished for such a boring fate, it would not be for us.  We dare not stay in one place too long.

He shook his head to clear it.  Enough!  Enough wool-gathering.  We did well tonight.  Perhaps a celebration is in order.

He quickly patted himself down, assuring himself that all his hidden weapons and important items were secured in place, and left the cabin.  Let us hope that that bastard Krieger has some midnight left to sell, he thought to himself.