<strong>Location:</strong>Lindon<br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>All<br/><br/><hr/><br/>(http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2010/229/e/2/Basrang_Lang_Pourk_by_LakeHurwitz.jpg)<br/><br/>Lindon was not the friendliest of the districts in Middle City, nor was it the prettiest by far, one of the many cases in this town where it was perfectly reasonable to judge a book by its cover. Easily the largest, the dirtiest, and the most crime-ridden slum sector in the city, Lindon was mostly populated by what were very unpopularly referred to as "subhumans": kobolds, goblins, trolls, and even the noble centaurs found their way here when the higher class sections of town refused to offer work to anything too intimidating, unclean, unwieldy, or untrustworthy. With the relatively uncontrolled breeding of the more animalistic races, the slum was growing more and more crowded by the week and drugs and alcohol were as prevalent as food and water, but it wasn't a system totally without leaders<br/><br/>Lindon was under complete and total control of the Unleashed, not the most powerful gang in the city by any means, but the largest for sure. Poorly outfitted and lacking heavily in the way of capital, the Unleashed, taking their name to passive-aggressively spite the ones who were "in charge," used their sheer numbers of desperate poor to traffic drugs all around the projects, and even to the rest of the city if the price was high and safety was ensured. The centaur pack that led the group was as intelligent, strategic, noble, and cunning as any of their forest-born ancestors had been, but the sheer size of the gang and lack of other races capable of leadership meant most of its manpower went unguided and unchecked. It was this barely contained anarchy that made the Unleashed not an offensive threat, but one that should not be crossed on their own turf.<br/><br/>That was what made it all seem so odd when it was in this very slum that the dwarves would be performing their robbery of the Light of Dawn's armored car. One had to give it the dwarves, they had to have balls to steal from the most powerful gang in the city, in the territory of the largest gang in the city, though they did have plenty of places to run to in the underground. At that moment, there was a wide and completely desolate street in the slums, with concrete old, cracked, and dotted with potholes, bordered on both sides by buildings squat and decayed, little houses where men either conducted shady business or huddled with their families and hoped no violence broke out and consumed what little, precious possessions they had. Humans were never seen walking this street, with dwarves and elves being just as rare, but right then, below the street, several meters down through concrete, pipes, and steel, there were dwarves in an abandoned tunnel, working hard and hastily in preparation.<br/><br/>The tunnel was filled with air as dusty and stagnant as smug, and the darkness was oppressive, even for a species that spent the majority of its time underground, but the stocky men with beards looked like they were ready to do anything for that precious, precious gold. Around a dozen or so dwarves were working hard, a few up in the ceiling, in old, rotting maintenance hatches, planting explosives within the foundation of the street, while a few were operating a massive rail carrier; an enormous, flatbed monstrosity that was a little more than half the width of the entire tunnel, clearly designed to carry a huge amount of cargo, and to take a beating while doing it. The few dwarves that didn't have a specific job were down on the tracks, guarding their machination, which rested its several tons of mass on both tracks and remained still until they were ready to move out.<br/><br/>"Pick up the pace, ye shitheads! If ye fuck this up now, Old Beardless is gonna have all o' yer balls!" demanded a voice that was gruff even for a dwarf, coming from one who looked crazed and gold-hungry even for a Gravedigger. Haraim Dorvir (http://images.epilogue.net/users/dimhovi/BloodDwarfDN.jpg) was, to those who had knowledge of such things, a particularly fierce lieutenant in the Gravediggers, most known excessive brutality (again, even for a dwarf), especially when it came to elves. It was said Dorvir would behead literally any elf he laid his eyes on, regardless of whose territory they were in, and that he wouldn't even touch an elf prostitute. His lust for elf blood was so pure that rumors said he'd even killed several fae just for having pointy ears, though no one knew for sure where this hatred came from. He made a fine deterrent for elves trying to enter the underground and dwarf districts, though, and that was quite enough reason for the Gravediggers to keep him around.<br/><br/>Minutes later, and the gnome-crafted explosives were all in place and ready to detonate. The dwarves stood on the far sides of the rail carrier, ready to move if there was any threat of being crushed by falling debris, though such a thing happened more than they cared to admit in their organization. It was the middle of the night now, and, as reliable information told it, the armored car came rolling down that desolate slum road at a deliberate pace, well-protected from any attacks up on the streets. It had no escorts, as the riches inside were still only a small fraction of what the Light of Dawn possessed, but it made every other gang green with envy, and red with desire. Like all angelic properties, it was following its route at the exact pace it supposed to, meaning the dwarves did not need a scout up above to know when it would be passing over. As soon as the exact second of the exact minute of the exact hour came, Haraim hit the switch on their copper-cased detonator, and the ceiling above exploded into concrete and steel shrapnel. The center of the street collapsed in a near-perfect rectangle, forming a boundary around the bank car that brought it screeching down through the ground and into the tunnel. With a defeaning crash, it landed on the center of the rail carrier, tires blowing out instantly and axles all but shattering; or at least it would have, had it not been an angelic vehicle blessed not to be so easily damaged.<br/><br/>No more than a second after it had landed, two men got out of the front of the car and two from the back, but they didn't have time to draw their weapons before the dwarves were upon them, axes removing heads and other body parts and shotguns taking care of whatever remained. Dumping the human corpses over the side of the carrier, the Gravediggers secured the vehicle as one ran over to the control deck, a little platform raised above the rest of the flatbed, ready to move on. Unbeknownst to every last one of them, theirs wasn't the only heist in effect, and at that moment, the immensely powerful and intelligent outcasts Marc had gathered together were ready to strike...