I'm quickly discovering that post-TF is my shortcut for not going overboard with an Octransfur prompt. So much for me throwing in the towel! After a bunch of urban fantasy, here's a proper fantasy-fantasy shortie for y'all.

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Orctransfur Day 7: Memory

Foil strode into the Thieves Guild with the confident stride of a job well done. He crossed the threshold and headed straight for the guild’s treasurer. The documents in his cloak’s pocket were going to help fund his efforts for at least the next year with any luck!

An unusual quiet had fallen over the hall. The dice game by the fire had ground to a halt. The revelry in the kitchen had gone silent. Even the quartermaster had stopped sharpening his dagger collection.

“I got the deed?” Foil reached into his bread pocket and pulled out the land deed he had been requested to fetch. He gave a sly grin. “It was surprisingly easy... for me.”

The guild had set him up with some convoluted assignment. A local baron had recently… acquired most of the nearby farm land. He’d hidden the deeds in the bottom of his wife’s jewelry err, chest. The chest was being shipped by by his personal guards, only for one of the more unscrupulous mercenaries he had hired to make off with the thing. That mercenary was attacked by bandits. Those bandits had accidentally fled straight into the local orc camp. The orcs were good people and mostly kept to themselves, but they had no idea what they had just lucked into. While they were ogling the jewelry, the fate of the region’s turnip futures lay in the balance.

Or something. Sneak into orc camp. Steal papers. Don’t let them trace you back to the town. It was a fairly simple if slightly- suicidal mission for most thieves.

Apparently his compatriots didn’t think he was going to make it back. Everyone was staring at him, and it was clear no one was quite sure who should speak up first. Did he have something on his face? Were they just impressed by his thieving skills? Something odd was going on.

Meanwhile, the guild continued gawking at the large orc wearing a local elf’s cloak that had just entered the guild hall.

He was nearly seven feet tall. He had a large pair of tusks poking out of his lips, and striking if unusually friendly red eyes. A black hood was pulled over his head obscuring his face from those not looking at him directly. It was standard practice for a thief, but this thief was anything but standard.

The cloak draped awkwardly over his shoulders. It wasn’t nearly wide enough to contain the orc’s muscular arms. They poked through the cloak’s sleeves like he was wearing a short-sleeved tunic. The garment ended at his waist instead of his ankles.

Wrapped around his waist was a familiar tool belt. Every thief carried a small assortment of knives, rope, and other tools of the trade. Most of them didn’t display them so blatantly, but the cloak’s fluttering tail was having difficulty obscuring it. Tucked away on the side of the belt was a small grappling hook. It was unusual to see in this neck of the woods. There were only a few thieves that carried those around as standard issue.

The orc’s trousers barely went down past his knees. Instead of shoes, he simply had a pair of cotton wraps folded over his enormous green feet.

“Did you… forget to remove your disguise Foil?” The treasurer spoke up finally.

“No?” He looked down at himself curiously. “By the gods, please tell me I don’t still smell like a barbarian.”

“You smell fine. Just uh- Tell us about your exploits.” He coaxed the orc over. “You found the baron’s deeds?”

“It was right where he said. Hidden in the false bottom of the chest.” Foil nodded. He reached into his pockets and pulled them out. “Check and see, they should all be in order.”

The treasurer made a show of glancing at the documents. “So… how did you do it?”

“I just walked into their camp and asked them if I could have the papers,” Foil gave a toothy grin. “They were busy splitting up the jewels. They didn’t care about a few scraps of paper.”

“Just like that…?” The treasurer asked curiously. “Nothing unusual happened?”

“I mean, I couldn’t just walk in.” He shrugged. “I had to dress up like a barbarian, but orc camps aren’t really designed to turn away other orcs.”

“Uh huh…” The treasurer looked up at the orc-thief. “Where’d you get the disguise?”

“The fighter’s guild trash heap mostly,” Foil laughed. “There was also a mask salesman who helped me obscure my face so no one recognized me.”

Everyone in the hall leaned a bit closer.

“A mask you say?” The treasurer asked curiously.

“Yeah, here, I’ve still got it,” Foil reached into the other pocket of his cloak and pulled out a large ceramic mask. The sight of it sent a shiver down the back of any thief with a bit of magic in their blood. It was a smooth green mask with two ivory tusks poking out the front. The only disruption of the orc features were a pair of eye holes. “I didn’t want anyone to recognize me after the job was done.”

“Huh,” the treasurer examined the mask. He took a deep breath and finally decided to state the obvious. “Foil, I think that mask turned you into an orc.”

“What?” The thief looked down (way down) at his colleague.

“You’re supposed to be an elf!” The treasurer blurted out.

“Nonsense!” Foil laughed. “I think I’d remember that!”

“Look at your clothes!” The treasurer let out a nervous laugh.

“They shrank last time I washed them, obviously. I should be able to fetch a new set with this haul.” Foil gave a tusky grin.

“You’re twice as tall as the rest of the guild! What good’s a thief who sticks out so much?” The treasurer said. “Come on, let’s get you down to the healer.”

“I told you. I’m a good lookout.” Foil grinned, “And no one expects a sneaky orc.”

“But-“ The treasurer was going to say something else. A sizable jingling noise broke his concentration.

Foil was tossing his reward money in the air. The large pouch containing that kingly sum had been tied to the treasurer’s belt for over a week now. There should have been no way the big brute to slip it off him without the treasurer noticing!

“Let me know when you’ve got another job that suits my talents!” Foil grinned and walked back out of the guild hall.

The quartermaster walked over to the awe struck treasurer. “Orc or not, he’s still got it.”

“I’ll say,” the treasurer stared at the doorway. “That boy could steal the chocolate out of a coin. I don’t know how he does it.”

“Should I drag him off to the healer? Having an orc around could be useful?” The quartermaster rubbed his chin.

“You really think so?” His companion gave him an incredulous look.

“Height aside, he’s right, no one would suspect an orc or two of robbing ‘em blind.” The quartermaster glanced down at the mask.

“I suppose so.” The treasurer reached down and picked up the enchanted object. “I’m going to go see what the mages guild will give me for this thing. I want it out of our hall.”

The quartermaster kept staring at it. His knife work was solid, but there was a time and place for brute strength. He considered the mask for a moment longer.

“Can I borrow it first?”