Beneath Drachenburg’s stoic façade lies a shadow network known as The Hollow Sigil, a thieves’ guild as old as the city’s founding myths. Its operations are quiet, deliberate, and deeply embedded. The guild’s symbol—a broken circle carved subtly into masonry or etched into the corner of a ledger—marks safehouses, drop points, and hidden passages. But its most infamous mark rests above a boarded-up apothecary in Eastborough: The Gentle Fang.
Once a legitimate herbalist’s shop, The Gentle Fang was shuttered decades ago after a fire supposedly ruined its stock. Now, it stands as a forgotten relic—its windows dusted over, its sign faded to near illegibility. But those who know where to look can find the Hollow Sigil carved into the doorframe, just beneath a rusted iron hinge. A knock in the right rhythm, a whispered phrase, and the boards give way to a stairwell descending into the city’s hidden arteries.
The guild operates through borough-specific cells, each with its own specialty. The Ledger in Mediborough handles forgery and political manipulation, often influencing negotiations in the Hall of Dragons through unseen hands. Cliffborn in Northborough are climbers and infiltrators, masters of vertical escape and silent entry. Ashhands in Southborough deal in poisons, disappearances, and the art of making death look like misfortune.
The Hollow Sigil remains a symbol of Drachenburg’s quiet duplicity: a city that trades in silence, but listens to everything.