The latest product was known as 'Spitfire'. He had recently sold so much of his product, that everyone in the Guild had invested into buying drinks and betting on fighters of their own. He spent his days above ground in the market stalls targeting unsuspecting citizens out of their last Septims by bribing them into buying his faux products.

Silver tongue, he was not brash or sanctimonious about being better than his fellow Thieves Guild brothers and sisters. Brynjolf was one of the four overseers for the Guild. The fights were a celebration of a good haul that week, and everyone got involved even the leaders of the Guild took time to pick up a tankard. Nasty people- and smells- were down there. No one else dared to come down to 'The City Under the City'. Every man or woman in the bar was a member of the Thieves Guild. Luna, age seventeen winters, sat on a barrel with her legs crossed as she watched the fight in front of her. Loud cheers echoed off of the cold sewer stone walls, along with the sound of punches and grunts. The Ragged Flagon was filled with the smell of ale, sweat and sewer water all mixed in one.

Skyrim rune thieves guild