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Waiting
Nov 18, 2006 21:53:17 GMT -5
Post by Non-Player Characters on Nov 18, 2006 21:53:17 GMT -5
Thorkan slouched over his ale, his elbows on the table and his head resting in his hands. He needed a job in the worst way. His last gold had gone to buying himself a drink, and now he had nothing to eat. Life being a mercenary was tough, and don't let anybody tell you differently! He let his eyes wander about the room. It wasn't wise to make eye contact with other mercenaries; they either thought you were sizing them up or trying to recognize them for bounties. And you never knew if they were staring back at you for the same reason...or if they found you attractive. Thorkan grimaced at the thought. Yes, life was hard for mercenaries. Guardsmen looked down on them, scorning them for taking money in place of loyalty. Ha! Thorkan was stronger and better than the guardsmen, and when he had gold, he had gold. However, he didn't see many poor or out-of-work guardsmen...Oh well. He could still best them in a fight. And he got to see the world! Mercenaries weren't confined to one city. Thorkan looked about again. Sometimes it was hard to tell who was employer and who was employee in this business. In the past he'd been hired to guard shipping caravans from bandits and once he even was hired to help storm a Mixtecan fort. But now...now he was out of work. If no one hired him soon he'd have to do something...but what? Thinking so much made his head hurt. He slowly drank his ale, trying to make it last. This ale was...like a liquid version of his gold, right? He had spent gold on this, so this was his gold turned into beer. Therefore, he should make it last. And it wasn't like he had much else to do; he had already done his mid-day excercises. All he had to do was wait for an employer. An employer...His last employer was nice enough. He paid up front. That was always good. Thorkan had been cheated before. The cheat lost a hand. Thorkan got his gold. All was good. But his last employer needed a weapons-proficient man to help raid a feuding town and retrieve some stolen something or other...Thorkan didn't really bother with details. Details were something for employers. The man died on the raid. He was stupid - he tried to lead the way in. An arrow through his light chainmail was all it took. The guy dropped like a stone. Thorkan was an honorable mercenary. He finished the job, got the thing he was supposed to get, and returned it to the village with the dead guy. And then the village had the guts to try to blame the dead moron's death on Thorkan! He left before they tempted him into killing them. They weren't worth it; he'd seen good mercs killed for bounties when they killed unthankful employers.
But what use was it going over past jobs when he didn't have a job now? All he could do was sit and wait...and waiting was never his strong suit.
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Muse
Incubi
Normalacy may be overrated, but chaos doesn't get enough points.
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Posts: 8
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Waiting
Nov 18, 2006 23:48:40 GMT -5
Post by Muse on Nov 18, 2006 23:48:40 GMT -5
Another morning with clear skies, flowers blooming, birds singing, small woodland creatures going about their daily business chattering in an odd echo of how the villagers within their own habitat; humans going through the motions of their mundane lives without a care in the world, the kingdom was safe, all was well, blue skies and twittering birds were as abundant as a cheerful plague. All in all, it was a bit discouraging for someone who’s business centered around power struggles and political strife; fear and anxiety in the countryside, the night filled with terrors that sent the heartiest men weeping for their mothers, long deceased, and a whole country clamoring for a sense of security that was, sadly, present in spades within this small kingdom of Thalanos, boarder insurgencies aside. Business, up ‘til now, had been good. There had been plenty of courts with subplots and illegitimate children clamoring for the throne, wars, revolutions, revolutions within revolutions; twists and turns enough to make any savvy courtier scream for mercy, or simply flee the country. That was the stuff dreams, at least Janice’s dreams, were made of; courts ripe with opportunity to plant a few words here, set out an idea there, then kick back with an ale and watch everything sort itself out for the betterment of the country…or a select group of courtiers that had paid her; whichever came first, though one usually came with the other; whether the political group wanted it or not; usually when they didn’t. Janice did have her honor, strange as it was; the code she kept more convoluted and detailed than the courts she worked with; to uphold.
Eyeing a fluttering songbird whistling it’s happy little tune to a nest full of equally happy little birdlings she sighed, suppressing a twitch of her eye; it would not due to look so glum on such a…lovely…day after all; if she was to blend in she was to appear as cheerful as any elf that wandered about in the happy woods that all but sang to her; as annoying as it was. Any more mindlessly sweet cheer and her teeth would rot out. To distract herself she pulled out a small leather bound book that contained her notes from her travels, rumors, political alliances, bandit locations, information on races and customs all within, though her most recent entries were stories, phrases, witticisms and insults supplied by her latest traveling partner that she had left behind in the last court; a bard of most intriguing creativity. He’d been handsome, ineffably charming, enough that she took notes on that as well; and his overall flavor of character had been so delightful she could not pass up the chance to travel with him, even for a short while; the bard hat felt everything so keenly, so passionately, whenever he wrote or spoke about his craft his eyes were alight with a euphoria she hadn’t seen in decades. As much as she would have liked to keep the bard around to safeguard him against those who would ruin his fragile soul she had to press on before the two now placated groups within the court managed to discover that she’d been playing them against one another until the kingdom righted itself.
She shook her head, a tiny fond smile flitting across her lips as she began to murmur some of his more inventive insults to herself as she walked up a travel worn path through a mundane village, weaving around folks as she murmured to herself, slipping into a pub that promised good beds and ale; and where there was ale there were men with blades for hire, the boarders she’d need to traverse were getting dangerous as of late, she’d need a man that had skill with a blade; putting that out of her mind she went over the last passage once more, it was quite amusing and may come in handy. Her low, mellow voice ran through the air lightly in a litany of verbose insults, far better than any curt vulgarity with their scope and sophisticated enough for her to consider actually using them. As she entered the tavern’s main room the tail end of her murmuring could be heard.
“…artless elf skinned maggot pie? No, no, there are actually elves here; that wouldn’t do. Hmm…Thou tottering rump fed flax wench! Right.” That one received a nod of approval and a star next to it, saved within her memory for future use. “Thou spongy toad-spotted fustilarian! That’s a good one. What else did he say? Thou leathern-jerkin, crystal-button, knot-pated, agatering, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish pouch! Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog! No, that has elves in it again, and I don’t think these mark anyone. Ooooh, Thou tottering earth-vexing foot-licker! Foot-licker!” A rich, amused chuckle, spun through the ale rich air, weaving through the clatter of mugs on tables and incoherent grumbling. “Yes, I like that one. Very amusing.” Janice paused in her soft tirade as she noticed a rather hulking man off to the side, seated huddled with a mug of beer, resonating with disgruntled purpose and, even better, with a blade on his side that he looked ready to use at any moment, violence was thick in the air about him, the way he looked like a wolf, his eyes flickering from here to there, though his rumpled appearance affronted some of her sensibilities she was not about to let a potential ally pass her by just because he couldn’t keep himself presentable.
Snapping the book closed and secreting it away in her pack she stopped where she was, next to a buxom serving girl no less; though the wench sniffed at their comparison, and slid on hand to her hip, tipping her head to the side slightly and allowing her hair to fall over the back of her shoulder, revealing the smooth expanse of her chain wreathed neck; a subtle invitation that most courtiers jumped on. She made certain to stand just so until she caught his eyes, allowing hers to widen with feigned embarrassment before slowly walking over, a subtle sway to her hips and fluidity to her stride that was enough to cause the barkeep in his sweeping long enough to offer an appreciative look before coughing and scuttling away. A satisfied smirk graced her lips for the barest of moments before she returned the whole of her attention on the swordsman, she halted next to him, blocking the light about him so he would have to acknowledge her in some way. “Good morrow tall, dark and deadly.” She offered a small, short inclination of her head and shoulders; one did not curtsy in trousers nor was there room enough to bow properly, before resuming her earlier pose and looking the man in the eye. “Why, pray tell, is a man of such obviously violent means and self reliance taking refuge in a place solitary inaction? ‘Tis most curious indeed, by any standard…or could it be that thou art short of coin? If that be so than May I humbly offer my employment, as I am in need of a swordsman akin to thy…fine caliber.”
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Waiting
Nov 19, 2006 1:24:48 GMT -5
Post by Non-Player Characters on Nov 19, 2006 1:24:48 GMT -5
Thorkan's eyes widened as the polished woman strutted over to his table. His women were usually less...clean...than this Lady. That made her all the more desireable...He had to struggle to keep his eyes on her face at all times. That was a hard lesson to learn: Female employers don't hire lechers, and female mercenaries tend to fight circles around distracted men. Then she started to talk, and her inflection clearly identified her as a Possible Employer. Her words were in Standard, and yet they were so long they might as well be foreign. He felt his brain start to hurt again. So he just looked her in the eyes and hoped he could fool her into thinking he was smart enough to understand her vocabulary. Something about a violent man (him!) and coin...and employment! It took all of his control as a man to maintain his composure. "Lady, I would be glad to accom... follow... you to wherever you need to go, if you pay an adquedet...pay the right amount." He tried miserably to match her vocabulary and failed more than miserably. But she probably had gone to school, so she was supposed to be smart! "I'm sorry if I'm not as smart as you, Lady, but I'm an honest merc. You aren't here to buy my head, just my blade!" At this he patted the longsword at his back. The sword at his side was dwarfed by the longsword. However, even though he enjoyed working with two-handed blades, his short sword had seen more battles. He used to have a pair of throwing axes, but like most throwing axes they were lost in a battle. He wasn't all that accurate with them anyways... He leaned forward, starting the bartering. "My price is 50 gold per day, plus 20% of any treasure you are seeking." The price he named was overly extortionate, but it was bartering, after all!
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Muse
Incubi
Normalacy may be overrated, but chaos doesn't get enough points.
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Posts: 8
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Waiting
Nov 21, 2006 12:19:19 GMT -5
Post by Muse on Nov 21, 2006 12:19:19 GMT -5
The swordsman’s hunched posture was one she expected of a man of his cloth, distrust coiled within every inch of him, his body so tense with power it was absolutely delicious to behold; Janice did not even attempt to hide her mildly feral smirk, here was the hound she needed; the wolf, the arm to her mind, the blade for her tactics, though his fumbling of speech and subsequent commentary on his mental well being would require a simplification of tactics, even if the man’s glazed look hadn’t given it away earlier. He was perfect…though some washing and refitting would be in order, but later. Inclining her head slightly, he was quite tall even when hunched over, she replied with a quick verbosity that kept her alive many a time. “Done, I have paid more for men far less qualified than thee; but my purpose doth offer naught by way of gold and other treasures, honor and glory and fighting aplenty, yes; mingling with nobles in the palace and exchanging witty banter…or in thy case standing aside with thine intimidating manner to keep a blade from my back, but shinies will naught be found outright for a goodly while. I will require thine skill with the blade for what could either be the space of three months to three years, one never knows how quickly word gets around in new courts; I require unquestioning obedience, a firm protection of my personage, and should I say toad thou shalt hop, savvy?”
She allowed the mercenary little time to absorb what she said, if he understood any of it, during her pause a second, less desirable merc saw fit to grope what he’d been ogling since she’d walked in the front door as he passed behind her. As she felt that hand sliding along her backside Janice tensed; physical contact without permission for either party was most improper within her mind, though she would forgive such a discretion from the swordsman before her as the swordsman knew littler of her and her code of conduct, though she may have to instruct him on the bare bones if he were to pass as her guard; she couldn’t allow herself to be so forgiving of a stranger she had no dealings with. She tolerated the contact, curious as to how her newly hired man would react to his employer being handled thusly; the merc wasn’t being subtle about it at all, her left eye twitched before Janice smoothed her complexion once more, waiting a bit and allowing the man his dreams of gold and violence a bit while waiting for his reaction.
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Waiting
Nov 22, 2006 0:08:44 GMT -5
Post by Non-Player Characters on Nov 22, 2006 0:08:44 GMT -5
Thorkan sat for a moment trying to translate the woman's speech. Done...honor....stuff about fighting and nobles and after that he just stopped paying attention. She was truly going to pay him 50 gold a day, just to be her bodyguard and swordsman? The blood drained momentarily from his head as he digested that information. He felt lightheaded. However, after a bit his common sense crept on back. 50 gold a day was a lot of money. She might be trying to trick him... He looked up as the shadow of another merc fell across the table. Thorkan's face flushed with anger. The man was violating the unspoken yet powerful Merc's Code. The code dictated that no merc could approach during a transaction. Thorkon was not sure where exactly he learned the ways of the Code, but they were there and very real. Guards joked about the 'honor' of a mercenary, but what did they know? Thorkan was already directing a piercing glare at the man when he caught sight of his new employer's expression. The look confused him for only a moment before he noticed the placement of the merc's hand. Rage filled him and he shot out of his seat. The heavy wooden chair tipped over and hit the ground with a clatter that silenced the room. All eyes were on him for only a second. The other mercs knew what had happened and who was at fault. He had their unspoken support. Though they had turned away, no one in the room spoke. The silence was another part of the code; it signaled support for him. Had he been wrong, they would have continued speaking. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the barkeep move the ale mugs off the counter. Rage had enhanced his perceptions; he took in his surroundings in only a moment. The chair had not finished rebounding by the time he moved. With one arm he grabbed the shoulder of the offending merc and twisted him around. With the other he drew his knife, another signal. A knife attack was reserved for non-mercs. In accordance with the Code, Thorkan was showing that this man lacked honor. When one merc attacked another it was always with a sword. Using his forward motion he pushed the man off-balance, and they both crashed to the floor. Thorkan still had the upper hand. He was on top, and had a weapon drawn. The offender took the force of the fall. "Apologize." Thorkan held the knife across the man's throat. The man, obviously inebriated, looked about the room as if trying to find a sympathetic party. Thorkan pushed the knife down harder. "I-I apologize." The man's voice was scarcely above a whisper. "Louder! Tell the Lady why!" "I'm sorry I groped ya, Lady. By the Code, I apologize! But ye've got a mighty fine a-" Thorkan stopped him before he could continue. Still lying on the floor, he lifted the knife and flipped it in his fingers once. With a quick swipe he made a long cut across the bridge of the man's nose, going from right to left. He had now been marked as a deviant from the Code, and people would know to watch him closely. Thorkan then stood up and offered the man his hand. Blood welled from the cut and poured down his face, but the man made no effort to wipe it away. That was a small mark in his favor; it showed some strength. The man refused to make eye contact with anyone in the room. Thorkan shoved him, causing him to flip over a chair and slide across an empty table. Again, that was in keeping with the Code. He wasn't trying to be unnecessarily cruel, but until the cut stopped bleeding the dishonored merc was to be humiliated and punished. If he showed no sign of anger, nor did he protest, his honor would be somewhat restored. Indeed, as Thorkan turned back to the Lady, someone from across the room lobbed a rag coated in some liquid at the man. From the acrid odor, he assumed it was urine. The rag landed on the man's head, but he did not remove it. Rather, he just righted the chair he had been flipped into and sat down, rag on his head.
"m'Lady, did you get hurt? Would you like anything more from him? An ear, perhaps? A finger?" Thorkan hastily took his seat again. The fight had drawn him closer to her, and he towered over her when standing. It was good policy to sit while talking with employers.
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Muse
Incubi
Normalacy may be overrated, but chaos doesn't get enough points.
???????? ?????????? ?
Posts: 8
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Waiting
Nov 26, 2006 12:44:50 GMT -5
Post by Muse on Nov 26, 2006 12:44:50 GMT -5
Janice was doubly impressed by how the merc she just hired handled the situation, and by the reactions of those other mercenaries in the bar; she’d heard of this code the offending merc swore by in his apology before and had made note of it; even now she flipped out her little book and began adding to the too short passage on it; apparently anything humiliating was acceptable in this situation, or painful, and she fully intended to insert a bit of her own people’s culture into this man’s mind, and those of the mercs around her. If she shook it off it might be viewed as cowardice, or she could be seen as far too lenient, but she had no intention of walking away after being groped thusly. Schooling her face into a placid, albeit pleasant mask, she walked toward the man that had touched her, HER, a noble in her own right several times over, someone worthy of respect and adoration, reverence, even, in the proper parts of the country. Oh yes, he’d get a dose of her people’s own code of conduct, and he’d enjoy it. Eyes narrowing as she permitted herself a growl low in the back of her throat, expelled with a curt command for her new man. “Dagger.” It was well known, in the courts at least, that Janice was least vocal when she was enraged.
After waiting moments longer than what she thought would be needed for the merc to react to her command promptly she spared him an arched brow coupled with an annoyed, expectant glare, the slightest tilt to her head a common noble’s body language conveying her impatience and that the man should do as she said immediately if he wanted the gold she promised.
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Post by Non-Player Characters on Dec 3, 2006 0:34:30 GMT -5
Thorkan hesitated briefly. A dagger was a personal instrument; he would never have hesitated to hand over his sword, but asking for a dagger was...not done. However, employers' commands trumped the Code. He quickly flipped out his dagger and spun it about in his hand, holding it by the blade and presenting the hilt to the Lady. He wondered what she would do to the man. Surely, she was a strange woman! Rarely did such a royal personage find its way to the Smashing Boulders. The wealthy paid the guard for protection. He wondered if perhaps she was running from the guard. No...No. She was too confident for that. The room was full of energy and tension as everyone waited to see what the woman would do to the shamed man. Did she know what honor she brought to herself and this man by accepting the Code? Did she even know of the Code, or was she just ruthless? Either way, this man would soon regain his status. Unless she killed him. Thorkan considered that possibility. If she killed him, she would be within her rights. But harasssment was not grounds for killing by the Code, and she would find it hard to hire a merc after him. However, he was already hired; he would follow her regardless of her actions today. At the same time, he knew that whatever action she took would help him understand her. Was she the type to kill at any insult, or was she more principled? Was he being hired as an assassin or a guard?
All the thinking was making his head hurt. He wondered if she would give him an advance on his payment for more ale...
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Muse
Incubi
Normalacy may be overrated, but chaos doesn't get enough points.
???????? ?????????? ?
Posts: 8
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Waiting
Jun 7, 2007 19:43:08 GMT -5
Post by Muse on Jun 7, 2007 19:43:08 GMT -5
Oddly silent for such a verbose woman Janice flipped the dagger up with expert skill, spinning the blade so she was holding it properly. Oh this lout would pay, no skin that graced her personage without her permission was allowed to remain in existence and so she would see to it that would be the case. Faster than a serpent’s strike her free hand darted out, grabbing the grimy wrist of the merc that had groped her, fine features twisted in disgust as she jerked his arm up roughly so all could see what she was about to do. Wordlessly she pulled the dagger up, pressing the blade along the offending palm and with one neat stroke sliced off a thin fillet of his skin and flesh. Any screams would be ignored, if the man would, in fact, scream. A quick flick of the wrist freed the strip of skin that was red and slightly meaty on the one side, another twist had it resting along the flat of her man’s dagger. She released the merc then, letting him stand or fall as he would and wiped her hand off on a semi-clean rag that was next to her on a table. For drama’s sake, or honor’s sake, or whatever it was these oafs held true to them she lifted the blade and turned it for all who cared to watch to do as they wilt.
A spoken word had the blade of the dagger red hot and the flesh on it sizzling and popping, for all the world it could have been fish or venison. Another word had the blade cooling and she knelt and extended the scrap of flesh to the man that had groped her. “Eat it, thou cur.” She snarled, eyes narrow and voice colder than the depths of winter. “Lest I force it down thine gullet.”
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Waiting
Jun 7, 2007 23:24:41 GMT -5
Post by Non-Player Characters on Jun 7, 2007 23:24:41 GMT -5
The man's eyes never left the blade of the dagger as it passed from merc to Lady. They followed its intricate dance through the air with only a slight hint of fear. He had made a simple mistake in his judgment, but it would only be worse if he pleaded for mercy. It was a hard world, and sometimes the smallest mistakes have the biggest repercussions. The first bite of the dagger into his palm made him hiss. He winced, but refused to close his eyes or scream. The same alcohol that had trumped his common senses earlier may have helped dull some of the pain, but it was still beyond description. His hand stayed in the air for some time after she had released it; he couldn't feel the exact moment she had finished slicing. His hand bled profusely and the pain was excruciating, yet he refused to faint. The smell of cooked meat filled the room as she enchanted the blade. Some part of him that was still aware quailed at what might be coming next. Suddenly he realized that she was speaking to him. He struggled to listen through the haze of pain. She wanted him to... what?! Blood dripped into his eye from the cut across his nose, reminding him of what was at stake. With his good hand he grabbed the cooked flesh. He crammed it into his mouth hurriedly, then returned his hand to the arm of the chair. He tried not to think; tried to convince himself that it was just chicken, but he could taste the distinct flavor of salt and oil and dirt that made it skin. Finally, it was done. He swallowed. In his weakness, he sent a mental prayer to the gods that it was over, that he had regained his honor. He wasn't sure if it was his prayer or just luck that the cut across his nose dried quickly, but it had stopped bleeding by the time he had swallowed the slice of his skin. A barmaid ran over with hot water and bandages and began applying a poultice to his hand.
Suddenly the unnatural silence in the bar broke. Activities resumed and no comment was made on the incident. The man sighed in relief. He had come through the gauntlet alive and had redeemed himself. Stories would be told of his constitution and bravery, perhaps. He'd be scarred and branded as a codebreaker, but a living codebreaker is a man who has reclaimed his honor. With that, he finally relaxed into oblivion and passed out.
Thorkan looked at the Lady with new respect. She gave no quarter and clearly was not one of the soft type of royalty. She had the silk of a princess and the spine of a mercenary. So why did she need him? Could it be that she wanted...? 50 gold was still a lot to pay for a 'companion,' and there were places to buy 'professionals.' Thorkan had taken care of himself all of his life, but this Lady made him put up more barriers. He knew that sometimes mercs were hired just so the employer could plant evidence blaming them for a crime. That was most likely. The Lady murdered someone, maybe a husband or a lover or a politician, and needed a scapegoat. So she goes out and gets the biggest lunk she can find. Draws him out with money. And the next thing he sees is the bars of jail or the hanging noose. Thorkan rubbed his neck absently. Still, he'd agreed, hadn't he? He was honor and Code-bound to serve until released, and she had contracted him for as long as she was willing to pay. So he waited, silently, to be told what to do. And he hoped she'd give his dagger back. He felt naked without the trusty blade on his belt. And he definitely would need more ale after tonight.
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Muse
Incubi
Normalacy may be overrated, but chaos doesn't get enough points.
???????? ?????????? ?
Posts: 8
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Post by Muse on Jun 8, 2007 0:05:23 GMT -5
“I trust I acted properly according to thine code?” Janice finally spoke, wiping the blade clean on her own kerchief as it was a fine dagger, worthy of its owner before she returned it to him, an eyebrow raised in query. She’d acted according to her own laws and code but was not above making certain hers and others were aligned, especially with such dramatic action. Even more so with dramatic action, because it stood out in the minds of those about, if one took into account her beauty and royal ways…well, most everyone would remember some detail or another of this and it was best that she did right by them. She glanced back down at the man that had wronged her, the wrongdoing having been dealt with, and walked to the bar, waving to get the notice of the barkeep. Part of her wanted to drag him to another place, one that was, in a word, cleaner and had better equipped for what it was she would need to see to next. But it would only do to remain within her man’s turf, keep him comfortable as she made the changes in his appearance that would be required and took care of explaining, in his terms, exactly what it was she needed him for. “Sirrah, I require a room of the highest caliber within thine establishment for my man and myself for the duration of the evening.”
A glance back over her shoulder at the man with whom she’d be working for so long, she was entirely serious when she mentioned that she had no inkling as to how long she’d need this lackey. Janice sniffed in distaste before looking back to the barkeep and continuing, oh yes, there was much work to be done. “I shall also require that a bath be drawn for my man and myself and will require tools for shaving and trimming. Have it all within half an hour and thou shalt receive a hefty bonus for speed. If thee can also send one of thine fine ladies to retrieve several bolts of velvet and measures of buckskin from the merchant down the road she will find herself in possession of plenty of gold as well, and there will be more for thine pocket. If thou hast meals to serve, I shall require enough for myself and double what thou wouldst serve me for him,” She inclined her head in the man’s direction. “And wine as well, ale for my man. Expedience in these matters will mean more gold for thine establishment.”
Having finished explaining her desires she set a small pouch full of gold in front of the barkeep, normally in a place such as this she’d never do something so foolish but now she had a blade to her name, and the blade was skilled. “There is far more where this comes from, good sir. I trust we have an accord?” She inclined her head and quirked a brow, motioning to the same serving wench that had stood next to her when she entered the tavern. Appeased when the woman wove her way over Janice slipped a hand to her hip and pulled out a ruby pendant, and slipped it around the wench’s neck with a wink. “Now that I have thee’s attention…Wilt thou do as I ask, lady, or will thee require more convincing of my sincerity? Here is the gold thou wilt require to make the aforementioned purchases, bolts of black velvet and buckskin, silver chain and enamel armor trimmed with red. The merchant down the rode has all I ask in copious amounts, present this letter,” She presented a folded parchment sealed with wax to the girl as well as a purse of coin. “And the gold and thou shalt receive what I ask for and have free range to choose silks and gems to thine pleasure worth far more than what is in this little bag. I trust I have thine agreement…?” Her voice low and smooth as she spoke to both the barkeep and the bar wench, people of this cloth, rough, will do most anything when presented with enough gold. The fact that she was also very, very good at this didn’t hurt in the slightest.
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Waiting
Jun 16, 2007 13:04:52 GMT -5
Post by Non-Player Characters on Jun 16, 2007 13:04:52 GMT -5
Thorkan looked at the Lady with new respect. That awesome display...was for the Code? The man's trial of pain would become one of legend. After all, it wasn't common that a non-merc would dirty their hands in the trial of pain. Asking them to participate is just a formality. Employers just ask for money in return, as if money could buy honor. In the mercenary world, almost everything but honor could be bought. Your blade and body could be bought and used in deeds foul or fair. However, it was up to you to carry out those deeds with honor. So it came as an extra surprise when not only did the Lady accept the offer, she did so with a trial of pain most would beg to have. She was unpredictable and dangerous, and for the hundredth time Thorkan wondered what he had gotten himself into.
The barkeep listened as the mysterious patron began to describe what she wanted. He tried to keep his expression bland, yet serious, but as she continued to speak his confusion continued to rise. She was speaking Standard, he decided, but it was like hearing a foreign language he'd learned long ago. A good room, yes. A bath. Cloth. Gold! Food, wine, and ale. Gold! But what does one serve the higher class? The barkeep's mind raced frantically... And stopped, frozen at the sight of the bag of gold on his counter. If the patron was willing to fling money about like this, why, she could BUY the tavern. He hoped that was not the case. Spurred on by the gold, he began formulating a plan to get all of this done. He turned and whispered to the kitchen boy and a maid. If this worked, he'd have enough money to restock what was taken. Hopefully the cook had put a loaf of bread in the oven this evening; it'd take too long to cook it from scratch now. The barkeep turned his attention back to the woman in time to see her slip a ruby pendant about his cousin's neck. She was shining with joy and a touch of greed. Jewels of such finery never make it to establishments such as these! With a memory long trained by years of serving tables, she easily memorized the instructions and was out the door without a second word, tucking the ruby into her bosom as she ran.
The maid came back downstairs and signaled to him. Good, the room was ready. He could smell the aroma of cooked meat coming from the kitchen. Dinner...he could only hope that was coming along. "M'lady, we have prepared a room upstairs for you. It is a double room, a master suite with a bath and adjoined servant's quarters. Do you wish to eat in your room? Do you prefer eating before or after your bath? Your water will be heated if you wish to bathe first."
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Muse
Incubi
Normalacy may be overrated, but chaos doesn't get enough points.
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Posts: 8
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Waiting
Jun 21, 2007 21:12:45 GMT -5
Post by Muse on Jun 21, 2007 21:12:45 GMT -5
“We shall dine in our rooms, we’ll eat after I’ve cleaned up yon merc,” Janice motioned to her man mildly with a twitch of her nose, he truly needed a bath. “And as soon as my man has bathed I would care for a bath for my own personage, and I want everything the young woman has with her when she returns to be delivered to my room.” Having said her piece she turned on her heel and strode upstairs to her room, preparing to plan and scheme and…get elbow deep in suds and grit as she bathed her hired blade. This evening, while fortuitous, was taking a rough and grimy turn. A curt motion to the man she’d hired intended to have him following her. They’d introduce themselves properly within the room and she’d set about stripping him down and scraping off the grime and grit of it seemed about three years from the brute. She entered the room and lay her bag down on her bed, set her tessens aside and stripped out of her leathers, leaving her in a simple white tunic and her trousers and boots, she was sore, very, very sore from all of the riding and jogging.
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