It was a normal day. The sun was high in the sky and blaring down. Miroslaw had recently acquired a bit of information about a group that goes by the title Sellswords. He had been trying to find a steady source of income, but his skills were quite limited. He knew how to handle himself in battle, and that was really the extent of it. The mercenary life seemed like one that he could get behind, and thus he was pursuing just that.
He was searching for a man going by Quick and a vessle names Treasure Chest. He really had quite a limited array of information beyond the names. He knew it would not be easy to find the ship, as Wistvale was a center for trade. As he arrived at the ports, his worries were justified. The docks were bustling with people going about their business. A plethora of ships ranging from small to enormous lined the docks.
He grimaced at the scene, thinking that it may be more difficult to find what he was looking for than he hoped. It would take a bit of luck to happen upon the ship he was looking for only possessing the name. He traveled around the docks, keeping his senses open for anything that may aid his endeavor. He checked the name of each ship he passed, which was usually fairly easy to spot. He hoped he didn’t need to ask anyone, but he would if he must.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
It did not, in fact, take Miroslaw long to find the boat he was looking for. After walking down the docks he came upon the Treasure Chest (new name pending) and found it teeming with all sorts going to and fro. The ship was as large as a merchant vessel, as it must be to hold the entirety of a guild of mercenaries.
"Hail, stranger."
It was a wonder how Miroslaw could have missed this stranger with his shadow being wide enough for shade. A giant of a man, who easily crowned 7ft if not more, had approached him from behind as he looked over the ship. His voice was forceful and resonated greatly, but it was more of a fault of his being, perhaps, for he did not appear to want trouble.
Resting on his broad shoulder was a large hammer that looked powerful enough to fell a house in one blow. A mane of black hair coupled a rather magnificent beard ornate in rings and knots.
"I've not seen you around the dock before, you perhaps lost?" he spoke again with a thick accent, "Or maybe you find what you have been seeking, yes?"
The giant had noticed Miroslaw carrying weapons and came to the conclusion that he found the right vessel.
Fortune smiled upon Miroslaw. A small smile formed on his face as he found what he was looking for. It looked busy, which was a good sight. Perhaps there was a steady flow of work for him after all.
As he was about to head to the vessel he was was hailed by a hulk of a man. He returned the hail and confirmed the man's suspicion, "Hail.... Aye this looks to be what I was looking for." He smiled at the stranger. He thought that maybe this beast was a member of the organization. He decided to ask. It could be beneficial to get done input from a member before taking the leap. "Are you a member?" He assumed he would understand what he was referring to.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
"Aye, I be part of Grayson's crew. You looking to join, eh?" the man said followed by a hearty laugh. "Good, you look strong, fit for work we do. Follow me."
He motioned for Miroslaw to follow him up the ramp to the deck of the ship. Men and women walked around them all armed and looking every bit as rough as a seasoned crew. On the deck more mercenaries stood at the ready and eyed Miroslaw as he followed the giant to the captain's quarters.
"Oi, Samson, who's the meat?"
The inquiry came from a very thin man standing by the cabin. He wore a bandanna around his mouth and had strands of oily black hair falling down the front of his face. His voice was hoarse, the kind you get after smoking for years.
"He is looking to join us in the mercenaring."
A wicked laugh came from under the cloth, "Hope you're good with that sword, the captain isn't so charitable today."
Samson merely shook his head and ducked under the doorway as he barged right in.
A waft of alcohol and cigarette odor brushed against Miroslaw as he followed in after Samson. He immediately noticed the desk in the center of the room and the man behind it. He wore a dark brown duster and a wide brimmed hat that hid his face as he buried it in a large tome.
"Grayson, someone is here wishing to join the crew."
The hat perked up slightly, Miroslaw could feel Quick giving him a brief look over.
A collection of wine and ale bottles could be seen collected in one corner of the room piled under shelves of scrolls and strange knickknacks that seemed to come from faraway lands. On the wall behind Grayson was a mounted wolf's head with eyes glaring down at the entrance and razor fangs bared.
The Captain finely gave eyes to Miroslaw; they were aged and tired. Messy brown hair hung down the sides of his head and small scars could be seen around the face, more noticeable one in particular across the lower lip.
"Why should I let you on my crew then? You any good with that sword?"
Miroslaw simply nodded at the question. He enjoyed the complement from such a beast, though he did not show it. He followed the huge man, though the name Grayson did not sound familiar to him. He did not imagine the beast he followed could be referring to anything other than the mercenary work he was looking for.
The amount of activity around the ship was a bit much for Miroslaw, but he pressed on anyways, trailing only slightly behind the hulk. He took notice of the eyes that found him and was surprised by how numerous they were. It was clearly a well known group of people. A good sign for Miroslaw. His eyes met the one who questioned about him. He remained behind his hood, but smiled courteously and nodded after the gargantuan spoke of him.
Miroslaw followed into the captain den, ducking slightly if he must. When he entered his eyes found the figure who he assumed was the captain. Before he looked up, he pulled his hood back, revealing his well groomed face. His beard was trimmed, but still thick. He had freshly bathed and, due to the haste at which he pulled his hood down, the scent of musky flowers would come in a slight gust to the hulk. It was a concoction he cooked up during his long stay in the woods. Simply boiled down plants and some other things that smelled nice, creating a perfume like liquid.
He stood, stoically waiting for the captain's acknowledgment. The captain did not look as Miroslaw would have guessed. He expected a more mercenary like leader than what sat before him. Perhaps his stature was larger than he could tell from his seated position. He supposed that there is less brawn associated with running an organization than a bit of brain, but an alcoholic? He pushed the thought to the back of his mind.
After the captain finally spoke to him, he responded with a short explanation, “Aye, I can use it better than most...” He stopped and thought for a second before continuing, “As to why, I am failing to think of a reason as to why not. I possess skills that would be vital to a group of mercenaries.” Miroslaw saw no reason why the man would just take his word for it and fully expected some kind of test. He didn’t think words would have much weight to a group who changed their loyalties with an impulse if it meant an extra coin.
Last Edit: Jan 24, 2014 14:22:36 GMT -5 by Miroslaw
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
Quick appeared disinterested and sighed whilst rubbing his eyes. The question originally came out as if from obligation and not really interested in setting Miroslaw up with the guild.
"Samson, you can vouch for him?" "No, but I trust he will make good first impression. He smells good too." Samson said before winking at Miroslaw.
A half-assed smirk flashed across Grayson's face, "Get to work, leave me and the recruit a moment."
The giant nodded and stepped out of the cabin, his footsteps echoing behind the closed door.
"So what's your name?" Quick said before fetching out some tobacco and rolling it. "Why do you want to join this setup? Looking to make some money, or perhaps you're wanting to make a difference in the world."
He puffed out a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.
Miroslaw remained stoic, despite laughing in his mind at the comment. At least he knew his concoction worked. As the Giant stepped from the room, Miroslaw was genuinely unsure of what to expect. He captain did not seem friendly, but he was not hostile in any sense. As he spoke he realized it was conversation he wanted.
A simple response to the first question, “My name is Miroslaw Zygmunt.” He thought about his response to the next question. He truly only sought money. He cared little of making a difference. He tried to decipher what the character standing before him may want to hear, but he was never good at that. He simple told the truth, “I am really only interested in the pay. I am not sure what difference a single man, like myself, could bring to the world.” Miroslaw didn't sugar coat it, as the establishment didn't seem like one that would be fond of sugar.
Last Edit: Jan 24, 2014 15:14:23 GMT -5 by Miroslaw
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
Grayson studied Miroslaw then as if deciding on something, "Well that's a good a reason as any."
A bellow of smoke escaped his mouth, "I tell you what, there's been a job on my back burner for a while. If you can do it for me not only will I pay you, you can join the crew."
Grayson got up at last and walked around his desk only to lean against the edge of it. He was not much taller than Miroslaw, but the peculiar thing about him was that chains were wrapped around his waist, loosely so that they rattled as he stepped.
"It's a bounty, target tends to hang around town. She's a Hatchling named Neko and very dangerous. She has committed no crime so she's no reason to hide from the authorities, but she crossed us. Neko stole something of mine and I let her keep it this long only because I preferred to have her close and not be given a reason to run. Now, things changed and I need it back."
The cig was put out, "So, up for good and wholesome bounty hunting? I don't need her dead, and you don't want a murder pegged on you. You just have to drag her to me."
Miroslaw was relieved to hear the captains approval of his reason. He was not visibly worried, but he often had a way with words that drew some negative reactions. He listened closely to the proposal and was satisfied by what he heard. Usually this type of organization required some kind of fee to get started. Miroslaw would not have been able to pay a fee of the monetary type, but he could work for it.
He smiled after hearing the proposal, “Definitely up for it. Though, have you any other information that would be useful in finding her?” Miroslaw was doubtful that a name alone would be enough to find the figure. He continued, “Also, would it be adequate to simple acquire whatever it is she took?”
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
Quick laughed, "If you can take it from her, sure, but I'm telling you now that ain't gonna happen. The Hatchling will probably have it on her person at all times and I sense you ain't the thieving kind. You can try to tussle it out of her, but as strong as you think you are she's faster and more cunning. Not to mention she's got a bit of magic."
The Captain motioned for Miroslaw to come forward as he rolled out a map across the desk.
"We need her out of Wistvale so we can confront her without fear of the Sentinels or tarnishing our reputation. I'm thinking this grove here fifteen miles out West will be a good meeting spot. I'll be waiting for you both there personally and I'll deal with her myself if things decide to get bloody."
Grayson points out to Miroslaw the meeting spot on the map then slides his finger to a road not far from it, "You can use this road here to get there. Neko sells her blade for work just like we do, so here's what I'm thinking. If your chance meeting goes smooth, you can make like you're looking for a partner to join you and she was recommended to you. If she agrees, tell her it's a protection job for some goods. I'll set up a fake client tomorrow for you two to meet and we can get started. Sound good to you so far? Neko tends to hang out at the tavern, it's a good place to hear about jobs not to mention that Hatchlings ain' exactly common. If you don't find her there, someone will have seen her."
Miroslaw's curiosity grew at the mention of someone who could be faster than him. He took great pride in his speed and strength. If the captain was so certain he couldn't match her, that was significant. Though, the captain knew little more than his appearance. Her also diverted at the weird magic. He was dreading the thought I'd fighting this hatchling.
He moved closer to quick and listened closely to what he was telling him. It seemed like a solid plan. He nodded at the end of his speech staying, "Sounds like a plan.” Miroslaw waited for any last bits of information before he would extend his hand for a shake to seal the deal.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
Grayson shook Miroslaw's hand, "Good man, once you have her trust report back to me so we can set up the details on the fake job."
Quick motioned for Miroslaw to get out his quarters and returned behind the desk. Before the warrior would leave, there was one more word.
"One thing, don't give her reason to suspect you. She might get the idea to follow you and if she sees this ship she'll know something is up. So don't hint that you're affiliated with us. Now, off with you."
Miroslaw nodded to Quick before taking his leave. As he was about to fade from Quick' presence, he turned his head to heed the last morsel of advice. With one last nod and a simple, “Will do,” he exited the room.
As soon as he left the room he flipped his hood back up. He felt more comfortable when able to hide behind his hood. He meandered his way through the ship, this time without the Giant's assistance. He was in no rush to begin looking for the hatchling. It was fairly early in the day and he had some time to get started.
He found himself deep in thought about this convoluted task. Why would the captain place what seemed like a difficult and important assignment on a new recruit? It seemed a bit rash. Surely, something that is personally important to the captain would be passed to someone who he knew for certain possessed the skills necessary to complete it. Perhaps Miroslaw simply looked more skilled than he realized.
His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed the oversized warrior on his way through the ship. He decided to approach him, despite his antisocial tendencies. The Giant was quite helpful and he deserved at least an appropriate thanking. He opened and ended with "Thanks for you help. Got an assignment I am going to get started on right away. I am sure I will see you around." He kept excess conversation brief before departing the ship and heading straight for the Tavern to look for his target.
(Not sure if you want me to just post as if I am in the tavern here or actually move to the tavern. I will keep it here though and move it if that is what you want.)
Miroslaw sauntered into the Tavern. trying to maintain a sense of compo. His demeanor was his usual, reserved and avoiding attention behind his hood. He looked around, but not receiving a full description, he wouldn't know what to look for exactly. He wasted no time in continuing a hopeless cause and went right to the bar to take a seat. He waved his hand to motion the barkeep over. He wanted to speak quietly and not draw any attention with his target's name.
After getting the attention he desired, motioning the barkeep closer if he did not get close enough to keep the conversation to a dull roar. Miroslaw leans forward to close even more distance and still had to speak louder than he wished due to the clamor of a tavern. "Do you know where I would find a hatchling who goes by Neko?" He inquired in a low gruff whisper.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
::Neko sat in the Tavern, picking absentmindly at the meal before her as she watched people come and go. It had become one of her favorite ways to pass the time between training and visiting friends and family.
Unfortunately, both seemed to be getting in shorter and shorter supply as the days went on. Just as Father was returned to her and she thought her family growing, her Aunt and Uncle had left for some unknown trip and had yet to be heard from. Not to mention her best friend since coming here, Tauer, had also seemed to have left her behind.
So she sat, now somewhat more lost in thought than paying attention to what was going on around her.::
Stanley curiously raised a brow at Miroslaw, "What would you be wanting her for?"
Though the warrior didn't know it, the last time someone had asked the barkeep about Neko they ended up wanting to kill her. Ironic given the circumstances.
Subtly, Stanley cast an eye over at Neko and made a nod like something was up at the bar.
"I don't supposed you're with the rats by chance?"