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Secrets Beneath the Stone
Topic Started: Aug 1 2013, 10:50 PM (631 Views)
Jordan

William found himself silently thanking forethought for setting up his tent early as rain pattered against it's fur-lined surface. He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, sitting back and watching the dirt turn into mud through the opening of his tent. They had been on this expedition for over a month and had little of value within the ruins. But still, his master insisted that they need to explore more deeply.

But he still didn't get the whole point of mercenaries, especially when they had guards from the College with them. He also did not understand why it was his duty to tend to the mercenaries when they arrived- if they arrived- and to see to it they are ready, willing, and prepared for delving into a ruin that so far has shown no signs of danger. But of course, the old man has insisted, so everyone has obeyed.
He shook his head at himself for a small moment when he realized that he was technically one of those people in 'everyone'. He had complained a little, but hadn't really outright opposed it all. One had to figure it was futile, after all.

He grabbed his robe from his cot and mantled it over his shoulders, raising the hood over his head to protect himself as best he could from the rain. If nothing else he could at least pretend to do his job, instead of moping around his tent waiting for commotion or arrivals. He made his way through the camp, nodding and waving at people as they acknowledged him. He had been with the college for nearing eight years now, and he still wasn't remarkably comfortable with all of the people in it. Some came and went, and others just sort of existed there forever, like his master. Very few of them made him remarkably comfortable.

He found his master at the entrance of the buried ruin, the massive stone gates that lead deep into the belly of the world staring at them, the blackness within barely fought by some torches they had placed when they first arrived. They had parts of it mapped out, and those maps were set across tables they had set up in the entry hallway. Rough, blackened stone supported fine oaken tables, and servants and assistants rushed to-and-fro, trying to keep things organized and prepared. All the while, Luthios stood quietly, contemplating what he could possibly find within. He imagined, anyway. He wasn't that great at reading the old man, even after so long together as student and teacher.

So where are we going from here then, Master?
William always felt uncomfortable using the word, and he was usually berated for using it, but it was t he only phrase that seemed to make sense.

Don't call me that.” His voice was distant, and he didn't turn his gaze from the path that led deeper into the maze of corridors. They still weren't sure of what exactly this ruin was. The build suggested something military, but what corridors they found suggested something more civilian, or professional. No theories were really forming well.
Luthios sighed and finally turned towards his apprentice, “Have any sword arms found their ways here? In fact, why are you here and not waiting for arrivals with Cathias?

William sighed, knowing what was coming, “I'm still a little disagreeable on the need for mercenaries, Sir. And Cathias is handling it himself just fine.

Luthios' gaze narrowed sharply and William found himself physically shirking from his master. His paranoia seemed to scream that maybe, just maybe, the rain had gotten harder. He could swear he heard thunder in the distance as well. Luthios didn't need to say anything beyond, “Go.

He certainly listened then. A quick trot carried him back out of the ruin and towards the other end of the camp, waiting for arrivals from the area around them. They were in Androlothia, he knew, and his Master had taken special care that every town within a few miles had a notice that mercenaries were wanted, with explicit instructions to find the ruin.

As he approached the edge of the camp he was reminded that said ruin was on the edge of a swamp, very nearly at the border of the country that was considered the only bastion of 'safety' in this region of the world. They were dangerously near tribal territories, and he had a feeling that any sort of help they may obtain is probably insane, suspicious, or both.

Without a word, William took a seat next to a young man, a few years older then himself, who was waiting in his arms and armor. His armor was leather, for the most part, with mesh mail in a few choice places beneath the surface of it. The right breast had the inscription of a sword crossing a staff to represent the man's rank amongst the Eirdehal.
Cathias flashed William a smile, leaning against the table as comfortably as he did anything else, “Good ta' see you joined us once again, Will. I'd hate to see ya miss the recruitment, after all.

William ignored him, hoping to gods old and new that someone would arrive soon so they could get back to work.
Edited by Jordan, Aug 1 2013, 10:51 PM.
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Hruolan
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Decatur Beech, famed soldier of fortune, mercenary captain-general of the feared Iron Brotherhood, the most ruthless pack of feral cutthroats and ruffians in all the Western Hearthlands, was taking a piss. And his piss was taking its sweet time, too. Damn thing about being hungover, is that no matter how bad you felt the next morning, you were liable to repeat the debauchery as soon as you had the chance. He assumed it had been debauchery, but his memory was a bit spotty, being honest, and his criteria for that sort of thing had grown quite lax of late. Now just getting a bottle in hand was half the victory. And speaking of bottles...

He pulled up his trousers, beaten leather things that were a sight thin in the arse and a bit short about the legs, and groped around for the spirits. Predictably the bottle was empty and broken, its sweet ambrosia dried up or drunk up or thrown up. Beech pressed a fist at the white-hot iron lancing through his throbbing skull and stalked out of the alleyway he’d been sleeping in. A stray cat squalled as he limped by. Yet another passerby reminding him that he no longer held any sway with the Iron Brotherhood, nor the princes and dukes that had once feared his name, nor even the local barkeep whose liquor he’d had to trade for with his last knife. It had been a pretty thing with a jeweled handle, once. Though those rubies had bought other drinks weeks ago. He aimed a stray kick at the hissing feline. Yet another fucking critic.

The world was still a bit shaky and oversaturated besides, that bastard red orb of a sun shining down so bright he swore it was intentional, so he took a moment to rest against the stones of whatever building was nearest. Just for a breath. And did his head really need to hurt so much? As he regained his balance he was assaulted by a flurry of notices recently freed from their imprisonment upon some billboard or wall. Just to make the humiliation complete. He slapped them away awkwardly, his mind still a bit numb from everything, but one stubborn document was plastered to a bit of wetness on his thigh. Guess he wasn’t as good at aiming as he once was, or the piss just more obstinate besides. Beech peeled away the stained sheet and held it up for a moment, squinting at the scrawling font through still blurry eyes.

A job? A job! Piddling through some old ruins or some shit. Didn’t matter. Jobs meant silver, and silver meant booze, and booze meant forgetting all his most recent failures, which weren’t a small lot. Of course, taking a job meant he’d have to clean up a bit, but Beech had been through the routine before. He’d probably have to get that dagger back from the barkeep, else find a spare sword lying about somewhere. He had a reputation to look out for, after all, and what kind of mercenary didn’t have a few sharpies about him? Beech felt the unpleasant tingle of rain patter against his threadbare cotton shirt and dampen his already greasy locks. Perfect. A bit of rain to clear the mind. It was just what he needed.

***

He didn’t make it to the campsite until late in the evening, but by then the rain had finally let up. Gloomy area of country, it was, but Beech didn’t care much about weather. He hoped the omnipresent muck and mud of the road leading to the College’s camp would weed out less determined competitors. Course wading through it had given him a nice rime of filth, but it hid the dirt that had been there beforehand. He thought fondly back to that day he’d spent in the Free Cities, now eight years past? Ten? At the spa where they’d caked him in clay and warmed him and then bathed him and it had felt positively divine. What was that girl’s name again? He could almost picture her face, a pretty thing framed in ebon hair so much more luxurious than his own...

Beech shook himself out of his reverie. Mud and rain were as much spa as he’d get these days. He could try to convince himself that this job would turn him around, straighten him out, get him back on his former vainglorious path, but he knew it was a lie. And he’d grown quite tired indeed of lying to himself.

The camp was a tidy little affair, overdecorated College guards strutting about like cocks in a henhouse, scrawny academics twitching this way and that, all the time arguing over minutiae that Beech didn’t pretend to understand. A big bastard with leather armor decorated by a sword and staff stomped up, his square jaw a nice complement to his square frame, and gestured at Beech.

“Merc? Recruiting’s thatta way.”

Beech followed his hand to a table set atop a pair of burned out stones. Behind it sat a nervous-looking scholar, a bit young by any standards, and another guard. The mercenary flashed the thick-necked brute a smile of which only he was capable, both wolfish and leering and somehow charismatic, then turned sharply toward it. He was thankful that old smith had left the door open for him, however unintentionally, and that the blade strapped to his hip was fine steel. Course, he probably wouldn’t want to show his face in that town again, at least not until things cooled down. But that was the beauty of being a mercenary! You never knew where adventure might take you!

“Decatur Beech,” he drawled, bowing grandiosely in front of the recruiter and his lackey, “famed soldier of fortune.” Without waiting for an awed response, he continued with a wink, “You may have heard of me.”
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Jordan

A rumble of distant thunder gave William a start, Cathias shifting uncomfortably as the storm began to get stronger. The two of them shared looks. The Eirdehal had a tendency to interpret things as signs and fates. There was a pseudo-religion to it, and none of them really openly showed others it very often. When you dealt with extra-planar beings as much as most of them do, it begins to make sense. They both shared a look that let the other know they were thinking near the same thing.

But there was a bonus to it. Near the later parts of the day, and after a few groups of sell-swords who made William cringe, the rain began to stop. He could at least rely on the fact that he could do some scrying tonight while his master went into the dungeon. It would be more pleasant then trying to squint through books for the entire night.

A few mercenaries began to trickle in here and there, and a few of them were sent to the back of the camp with their weapons ready and half of their pay given up front. It was a standard contract all things considered, but he still didn't understand why he had to personally be the one looking over them. He'd just be stuck on the surface with the rest of the younger mages, studying whatever was brought up.

Watch out for this one...

William shut his eyes as the familiar voice washed into his head. He did his best to keep Phillithandrios out of his mind, to keep himself safe from whatever the spirit was capable of, but it always found it's way back in eventually. The spirit was more powerful then he anticipated the first time they met. The only clarification he gave the spirit was a short sigh as another mercenary approached, this one seeming just as cock-sure of himself as the rest of them. William still found himself smiling when the man jaunted up and introduced himself, seeming quite sure that he was famous enough

William mildly wondered if he should clap, but instead smiled lightly and tipped his head lightly, “I am afraid, good sir, that I haven't heard of you. But if you're good with that weapon and know how to carry yourself, I will assure you that I will remember your name for the rest of my days.

Cathias turned and raised his brows, surprised that William could actually utilize a diplomatic voice. Even one he was quite sure was mildly passive aggressive. The two worked together a decent amount, which is why Luthios tended to keep them together. Cathias gave a cock-sure smile and nodded towards the man, “Rumors and legends at the most, Mister Beech here is a rather decent mercenary of repute. Or he was.

William chuckled lightly, “Take your new pet to Luthios then, he'll want to meet him like the rest of them. You'll be getting two-hundred gold up front, and the rest of your pay when we're done. If you don't accept that, the path behind you is still quite useful.

Cathias raised his hands and didn't argue, motioning for the man to follow him. The camp wasn't a ridiculously difficult thing to navigate. Many of the buildings were set up so that they gathered energy together, with Luthios' tent in the very center to allow him to gather the absolute amount of energy in the camp. It was a location he did not use at all, as he stood within the ruin doors and waited.

The old man waited, staring blankly into the shadows of the doors beyond. Multiple mercenaries argued for his attentions, but most of them were tossed aside to wait until he decided to finally give his final order.
Edited by Jordan, Aug 7 2013, 05:10 PM.
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Zurgnon

Keyll muttered another curse on the weather as she slogged on through the mud and rain. Normally a walk would be refreshing, even if it was rainy it just meant you appreciated a warm fire that much more. Normally you could light up and enjoy some tobacco while on a walk. This wasn't one of those times, instead the wind was managing to carry the rain under the floppy wide brim of her hat at a sharp enough angle to spoil whatever smoke she managed to get lit. On top of that the damned trails out to this dig site had become a soggy trail of dirt and horse manure that threatened to pull her boots right off despite how tightly they were tied. In fact it seemed the only good things on this little walk was that fact that her heavy jacket was excessively capable at keeping most of her dry and the fact that there was a no-bullshit-job waiting at the end.

The last job she had signed up for seen her unwittingly strangle a noble's heir and sent her in flight. No one was willing to listen to reason that the "victim" had in fact been a murderer Keyll was contracted to find and take care of. Trying to duck the bounty hunters, the majority of which she was on a first name basis with, the now heirless noble had hired led her to snake her way through small backwater towns. It had been a week since she has last seen any evidence of her pursuers and what money she had on hand had just about run out when, as if by providence, she had found a posting for the excavation contract. She tore the paper down to make sure her colleagues wouldn't be able to follow her potential trail so easily.

Thankfully the rain had let up some, enough so she could hear traditional camp noises. The occasional voice, a crackle of a fire pit and the sound of a horse to list a few. The freelancer took a moment to shake her soggy hat free of any pooled water before slapping it back on top. With her numb fingers Keyll clumsily lit her smoke with a sparkster, a nifty handheld device that could create a spark nearly effortless compared to the more laborious options. Taking a long inhale, the influx of heat was a relish as much was the flavor and soothing tingle that followed. While the walk wasn't any easier it was excessively more enjoyable. By the time she was left with a nub to squash under her muddy boot, Keyll had reached the camp in proper.

It was about what she had expected, a small tumor-like growth of civilization in the wilderness. A hodgepodge of tents and people going about their routines. She eve picked out a few sell swords, hard eyed men and women. Either they had answered the ad as well or this little expedition felt it needed a fair bit of protection. Both were troubling, one if she wanted a job at all the other indicated this no-bullshit-job wasn't quite the easy money she had hoped.

One of the other contractors seen her and moved to intercept, a heavy set ork wearing thick armor plating and wielding a two-handed cleaver with a blade that seemed thicker than the armor it wore. Before it had even readied the weapon, which looked like it'd cut her in two regardless of any armor plates in her jacket, her hand had pushed back the coat to expose a hand crossbow resting on her hip. Another useful device, the design of the holster allowed it, when drawn with enough force, to automatically pull the string back and lock the bolt in place to allow for a quick draw. The ork's flat features tightened as she, Keyll was guessing from the tooth formation and softer brow that is, inspected the wet and muddy freelancer. It was only a moment, but the two of them had sized each other up. If it came right down to it, Keyll was too tired and worn down from the trek and the orc's armor was radically too thick for her hand crossbow.

"If yer here fer the recruitment, table's on over there." She jerked her head in the vague direction of where it would hopefully be. "Otherwise..." she didn't finish her statement, emphasizing it instead with a tightened grip on the cleaver.

"Here for a job, not an early grave." Keyll muttered the last bit, even still the orc let out a disappointed sigh and moved to let her pass unhindered into the camp. Putting an image to the sounds, it was a lot busier than she imagined with the menials bustling about concerned with firewood, cooking, tending to the animals and other physical jobs with the more cerebral inclined individuals concentrated at the entrance of an imposing stone structure in the distance. Much closer however, was what appeared to be the sign on table hosted by a pair of individuals. One looked like a few of the armed members of this camp, all of them with a similar outfit. It was damningly familiar, but she wasn't certain if it was a mercenary group or a private security firm. The other looked much more akin to the people she typically got hired by, someone who looked unused to physical work and paid too much attention to their personal hygiene than was worth the effort.

These observations fell by the wayside when the individual before them started speaking. From the back he just looked like another worn down bloke stripped of any ostentatious outfits or weaponry, but once she caught the tail end of what he saying. Keyll new without a doubt she had in fact heard of the whore-mongering, booze chasing, traitorous son-of-a-gutterbitch. Last time they had seen each other the famed asshole of fortune had left her and the weedy explorers underground without any rope to get out. It took a miserable week before she found a safe underground stream that got her out. The kicker was that the valuables she had taken from the explorers before dumping their bodies into a deep cave had gotten lost somewhere in the stream.

It took a staggering amount of willpower not to simply draw on him while Decatur was being lead away and put him down like a dog, but truthfully she was too exhausted to do much more than light up another smoke and glare daggers into the back of his skull while she made her way up to the little stand with the scribe-or-whatever sitting behind it still.

"This here where I sign up, or are you a greeter or something?"

Her voice was more of a growl, she wasn't really bothered by the young kid. Seeing Decatur alive and well stirred up a storm of shit that was distracting her attention. Who knows, maybe she'd get lucky and he'd be struck dead by some failure of the heart or another organ from her anger alone.
Edited by Zurgnon, Aug 11 2013, 08:59 PM.
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Seraph
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Of all the place to end up at, in all of the companies he could have been in, Rune had to be dragged through the muck by a group of rather large, burly, and stupid sell swords. He needed money though and that's why he took them up on being their evening's entertainment back at the inn they had been lazing around in. The smell of a job however yanked them from their booze induced stupor and forced him to tag along if he wanted coin. None of them were even that good looking, all scars and hair (though some of the twenty odd-some men lacked hair on their heads). They dragged the dainty looking Rune along out into this backwoods territory from the comfort of the city he was quite enjoying.

Well, that was a lie. He was hardly enjoying the city, it was nothing like those in the central hearthland. Those cities were a melting pot of culture and with that brought exotic sights and sounds that he couldn't get anywhere else. It also meant a larger audience. He ran a hand through his raven colored hair as the rain beat down on him. He was at the head of pack seeing as his light weight meant he wasn't being sucked down ankles first into the muck like the slabs of beef trailing behind him. They stared at his ass both out of drunken lust and because they were envious of the fact that he seemingly floated above the muck.

His light footfalls barely made an imprint in the grime though he was being as affected by the gloomy conditions as anyone else. This rain and humid air would play havoc with his skin and hair. What a travesty! Such beauty marred by these oafs. He'd have to charge them double when this was over and done with. If they didn't... well... they'd face the wrath of the petite Rune. Man would that be embarrassing. The only thing worse than getting their shit kicked by girl would be getting their shit kicked by a very pretty girlish man.

Luckily the storm soon began to let up as the mercenary company and their entertainment approached the camp. As they did one of the camp guards came up to the leader of the mercenary company. In true over macho fashion (Rune begun to expect these sort of things from the rabble) the merc leader headbutted the guard knocking the man out cold before he got a word in edgewise before rolling on in like a hoard of locusts to devour all the food and alcohol located on the premises leaving poor Rune to smooth things over.

What a bunch of animals. Sighing he walked over to the recruitment table and simply pointed at the group before speaking to William, "I apologize for their... quirks... they're a group of high repute, don't ask me how though I'm just the entertainer they hired on. I mean honestly! Why should I be the one to smooth of their recruitment process! Ingrates! Buffoons! I swear to the maker they're going to have to pay me triple what they owe for this!" another sigh was followed by the feminine Rune pinching the bridge of his nose and facing away from Will as if to calm himself down before speaking again.

Almost like he was slipping into a role and was acting.

He turned once more and faced Will again, "Let's try this again, my name is Rune, those halfwits over there are the Grey Bear Mercenary Company. Hire them on will you. If nothing else they'll be good meat shields."
Edited by Seraph, Aug 8 2013, 08:07 PM.
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Hruolan
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Little shit hadn’t heard of him, but at least the sword-arm had. Though the slight chinked at Decatur’s smile a bit, being honest, if anyone was to blame for his fall from... grace, as it were, it was himself. Hard indeed to cultivate fame and respect, and maybe even a bit of fear besides, when you’re lips are clamped securely to a bottle of liquor. All things considered it wasn’t a bad thing to suck on. Not quite as good as a plump...

Hello there.

Beech’s smile widened to its accustomed lecherousness. It was a woman, and a pretty thing besides. Well, pretty enough. She was wrapped up in a thick coat, face just peeking out under a wide-brimmed hat soggier than his own wet arse, but he recognized her well enough. He’d always had a mind for faces and didn’t forget one once he saw it. Never could remember names though, and often as not he’d forget where he’d seen ‘em anyhow, but you can’t have everything.

But this one. This one he remembered. Saucy little minx, she was. If he recalled correctly, they’d spent a truly unforgettable night together in Whitereach when he’d been working for one baron or another. She was an innocent serving girl, he the gallant swordsman... No, that didn’t sound right. Freyport? In the whorehouse, now twelve years past? She hadn’t aged a day. Or perhaps it had been Westhaven? Blast! Being honest, it didn’t matter where or when or how, but he knew that face and he had a good inkling there was a pleasant fuck associated with it. He’d have to catch up with her later. There was always a chance she’d want to rekindle those memories.

Beech smiled and turned away. Plenty of time for pleasantries once they got in the ruins.
Edited by Hruolan, Aug 8 2013, 08:02 PM.
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Fritz
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Derp
A small group of horses traveled the trail to the ruins. One of the riders piped up and asked a question they had all heard the answer to half a dozen time. Each time the asker and answerer sounding more and more sarcastic and reading the job listing with as much error as they could. Yorkson was an Alacian man, the one who asked, and the answerer being Iggy, their fearless and charismatic leader from Arcacir. Who was surprisingly still pumping blood. "Hey Iggs, wasdat jerb lastin' sahy agern?" Was basically what it sounded like, the annoyance of it amplified at least five fold in another one of their group member's minds, Madalyn who was their newest edition.

The last member of their group, Jacob, gave a small chuckle as he knew where this was going. Nobody knew anything about Jacob, he changed his accent every day and spoke every language the group threw at him. Iggy had told Maddy that they kept him around because he could take a joke and was low maintenance. Before Iggy could even answer Yorkson, Maddy took out her sword and began to cover it in a light coating of oil before wiping it down. Diligently cleaning her sword, she tried her best to ignore them. "Idunnah Yorky. Let'a me find out." Iggy pulled out the job list and started to read off of it. "It says," He said before clearing his throat with too much emphasis. "Der merges ah Eeerdenhill er luking animal-plet selling swerds an'--" He was quickly cut off by Jacob raising his voice and pointing. "Is that the place we're looking for?" And everyone looked up. "Looks like it." Iggy said with a sigh and put the job listing away. "Not continuing?" Jacob asked back and Iggy shook his head. "Nah, you ruined it." With as much forced dread as he could muster. "Praise my ancestors." Maddy chimed in as she finished going over her sword with a clean rag once more.

Yorkson shook his head at her. "What's wrong with you, Malurian, no sense of fun?" He asked as he positioned his horse closer to hers. "Her people only have fun when they're scalping people and sieging castles." Iggy said jokingly. "It was funny the first two times, after that no so much. One person can only take so much language butchering, even if it isn't their first." Maddy retorted trying to defend herself. She was fun, right? "Stick with us and your humour will perk up one of these days, Mal." Jacob mentioned as they closed in on the camp. "I have a name you know. It's-" She started before being cut off by Iggy. "Yeah yeah, you can tell us later. We're heard it enough."

Right before entering the camp, they tied down their horses to a large rock. Finding their way to the recruitment, after asking a few questions on where it was, Iggy took the lead. There were already quite a few people here it seemed. "Hello, may I sign us up? I am Captain Iggy of the Swift Winds Company. You may have heard of-" "Nobody's heard of us." Maddy cut in pessimistically as her mental storage of stories ran through the term 'Swift Winds Company' and nothing came up. Iggy gave her a look and coughed. "Yes, uh, still. Signing up?"
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Jordan

William found himself containing a smile for the most part as the groups of mercenaries began to trickle in in even greater numbers then they had, as if Cathias had been a storm to cast them against the rocks. His leaving helped guide them to safe shores. William would have to inform the man of the comparison later, quite sure he would both agree with the assessment and be completely insulted that William had thought of it. He would often compare Cathias to a fae in that he could never simply take a black and white approach to something, the difficult bastard.

But he supposed that without the man, he should do the job that was assigned to him. He really didn't like the idea of whatever evil doings that his master would plan for him were he foolish enough to toss aside the job and just let the mercenaries run wild. Admittedly getting a look at them, the lot of them were likely as useful as wet paper. Even wet paper could blind you, he supposed.
Or suffocate you, were you creative. He let that image percolate in his mind for a moment before letting out a sigh and standing, grabbing his staff from a lean it had taken against the side of the table. He had been berated for for leaving it places, and he didn't like the idea of one of these fools getting their fingers on it. It wasn't even bound yet.

With a clear of his throat, he decided that the order they approached him would likely be the best approach to take. He approached the woman first, nodding politely, “Let's say I'll greet you with two hundred up front with the promise of more should this little venture go well. There is plenty to go around, so everyone, don't worry about all the others. It's not like you'll magically get their share just because they disappear. This is not a group contract.
He nodded, moving down to the raven haired... woman? His instincts said woman, he'd go with those for now. Still, something about her made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, so he would still be careful for now, lest something insane begin happening and he had to teleport a group of rowdy mercenaries to a plane of hellfire. That would be fun.
And as for you, consider your meat shields hired. Same rate per person, and I would ask that they stop their nonsense or they will be escorted somewhere more suited to their demeanors by our Mage-Guards. Having had to deal with the bastards a few times, I promise you they won't enjoy the experience. Apologies if that is more aggressive then it needs to be, Rune.

He raised his eyebrows to accentuate a shrug, a very animated expression for a man that carried himself as blandly as William often did. The overly gangly gentleman moved down the line still, feeling that he should have just done this in the first place and kept them going as a queue, sending a few off at a time. This was so much simpler then the other methods of one at a time. It was like they cared if they were quality feck-wits. And the bear company were certainly very high on William's Feck-wit scale, to be sure.

But he finally found himself at the back of the line, so to speak, given that mercenaries and those that lived for themselves like that tended to do lines very badly. It was more of an ellipse, really. Regardless, the last approaching group found themselves up to bat, and he truly had no sarcastic remark for them. Yet. He would get there, though, he was quite sure. He sighed and shrugged, “I haven't heard of you but we're not exactly looking for the best this world has to offer, or the most known, or however the hell it's viewed anymore. Two hundred up front for each of you, and you get some more at the end of this little hell ride. I'm, frankly, done sitting around and being bored so.. if that's okay with you follow me to get paid, I suppose.

With a tap of his staff, he was off, and he found himself humming lightly as he led them through the camp towards the towering ruin that found itself at it's central point, quite close to the Mentor's tent. The stone of it was ornate in that it's carvings were almost artistic, but they seemed to lack an exact, artistic focus for it's subject. It was almost random chaos, thrown together by random artists to lend it a feeling of wild and chaotic danger. The insides were very similar, but as paths began to split off within, it was almost as if different art designs found themselves finding purpose in different directions. William had to admit that he wanted to find their purpose, and to see where they go.

Within the room there were so many bodies moving that it felt like the room itself was moving. So many men and women breathing that it felt like the walls were breathing. One found the air to be hotter for the sake of the environment. The young mages had rushed around to construct a dais for Luthios to stand upon, to avoid the push of the masses. Many mercenaries already had their money and awaited for the order, and William found himself moving to stand next to his master, many hands moving in to ensure new mercenaries had their first dose of gold and were ready for whatever it was to come. There was enough people that William felt they were pressing in with a small corp.

Your army should be prepared, Sir. Shall we call muster?

Luthios seemed absent for a moment before nodding his head, clearing his throat and letting a wave of pressure spread over the room, letting all know that their attention was now to be paid. He raised his voice, a small rune on the dais helping to project his voice across the room like a rolling wave of thunder, “All warriors, let your preperations begin. We are going to press into these ruins, and I would implore that you all break into four groups. One group shall accompany me, another shall be accompanying the Guard you met earlier, Cathias. Another will be joining Julios, a Wizard you will find in the corner. My student, William, will be taking the fourth group. Please split into equal groups as you see fit and find your guide.

He looked down at William and didn't offer him a second of explanation as to what had just transpired, William's face locked in a stone expression of surprise that he just been marked as one of the four guides in this expedition. Days leading up to now began to make sense, he began to get why his Mentor had helped him to divine into the corridors to help with their mapping project. Every single corridor of that particular section of the ruin that they could reach was perfectly inscribed into his mind because of the ritual.
And the old fucking bastard planned it all. Sneaky, conniving twat. He felt both betrayed and painfully impressed that the old man had done it so beautifully. And he felt a mild disappointment that he hadn't seen it coming.
He just had to hope he avoided getting the group of idiots. That would top off the sundae.
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Zurgnon

She didn't like her current level of armament. She didn't like her current co-workers. She didn't really like her employer's attitude. She didn't like a lot of things, but part of the profession was putting up with shit you didn't like and coming out on the other side. The smooth faced kid clearly didn't have a very high opinion of the people he was corralling like cattle, and the fact that they hired on the people they did without any concern for cost just made the prospect seem like a bigger pile of shit about to be stepped on.

Like the other “mercenary companies” pulled into this affair. One was nothing more than a platoon of bull headed thugs, more than likely just a group of outlaws who got organized enough to make themselves out as a mockery of an outfit. Along with their signing on being handled by a camp follower who, judging by her looks, earned her living on her backside. Then the other seemed to believe so long as you had enough people to make a drinking club you qualified to call yourself a company. To be fair she was a one person operation and still called it a firm, along with the fact that in the ass end of nowhere one could expect the shit of service to be found.

A bit depressing that she was here, took a bit out of the sting on finding Beech here. If what she had heard was true, his ailing fortunes would've found him working out of the backwater like this place bereft of friends and sycophants.

Taking a quick moment to light another smoke before Keyll followed the smooth faced kid, the agent remembered the last job that went like this. Turned out some asshole thought it'd be a great idea to hire all sorts of colorful individuals, mercenaries and performers solely to seal them up inside of an underground dungeon of sorts with a fairly simple set of brutal rules. Do whatever it took to survive, whoever was left standing in three days got to leave free along with the payment their contract agreed to. Didn't quite play out as planned, turned out one of the mercs in their was a decently skilled alchemist who had some way to make high charged explosives out of bodies. She supplied him with the tools he needed and they along with some other inmates escaped through the makeshift exit.

Even now after all these years the look of surprise on their “employer's” face when they kicked in the door on him brought a smile across her face. A far cry from what was on the decapitated head after the escapees left it mounted over the entrance to his keep. Hopefully this job wouldn't turn into a shit storm like that one, if it did she'd at least have a perfectly good excuse to go after Beech. Silver linings and all.

Keyll's mood remarkably improved when she got the down payment deposited into a couple pouches on her belt and some in a small bag to distribute it across her person to avoid theft. She even managed to give a proper thanks for it. Especially considering it excessively increased what she had on hand to spend and live off of and maybe scrabble back to home. Providing the noble's dogs wouldn't start sniffing around there if they lost her trail out here. Keyll really didn't want to move again, but if it was down to finding another quiet block to settle down on or get a red necklace while she was sleeping...the choice was pretty obvious.

Once inside the sweltering room the choice of where to stand and wait was much less obvious. The press of bodies was a bit alarming to her and Keyll quickly took to trying to get to the peripherals, her hand drifting away from her holstered crossbow and instead had her fingers ready to trigger release-switch in her gloves should some manner of lethal stunt be attempted in the localized chaos in the room. Unfortunately she had lost sight of Beech in the swell as well, but he'd turn up like lice again no doubt at some later point. The other dominating point of interest was a raised area where an older man was presiding over this area like some comedic version of a courtroom. In the role of the baliff or jester was the smooth faced kid from earlier, originally she would have pegged him as being nothing but a rookie having been assigned a job that one of the guards was doing as well. Now upon seeing him in a position of rest near what could only be assumed to be the central authority, it was clear he was the man's dog. A puppy more than likely, but his considered value in this expedition was potentially worth more than anyone else here in the opinion of the old man.

There was an exchange between the two it looked like, a one-sided exchange at least. It looked like the older gentleman was doing something, but truthfully she couldn't hear whatever was being said or sounded over the dull roar of people speaking to each other. Then there was a noticeable change in the room emanating from the dais, the man sitting there touched something on his central throne and suddenly his voice was carried easily even to the edges of the room without a sacrifice in clarity. Magic obviously, which immediately bumped their financier into the upper echelons for most lethal person in the room. Provided the rule of thumb held up that the older a spell caster the more potent they were.

Listening to him the decision to split the expedition into four parts didn't make much sense, not that she had a lot of experience with such activities. Unless they were working under a time frame or searching for something in an area that took up a huge amount of space, there shouldn't have been any need for different groups. She could only hope that Beech would try and worm his way into the old man's good graces to connive some gain out of him, with that in mind she checked out the other prospects. Out of the three William looked to be the best fight on the idea that if he was an apprentice spell caster, his young age put him in the weakest of their ranks so if it came down to it she had more confidence in her ability to take him down than she did Cathias or Juulio. The other being that he was, more than likely, the contractor's protegee. Which meant if shit hit the fan they would be in the presence of the person who should by all rights be considered more valuable than the other two options and deserve assistance from whatever resources his master had at disposal.

Taking a long inhale on her smoke, Keyll waited a moment longer in contemplation. Exhaling out her nose, Keyll left the acrid cloud behind her as she made her way to William. Quietly she took up a standing vigil to see who else was going with the soft kid and just how much this little venture was going to suck depending on who went with who.
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Fritz
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Derp
Madalyn deposited the upfront payment into a coin purse which she stuffed into the bottom of the sack that she usually had slung over her back. She thought to herself what the money could be used for. Equipment repairs, ease of travel, food, bedding and drink. A glance around at her companions showed they had other luxuries in mind, one even mentioning a good 'whore' or two. She tried to remind herself that such was normal and that she was the different one but couldn't help but roll her eyes at them as they filed into the room they were told to go.

Before Maddy could even make a suggestion, Iggy spot up with the most 'brilliant' plan ever. A competition, it seemed. Always like this with these guys. "Lets split up, each of us goes with a different group. Whichever group does the best is the winner." He said before the other two nodded and broke up. The crowds were migrating to their desired locations and Maddy just stood there, seeing which group was left open by her comrades. It only took moments as they picked randomly. Sighing, the Malurian hurried over to the 'young student', 'William.' The one that had spoke to them when they arrived.

Before Maddy arrived, another had already joined this group. A thin yet older woman. She offered a small wave to both of them, as a greeting and attention getter. "Madalyn of Spearforest." She said before quietening down and moving to stand closer to them, indicating that she'll be joining this group.
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Seraph
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Rune responded to William with a similar shrug, "No need, I'm well aware of the situation believe me if I had the power to sever my contract with them I would but alas, they haven't paid me an ounce and wont for some time. If they get too rowdy feel free to blast them in the face with a fireball or something. I'll be sure to point, laugh, and sing a song about it. You'll have no complaints from me." Rune's mood at returned to its normal calm state at the thought of the belligerent bears getting on the bad side of the mages and getting blown to kingdom come.

Mostly because then he could demand payment from the mages instead of them...

...in fact that was a novel idea wasn't it?

He grinned, he'd have to speak to the man in charge of this operation later and try to find some way to wiggle his way out of his contract with the bears. He could hardly stand their presence a moment longer. Though he feared he'd be changed to them for a good long time.

Thoughts of such things were banished as soon as the groups were lead into the ruins themselves. As they were Rune traced his fingers along the ruin walls as they reached the central point where everyone had gathered. Once more he found himself in the presence of the Bears who were making lewd, tasteless jokes and generally being idiots. He so hoped now that the ruins would claim their lives so he wouldn't have to put up with them any longer.

Wait... split up? YES he could escape them! He so despartely tried to but the bears grabbed him by the collar and dragged him with as they stalked off to one corner of the room to wait being assigned a group leader. All the while Rune made pleading eyes towards William like a kicked pupped begging someone to save them from their abusive master.
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Hruolan
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Beech smiled. Just like old times, eh? It had been grand, those eager evenings before chaos erupted, when every man felt their stomach curdle with nervous energy. But not him. He loved the suspense of all of it, the thrill of the job. On the very lip of hell’s hungry maw, not knowing for sure whether you’d slip away from danger or swallowed and shat out in a pile of steaming offal. Brought a great big stupid grin to his face, being honest. He may have been a drunkard and traitor and a fiend, but somehow dire straits always brought out the best in him. Or worst. All depended on whose side you were on.

The mercenary let his eyes wash over the gathered crowd. Course he wasn’t the captain-general of this little outfit, but that role had carried with it far too high a profile for his current stature. In his younger years he’d bathed in the attention and presence of command. Hell, half the swordarms here had probably been suckled on his exploits as babes. The siege of Durham, fourteen long days and nights ‘til Baron von Strapping, or whatever the hulk’s name had been, had offered him a hefty sum to simply open the gates. That hawk-faced lord of Durham hadn’t taken too kindly to him after that, but fortunately the bastard’s head was spiked on his own gate by the evening. Then there was Whispering Pines, a kind of pinnacle of his legendary career, if one had to choose. Beech smiled. Gopher holes. The bane of every Horselord Khan. Even more satisfying when you dug ‘em yourself.

Amidst the throngs Beech picked out a particularly simian group of thugs that made him oddly reminiscent of his own Iron Brotherhood. A pretty young thing spoke for them, a boyish girl, or girlish boy, course at that point he supposed the distinction was moot. Quickest way to a man’s heart was his cock, as he always said, and this delicate creature pranced about like it knew its way about a man’s breeches. It made a bit of sense, he smiled as he smoothed a hand through his greasy hair, that a whore could lead a mercenary company. He’d met plenty of ‘em that took charge well enough in the bedroom. Speaking of whores, where had that little minx ran off to? The one hiding under a hat and coat? Ah, no matter. They could always catch up after the job, assuming she survived it. And if not? Plenty of other maids to relive memories with, even if they were only in his own head and his own hand.

The old boy taking charge of the whole expedition was splitting ‘em off into four groups. Didn’t make much sense to Beech, being honest. Seemed like splitting up was a fairly foolhardy move to make. ‘Less of course the tunnels of these ruins were too cramped for swinging a sword, but that meant swords were planning to be swung. He twisted his smile a bit. A sign of a good captain-general was keeping his men outta harm’s way. Spoils and whatnot, of course, but no one rightly wanted to be a mercenary if there was risk of dying, and hedonism was quite a stiff draught when you’re dead. He’d been good at that in his day, keeping his men alive and away from the thick of it all. For all his faults and mistakes, Beech felt fairly confident the ol’ Iron Brotherhood would at least back him up on that. Never fight a fight you don’t know you can win, and all that.

Beech sighed. By his estimates anyway, the risks seemed least with the ol’ boy up front. Looked old enough to have some experience, and if he knew anything about mages, it was that they only seemed to get stronger as their arse hair got whiter. ‘Til they went mad, of course, but this fellow didn’t look quite decrepit enough for that yet. He sauntered over to the gathering in front of the chief and took a dramatic bow, the kind the he was famous for, then slapped on a plastic grin.

"It is I, Decatur Beech, the Rogue of a Thousand Nations, at your service!" He straightened stiffly, the twinge in his back suddenly needle-sharp, but pressed on with a wink regardless, "Course the womenfolk know me by different name entirely..."
Edited by Hruolan, Aug 12 2013, 09:48 PM.
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Jordan

People began to split apart into different groups, the chosen leaders separated quite well beyond William and Luthios. Cathias, for example, kept his mercenaries together in a formation that was very akin to an army. The man had a tendency to bring order when he could, and it was very apparent here when the room began to actually grow some breathing room as he brought some order to the group that had chosen to stand next to him. Julios had a mild form of order, the man letting the soldiers to group up as they wished and remain with him.

William turned to the few people that grouped up for him and found that he had no clue how he would gather the people up. He opened his mouth for a moment to say something then closed it, shrugging with a sigh. He honestly had no clue what he would say to them admittedly. He watched as his Master picked specific mercenaries, sending some of them away from himself towards the other groups. He at least knew what he wanted, because William had no fucking clue what was going on.

He sighed and saw the Bear company group, a frown on his face at the matter of it all. He was unsure how he could help, but he approached them with his staff lifted, his voice projecting as best as he could muster with his small frame, “Stop your messing around and split into small groups. There's enough of you that if you all take to one group there will be far too many people in a single group. I can assure you that it will effect your payment.

He raised his hands in a way to show that he wasn't going beyond that, moving back to where he was and smiling towards those that had came with him. He had no clue what the hell he was actually supposed to be doing. With a shrug he waited for his master to give any sort of signal.

And it actually brought him some amusement as the first mercenary he had to deal with for the day approached Luthios, introducing himself to the man in a similar manner he had shown to William and Cathias before. Luthios focused on him, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he saw the man and an empty smile crossing his face, “You would think, Mister Beech, that claiming your real name would be a matter of grave danger for you. How many groups are hunting for you? I could tell you after this adventure, if you'd like. For now, please pick a group and prepare. You can surely think of a few names for your grave while you wait, I'm sure.

William was kind of blown away by his Master's reaction, having very rarely seen the man take such a blunt approach to people. He was usually quite a diplomat, and here he seemed to have a particular reason to simply wish to smack the man down. Had the pair had history at some point? He would have to find out, because his curiosity was admittedly too strong to avoid. He smiled, looking up and noticing that his Master was looking directly at him.
Do it. Let them see where we'll be going.

William nodded and walked just in front of the dais, taking his staff in both hands and focusing images in his mind. The mapping they had done, the divining that took nearly a week to get as deep into the ruin as they could reach. It began to form in the air in front of him, showing in depth images of rock covering dust-covered runes that glimmered and shone in places, all leading down to a massive chamber nearly a mile beneath the surface. The mapping showed a door that stood at least twelve feet tall, the look of it too heavy to move without some sort of special action. The mapping stopped just after the door, showing four separate chamber going in different directions.

And the point of the groups revealed itself at this, the paths each seeming to go in quite separate directions. The mapping stopped here, William beginning to shake as the images became more and more detailed. As the stone itself began to actually shape and show exact marks and scratches in it, the exact quality of the runes. For a moment, the runes began to shine brightly, and the image ripped away, and William found himself shaking violently before stumbling backwards, catching himself as best he could. His breath shook for a moment, a few seconds all he really needed to even himself out. With a shake of his head, he stood straight, and nodded to his Master and stepped aside.

Luthios stepped forward, projecting his voice once again, “We will be moving as one group down until we approach the vault. We have maps prepared to reach the area, and once there we will begin the true mission. Cathias will open the gate for us, and we will split into four groups. From there we will be searching for a room known as the Observatorium, and we have indications that these paths beyond will be very dangerous. The group which finds the Observatorium will be getting double the pay that they were offered from the start. If your College guide is dead and cannot clarify that the room is the one you are looking for, then you must either contact us as best you can to come check it out, or you are forfeiting your payment entirely. Your purpose is lost at that point. My group will leave first, then Julios, then William, then Cathias, we will meet at the bottom in the vault in a few hours.

With a wave of his hand, a rift opened into a realm that had only one effect on the room; The head raised massively, and the smell of brimstone washed over the entirely of it. A hand clawed from it, and in a split second, a beast shot out and landed on Luthios' shoulder. The beast looked akin to a monkey, only where it's fur was, it was pure flame. It's eyes burned similarly, and the beast looked out over the room with an almost hungering gaze. The beast jumped from his shoulder and moved forward, it's very presence lighting up the halls and it seemed to follow a path based upon the map that had been projected. Luthios didn't say a work as he pressed forward, implying that those following him should follow quickly.

Julios followed along, his group split into small, select groups to keep the halls from becoming too painfully bunched together.

William smiled to his group, and looked towards Beech with an almost pitying smile, “You can join me if you'd like, sir. I'm not sure about your past, but another sword will be welcome. And I could probably use someone who could carry himself, because it seems I can't do something so simple.

He chuckled as best he could and pressed on, his body still shaking slightly. He forgot how painful it was to delve that deeply into his own mind. His limbs felt like jelly, and he had to use his staff walk on. He passed by Cathias and the man looked at him the same way that he looked at all mages, a Protective father trying to take care of his children. He smiled and kept moving.

And when he was out of the man's sight, his eyes glowed for a single moment as burning energy flowed through his veins. He could feel it as Phillithandrios flowed through him, the creature's energy pouring into the very fiber of his being, lifting his limbs for him with every step. His breath skipped for a moment, and the air around him seemed to chill, but the steps became easier and he took more and more.

All you need do is call upon me, William, and I will help you as best I can.

All he could gather from that was another smile. They would reach the vault soon. And then he got to watch the glory of these mercenaries reacting to who they were actually working for.
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Zurgnon

Never count your fortunes before you cash out, Keyll.

She had been feeling pretty good earlier, only one of the drinking club had come over to their groups, introducing themselves by name and point of origin to which Keyll simply nodded slightly in response.. Madison was her- no, Madalyn, that was the name. The girl didn't seem anything spectacular, but Madalyn seemed more composed than the other members of her “mercenary company” who had all split up one each into the different groups. The Bears got told to disperse into smaller groups, so they'd wind up with some of them but that was much better than all of them. Granted it was completely eclipsed when Beech tried work on currying favor with the old man, the mage's response to the mercenary overpowered her traditional scowl into a wide grin. It felt good to have that nearly forgotten ache in her cheeks again.

Once he started convulsing she almost swore out loud about the fact. Keyll had gotten to deal with a few shamans back in the day who entered trances that induced seizures that were a bit more violent than and taught her that nothing was more problematic than having a spell slinger go down in a twitching heap during a scrap. If Bill pulled stunts like that while projecting a map, however impressive and detailed looking, Keyll didn't have much faith in him being able to handle some serious magic shit deeper in the ruins if they ran into trouble. The shit kept rolling hill since William went completely delusional after his little episode there and then tried to poach Beech into following their him. She almost tried to intervene, maybe accidentally try to work some steel in between Beech's ribs for good measure.

The kid didn't know though.

How could he? He'd never worked with the man. The best possible outcome would be that in his current state Beech would be too desperate for money to try some stupid stunt. Unless the stupid stunt was an attempt to wrest control of the stupid Bears from their harlot-leader and then turn on their employers with a newly minted brigand troop. Keyll exhaled another wave of smoke, figuring next time she needed to lay low that a better choice would be somewhere in high society where it's sunny and warm. Someplace without Bears, Beech or rotgut drinking clubs. Oh, and someplace with a distinct lack of flaming pets pulled from thin air.

OOC: Didn't contribute much, sorry for the wait ,_, just tryin' to get the ball rollan' again
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Hruolan
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Didn’t recognize the old boy, but the bastard didn’t take to kindly to him, neither. Beech shook off the slight. Ain’t no way to be getting by in the mercenary business if you let every man who spoke rudely to you have a piece of your temper. And not saying his real name? Hardly a way to hang a shingle if future employers didn’t know what to call you by. Hardly a way to earn some silver if they didn’t have a name with some meat to sink their teeth into. Sure he might’ve made a few enemies in his day, but everyone did in this kind of business. Everyone rightly good at it, leastwise. Besides, the old timer probably had enough to worry about with his advancing age and all, that threat of worms creeping through your corpse getting closer by the minute. Beech wondered idly for a moment if wizards had a hard time pissing just like every other old man he’d ever known. Did wizards even piss in the first place?

He caught sight of the damsel in that great big mysterious coat and ambled over. Might be he’d enjoy this little romp through the ruins after all. Beech stole a glance at the other group members. Curse it all if it wasn’t that baby-faced apprentice leading ‘em all, and with a look plastered to his face crossed somewhere between vomiting up his insides and shitting ‘em clear out. Beech smiled. Didn’t rightly trust the boy-mage, but what was a job without a little excitement anyhow?

The youngling trounced suddenly up to the dais, bumbling a bit with a shallow display of prestidigitation. Some kind of map. He stifled a yawn. Cartography was never a strong interest. Better to find your own way, and all that. Beech sighed and took a long look at the girl beside him. Damn it if she didn’t look familiar! Where did he know her from?

“...double the pay...”

Beech perked up. He caught the tail end of the old boy’s droning rant, a bit irritated at himself for missing the conditions of the bonus. But that was how things went, he supposed, when your cock was doing the lion’s share of the thinking. A man could only think so many things at once, to be divided accordingly, and if that wasn’t the truth he didn’t rightly know what was.

Finally the crusty wizard’s speech was over and Beech turned to the girl beside him with a leering grin. Time to grease up the ol’ axel again.

“My dear, I must confess that your face is familiar to me...” He winked at her, flashing another of his trademark smiles. Course would’ve been a bit better had his breath not stunk of rot and his teeth been whiter than shit-brown, but one had to use the talents they possessed even if they were a bit rusty. “And I feel that we shared an...” Delicately, delicately. “...intimate experience, perhaps?” He swelled up his chest a bit for effect. He still had it, even after all these years.
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