[center][b]Levine, Kingdom of Cormyral [/b][/center] (SpleenxGold) Dust motes suspended in the morning sunlight. Golden shafts speared through thin cotton curtains, spilling out into a small dusty tavern room worth about two meals and a mid morning snack. Splayed out on a thin mattress held up only by a wobbly wooden frame was a young man from the desert. His wiry black hair covered his dark face, save for where his intoxicated snore pushed it away only to suck it back down. An empty bottle laid loosely in his grip, his other hand holding a dinged up flanged mace that had seen fair use. His linen shirt was wrinkled and covered in splotches of the previous night, including the crimson red of an unnecessary brawl over nothing but pride and the will to die. Knives of all sizes scattered the floor where dusty shoes and cloaks laid, and a long curved blade laid hazardly on top of a leather coat meant to be worn under the armor of a soldier. The man twitched his nose and a hand of calloused and bloody knuckles retreated from the bottle to scratch it, falling down to a stubbled cheek after the deed. A stiff breeze sent the curtains of the room into a flap, allowing the breeze to rush in and brush the hair from the man’s face, surrendering it to the morning sun. The man groaned from a sobering headache and opened his deep brown eyes to the optimistic morning rays, greeting it with an angry and pessimistic grunt, disappointed in being alive another day. He wiped his forehead, swiping sweat from a unique tattoo of a hand, an insignia worn by the scholars of the Sakabanatu desert, a very upholding and moral society, whose meaning was long lost in this man’s mind. He only knew of three things now a days, a huge contrast to his days as a student of knowledge and spirituality: one, that every day he lived with the knowledge of the past his heavy wish of death only grew, two, that he knew he was destined to die in a blaze of glory worthy of his long lost relatives and friends, and three, that no matter how hard he tried to die, one woman would intercept him every damn time. Turning onto his shoulder he looked over to the hidden body that also laid on the other side of the bed, the sleeping form of a woman, a woman who only owned the body of a human from the waist up, but the tail of a snake from the waist down, a Lamia. He pushed himself up onto his arms and continued his hungover stare. This was the woman who single handedly ended a massive brawl the night previous, the woman who kept his own throat from being slit when he fell over himself, drunk and belligerent. Of course it wouldn’t have been the best way to go, but at least he would’ve died fighting, and then maybe he would have the chance to see his lost family and tribe, but then again would it have been a worthy death for his cause? Perhaps not, the man shrugged, but then again, he would have been dead. “Someday you’ll break something important” The lamia said as she stirred. “Hil,” It was her nickname for the man that had saved her so long ago, “you can’t keep doing this.” She turned her head towards him; although her eyes remained closed, she still knew exactly where he was. She reached towards him and, after a moment of slight fumbling, managed to grab one of his hands. “At least they are are only scraped and bruised this time.” She said as she lightly touched his knuckles with her fingers. Hildako looked down at Cyra’s fingers and formed a fist, “they will be healed before dusk, and ready for the next fight.” He pursed his lips, a look of annoyance aimed at his traveling companion, “but I suppose that just means you’re going to be ready to intervene by dusk then, too.” “I’m always ready to intervene Hil.” Cyra’s smile belied the fact that Hildako was annoyed. Perhaps she found some degree of enjoyment from annoying the man. Either way she smiled sweetly at her companion as she said “Or maybe -and I know this is quite the stretch- but maybe we could leave for Kern. We could catch a ship to Xoskea from there. I know many consider the southern islands to be a paradise.” “Can’t,” Hildako pulled his hand away from hers while making a face he knew she wouldn’t see anyways, “we have too much work to do here and elsewhere. Moving, sleeping, eating, it costs money, and we need contracts, lots of contracts, the kind you won’t find in Xoskea. But hey, I’m not the one keeping you here with me.” He squirmed slightly at the sound of his final words escaping his lips before he could even think about them, but quietly accepted them with a sigh. “Hil” Cyra said after a long, and almost intentionally overdramatic sigh, “you know we have more than enough money saved up. We wouldn’t even need to waste money on a ship if that was an issue.” She moved her hand up to his forearm and gave it a light squeeze as she asked “Would you at least consider it? Just for a month or two?” “I can’t afford to waste months chasing paradise,” Hildako sat up, looking down at Cyra, long wiry hair falling past his chin, “mercenary contracts are popping up like crazy these last few weeks and the stakes are getting larger along with the rewards. People are getting desperate, and dangerous. I can’t miss this opportunity.” “Just... think about it.” Her tone, and the way there was a distinct pause between the first and second words of her sentence, were a clear indicator of finality in the conversation. She rose from the bed and turned her back to Hildako, something that she never did while in the middle of a conversation, before slithering towards wardrobe that currently held all of their clothes. She misjudged the distance, smacking her head into the wardrobe. “Damn” She cursed, backing away slightly and giving her head a slight shake. Hildako held out hand as if about to warn her, but flinching as he heard the smack. He sucked air between his teeth and slipped onto his feet, kicking aside one of the discarded blades, “you okay, Cy?” “Yes” Her tone disagreed with her. She turned back towards Hildako, showing a bright red spot on her forehead, before turning back to the wardrobe. “Damn!” She cursed again as she smacked the wardrobe’s door against the side of her head. Hildako flinched again, reaching out to move the door out of her way. With a sigh he looked over her new injuries, “and yet I’ve seen you pacify mobs.” Taking her hand into his he guided it into the wardrobe and onto the collar of a fresh shirt. “An army of heavily armored men is something I can handle” Cyra commented as she grasped the shirt. “This…. Monstrosity” There was more than a little venom in her tone, “is not to be trifled with.” She slipped out of her old clothes, either forgetting Hildako was right next to her or simply not caring, as she continued “I swear someone moves this damned thing every time I sleep. AND I’m pretty sure the length of the doors are different as well.” “That would explain the people who break into our rooms at night and move around the furniture too,” Hildako replied, a hand over his eyes. By now he was actually quite used to the situation he found himself in, but still found it polite to preserve modesty. After a brief moment of listening to her struggle with what he assumed was an unruly sleeve he tilted forward on his toes, hand still drawn over his face, “done?” “Maybe?” Cyra not quite answered. She patted herself down and then gave a contented grunt. “Ok. Where are we going today?” “You’re not going to like it,” Hildako answered, taking his hand off his face to inspect the wardrobe for his own change of clothes, “remember fat Gil? He liked what we did with those outlaws and deserters so much he wants to hire us again, this time Grogar if I heard right, big money, big risk, big Grogar, I think he said.” “If he steps on my tail again” Cyra said, “then Eros be my witness I will end him.” Hildako rolled his eyes, “if you want, you can stay here while I go talk to him?” He snatched a new white shirt, and pants and began to clean himself up. “As much as I’d love the chance to catch the bastards who keep moving our wardrobe,” Cyra said, “I’d rather catch some sun.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gil’s office was actually an old guarding post repurposed, long abandoned of any municipal duty after the city expanded past its jurisdiction. The exterior stone walls and crowning watchtower had fallen into disrepair but as soon as one passed the reinforced door, the interior was anything but unnoticed. The walls were lined with trophies and paintings from local games and artists. Littered between the art were the tackiest decorations once could imagine, from gold plated alabaster dragons to Ogryn guards made out of fake ruby and cheap wood. The old slitted windows were replaced with large bow windows that let in floods of light to cover the rugs that covered the floor with an overwhelming amount of popping colors. Hildako poked one of the life sized Ogryns, trying to ignore the headache the very floors of this overdone room was giving his hungover head. The hollow structure tilted back, summoning a groan from a fat man sitting on a fatter chair, the two looking almost symbiotic. “I don’t know why you stay in this game,” Fat Gil continued a previously interrupted conversation, “with your reputation you could be sitting pretty by now but hey, I am not complaining; That last job you did netted me some nice profit with the merchants guilds around here, even landed an obligatory tariff on one road.” “Uh huh,” Hildako turned from the statue and rested his hand on the hilt of his long curved blade that sat upon his belt, armed to the teeth with blades of all shapes and sizes, plus one flanged mace, “so what am I throwing my life at this week?” “A lot,” Gil gave a toothy grin, minus the two front teeth, “things are whipping up. My sister Leona in Mycae can barely keep up with the contracts herself.” Mimicking a hawker he started numbering his fingers, “we got rogue ogryn, we got grogar war bands, we got paramilitary, we got deserters, bandits, goons, armed peasants, strange refugees from the east, we got it all kid!” “You and miss scowl over there are going to be busy,” Gil laughed, “assuming you want the contracts.” “I hope you aren’t going to try and sneak in a few counterfeit Kern silvers in our payment like the last time.” Cyra didn’t quite snarl. Not that receiving those coins was a problem in and of themselves as they did have real silver in them, just not as much silver as the legitimate Kern silvers. She let her snarl turn into a more neutral frown as she added “What’s going on Gil? Everyone is acting as normal, but I can tell there are more soldiers on the streets. The nobility is gearing up for war again. Is Riawin going to restart the war?” “We can only hope so,” Gil shrugged, “that’d mean more business, and definitely more work for you and your friend.” “You two are getting quite a name for yourself, and it’s lining my pocket to be working with you two, so rest assured I’ll have you on the top of the list as always,” Gil gave a wicked smile. Hildako nodded, “that’s great and all, but what about the contracts, what about the action, that’s what I want to hear.” The young man was now turned completely away from the statues, trying to ignore his companion’s potential disappointment while he himself was busy staring down fat Gil. Gil chuckled a wet chuckle, “you see this is why I love you guys, straight to the point, with not a care in the world. Okay I have a few lined up, I assume you want the much more… opportunistic... one again?” “I don’t suppose we could take a more relaxing job,” Cyra said with a sigh, “for once.” She already knew Hildako would throw himself at the most dangerous job without hesitation. Still she could have a bit of hope. “No? Of course not.” Gil folded his fingers across his bulging stomach, “I mean, it isn’t out of the question. Yes I prefer you guys on the biggest and baddest sets, but if you wanted to clean out my small bin first, I wouldn’t object.” Hildako looked at Cyra, his left eye wincing more than it normally did, “C’mon Cyra, we tried that once before, but it was nothing more than stiff warnings and shake downs.” “I like shake downs.” Cyra countered. “There's significantly less people shooting arrows at me. And have you tried digesting chain mail?” “No…” Hildako begrudgingly answered, “but it is a waste of…” he pondered the correct words, “opportunity to advance in the field.” His wince softened into its normal wrinkle, a twitch he has owned since the day he saved Cyra, “I think the larger contracts would be better, at least for me.” Gil made a face and leaned back, “I’d love to say I have all day, but I’m a very busy man. What do you two want.” While impatient, Gil even know better than to attempt to split the two up on separate contracts. “Fine do as you will Hil” She jabbed a finger into his chest, “but don’t pretend that wandering aimlessly through the woods is the same as advancing on an objective.” She prodded him again with her finger before turning to leave the room. There was a moment of hesitation before she slithered towards the door. Hildako gave out a frustrated sigh before looking at Gil, who simply shrugged with an indifference gained after seeing this particular fight many times. Hildako bit his lip in thought. “Why do you keep her around if she just makes your decision making more fuddled,” Gil suddenly asked. “I don’t keep her around, she keeps me around,” Hildako answered mindlessly, “give me the usual.” Gil sighed, knowing what Hhildako meant, having been in this situation before, “two smalls and one big coming right up, kid.” Hildako looked over the man with his wince, “shakedowns?” Gil gave a single prolonged nod, “and one bandit cave.” Hildako sighed, “put my name on them, and have the papers sent to my room at the Gilded Pelican Inn.” “Should make her happy,” Gil snickered, “consider it done.” “Whatever,” Hildako gave a frustrated frown, “hopefully I won’t be seeing you again.” The young man made his way to the door, hearing Gil yell out after him, “AS ALWAYS, KID!” Hildako slammed the door behind him, greeting the noon sun, a busy cobble road fit between run down shops, and one pissed off lamia. “The usual,” Hildako parroted at Cyra, his look of contempt hinted at which usual it was, and not the dangerous kind. Cyra turned slightly towards Hildako, a small smile forming on her face. “Shall we get some breakfast before starting on our day’s work then?”