[h2]Varian Sigmund - Outside the Gates of Dalenham, Ethora[/h2]

“Ah, you are here!” The merchant announced his presence with a wave of his large, meaty hand. He nodded at Varian and looked over at the rest of the troops. The merchant had to do a double take when he saw the half orc. 

“Umm, yes.” He finally articulated. “I am here to dispense the funding and relay any other information to yourself and your group, once the rest of them appear. Speaking of which, how many more are we expecting, sir…?”

“Sigmund. Varian Sigmund.” Varian replied without looking at the merchant, but rather to the interior of the city as he scouted for the rest of the troop. “This will be it.”

“This... this is all, my lord Varian?” The merchant questioned. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his corpulent face. “I assume that all of the individuals you’ve selected are in fact capable fighters. Am I correct?” The merchant said, eyeing the orc and other female fighter. “I wouldn’t want to sending any of them into danger.”

Varian snorted. He knew what the man was really asking. He wasn’t concerned about the well-being of his mercenaries, but rather the welfare of his pockets. He wanted to accomplish the job with as little muscle needed as possible, as the merchant agreed to pay 70 silver to each of them. Even in the situation of his daughter’s life hanging in the balance, the merchant still sought to be as frugal as possible. Yep, it was safe to say Varian was beginning to like the man. “Don’t worry about them. They all know what they’re doing.”

The merchant nodded, reaching into his own bag for a rather large sack, from the sound of the shingling Varian was certain was payment, and a marked map of Ethora. “Very well. First, the matter of payment.” He said, reaching into the large sack and pulled out a smaller sack from inside. Varian was able to peer into the large sack and see a bundle of identical sacks in the larger one. The merchant handed the small sack to Varian. “If you would, inspect the contents of the sack, sir.” He articulated to the Highman, who grabbed the sack from the merchant peered inside. Within it, he saw a bundle of shining silver pieces, the promised individual pay for the completion of the job.

“I’d say there is about 35 pieces in here.” Varian declared. 

“Half the individual pay.” The merchant confirmed, distributing the smaller sacks to each of the other mercenaries. “To each of you, 35 pieces of silver handed out now, and the remaining 35, as well as the 200 surplus, to be given out once my daughter has been returned to me.” 

Varian counted the coins once more to confirm the amount, before looking up to the merchant and nodding his head. The merchant returned the nod, and opened up the map he had with him. “If you would, good Sirs, gather around.” Varian obliged him, walking up next to the merchant and squatting down to look at the open map. It was a rather detailed map of Ethora, marked up with certain important cities and locations, as well as landmarks and trade routes. “Here we have our current location at Dalenham.” He pointed with one of his large, sausage-like fingers. “Over here is Curilan.” He said, his finger moving north to point to the city on the map. The fort is about four kilometers west of the city. It was once a heralded fortress under the control of the Ethorian government, but as the economy declined, many forts like this one were abandoned because of the impracticality of maintaining them.”

“How many men are we expecting inside?” Varian asked the merchant. Even through the hood, he could see the man’s anxiety rising as he answered the Highman.

“About twenty, maybe as many as thirty.” He said, watching the expressions on the faces of the mercenaries to see how they would react. Varian didn’t give much of a facial reaction, but followed with an additional question. “Anything special about these bandits? Do they have an affiliation or benefactor?”

“To my knowledge, they are simply a group of brigands from around the area. Nothing remotely special about them, as far as I hear. The only problem is their number, and fortification.” 

Varian examined the map once more, before standing up. “Alright. We’ll get it done.”

The merchant also rose to meet his gaze, beaming at him. “Excellent! I cannot thank you enough, Sers. Here.” He said, handing the marked map to Varian. “I’ve taken the liberty to mark another area on the map, on the outskirts of Curilan. When the job is complete, proceed to the inn there, known as the ‘Strutting Stag’. I will be awaiting your arrival with the remainder of the payment, in full. Do any of you have any additional questions?” He inquired of the rest of the mercenaries.

[H2]Sir Roland Grey - Ethorian Sea[/h2]

Roland glared at Kace and his extended hand. Instead of grasping it, the Ethorian knight returned his attention to his drink handed to him by one KD the sailors and took a satisfying gulp. 

“How about a story, hmm?” Captain Crewe sat near the other knights, a tankard in his hand as he gazed across the faces of the other knights. “Have you heard of The Knight of Gold?”

“Every Ethorian has heard of that fairy tale,” Roland replied as he rolled his eyes. “A boring children’s tale to ward off young noble lads from being too greedy.”

“But of course, my lord,” Captain Crewe stroked his black beard and smiled. “Of course every tale has a hint of truth in it, do they not?” The captain extended his arms. “The knight of gold! Born in riches, born in beauty and revelry. A strong fighter too, but he had always cared more about what he wore than who he stuck,” The sailors around him laughed merrily at the captains jest.

“Ah, gold. He wore it. He bathed in it, he consumed it,” The Captains smiled quickly faded. “Until it consumed him,” a silence overtook the group as Captain Crewe finished the contents of his mug. 

“As I said,” Roland interjected in the silence. “A children’s tale to stop boys from being too greedy. Nothing more.”