It happened in every town he went to.
Grenaud Corbin gave a rousing speech about the true north strong and free. He spoke of trees - real trees - bearing the fruits of the Canadiens' labour, and of the thriving metropolis of Ronto which had fallen under the control of the American conquerers hundreds of years before. He spoke of his peoples' spirit, and how with sufficient numbers, they would be able to reconquer the sacred Canadian lands from their occupiers and forge a new nation from the bones of an old one. Grenaud would tell them of the bounty which awaited them if they followed him to Ronto to establish a state as powerful as the NCR or Legion.
Inevitably, someone would ask what fruits this conquest. Someone would point out how his vision was nothing more than a nationalist pipe dream. Most people this far south hadn't even heard of "Canada". His arguments for joining his liberation army would fall apart, and people would leave, angry that their time had been wasted, or worse, attack him where he stood. He was usually able to escape, or distract the crowd by tossing a dud grenade, but it would occasionally lead to conflict with the locals. This time, a man had attacked him with a combat knife after screaming something about how Grenaud was "disturbing the peace" and calling him a "dirty northman". Attempts were made by other locals to stop him non-violently, but in the end, Monsieur Corbin was forced to dispatch him with a swift strike from his sword. Nobody attempted to confront him after that, instead going about their daily business as per normal. His post-battle victory speech was somewhat mitigated by the time he spent picking through the man's pockets, claiming the knife and what few caps he had on him for himself. He noticed a flier on him as well, likely having found its way into this man's possession through a trade caravan. "Ah... a golden opportunity, this is!" He said in a heavily accented tone, sheathing the knife in his belt and pocketing the caps, "I shall find this man... this... 'Jacobson'!"
Nobody heard his declamation, however: the crowd from his speech had already dispersed, barring a few especially curious or bored-seeming onlookers. "What are you staring at, ennh?! The speech is over! Go! Allez!!"
They didn't move. Grenaud left in the direction of the Swooning Cazador indicated on the flier. With some caps, he would be able to back up his empty promises with pay. Of course, the amount of mercenaries necessary to liberate Ronto was far beyond anything Grenaud Corbin could hope to pay for, but he pushed such rational thoughts to the back of his mind. He had been doing that a lot lately.
"Bonjour!" he yelled as he fumbled with the brown cloth that was meant to constitute a door, receiving many annoyed (or downright amused) stares from the bar's patrons. "Ehh... if you tied the bottom of this down with--... ennnnh... that is to say, eh--... make it heavier with another weight, it would be a bit easier to open." He continued his search, rather embarrassed by the incident, and he eventually found his way to Jacobson
Extending his hand to shake Jacobson's, he finally spoke: "Salut! I am here about the job offer. You are Monsieur Jacobson, oui?" His tone oozed with blind hope and enthusiasm.
Member
Scrawl Banditta