Rtron — Roleplayer Guild

Just once, Alice would like to feel the novelty of staring down at someone who wasn’t still growing. Even the attendant wasn’t shorter than her. They were eye to eye, with him perhaps having an inch or so on her. It was an unlikely hope, but one that she never quite let die. After all, one must be realistic, but you can’t go through the world without a hope. Suicide would have been preferable to that life. Unabashedly, she gawked at the home of their patron. It was, without a doubt, the wealthiest display she had ever seen. Typically her travels as a mercenary had been for those who couldn’t afford anyone else, or didn’t have any other choices. Those type of patrons that didn’t have wealthy houses and needed soldiers as fast as possible. Few men were willing to hire a woman, much less hire one as short as she was. Regardless, she made do with what jobs she could, and took advantage of the ability to gawk at wealth she would likely never attain while she could. She was caught by surprise as the old serf shoved an envelope in her hand with surprising quickness, and then more or less shoved her out of the building. Before she could read the letter, however, the group was already heading towards an inn. The Black Bull.

Walking into the tavern (being careful not to bang her spear on the doorway.) and being assaulted by the smell, light, and laughter, Alice was forcefully reminded of one thing. I would kill for a bath. The last time she had felt clean was a while ago, and she would have happily paid an unnecessarily expensive amount to be able to bathe in peace. Alas, inns didn’t provide this service. Hopefully they would camp by a river or a spring on their way to search for both the Tome and the thief. While her other companions ordered drinks she took the opportunity to open the envelope given to her before she forgot about it. A quick scan of the contents brought a smile to her face. Well, if they were starting off by getting gold and a free horse, things were certainly looking up. A shadow fell across the letter and she looked up at a clearly drunk patron, smiling benignly at her. “How much?” Alice blinked in confusion for a second, then it clicked into place what he was suggesting. Revulsion rose up in her, and she kept a calm tone only barely. “Oh, no. I’m not in that line of work. Besides, I’m not even that good, if past lovers are to be believed. A tavern girl might be better for you to got…bother.” Much to her surprise, the man shrugged well naturedly, and stumbled off back towards his friends. How the man thought she was a whore was beyond her. She didn’t look anything like one, she wasn’t even attractive enough to be one, and she was carrying a spear (the blade of said spear had a cheap sheathe she could easily remove. She didn’t want to accidentally stab anyone after all) with her. “That is the least pushiest drunk I’ve ever met.” She muttered under her breath, before pushing the envelope into her armor and following her companions.

She got water as well, and smiled slightly at the barman’s expression. Three waters in one night must have been unheard of before now. She couldn’t speak for her nameless companions, who were no doubt continuing to size herself and each other up while she was busy with the barman, but drinking any amount of alcohol was a risk for her. Her small stature tended to turn the lightest amounts into something that could very easily turn her into a stumbling drunk like the rest of the crowd. When she arrived at the table, she was pleasantly surprised to have a seat pulled out for her. Smiling, she said, “And here I thought chivalry was dead amongst mercenaries. Thank you.” Sitting down, she leaned her spear against the nearby wall, within easy reach if things got violent. And besides, even if she couldn’t reach her spear in time, she had a knife on her hip.

As her companions, all but the silent ever so slightly hostile foreigner, introduced themselves Alice relaxed and idly waited. Blake, the polite one. Jagred, the tall one. Espen, the only other female, which had been a surprise. That just left her, since the foreigner didn’t look like he was going to leap up and begin making speeches anytime soon. “I’m Alice, spearwoman extrodanaire” She gestured with the hand that wasn’t holding the water at her spear, “and apparently, message carrier for the Baron.” She drew out the slightly crumpled letter and set on the table within easy reach of anyone who wished to look at it. “He’s going to give us all horses, gold, and what little information he has on the thief. We’re expected to leave in the morning, after his retainer gives us all of this. He wants the Tome returned quickly, and the thief killed as soon as we find them.” Distaste entered her tone at the final nine words. She didn’t like to kill someone without at least the semblance of a trial, but a contract was a contract. She’d try and make it quick.

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