Post by Eldrin/Vai on Jul 23, 2013 12:21:06 GMT -6
(A quick solo thread to take care of something. The usual warnings apply, vulgar language and whatnot...)
Eldrin sauntered down the street with the swagger of a man just sober enough to still walk. The sinking moon overhead told him that he'd normally be ankle-deep in bottles by this point, but tonight was different... he had business to take care of. The street he was on curved gently through a packed residential area before straightening out as the buildings distanced themselves into some semblance of individuality. On this part of the street the pedestrians grew in number. Flocks of drunken travelers, headed back to the Stock Pott (or cheaper inns, for those who had spent most of their money on booze). Whores stood sentinel on the edges of the street, calling out bawdy comments at passersby like perfumed sirens. A few weren't actually selling themselves, Eldrin knew, but were actually advertising. And push of the crowd toward an old three-story tavern told him it was working.
The Dying Wish was famous in the underside of Terminian society for having the fattest whores and the strongest ale in Clock Town. It was also a hub of sorts for less than lawful dealings. It had been founded years back by a Hylian couple as a legitimate and respectable establishment, but when his wife had died, the owner lost all willpower. The place had been overrun by lowlifes ever since. As Eldrin stepped through the doors, raucous laughter and terrible music washed over him like tidal wave. After a little search, he found his associate near the back of the tavern, in a small alcove, well hidden from the eyes of any nosy drunk.
The squat little old man sat hunched over a table, nursing a glass of brandy far too fancy to have been bought at The Dying Wish. A bit of the brandy dribbled down his thin beard, staining it red where it wasn't already stained yellow from tobacco smoke. He was all but bald, with only little wisps of hair clinging to his spotted scalp. His heavy, extravagantly embroidered robes failed to disguise his weak and failing frame. Next to the table stood a large man in his early twenties.
Eldrin sat down opposite the old man and gave his most disarming smile. "Good evening Sunshine, how's it going?"
Sunshine gave him a sour look and a grunt. He drained his goblet and dropped it carelessly onto the table. "Cut the bullshit Eldrin. We're here on business. Let's get on with it."
"Ah, silly me, small talk's for strangers, no? We're already to the silent contempt part of our relationship, aren't we?" The old man gave no response so Eldrin just side and put a purse on the table. It was too small to be holding a mercenary's price. But what it did hold was worth a fortune. He made sure it was just out of Sunshine's grasp.
"Good. There he is. Sufficient?"
Eldrin glanced at the mercenary, sizing him up. He was broad shouldered and barrel-chested but also had a flat belly and a certain toning to his muscle that implied not just a naturally large build, but also consistent training. He was easily over six foot, and Eldrin had to peer up to see his face. It was a simple face, kind and sort of plain. A peasant's face, honest, but lacking any sort of wit. His eyes were brown and kind of reminded the thief of a dog. The hair on his head was blonde, but the stubble on his jaw was brown. He wore simple clothing, under boiled leather armor. For some reason, his breastplate was removed, and instead sat on the table. (That would make things easier if the deal went south, Eldrin noted.) At his hip hung a strange sword of a kind that Eldrin had never seen. It had the hilt and beginnings of a normal sword, but midway up the blade, it curved it a crescent, like a sickle. The sword was decorated with what looked like some kind of mural engraved into the steel of the blade and a small statuette of a sobbing woman wrought in bronze where the pommel should be. All in all, he seemed a capable fighter, though looks could be deceiving.
"How do I know that's not just some thug you picked up off the street?" Eldrin asked, narrowing his eyes and pulling the purse back ever so slightly.
Sunshine's lips curled back into what could have been loosely called a smile. "Ross, kill the thief."
The mercenary had drawn his strange sickle-sword before Eldrin even had time to realize what was going on. The thief kicked the table with all of his might, sending it sliding into Sunshine's gut and simultaneously upending his own chair. He crashed to the floor just as Ross's sword swung in a vicious arc, right through the air his neck had been occupying moments before. The blade bit into the wood of the table. Eldrin rolled out if the chair and into a crouched position, reaching for his cutlass. He intended to fully capitalize in the precious seconds it would take Ross to dislodge his blade from the wood. His plans were immediately dismantled, as the mercenary's sword came swinging at him before he'd finished that thought. He stumbled back, landing on his ass with about as little grace as possible. The blade passed harmlessly in front of his face. The thief scrambled back out of range and jumped to his feet. He whipped out his cutlass and adopted a fighting stance. It was time to see how this merc handled a foe who was actually fighting back.
The two stood facing each other. There was no sound but their breathing, Ross's calm and controlled, Eldrin's frantic and panicked. It hit the thief dully that Sunshine wasn't their only audience. They had drawn quite a few stares for this commotion, but he would get no help. This was a lawless place, and these people were more interested in seeing blood than preventing it.
The mercenary came in low with a slash, clearly intending to gut the thief. Eldrin parried the sword with his own and punched with Avarice. If he could at least poison his opponent he might stand a chance. But he realized far too late that the attack was a feint. The mercenary caught his wrist with his free hand and twisted, at the same time he hooked his sickle-sword around the knuckleguard of Eldrin's cutlass and ripped the sword from his hand. It went clattering across the tavern floor. Eldrin dully realized that Sunshine was laughing somewhere in the background. The mercenary brought his blade up for the final blow as the thief struggled uselessly against his grasp. Eldrin looked up into the eyes of his killer and saw... sadness?
"Hahaha! That's... enough Ross, we've... heh... we've made our point," Sunshine wheezed through his laughter, and just like that the mercenary released him and returned to where he was standing by the table.
Eldrin walked back over rubbing his wrist and trying to conceal just how embarrassed he was. It was useless however, as he could feel his cheeks burning bright red. He wordlessly slid the purse across the table into Sunshine's waiting grasp.
Sunshine opened the purse and peered inside. Whatever he saw brought a wicked smile to his face. "Good man, Eldrin. You can have him. Ross, let your new boss sign his contract."
To his surprise, the big man produced no paper. But instead removed his shirt and turned his back to them. Across Ross's back was tattooed a long paragraph of some ancient text in a long forgotten language. After staring at the runes for a while the thief turned back to Sunshine, but before he could ask, the old man was already explaining. "It's an old style o' contract. Magical, if you'll believe it. You sign it in blood, and he has to do whatever you say for three turns of the moon."
Eldrin raised an eyebrow. He had been looking to hire a simple bodyguard, not sign a blood pact. "And what exactly is the price for this? My first born son? The blood of a virgin? The soul of an innocent."
Sunshine gave that crackling laugh again. "Nah, nothing so morbid... though that would make things interesting... All you gotta do is agree to let him kill you one day."
Eldrin stared at Sunshine. Sunshine stared at Eldrin. Eldrin raised an eyebrow at Sunshine. Sunshine raised an eyebrow at Eldrin. "This is the part where you laugh your weird laugh, and then say that you're yanking my chain... right?"
Sunshine did laugh, but it didn't seem very encouraging. "Nope. But don't think of it as a hit on yourself... it's more like inspiration for him to keep you alive... for now. Plus, the contract doesn't technically say that you have to die. It says that one of you have to kill the other. Whoever veins becomes the new mercenary... or more likely the old one remains the merc."
So it was either be killed by the merc or become a mercenary and eventually get slaughtered. Or walk away now... Then again, he'd already given Sunshine the purse, and the old man really didn't seem likely to give it back. Plus, if the mercenary had to do whatever he said, he could just tell him to throw himself of a cliff or something and then boom! Problem solved. Eldrin grinned. He loved loopholes.
"Fine then... How do I sign?"
Sunshine slid a dagger gently across the table. "Cut your hand and smear the blood just under the last line of glyphs."
Eldrin ran the blade across his palm making sure to cut deep enough to draw a good amount of blood. As he wiped the blood onto the skin of the contract, it seemed to be absorbed. The blood rearranged itself into glyphs of the same sort that the contract was written. In seconds the skin was dry and his blood had turned into red ink in the form of four runes.
Sunshine whistled from across the table. "Now that's a sight to see. I just wish I could read that language. That's your real name, boy... The one you're famous for keeping a secret..."
Eldrin pretended to ponder this for a moment before moving on with his plan. After all... it wouldn't do to be impolite. "Right, well, first order. Ross, take that purse back from Sunshine and meet me out front... I'm gonna get a carriage. We leave for Kakariko at dawn."
The sound of Sunshine's protests was music to his ears as he walked away from the alcove.
(The end. Not my best work, I know, but I needed to establish Ross quickly... so yeah.)
"O hearken, li'l moppets and gather 'round. Fer I've a yarn ta weave an' a song ta sing. Long years have past since my ears'd hear and my eyes'd see, but they's seen sights an' heard sounds ye'd break yer li'l backs ta see: gallant knights an' maidens fair, the glory o' kings an' the fires o' war. But no ruler's shined so bright as the Summer's King. He was a young king, not much older'n yer lot now. But the realm loved 'im well. He was kind an' strong, an' loyal to his people. But there's folly in e'ery man's heart, an' the Summer's King was no better. Fer ye see, the goddesses had shaped 'im from the same flesh's us. Mebbe a li'l more careful like, but the flesh was no better, an' 'is blood still ran red wit' sin. His was the sin o' lust, but not as we simplefolk take it. He didn't lust fer teats like most men, leastwise not so much, but fer the howl o' warhorns an' the thunder o' drums.
'E dragged 'is kingdom an' his kingsmen into war after war after war. The mother's cried an' the sons died. The rivers ran red with the king's brutal glory. Some said that the king knew not o' the 'orror that war brought. Some said 'e didn't care. This all changed when a fallen soldier was brought before 'im. The man was no more'n a simple farmer, old an' tired an' a step away from death. 'E lost an arm at the shoulder, waving the king's banner, an' the wound 'ad been quick to rot. As 'is man lay dying before 'im, the Summer's King fell to 'is knees. 'E promised the man anythin' 'is 'eart desired. Gold an' jewels, the finest wines, even the honor o' knighthood or the mercy o' death.
The ol' gave the young king a tired smile and said, "Y'grace, ye've a noble heart, but a fool's head. I ain't got no use fer riches an' wines an' titles. I'd have two things from ye:
A fat pair o' titties an' a flaggon o' ale.."
'E was given both, an' the Summer's King never fought another war."
'E dragged 'is kingdom an' his kingsmen into war after war after war. The mother's cried an' the sons died. The rivers ran red with the king's brutal glory. Some said that the king knew not o' the 'orror that war brought. Some said 'e didn't care. This all changed when a fallen soldier was brought before 'im. The man was no more'n a simple farmer, old an' tired an' a step away from death. 'E lost an arm at the shoulder, waving the king's banner, an' the wound 'ad been quick to rot. As 'is man lay dying before 'im, the Summer's King fell to 'is knees. 'E promised the man anythin' 'is 'eart desired. Gold an' jewels, the finest wines, even the honor o' knighthood or the mercy o' death.
The ol' gave the young king a tired smile and said, "Y'grace, ye've a noble heart, but a fool's head. I ain't got no use fer riches an' wines an' titles. I'd have two things from ye:
A fat pair o' titties an' a flaggon o' ale.."
'E was given both, an' the Summer's King never fought another war."
Eldrin sauntered down the street with the swagger of a man just sober enough to still walk. The sinking moon overhead told him that he'd normally be ankle-deep in bottles by this point, but tonight was different... he had business to take care of. The street he was on curved gently through a packed residential area before straightening out as the buildings distanced themselves into some semblance of individuality. On this part of the street the pedestrians grew in number. Flocks of drunken travelers, headed back to the Stock Pott (or cheaper inns, for those who had spent most of their money on booze). Whores stood sentinel on the edges of the street, calling out bawdy comments at passersby like perfumed sirens. A few weren't actually selling themselves, Eldrin knew, but were actually advertising. And push of the crowd toward an old three-story tavern told him it was working.
The Dying Wish was famous in the underside of Terminian society for having the fattest whores and the strongest ale in Clock Town. It was also a hub of sorts for less than lawful dealings. It had been founded years back by a Hylian couple as a legitimate and respectable establishment, but when his wife had died, the owner lost all willpower. The place had been overrun by lowlifes ever since. As Eldrin stepped through the doors, raucous laughter and terrible music washed over him like tidal wave. After a little search, he found his associate near the back of the tavern, in a small alcove, well hidden from the eyes of any nosy drunk.
The squat little old man sat hunched over a table, nursing a glass of brandy far too fancy to have been bought at The Dying Wish. A bit of the brandy dribbled down his thin beard, staining it red where it wasn't already stained yellow from tobacco smoke. He was all but bald, with only little wisps of hair clinging to his spotted scalp. His heavy, extravagantly embroidered robes failed to disguise his weak and failing frame. Next to the table stood a large man in his early twenties.
Eldrin sat down opposite the old man and gave his most disarming smile. "Good evening Sunshine, how's it going?"
Sunshine gave him a sour look and a grunt. He drained his goblet and dropped it carelessly onto the table. "Cut the bullshit Eldrin. We're here on business. Let's get on with it."
"Ah, silly me, small talk's for strangers, no? We're already to the silent contempt part of our relationship, aren't we?" The old man gave no response so Eldrin just side and put a purse on the table. It was too small to be holding a mercenary's price. But what it did hold was worth a fortune. He made sure it was just out of Sunshine's grasp.
"Good. There he is. Sufficient?"
Eldrin glanced at the mercenary, sizing him up. He was broad shouldered and barrel-chested but also had a flat belly and a certain toning to his muscle that implied not just a naturally large build, but also consistent training. He was easily over six foot, and Eldrin had to peer up to see his face. It was a simple face, kind and sort of plain. A peasant's face, honest, but lacking any sort of wit. His eyes were brown and kind of reminded the thief of a dog. The hair on his head was blonde, but the stubble on his jaw was brown. He wore simple clothing, under boiled leather armor. For some reason, his breastplate was removed, and instead sat on the table. (That would make things easier if the deal went south, Eldrin noted.) At his hip hung a strange sword of a kind that Eldrin had never seen. It had the hilt and beginnings of a normal sword, but midway up the blade, it curved it a crescent, like a sickle. The sword was decorated with what looked like some kind of mural engraved into the steel of the blade and a small statuette of a sobbing woman wrought in bronze where the pommel should be. All in all, he seemed a capable fighter, though looks could be deceiving.
"How do I know that's not just some thug you picked up off the street?" Eldrin asked, narrowing his eyes and pulling the purse back ever so slightly.
Sunshine's lips curled back into what could have been loosely called a smile. "Ross, kill the thief."
The mercenary had drawn his strange sickle-sword before Eldrin even had time to realize what was going on. The thief kicked the table with all of his might, sending it sliding into Sunshine's gut and simultaneously upending his own chair. He crashed to the floor just as Ross's sword swung in a vicious arc, right through the air his neck had been occupying moments before. The blade bit into the wood of the table. Eldrin rolled out if the chair and into a crouched position, reaching for his cutlass. He intended to fully capitalize in the precious seconds it would take Ross to dislodge his blade from the wood. His plans were immediately dismantled, as the mercenary's sword came swinging at him before he'd finished that thought. He stumbled back, landing on his ass with about as little grace as possible. The blade passed harmlessly in front of his face. The thief scrambled back out of range and jumped to his feet. He whipped out his cutlass and adopted a fighting stance. It was time to see how this merc handled a foe who was actually fighting back.
The two stood facing each other. There was no sound but their breathing, Ross's calm and controlled, Eldrin's frantic and panicked. It hit the thief dully that Sunshine wasn't their only audience. They had drawn quite a few stares for this commotion, but he would get no help. This was a lawless place, and these people were more interested in seeing blood than preventing it.
The mercenary came in low with a slash, clearly intending to gut the thief. Eldrin parried the sword with his own and punched with Avarice. If he could at least poison his opponent he might stand a chance. But he realized far too late that the attack was a feint. The mercenary caught his wrist with his free hand and twisted, at the same time he hooked his sickle-sword around the knuckleguard of Eldrin's cutlass and ripped the sword from his hand. It went clattering across the tavern floor. Eldrin dully realized that Sunshine was laughing somewhere in the background. The mercenary brought his blade up for the final blow as the thief struggled uselessly against his grasp. Eldrin looked up into the eyes of his killer and saw... sadness?
"Hahaha! That's... enough Ross, we've... heh... we've made our point," Sunshine wheezed through his laughter, and just like that the mercenary released him and returned to where he was standing by the table.
Eldrin walked back over rubbing his wrist and trying to conceal just how embarrassed he was. It was useless however, as he could feel his cheeks burning bright red. He wordlessly slid the purse across the table into Sunshine's waiting grasp.
Sunshine opened the purse and peered inside. Whatever he saw brought a wicked smile to his face. "Good man, Eldrin. You can have him. Ross, let your new boss sign his contract."
To his surprise, the big man produced no paper. But instead removed his shirt and turned his back to them. Across Ross's back was tattooed a long paragraph of some ancient text in a long forgotten language. After staring at the runes for a while the thief turned back to Sunshine, but before he could ask, the old man was already explaining. "It's an old style o' contract. Magical, if you'll believe it. You sign it in blood, and he has to do whatever you say for three turns of the moon."
Eldrin raised an eyebrow. He had been looking to hire a simple bodyguard, not sign a blood pact. "And what exactly is the price for this? My first born son? The blood of a virgin? The soul of an innocent."
Sunshine gave that crackling laugh again. "Nah, nothing so morbid... though that would make things interesting... All you gotta do is agree to let him kill you one day."
Eldrin stared at Sunshine. Sunshine stared at Eldrin. Eldrin raised an eyebrow at Sunshine. Sunshine raised an eyebrow at Eldrin. "This is the part where you laugh your weird laugh, and then say that you're yanking my chain... right?"
Sunshine did laugh, but it didn't seem very encouraging. "Nope. But don't think of it as a hit on yourself... it's more like inspiration for him to keep you alive... for now. Plus, the contract doesn't technically say that you have to die. It says that one of you have to kill the other. Whoever veins becomes the new mercenary... or more likely the old one remains the merc."
So it was either be killed by the merc or become a mercenary and eventually get slaughtered. Or walk away now... Then again, he'd already given Sunshine the purse, and the old man really didn't seem likely to give it back. Plus, if the mercenary had to do whatever he said, he could just tell him to throw himself of a cliff or something and then boom! Problem solved. Eldrin grinned. He loved loopholes.
"Fine then... How do I sign?"
Sunshine slid a dagger gently across the table. "Cut your hand and smear the blood just under the last line of glyphs."
Eldrin ran the blade across his palm making sure to cut deep enough to draw a good amount of blood. As he wiped the blood onto the skin of the contract, it seemed to be absorbed. The blood rearranged itself into glyphs of the same sort that the contract was written. In seconds the skin was dry and his blood had turned into red ink in the form of four runes.
Sunshine whistled from across the table. "Now that's a sight to see. I just wish I could read that language. That's your real name, boy... The one you're famous for keeping a secret..."
Eldrin pretended to ponder this for a moment before moving on with his plan. After all... it wouldn't do to be impolite. "Right, well, first order. Ross, take that purse back from Sunshine and meet me out front... I'm gonna get a carriage. We leave for Kakariko at dawn."
The sound of Sunshine's protests was music to his ears as he walked away from the alcove.
(The end. Not my best work, I know, but I needed to establish Ross quickly... so yeah.)