Through the Streets of Atanlia (Started)

[Lost In The Void]

I made a sheet

Spoiler: Daniel

Name: Daniel Aerrun

Age: 25

Race: Human

Sex: Male

Description: Standing at 6'7", Daniel is hardly a small man. He weighs close to 250 lbs, most of it centered around his chest. His hair is a muggy red, his eyes mismatched, one being a pale blue and the other a dark amber. His nose is partially caved in and somewhat crooked to the left. He has a scar over his right eye, trailing down to half way across his cheek and his lips are generally cracked and dry. His beard, no more than a couple days of growth is also the same muddy red colour as his hair. On his left hand, that being his sword hand, he is missing both his ring finger and his pinkie. He is covered in a dark coating of body hair, running so thick some whisps of it spring out of the top most section of his jacket.

Speciality Skills: Intimidation. Interrogation. Bedlam. Lockpicking. Injury.

Lacking Skills: Charisma. Pickpocketing. Swordplay.

Personality: Daniel is a coward, which is why the thief style was close to what he needed. He has a short temper and is long to hold a grudge. While not liking people in particular, he does work well with others in order to further his own goals.

Bio: Daniel grew up without a mother; apparently she had left shortly after his birth. His father called her a whore and it grew more and more apparent that it may have been a literal name rather than the bitter rants of a deserted man. Daniel was raised on a wet nurse until he was old enough to be weaned. His father worked him hard, an honest man with a slightly tarnished reputation; he ran a mildly successful smithy in the center of Atanlia.

Daniel grew fast, taking on the build of his father, large and broad chested. He learned to forge steel and worked the smithy as his father's apprentice until the age of 12. At this age, he was already as tall as his father; it was apparent that he would be a giant of a man. While this meant that he was excellent and efficient as a smithy, it was not enough to clear the debts that his father owed to more powerful men. Nod's Hand was dispatched to the smithy. They burned the smithy to the ground and killed Daniel's father. He would have been killed too, as he grabbed a sword and attempted to duel the ringleader of the bunch. He failed miserably and the goon's sword slashed down on his right side of his face, carving a furrow into his cheek and eye, blinding him in that eye.

The assassin would have likely finished the job, if not for the collapsing structure around them. Turning tail to escape the burning carnage, he left the boy bleeding and burning. The boy survived through, emerging coughing and sputtering from the smoke, an orphan at twelve years of age.

He tried to make a living on his own, looking for work in other smithy shops, he thought he would make a great apprentice, but the other smiths knew where he came from, and the connotations associated with taking on he as an apprentice. So it was with a severe lack of funds and an empty belly that Daniel turned to thievery. At first it was easy. Even at 6' he found himself able to sneak and steal enough to fill his belly. He slept in the ditches with the other rats, a few of them working together to stay ahead of the guards and thus staying alive.

After a couple years and a few more inches of growth though made it impossible to silently thieve forever and at the age of 15 he was caught by a shopkeeper for the first time. He begged not to be turned into the Guard, he said he would do anything. The Keeper took two of his fingers as collateral.

His hand short a couple digits, he wandered back to the other rats, he wanted revenge and the other kids were going to help him. It took a little convincing and a couple black eyes to get the other kids on board, but soon, they had a plan. The group of them ransacked the shop, stealing everything they could before a guard could be alerted. Daniel found the shop keeper and after beating him with a club until his arm tired, he cut out one of the shop keeper's eyes with a knife and left with the man's purse.

This was a turning point in Daniel's thieving career. As he got larger, it was easier to steal in plain sight, blackmailing, intimidating and if all else failed, ransacking shops that would not give him the gold he wanted or the food he needed. His own little gang grew larger, a small chunk of the city's street rats were his accomplices and together they lifted and stole anything they could get their hands on.
Of course, from a large group comes dissent. Daniel was the leader, not for his charisma or social skills, but because he was the biggest and could push the others around. This only lasted until his twentieth birthday when a few of the other Rats banded together and ousted him, casting him penniless back on the streets. While they were later wiped out by the Royal Guard, Daniel hasn't been in another gang since, instead living day to day scraping by as best as a Rat Thief can.

 

[Sir Strange Of The House Lycan]

Spoiler: William Arjan

Name: William Arjan

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Age: 23

Specialized Skills: William is a skilled marksman and scavenger, and possesses great talent in the ability to blend into the scenery and beyond notice. He?s also an accomplished Skinner and Tanner, but these skills rarely come into play in the life of a thief.

Flawed Skills: Due to spending a great majority of his life in a forest with no one for company but his father and the occasional traveller, he is not very charismatic, and slightly socially awkward. He is also not very good in close combat and stressful situations, and will usually run and hide at the first sign of danger.

Personality: On the exterior, William is a shy and fearful boy, and not very good with people in the slightest sense of the word. He is also slightly devious and pragmatic, preferring a ?Better them than me? attitude to strangers and some of his friends. There are few people he would get himself arrested for, and even fewer he would die for. William is also rather sedate, and not prone to excitable outbursts or hilarity, preferring quiet and peace.

Physical Description: William is a rather tall boy, standing at 6?2, and is very lean. His limbs have a modest amount of muscles, but not packed with them. His eyes are dark and his skin is slightly tanned. His face is dirty, smeared with mud and coal. His hair is a tangle of dark brown curls, covered in sticks, twigs and mud. Most would have a bath by this time but William refuses, insisting that it allows for better camouflage. This is stupid of course, as he sticks out like a sore thumb most places.

He wears a dark brown cloth tunic, with a murky green scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face at all times, and a hunter?s cap (A thin hat with a visor and a neck flap). His hands are clad in in leather gauntlets, for minor protection against both attackers and his own bowstring. His chest is protected by lightweight leather armour and not much else. On his lower half he wears loose fitting and torn cloth trousers, and a ragged pair of leather boots. Slung over his back is a quiver only slightly filled with very low quality arrows and a harness for his bow.

History: William?s family began in the swamps, when his grandfather (A wanted criminal and priest of Nod) ran from Atanlia with his beloved to start a new life as humble huntsman in the middle of no where. They found an abandoned shack, of a small size and minimal comfort. However, they were not picky, and so cleaned it out and lived out their lives there, giving thanks to Nod and Kala all the while. After a little while, they had a child, a young boy, who would grow to become William?s father. Soon illness claimed the lives of William?s grandparents, and his father was left to fend for himself.

One day, whilst on a hunt, he heard cries for help, cries which lead him to a woman trapped in a bog, and sinking fast. William?s father acted fast and pulled her from the bog, and brought her back to his home to allow her the night to recover before setting out on her way. The woman told him the following morning that she had no where to go, and had been fleeing from bandits that had ransacked her home. She asked to stay with him, and he grudgingly agreed. Over time, the grew to rely on each other for support (Both emotional and physical) and had William and his brother.

William grew up with tales of the glories at Atanlia, told to him by his father about his grandfather. Atanlia grew to be a magical place in William?s mind, and he wished nothing more than for them to go there. His father refused to take him, telling him that for all the glories the city held, it still had its share of sins, and so the family remained in the forest. William was taught how to hunt from a young age, and was taught to pay thanks to Nod for what he had done for the family (though he was not exactly sure what Nod had done, as his father having done a very good job of glossing over the more sinister parts of his grandfather?s life.)

One day, in the twentieth year of William?s life, bandits ransacked his home and killed his mother and brother. They took everything from the house and burnt it to the ground, William and his father only surviving by hiding in the trees. William?s father told him that now they had nothing, they were going to the city, to try and make everything better. William would have been overjoyed at this news had it not come at such cost. They gathered all they had and managed to scrape enough together for a boat ride to the city, along the river.

Upon arrival, William?s dreams were crushed when no legitimate work could be found for a boy who had been trained to be nothing but a huntsman. Soon they turned to petty thievery and begging to survive. They barely scraped a living, and William?s father froze to death on the streets a year in, trying to protect his son from the cold with his coat. shortly after William was taken in and fed by the group, and joined out of gratitude and necessity, and now owes them his life. It has been three years since William?s arrival, and he still knows very little of the city and relies of his new family.

Extra: Has his own personalised bow, enchanted by a wizard that his family gave shelter many years ago. It doesn?t do much, except turn arrows from it partially invisible and a slightly faster in flight.

 

[JokerboyJordan]

I'm quite interested in this RP as one I was participating in recently has died.

To clarify, are our characters unaffiliated with any factions?

 

[CloggedDonkey]

I'm quite interested in this RP as one I was participating in recently has died.

To clarify, are our characters unaffiliated with any factions?

You can have past affiliations with factions, but, for now, you are in a gang with the fellow players. You do abide by "rules" set up by a few factions (No killing unless necessary, no stealing from those of lower standing than you, don't mess with Nod too much, things like that), though.

Anyway, I'll be in Boston for business (read: The Penny Arcade Expo) until Monday, which is when I'm calling a firm deadline on all sheets. Good luck, everyone, and I'll see you in five days.

 

[Tiger Sora]

I eagerly await the starting date, even though I'm busting my ass witha job, my free time is gona be wasted on RP's and stuff here.

 

[Malyc]

@Tiger: And what better way to waste free time is there?

 

[Tiger Sora]

@Tiger: And what better way to waste free time is there?

Well video games, but i don't want to waste the little free time I'm gona have out there doing other things. It's good to keep up with an rp ya know.

 

[Malyc]

@Tiger: And what better way to waste free time is there?

Well video games, but i don't want to waste the little free time I'm gona have out there doing other things. It's good to keep up with an rp ya know.

Can't argue with that, so I won't XD

 

[JokerboyJordan]

This is my pitiful attempt. FINISHED.

Spoiler

Name: Dirge Adfaer

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Age (21 and up): 27

Specialized Skills (something you are very, very good at): Hand-to-Hand and Greatsword combat, Athleticism, Force of will

Flawed Skills (something you are very, very bad at): Utter failure at magic, Ranged combat and Subtlety.

Personality: He is a stubborn individual, who refuses to back down from any fight. Though far from chivalrous, he is not without compassion or mercy, although not widely known for either.
He is a notorious drinker, and many have sought to take advantage of him in his inebriated state, only to find themselves slaughtered without remorse.
Dirge holds deep respect for those that he sees as his equals, or those who impress him with their abilities or philosophies.

History: Born as a bastard child of a mysterious lord and the town 'witch'. He was shunned, along with his mother, by both nobility and the townsfolk. It was this unconditional hate towards him, that fuelled his drive for both battles and life. His mother was more of a shaman than a witch, she performed various rituals and sacrifices of woodland animals, she taught Dirge all she knew, and told him that the only God's worth acknowledging were Nod, Malinor, Diandra and Halute.

One cold night, the townsfolk rallied and organised themselves, and made haste to his mother's shack on the outskirts of the town. They burned the surrounding outcrop to the ground and as the flames headed inward, Dirge's mother hid him in the food store that had been dug beneath the shack. She sacrificed herself in the name of Halute, for both her son to live, and also for him to have the strength to live his life how he wished.
Dirge emerged from ashes the following morning, his whole life reduced to cinders. The sacrifice for his life had worked, but his independence was yet to be decided.

He begged on the streets for a while, before realising that ill-gotten gains were still more gain than he'd ever have through simple begging. He became a thief in a well know gang, but during one late night operation, he was found trying to escape by the owner, a notable member of the Destroyers. In the heat of the moment, he rushed over to where a heavy sword lay against the wall, and swung it just as the man attempted to apprehend him, decapitating him.

The blood spurted from the man's neck, raining itself all of Dirge. It shone in the moonlight all over the floor and walls, and stuck in Dirges hair.

As he returned to his gang, covered in blood, and blade in hand, they disowned him. They were thieves not murderers.

Without a direction, he felt the sword in his hand, and knew his calling. He went from town to town, city to city, a wandering mercenary. His previous experience, coupled with his skill, found him in the employ of a guild of thieves.

Physical Description: His lithe figure belies an extremely strong and physically fit body. He has dark auburn hair, that rumours say he dyes with the blood of his enemies.
He wears steel gauntlets that he employs in close combat.

Extra: Makes annual sacrifices to his mother, along with before and after battle

 

[CloggedDonkey]

Spoiler: I'm back!

Alright then, I'm back. Pretty much everyone who submitted a sheet is in, as I like all of these characters, as well as I'm going by the "half will dropout" idea, so a large starting amount of players is fine. Let's get started.

A cold wind washed over the streets. The wind flowed through the city, as it does most days, and kicked up the long, black cape of an Inquisitor. He was dressed for war, and so were the three squads of City Guard behind him, each headed by a War Guard. The Inquisitor took a sharp turn down an alley, and the guards followed suit. Finally, he stood outside of a tea-house, and, with one quick, powerful motion, kicked the door open, leaving the symbol of Keelos ingrained in mud on the door. The Inquisitor walked in, followed by the three War Guard, and walked until he was in the middle of the tea-house. He unrolled a scroll and cleared his throat.

"Patrons of the Broken Blessing Tea-House, I, by decree of Queen Atanlia, am to give a decree: We do know of the criminal activity within this establishment, and we are here to either crush it, or to give you an offer. You have been ordered to find Ragnar Leximor, the strategist behind a recent attack on Royal and City Guard positions throughout the city. You shall reweave the award of one hundred thousand gold pieces to be split amongst the group that brings him in, and all crimes against Lustrata shall be pardoned to whomever you see fit, as log as the number of individuals does not extend beyond twenty and the collective bounty is not above ten thousand gold coins. There shall be wanted posters on the wall by the door, and, if we ever find that these posters have been removed, the Broken Blessing shall be burnt to the ground with no notice and without heed for any individual inside. Any questions?"

The Inquisitor looked around the shop, staring at all of the men in leathers and robes, until one spoke up. He was tall, easily six and a half feet, and was muscular. "Yeah, I have a question, Inquisitor, how many times do I have to stab you before you bleed out?" The man rushed at the Inquisitor with great speed, his knife in his hand. The Inquisitor drew his pistol, aimed at the man, and waited until the man was close enough to see the barrel. As the trigger was pulled, the bullet flew out of the barrel and into the man's eye, coming out the other side, and killing him instantly. The Inquisitor holstered his pistol and looked around.

"Any other questions? Or shall I simply shoot all of you?" The Inquisitor was visibly angry, his face a bright red and his eyes slitted and narrow. Whether or not he was actually asking for questions was unsure, but he wasn't leaving right now, and a body still lay on the floor, blood leaking from the back of it's head.

 

[Malyc]

Draven watched, leaning against the bar, as the Inquisitor led 3 squads of guardsmen into the tea-house. Impassive, as he knew that the guards would eventually catch on to their activities, he simply waited while the Inquisitor finished his proposition.

"I have a question as well." He said, glancing at the body on the ground before looking the Inquisitor straight in the eye. "Where do you suggest we start looking for Ragnar? It seems to me that a member of such an esteemed organization would at least have a small lead to offer, after all."

 

[ShindoL Shill]

Serena sips her tea from the shadows, and looks around. A strategist would be a useful ally. Why turn him in for the promise of gold when I could find him and use his skills to steal much, much more than what is offered... And he would most likely have protection, which would be extended to me if I were to work with him.
Her eyes lock on Draven. Determined fellow. Might be persuaded to help a young lady-beggar who wants the bounty. she thinks, looking into her small bag of rolled-up wigs.

 

[Redryhno]

Clarissa watched from a table with tonight's mark as the Inquisitor walked in.He was a small time merchant, but by the way his belt jangled and the amulet around his amble neck, he was doing much better than his books showed. He had a keen mind she had to admit, so she'd been keeping him drinking the last few hours, and he was just about ripe for the picking.

There was a nice, quiet little alley just a city block from here that would do just-*BANG*-. She spun around, her thought process broken by the sound of a gunshot, fights were common, but guns?

Suddenly realizing she wasn't in character for that split-second, she screamed as a few drops of the man's blood landed on her face and dress, thankfully none of it landed in her wig, a blonde thing with a silver chain sweeping through it. It had cost her a week's worth of marks to pay for it and a drop of blood could easily ruin it. The dress was much easier to replace, a blue silk with silver trim around the bodice and stars embroidered in a sparkling thread she couldn't quite place.

Who is this man and what is he here for

She quickly formulated a plan to get this merchant out of here and into her alley where she'd rob him blind, he didn't have any weapons on him, not anymore, she'd seen to that.

"Come now, Master Robillard, why don't we find a quieter place to loouuunggge?" She purred in a voice most men couldn't resist while sober, much less halfway down the road to the bellfounder's in the morning.

I hate acting like this, but it helps pay for lodging and everything else I'm good at.Good thing I grew up down at Kala's Arms, otherwise I don't know how I'd be making my living.

The stupid man easily fell for the trap, drained his mug and began walking towards the door, with her in tow. His eagerness would be his downfall now.

 

[Sir Strange Of The House Lycan]

The Inquisitor's sudden arrival had shocked William to the point of jumping behind the couch he was sitting on and pulling his cap down hard over his eyes. Though terrified, he continued to listen to the man's offer/demand, and considered briefly the possibility of screwing him over to join the tactician. This though bled away as even his naive and slightly stupid mind realized this idea would end up with him in a ditch. When he heard the man threaten The Inquisitor, and the subsequent gun shot, the idea of just turning in the strategist became even more appealing.

Still not wanting to be seen, but considering the idea, William remained behind the couch, but crawled quickly around it on hands and knees, permanently just out of sight, towards Jinhro, to discuss whether or not it would be a good thing for the group to take on.

 

[Yorgmiester]

...and never again would they meet.

Jin eyed the last words of the chapter, repeating them in his head. A sad smile was on his lips. The brave hero Ragnar had finally said farewell to his love and they had parted ways, him on a ship to the City of Wolves and she on a ship into the Crystal Beyond. As the last rays of sunlight kissed her white sails, just visible on the horizon, he had reached out his hand and spoken Lithuen's Lament, a short but stirring poem about the beauty and tragedy of love. Then he turned away, darkness fell, and she was gone. Forever.

There were two more chapters to go, of course, so the story was not over. Life went on. There was still the ultimate enemy to defeat and the greatest sacrifice to be made. Jin knew the story well. He sighed and rose, setting the book down on his bed table and stretching the kinks out of his back. Soft sunlight from two opposing windows illuminated his small living quarters. The flowers on the windowsills outside blew about in the day's heavy wind, casting tiny shadows that danced like wood nymphs across the piles of books and art that lay about in no particular organization. His ears were serenaded by gentle music drifting in from the shop; that would be Ella on the goat-horn, a deep and earthy sound, and that new kid Edon on the three-string banjo. He was young and shy, but talented. It was probably the first job he'd ever had.

Jin walked to the window and opened it a crack. Instantly a bitter cold gust of air whipped through his robes, and he hastily shut the glass pane again. He usually liked to read up on the top floor under the warm sun, but on days like this it just wasn't realistic. Ah well, it meant there would be more customers seeking the warmth and cheer of a tea shop.

As he turned from the window Jin heard a terrible banging noise and several heavy pairs of feet entering. A loud voice began an announcement, and he recognized it instantly. It was an Inquisitor, and from the sounds of it he wasn't here for tea. Jin slipped into his sandals and pushed aside the curtain that divided his quarters from the shop.

*CRACK*

A gunshot split the air. The man with the knife went down like a sack of beans, blood spurting out from the back of his head. The new banjo boy, bless his heart, had continued playing through the Inquisitors speech, but now his song ended with a painful twang as the room fell silent. Several women screamed, and one of the serving girls dropped her platter to the floor.

"I'm not sure what you mean by criminal activity" Jin started in his gravelly but articulated voice, as he tucked his hands into his robes and walked around the counter "but many of my customers here are brave men of good constitution and fine business sense, who I'm sure would be more than happy to track down this outlaw for you." He stood in front of the Inquisitor now, smiling. "You will excuse me, though, if I ask you not to loiter."

 

[Lost In The Void]

Daniel only avoided standing up himself when the man's brains had splattered against the stone floor. It appeared that the man indeed meant what he said, so he caught himself before his own mind would mix up on the floor. He leaned back in his chair instead, testing its strength before propping it back on two legs.

He cracked his knuckles and winced as he remembered the bruises and cuts on them. He had earlier, extracted a nice purse from someone on their way to the smithy and the man had surprisingly put up quite a fight. He had eventually slammed the man's face into a horse's trough and cut the purse before throwing him through a poorly made door.

His hands went to that coin purse an he felt the various gold pieces shift in his grip. It wasn't worth fighting this Inquisitor; he would die if he did.

It then came down to which was easier, staying out of this whole thing, or pledging his support in the hope others would join. It was definitely easier staying out of it. But which paid better? The Kingdom had its coffers full of taxes, it was more than likely, they'd be willing to share a little if he did this for them. Maybe it would be worth getting his hands dirty for a little extra spending.

He looked at the others, one drenched in a little blood and shrieking, typical of women. Another sat in the shadows doing nothing, much like himself and one begged for a lead. Of course the innkeeper had the best response in doing his damnedest to get the bastard out of the inn. This was likely the best course of action of them to have.

He stood up himself and smirked at his companion asking for the lead, "While some beg, I'm sure that if you had leads you wouldn't be asking the scum to get them for you, so allow me to add my valuable information gathering techniques to your investigation. I'm sure you will find them more than apt."

 

[Redryhno]

Clarissa wrapped a hand around her merchant's arm and leaned into his body. Tonight was not going to be a good night to work. She sat there with a look of surprise and a small amount of fear at the man standing at the door. She was used to fights in the bars around here, but guns were an oddity in her part of the city. She listened to the man's proposition and heard his price, ten thousand crowns was a large sum, enough to get her out of Atanlia and live off the rest for at least a few years, indefinitely if she counted her coppers. It was time to ditch the merchant and go after this man they were looking for.She made a simple excuse about making herself presentable again, for his benefit. The Royal Pardon would be a good thing to keep around as well.

She walked daintily to the bar and asked for the best room he had, slipped him a gold crown and went up to change.She stashed the wig underneath her breeches she wore under the dress, making a mental note to smooth it later. She scraped off her makeup, and stashed the dress under the bed.

She arrived back downstairs quite quickly, a few minutes later and looked like a completely different person, her raven hair fell to her ears, her face devoid of any powder,animal fat, or grease, and she wore her two daggers still. One in her left sleeve, the other in her right boot.

She sauntered over in what most connected with miners and began questioning the Inquisitor.

"So... exactly who is this guy you're wantin' tracked down, Inquisitor? I've got a network of 'friends' that can keep an eye out in most places your boys'aren't able to go, and even some you can go, a knife arm that's faster than most eyes can follow, and a winning smile." She flashed him one of her better ones, the ones she reserved for some of her more well to do marks. That one normally worked enough to get the ball rolling for her to work.

 

[Nukey]

The Professional, in all of his thuggish splendor, found himself comfortably situated at the Broken Blessing Tea-House, as was the norm for him during his spare time between jobs. He sat at the far end of the shop, sipping a warm mug of tea laced with potent hallucinogen herbs, watching the world around him twist and melt into shapes and colors unknown to the sober mind. The brew was, without a doubt, a foul concoction, possessing a strong, musky taste, although Gerik was far too intoxicated to notice. A thin smile crept of his lip and a faint chuckle managed to escape his lungs, despite his efforts to control his laughter, much to the annoyance of the several brutes adjacent to him.

However, before anyone decided to confront him, an Inquisitor, entered the small, inconspicuous storefront, followed shortly afterward by his personal routine of guards. Gerik's grin and laughter faded in an attempt to hide his obvious use of narcotics while in the presence of such a figure, the entire rooming falling into silence soon after he did. The silence was pierced, however, when one of the thugs whom he had found himself sitting alongside of attempted to assault the Inquisitor. The assailant, unsurprisingly, found himself missing a significant portion of his face, with bits of gore and skull fragments strewn across the floor.

It was at this point, soon after the man's body hit the ground, Gerik found himself unable to contain his drug fueled glee. A loud, obnoxious cackle echoed throughout the Broken Blessing, with Gerik, still in his seat, struggling to keep his calm.

"Oh, that's just fucking rich!" Gerik exclaimed, the small, vile little man wheezing underneath his breath.

 

[Jeff Gibson]

Tom sat in his usual place near the back of the tea-house, pouring over his research notes. He barely looked up when the Inquisitor kicked in the door, convinced he was on the verge of a monumental breakthrough. He sipped his tea and continued reading his papers as the man spoke, right up until a loud BANG startled him into dropping his tea. His notes dripping wet, he began to rise out of his seat and turned to face the man.

Upon noticing that the sound had come from the Inquisitor's firearm, the white-haired man immediately sat back down. He wasn't going to start something now, not without a healthy supply of corrosives handy. Instead he pulled out some fresh papers and a quill from a small bag next to his table, intent on saving his notes, though he started paying much more attention to the Inquisitor.

 

[drmigit2]

Davarious was stuck in his normal attire, simple but effective. Having just got accustomed to the new environment, the tea house was a nice place to get a start. He enjoyed the quiet it occasionally offered, though it was often noisy. Having his quiet disturbed by some inquisitor with a grudge did nothing to help his attitude. He had his hand on his gun, always a good idea to have that on him. As he watched the man's brain splatter across the floor, he had one though and one thought only, lucky bastard inquisitor. He stood up.

"Alright" he began, "Who is this Leximor character and why is he so important that the queen would offer that much gold? No man, no matter how important is worth half that. Did he piss on her shoes or something of the like?" "Listen, I did not come to this shop for trouble today and I suggest that you end it now because the people here will get ballsy pretty quickly if they see you shooting us one by one." He said all that unaware of the woman asking a similar question across from him, really, he just wanted to take the piss out of the guard.

"That said..." he continued, "I am a bounty hunter and if it is all the same to you, then I would be up for getting involved and making a few murders on my own damned terms." He sat back down done with the inquisitor, he was ready to have to pull out his gun should the need come, it has more than once.