Meet The Mercs
A co-write between
@Dog and
@Willy Vereb“We’re here,” States one of the casually dressed men as he stops the supply truck. He’s Gary Hobbs, an intelligence agent working for the Union of Socialist American States. His partner is Justin Brown. Their destination is the major town of Lindow just a few miles away. They hop out of their seat and onto the dirt ground, they should walk from here. The two take a few good minutes to stare out into the distance, into the vast farm fields and night. Justin goes ahead into the back of the supply truck, grabbing a large black backpack filled with all sorts of modern goodies, along with waving to the team of seven soldiers that rode in the back. Three of the seven armed soldiers got out of the truck while the others opted to stay behind to guard the truck and its inventory. Gary takes a quick look at his watch as he waits for Justin. It is just about the start of midnight, 11:43 AM. Justin walks ahead of his partner’s position as Gary chuckles for the odd situation and world that he found himself in, following Justin and their details.
“Nice field farms, eh?” Justin notes, gazing at the landscape of crops and the occasional farmer that would stare back at the odd band of individuals striding closer to the town.
“Reminds me of good ol’ Kansas. Too bad my home-state wouldn't exist for long.” Gary responds, stuffing his right hand into his jean pocket and letting loose his left hand. The walk towards the town was not a long one, 20 minutes as Gary timed. The men and their security detail chattered about their lives, home, foods, news, and what else that they could as they walked. Once reaching the town, their talkative nature stops as they refocus on the mission at hand.
According to hearsay Lindow’s most famous tavern is Dewhurst, named after the local wine hills. Yet tasting wine is the least of their concern. Reports state that the captain of the free mercenary group Naporia visits this tavern fairly often. Finding the place was trivial but perhaps the agents should’ve picked a more inconspicuous attire. It is not everyday that you see two men wearing t-shirts and jeans escorted by a trio of stiff faced men in combat fatigues. They drew a lot of stares from the townsfolk.
Entering into Dewhurst, the tavern is loud, filled, and has the smell of wine, ale and whatever else that they have here to sell as drinks and food. The patrons paid little attention to the newcomers, either giving off a simple stare or minding their own business. Justin scans the area before spotting a humanoid with equine or rather goat-like lower body. Member of the zeignon race, a goat-taur. Since zeignons are rare around these lands it must be a mercenary from Naporia, almost assuredly their captain. Justin signals Gary and the rest to follow. A larger bunch of the patrons start to give off more glazes towards the agents and their guards, as they go deeper into Dewhurst - something more exciting then their usual day at the Dewhurst since no one with that kind of modern clothing is ever seen until today.
The agents walk up to the captain’s table. He's a tall and surprisingly well-built middle aged man. Some rumors say goattaurs are more muscular at average and it may not be a lie. He has a large scar over the left side of his face and blind to one eye. His facial features alone could tell a pretty colorful tale.
“I’d like to speak with the captain of Naporia,” Gary demands, shifting the weight of his left leg to his right. The goattaur mercenary stops staring at his cup and looks over the agents. He’s already drunk so it takes a few seconds for him to realize what’s going on.
“You’re already doing that. I am Gwer Siegfried, at your service. And who you’d be?” He answers in almost a casual tone.
“Is your company looking for work?” Gary asks before coughing into his sleeve as whiffs of beer and the sweat of men and women goes into his throat.
“They always do. Sometimes with less luck. It’s past harvest so work isn’t just falling into our lap. Make no mistake, Sire. Our pouches have more gold than needed to last through the winter. If you want to make an offer better make it worth our time!” Drunk or not, Gwer was the leader of an entire mercenary group, he never sold himself cheap.
“Ain't you a bit drunk to talk about official business, but then again we’re the ones who went to you at this time,” Gary notes.
“This is the best mood you find me here. Normally I wouldn’t just stand and listen when a group of strangers try funny questions without even giving their names. But it isn’t every time I’m sought out without knowing them in return. So color me interested.”
“Ah, where’s my manners? Name’s Martin and my friend here is Ryan,” Gary points to Justin. “Why don’t we talk outside? It’s too loud in here for my likes.”
“Certainly not from this place, eh? Consider my interest piqued. Allow me to finish my drink in private and I’ll rejoin you outside the ol’ Dewhurst, okay?”
Gary nods as the foreign agents leave Gwer to his own devices, waiting at the tavern’s entrance. Few minutes passed and the supposed captain of the mercenaries met the agents again.
“Gentlemen, you wanted me to talk business. I’d happily guide you to a nice room in private but I have a hunch that wouldn’t really suit this occasion. I know a woodland clearing just outside Lindow. Nice, tranquil view. Not a single soul visits there. Shall we go?”
“Sounds lovely to us. Shall we?” Justin gives a big smile towards Gwer.
Following the goattaur’s guide the agents walked through the whole town until they reached the western gate. Curiously they got even more stares than before. Some were seen whispering. The Americans were on alert, keeping hands close to where they concealed their guns. Shortly after walking past the gate their suspicions were seemingly confirmed. A group of a dozen armed goattaurs showed up.
“At ease! We’re meeting friends here!” Gwer raised his hand, ordering the mercenaries to stand down. If he were just a few seconds late this could’ve easily turned into a bloodbath. “Pardon my men for their rudeness, they expected only me. Okay, so I might’ve been a little vague. No common folk visits this place because they know they aren’t welcome. We chose this forest as our hangout of sorts, you see. I can’t tell you where our camp lies but I can guarantee nobody will disturb us here.” Gwer went to explain the full circumstances of the meeting. The tables were seemingly turned but given the double stacked magazines of the service pistols it’s fairly likely that Americans could control the situation the same.
“So let’s get to business, Ryan and Martin. It’s rare to meet the famed Outlanders in person. I don’t know who you are, what you want or even why you are here. But I heard enough rumors to put the pieces together. I am aware that recently a bunch of strangers were straddling at the shores. You must’ve been part of whichever group is the closest. I don’t know why you need me and Naporia but I’m all ears. What? Did you expect me to be angry? We’re all mercenaries here. Money talks and we remain silent. So tell us, what you’d like us to do?”
“Our military is in need of more soldiers in light of our critical shortage of manpower. We need you to bolster our forces at the frontier. Clear out bandits, magical beasts, and whatever else that the wilds has to offer,” Justin briefly says.
“A somewhat tense guard post, eh? Doesn’t sound bad at all. I guess even the mighty Outlanders need more hands they can move. I’d gladly ask about more details but there’s something very important to know. What’s in for us? Since I know what you want I assume you also know what my men want, right? We are mercenaries, afterall.”
“How many luxuries do you and your company enjoy?” Gary asks.
“Less than we want, more than what we deserve. It’s within the nature of the mercenary to be greedy, there’s no spender more magnanimous than the merc who just got paid. Given your tone I assume you are confident you can provide us a live comfier than we do now. That’s a brave stance to hold! I like it! I have my own reservations about whether you can hold your end of the bargain but I guess we’ll see.”
“Before that though, I’d like to be certain. Your attire, your names, your manner of speech. My instincts scream that you’re the rumored Outlanders but I want to be confident beyond any doubt. Whenever you hear tales about the Outlanders these never miss a beat to describe their lightning wands. Sorcerous tools that could spew unseen bolts like lightning yet with the rapidity of a storm. Assortment of boxes and tubes that can fell a lance of fully armored knights within an instant. I’m no fool, I know you wouldn’t walk a step outside your confines without wielding those. Show them to me!”
“Our pistols are not magic whatsoever, but we rather not take up time in explaining the inner workings of them,” Justin nods to one of the guards. The soldier nods back, unholstering his Beretta M9 before aiming down a random nearby tree with no-one around it, and quickly shots off a few rounds before clicking his pistol to safety and pointing the muzzle down to the ground.
The dozen or so goattaur mercenaries present were in complete awe, it all happened before they could realize what’s going on. Many were frightened, others confused. Gwer was just smiling. He had a hard time containing his excitement. The gears in his head were visibly turning. “You say it’s a type of pistola?...” He was gleeful. That night Gwer and his trusted bodyguards agreed to follow the strangers back to the concealed truck. He had a lot of questions and even more things he’d like to know but he’d keep that to himself. This day marked the start when the free company of Naporia joined hands with the Union.
Whoami,
fledermaus,
Izurich,
Mixtape Ghost N,
Guardian Angel Haruki,
DELETEDUSER007
