You have my immediate attention, yes.
Eisenhorn
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1 yr ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Urden decided to consider a cursed arrow the less likely option between cursed and poisoned, despite the kind of luck that it would take to have been hit with a cursed arrow from slavers, of all things. No, poison made a sort of sense, especially one that interfered with mobility even after a wound otherwise healed. Made it easier to incapacitate and capture, so he was inclined to suspect a poison of some sort. That of course led to the next question of whether the poison would sort itself out after a period of time, or if that meant more magic healing being slung at his leg.
"If I was a gambling man I would lay good coin on a poison of some sort rather than a curse. I don't think we ran into any particularly magical mercenary slavers, and a poison that interfered with movement to any degree would make some sense to..."
The rather large daemon interrupted at this point, dragging another sheet over and making quite a few modifications to the original design, apparently noting quite a few things needed to go. Handy objected, apparently the modifications made it so that the circle wouldn't...work solely based on intent? If he had the slightest inkling about magic, summoning, or magical summoning that would probably be cause enough for alarm, but his gut instinct told him that letting anyone do something just on instinct alone was probably questionable at the best of times. Of course, Red explained, mostly to Handy, but the explanation gave him at least an inkling of what was going on. As it was, the current circle would let someone summon a daemon with no control over it what so ever? Well that was a damn fool decision if he ever heard one, and he cocked an eyebrow at Red when she promptly asked him to imagine a world where mages could summon daemons without any inkling of controlling them.
"Hell, that'd be like leaving a bunch of kids around loaded siege weapons. Inevitably going to cause excessive collateral damage, at best. Except, I suppose, the siege weapons could promptly slaughter the kids, reuse the circle, and just let every last friend of theirs through to here. Least that's what I would do, if I was some daemon summoned by someone who couldn't negotiate out of a wet bag, let alone into a contract."
In short, Urden couldn't say that it was a very bright idea to have a summoning circle anyone could use without proper training. Last thing anyone would want is someone just smart enough to get themselves into trouble using it, and before you know it, everyone's neck deep in daemons. Well, maybe if he got a head start in planning he could prepare and make a killing, figuratively and literally, in the daemon slaying business. That many just running around, everyone who had coin worth a damn would be looking to hire exterminators. Though, more likely, it would be some grand apocalyptic event those religious folks sometimes rambled on about, to scare folks into behaving and being good boys and girls. Still, his day had started with damaged clothing and a sore leg, he had gotten overcharged for clothing and now he was listening to Handy and Red discuss a creation that could, in the, well, right or wrong hands be used to hold open a door to hell forever, if he understood the capabilities right. Some days he wondered if guarding merchant caravans would have been a better choice. It certainly would have been a damn sight more boring, that much was clear.
@Raineh Daze
"If I was a gambling man I would lay good coin on a poison of some sort rather than a curse. I don't think we ran into any particularly magical mercenary slavers, and a poison that interfered with movement to any degree would make some sense to..."
The rather large daemon interrupted at this point, dragging another sheet over and making quite a few modifications to the original design, apparently noting quite a few things needed to go. Handy objected, apparently the modifications made it so that the circle wouldn't...work solely based on intent? If he had the slightest inkling about magic, summoning, or magical summoning that would probably be cause enough for alarm, but his gut instinct told him that letting anyone do something just on instinct alone was probably questionable at the best of times. Of course, Red explained, mostly to Handy, but the explanation gave him at least an inkling of what was going on. As it was, the current circle would let someone summon a daemon with no control over it what so ever? Well that was a damn fool decision if he ever heard one, and he cocked an eyebrow at Red when she promptly asked him to imagine a world where mages could summon daemons without any inkling of controlling them.
"Hell, that'd be like leaving a bunch of kids around loaded siege weapons. Inevitably going to cause excessive collateral damage, at best. Except, I suppose, the siege weapons could promptly slaughter the kids, reuse the circle, and just let every last friend of theirs through to here. Least that's what I would do, if I was some daemon summoned by someone who couldn't negotiate out of a wet bag, let alone into a contract."
In short, Urden couldn't say that it was a very bright idea to have a summoning circle anyone could use without proper training. Last thing anyone would want is someone just smart enough to get themselves into trouble using it, and before you know it, everyone's neck deep in daemons. Well, maybe if he got a head start in planning he could prepare and make a killing, figuratively and literally, in the daemon slaying business. That many just running around, everyone who had coin worth a damn would be looking to hire exterminators. Though, more likely, it would be some grand apocalyptic event those religious folks sometimes rambled on about, to scare folks into behaving and being good boys and girls. Still, his day had started with damaged clothing and a sore leg, he had gotten overcharged for clothing and now he was listening to Handy and Red discuss a creation that could, in the, well, right or wrong hands be used to hold open a door to hell forever, if he understood the capabilities right. Some days he wondered if guarding merchant caravans would have been a better choice. It certainly would have been a damn sight more boring, that much was clear.
@Raineh Daze
Urden allowed the merchant to make her sales pitch on new clothing, selling their qualities while looking over the damage done and the mending work to be done. It sounded like it shouldn't be too complicated a job. So why, pray tell, did it cost as much as it did then? Damnedable mark ups no doubt, but he would consider the information the Nem gave as part of the deal to be generous, and frankly, to save him time since he had other pressing matters to consider before spending time haggling with the Lion's attached merchant. He would surrender the clothing and agree to the payment, considering where the library was. Dear friend would have almost brought a snort of amusement from the merc if his coffers hadn't been lightened by as much as they had, but he fortunately needed nothing else from the merchant currently.
"I will keep the new clothing shipment in mind, let's see how well the mending goes first, shall we? As for anything else, I think the information and mending will be all for now. I won't take up any more of your time since, how's the saying go, time is money?"
Urden excused himself with a polite smile, though once he turned and was sure no reflective surfaces would betray his expression it quickly fell into a neutral, not quite pleased one. Being charged quite that much for a simple job didn't sit right, but he frankly didn't feel like either burning bridges by snubbing the merchant, or wasting even more time carrying around damaged clothing like a lost child. He'd need to get better with his needle work so that he wouldn't be paying quite so much in the future, or work a damages clause into his contract with the Boss. Though he didn't fancy renegotiating an entire contract for one addition, that was never a good look, but it didn't take him long to reach the library. Lucky him, he didn't need to go bothering servants and making them wonder what some mercenary wanted with the family library. Entering just in time to hear the remark on nobody else using the design, he made a rather chipper remark in response, also announcing himself at the same time. Spooking mages was never wise, especially ones with their pet daemon around.
"Don't got selling yourself short, Handy, you watch, legends will one day speak of the groundbreaking magics of yours."
Whether the mercenary was being serious, mocking, or just taking a crack at the mage and her work was hard to say. Still, Urden wouldn't pretend to understand a damn thing that she was doing, mages weren't too chatty with hired help typically, and the odd mutterings rarely made any more sense than a stark raving madman might. Not that he would ever say that out loud, he was brazen not stupid, though as he approached and got a better look at the circle, he could safely say it might as well be random scrawls for all the sense it made. Not that it needed to, not like he'd ever be slinging more than throwing axes. Still, he acknowledged the daemon before getting into the main purpose of his interruption, inclining his head to the duo briefly. Despite, or more likely in spite, of the off putting aura around the Hundi healer he kept the jovial tone from before, and kept up the bravado in casually addressing the daemon as he did anyone else. Sure, most folks didn't find having a daemon around particularly comforting, but from what he had seen Red here was about as honest as you could expect a daemon to be. Put most professional soldiers to shame with the combat prowess, and that he could focus on and just sidestep the whole horns and red skin bit.
"Hey Red. I won't distract you two too long, maybe. Probably. Thanks for the healing after the little scuffle with the Morahti Handy, though correct me if I am wrong, since I probably am, but magical healing usually doesn't leave a throbbing ache this long after the magic was used?"
Ideally, it would all just be a case of complaining over a lack of understanding healing magic and to just give it a few more days, but his gut instinct told him that by now he really should not be feeling any sort of aftermath to the injury. Normally he couldn't afford the luxury of magical healers and went about having his wounds mended the simpler way, stitchwork and bandages from the handiest person available.
"I will keep the new clothing shipment in mind, let's see how well the mending goes first, shall we? As for anything else, I think the information and mending will be all for now. I won't take up any more of your time since, how's the saying go, time is money?"
Urden excused himself with a polite smile, though once he turned and was sure no reflective surfaces would betray his expression it quickly fell into a neutral, not quite pleased one. Being charged quite that much for a simple job didn't sit right, but he frankly didn't feel like either burning bridges by snubbing the merchant, or wasting even more time carrying around damaged clothing like a lost child. He'd need to get better with his needle work so that he wouldn't be paying quite so much in the future, or work a damages clause into his contract with the Boss. Though he didn't fancy renegotiating an entire contract for one addition, that was never a good look, but it didn't take him long to reach the library. Lucky him, he didn't need to go bothering servants and making them wonder what some mercenary wanted with the family library. Entering just in time to hear the remark on nobody else using the design, he made a rather chipper remark in response, also announcing himself at the same time. Spooking mages was never wise, especially ones with their pet daemon around.
"Don't got selling yourself short, Handy, you watch, legends will one day speak of the groundbreaking magics of yours."
Whether the mercenary was being serious, mocking, or just taking a crack at the mage and her work was hard to say. Still, Urden wouldn't pretend to understand a damn thing that she was doing, mages weren't too chatty with hired help typically, and the odd mutterings rarely made any more sense than a stark raving madman might. Not that he would ever say that out loud, he was brazen not stupid, though as he approached and got a better look at the circle, he could safely say it might as well be random scrawls for all the sense it made. Not that it needed to, not like he'd ever be slinging more than throwing axes. Still, he acknowledged the daemon before getting into the main purpose of his interruption, inclining his head to the duo briefly. Despite, or more likely in spite, of the off putting aura around the Hundi healer he kept the jovial tone from before, and kept up the bravado in casually addressing the daemon as he did anyone else. Sure, most folks didn't find having a daemon around particularly comforting, but from what he had seen Red here was about as honest as you could expect a daemon to be. Put most professional soldiers to shame with the combat prowess, and that he could focus on and just sidestep the whole horns and red skin bit.
"Hey Red. I won't distract you two too long, maybe. Probably. Thanks for the healing after the little scuffle with the Morahti Handy, though correct me if I am wrong, since I probably am, but magical healing usually doesn't leave a throbbing ache this long after the magic was used?"
Ideally, it would all just be a case of complaining over a lack of understanding healing magic and to just give it a few more days, but his gut instinct told him that by now he really should not be feeling any sort of aftermath to the injury. Normally he couldn't afford the luxury of magical healers and went about having his wounds mended the simpler way, stitchwork and bandages from the handiest person available.
"Flatterer, I don't get paid enough to be anyone's boss, merchant."
Urden had come across the diminutive merchant tagalong, Lirrah, first. Worked for him, since he suspected that whatever sewing was needed would take awhile. Still, his tone was pleasant enough, clearly no offense taken and more a matter of poking at being called a boss of anyone or anything. Still, now that one of the people was found, he could at least stop carrying around ruined clothing like some sort of lost child. Unfolding the damaged trousers, he would demonstrate the hole that the arrow had left both entering, and being removed after healing was available, while speaking on the events like someone might talk about what was needed from a trip to the market.
"Someone, well two someones, and you sure are one of them. Took an arrow in the leg thanks to those Morahti, and while it healed decently enough, sadly magic doesn't mend significant holes in clothing. Bit too much for my rather crude stitch work, so I figured I would see if our resident merchant might just happen to have a service available for mending said damage? Already took the liberty of cleaning the blood and grime out, so that shouldn't be a concern."
The mercenary also had suitable payment along with him as well, as loath as he was to part way with hard earned coin over something as simple as mending clothing. Better that than buying new clothing completely, of course, assuming the Nem merchant didn't try and gouge him over the request of course. He also could have probably asked around and found someone in the Boss's employ that could have done it too, now that he thought about it, but he was already committed at this point. Still, the mention of looking for people gave him at least enough of a thought to ask if Lirrah had seen the resident daemon summoning healer.
"Seen that ever so helpful hundi healer lurking around? Got some matters to discuss with her as well."
Urden had come across the diminutive merchant tagalong, Lirrah, first. Worked for him, since he suspected that whatever sewing was needed would take awhile. Still, his tone was pleasant enough, clearly no offense taken and more a matter of poking at being called a boss of anyone or anything. Still, now that one of the people was found, he could at least stop carrying around ruined clothing like some sort of lost child. Unfolding the damaged trousers, he would demonstrate the hole that the arrow had left both entering, and being removed after healing was available, while speaking on the events like someone might talk about what was needed from a trip to the market.
"Someone, well two someones, and you sure are one of them. Took an arrow in the leg thanks to those Morahti, and while it healed decently enough, sadly magic doesn't mend significant holes in clothing. Bit too much for my rather crude stitch work, so I figured I would see if our resident merchant might just happen to have a service available for mending said damage? Already took the liberty of cleaning the blood and grime out, so that shouldn't be a concern."
The mercenary also had suitable payment along with him as well, as loath as he was to part way with hard earned coin over something as simple as mending clothing. Better that than buying new clothing completely, of course, assuming the Nem merchant didn't try and gouge him over the request of course. He also could have probably asked around and found someone in the Boss's employ that could have done it too, now that he thought about it, but he was already committed at this point. Still, the mention of looking for people gave him at least enough of a thought to ask if Lirrah had seen the resident daemon summoning healer.
"Seen that ever so helpful hundi healer lurking around? Got some matters to discuss with her as well."
Urden was busy hacking through enemy ranks, when abruptly he ran out of Morahti to continue assaulting. Pausing, he saw Boss pulling her fancy sword from the leader of the slaver mercenary's chest and the stragglers getting picked off and routed. Sounds of the prisoners being freed was also quickly apparent, and it was about this time that his injury caught up with him, adrenaline wearing thin enough to let the pain back through, and he immediately took a significant chunk of weight off his leg that still had an arrow sticking in it. Right, yes, injuries, he should probably get those tended to before they moved too far on. Which meant, after a quick glance around, he spotted the resident Hundi mage and began limping his way over to her in relatively short order. Fortunately, looking for the glowing ring wasn't too much trouble at all. Continuing his limp, by necessity, he raised an arm in greeting, the other carrying his now thoroughly bloodied axe that would need cleaned later.
"Well, now that fun little diversion is over, mind if I borrow you for a few minutes? One of the bastards got lucky."
@Raineh Daze
Urden's leg still ached like hell. That probably wasn't normal, given what was done to mend his leg, which meant he had another reason to track down the Hundi again. Speaking of tracking, that Lirrah also needed talking to as well, word was she could do mending, and better to keep the local merchant on his good side by tossing work her way when reasonable. He had other shopping to do as well, next chance they got, but nothing worth having specially shipped, with a specially adjusted price to go with it. He had put the damaged trousers through some hand washing, he'd gotten the blood and such out, but the hole was blatant and beyond his limited ability to stitch back together. Gathering the damaged clothing into a neat bundle, and making sure he had his coin purse with him, he began moving out, looking for either Lirrah or the Hundi, whichever he ran into first.
@Octo
"Well, now that fun little diversion is over, mind if I borrow you for a few minutes? One of the bastards got lucky."
@Raineh Daze
Urden's leg still ached like hell. That probably wasn't normal, given what was done to mend his leg, which meant he had another reason to track down the Hundi again. Speaking of tracking, that Lirrah also needed talking to as well, word was she could do mending, and better to keep the local merchant on his good side by tossing work her way when reasonable. He had other shopping to do as well, next chance they got, but nothing worth having specially shipped, with a specially adjusted price to go with it. He had put the damaged trousers through some hand washing, he'd gotten the blood and such out, but the hole was blatant and beyond his limited ability to stitch back together. Gathering the damaged clothing into a neat bundle, and making sure he had his coin purse with him, he began moving out, looking for either Lirrah or the Hundi, whichever he ran into first.
@Octo
"That's a drink owed to you then, Spooky. Several tents down, plenty to go!"
Urden had been wrenching his axe out of the rib cage of one of the now dead enemy mercenaries, having been focused on butchering his way through as many of them as he could, when he spotted the one flanking him get jerked backwards into the shadows. Probably wishes he had just taken an axe to the face and had an honest death, but the Lion's mercenary wasn't going to go looking a gift assassination in the mouth in this case. Rather, he started moving towards the next of the Morahti in reach, catching the curved blade's strike on his axe haft, turning it away and smashing the slaver's jaw sideways with the butt end of his axe. Whether he attempted to say anything or not was irrelevant, talking with a broken jaw was a bitch, and a heavy handed upwards swing decapitated the Morahti. At this rate, as the other Lions involved in the combat kept getting stuck in, they would be through the enemies in no time.
Sure enough, as Boss shouted out about the archers did one of the arrows find a home in his thigh, failing to come out the other side but being firmly embedded in his leg now. A hiss of pain, but more importantly, now he was pissed. Mending clothing was expensive, and arrow holes meant needing mending. Yeah, and his leg was injured now as well, but what was one more scar? He knew better than to rip it loose, instead launching himself forward with aggressive swings, aiming to smash aside spears and create openings for the converging allies to make moves on the archers, as his own ability to move was at least hobbled, though he wasn't immobile, not by a long shot. Maybe he'd invest in some light armor, something to cover the meaty bits to deflect projectiles without slowing him down. Maybe, that was for later, for now, he focused on doing his part in putting the defense on the backfoot and keeping it from forming properly, and make them pay in blood for the tailoring he was going to have to pay for now.
@Psyker Landshark
Urden had been wrenching his axe out of the rib cage of one of the now dead enemy mercenaries, having been focused on butchering his way through as many of them as he could, when he spotted the one flanking him get jerked backwards into the shadows. Probably wishes he had just taken an axe to the face and had an honest death, but the Lion's mercenary wasn't going to go looking a gift assassination in the mouth in this case. Rather, he started moving towards the next of the Morahti in reach, catching the curved blade's strike on his axe haft, turning it away and smashing the slaver's jaw sideways with the butt end of his axe. Whether he attempted to say anything or not was irrelevant, talking with a broken jaw was a bitch, and a heavy handed upwards swing decapitated the Morahti. At this rate, as the other Lions involved in the combat kept getting stuck in, they would be through the enemies in no time.
Sure enough, as Boss shouted out about the archers did one of the arrows find a home in his thigh, failing to come out the other side but being firmly embedded in his leg now. A hiss of pain, but more importantly, now he was pissed. Mending clothing was expensive, and arrow holes meant needing mending. Yeah, and his leg was injured now as well, but what was one more scar? He knew better than to rip it loose, instead launching himself forward with aggressive swings, aiming to smash aside spears and create openings for the converging allies to make moves on the archers, as his own ability to move was at least hobbled, though he wasn't immobile, not by a long shot. Maybe he'd invest in some light armor, something to cover the meaty bits to deflect projectiles without slowing him down. Maybe, that was for later, for now, he focused on doing his part in putting the defense on the backfoot and keeping it from forming properly, and make them pay in blood for the tailoring he was going to have to pay for now.
@Psyker Landshark
Urden flexed his grip slowly on the axe, watching as first the horses were turned loose and, secondly, the griffon came down and sent them panicking into the night. Couldn't really blame the beasts, even among men seeing such a beast come hurtling down from above would send most fleeing in a panic. The chaos trampled a tent already, though given the lack of screaming indicated there hadn't been prisoners in there, after all, most folks would panic when the structure of a holding area came down on them. Especially when it was from stampeding horses, and the flashing gleam of that fancy magic sword that Boss wielded, alongside the orders. Find the prisoners, butcher those too stupid to throw down their arms, and let those who yield live. Some days he wouldn't mind Boss being a bit more harsh towards certain folks, but he wasn't paid to offer advice right now, oh no, right now it was quite simple what to do.
"This time I get to be doing the ambushing, hell of a busy night." The mercenary launched off from his hidden position, aiming his charge towards the nearest Morahti mercenary, not bothering with war cries or any real warning for the Morahti who were currently reeling from the sudden loosing of their horses, and utter lack of any idea what was happening. Urden would be aiming to kill as many as he could before they got their wits about them, aiming axe strikes for vitals. Be it instant, like the head, or taking out deep enough gouges in the torso that they couldn't readily keep fighting. Any of the Morahti that moved to surrender would be bypassed, as easy as it would be to just swing and feign ignorance later, but he planned to maximize the advantage of the assault before the enemy could organize themselves.
"This time I get to be doing the ambushing, hell of a busy night." The mercenary launched off from his hidden position, aiming his charge towards the nearest Morahti mercenary, not bothering with war cries or any real warning for the Morahti who were currently reeling from the sudden loosing of their horses, and utter lack of any idea what was happening. Urden would be aiming to kill as many as he could before they got their wits about them, aiming axe strikes for vitals. Be it instant, like the head, or taking out deep enough gouges in the torso that they couldn't readily keep fighting. Any of the Morahti that moved to surrender would be bypassed, as easy as it would be to just swing and feign ignorance later, but he planned to maximize the advantage of the assault before the enemy could organize themselves.
"I'll pass on the acid this time, don't need that particular plan flying back in my face." The glance from the Crowsnguard, who he had christened as Spooky as half joke, half proof of her ability to just crop up without warning, said enough. Having not been told off, it would probably stick for the foreseeable future. It was an attempt to be friendlier with the assassin, at least overtly, to help make up for the fact that he really wasn't supposed to know about her profession. Still, that was consideration for later, Boss had given the marching orders. Spooky and Hector would loose the horses and scare them off, and once the horses were turned loose, the vanguard would run down the rest of the slaver mercenaries before they could wrangle their horses or organize properly. Odds were in their favor, surprise should be on their side since it was unlikely anyone would be around to attack, so he suspected the mercenaries would not be exactly ready for a fight, beyond lookouts if they were sufficiently disciplined.
Kneeling behind the cover of the rocky outcropping, Urden kept his axe low, out of sight to keep any sort of moonlight from reflecting off the blade. Not that he was certain it would, he kept his weapons and attire clean, but not polished to a reflective sheen. Once again, Urden found himself in the waiting portion of the life of a soldier, which was the part that he knew more than a few didn't particularly enjoy. He didn't mind it, it let him gather his thoughts, get things tidy before getting stuck into another fight. Back to back raids made for a long night, sure, but other than the exertion of putting down the slaughter doll, the cultists hadn't proven too taxing on them, so he was confident in referring to the group as relatively fresh. So Urden mostly let his brain meander, waiting for the order to attack so he could focus again and launch headlong into the fight again.
Kneeling behind the cover of the rocky outcropping, Urden kept his axe low, out of sight to keep any sort of moonlight from reflecting off the blade. Not that he was certain it would, he kept his weapons and attire clean, but not polished to a reflective sheen. Once again, Urden found himself in the waiting portion of the life of a soldier, which was the part that he knew more than a few didn't particularly enjoy. He didn't mind it, it let him gather his thoughts, get things tidy before getting stuck into another fight. Back to back raids made for a long night, sure, but other than the exertion of putting down the slaughter doll, the cultists hadn't proven too taxing on them, so he was confident in referring to the group as relatively fresh. So Urden mostly let his brain meander, waiting for the order to attack so he could focus again and launch headlong into the fight again.
@Octo @Psyker Landshark @The Otter @VitaVitaAR
Turned out, between the Nem merchant's recognition of the currency, being slightly worse than normal Librans that he preferred to deal in, but there was enough information in the description to get Cadmon talking. Mercenary foreigners, which took slaving as a part of their culture rather than just purely for profit. Well, justified by culture for profit might be a better indication of the matter. The very concept of selling one's skills to the highest bidder hardly invited any sense of honor, it was a case of working for the next payout of coin, and for whatever the employer saw fit. Urden shifted his stance, glancing towards where their illustrious flying scout had gone towards. "There's no honor in slaving, justification be damned. And that's coming from a mercenary. Good to know that it's better to die fighting, or fighting to safety, than ever ask for any quarter from these bastards. Oh, you can keep that coin Lirrah, for the trouble of figuring it out."
Urden had never seriously considered surrender or being taken prisoner as a good option, mercenaries are not great prisoners. If you can pay them to swap sides, well you can't trust them anymore frankly, because if they will turn coat at the first sign of trouble, well, who's to say they won't turn again the moment a better prospect comes along. Even loyal mercenaries with a sense of business savvy knew that, by their nature, they were expendable. No kingdom, company, or employer would go out of their way to negotiate or try and free the mercenary from captivity. It was better to fight to safety or go down swinging, and that was when dealing with local forces that would either execute a prisoner, or just let them languish in captivity until whatever conflict was over. Assuming they bothered to remember that the mercenary existed. Dealing with 'warriors bound by honor to enslave the defeated' only cemented that outlook. No quarter asked then, he wouldn't be made a slave. As for whether or not quarter would be given, well, that wasn't his call. That was the Boss' decision.
"Right, musings be damned, Spooky there is right. Let's get the Boss filled in." Urden didn't like that Kayliss just up and appeared like a damned phantom, a reminder that, frankly, even if he slept with an eye open he would still probably wake up with a knife between his ribs should the order be given. Knowing her true profession didn't help either, it made him a loose end, something that very few people were fond of having just flapping about, waiting to be tugged on and cause a mass unraveling of the main fabric. But, that was for later concern, for now, with the griffon rider being back, that meant it was time for a brief. Surround the camp, set the horses free, and slaughter them all. If they surrender, spare them, and while he mentally disapproved, he didn't let it show. Didn't matter what he thought, Boss paid his bills, so Boss got to decide what his stance was in a fight. Granted, she couldn't pay him enough to surrender to slavers, but he suspected that wouldn't be a problem.
"I reckon Spooky will handle the sneaky bit of cutting loose the horses. Where do you want the rest of us Boss? I'd prefer to be in the thickest of it, slavers playing at mercenaries is bad for business. Justification by culture is a shit excuse, regardless of skill."
Turned out, between the Nem merchant's recognition of the currency, being slightly worse than normal Librans that he preferred to deal in, but there was enough information in the description to get Cadmon talking. Mercenary foreigners, which took slaving as a part of their culture rather than just purely for profit. Well, justified by culture for profit might be a better indication of the matter. The very concept of selling one's skills to the highest bidder hardly invited any sense of honor, it was a case of working for the next payout of coin, and for whatever the employer saw fit. Urden shifted his stance, glancing towards where their illustrious flying scout had gone towards. "There's no honor in slaving, justification be damned. And that's coming from a mercenary. Good to know that it's better to die fighting, or fighting to safety, than ever ask for any quarter from these bastards. Oh, you can keep that coin Lirrah, for the trouble of figuring it out."
Urden had never seriously considered surrender or being taken prisoner as a good option, mercenaries are not great prisoners. If you can pay them to swap sides, well you can't trust them anymore frankly, because if they will turn coat at the first sign of trouble, well, who's to say they won't turn again the moment a better prospect comes along. Even loyal mercenaries with a sense of business savvy knew that, by their nature, they were expendable. No kingdom, company, or employer would go out of their way to negotiate or try and free the mercenary from captivity. It was better to fight to safety or go down swinging, and that was when dealing with local forces that would either execute a prisoner, or just let them languish in captivity until whatever conflict was over. Assuming they bothered to remember that the mercenary existed. Dealing with 'warriors bound by honor to enslave the defeated' only cemented that outlook. No quarter asked then, he wouldn't be made a slave. As for whether or not quarter would be given, well, that wasn't his call. That was the Boss' decision.
"Right, musings be damned, Spooky there is right. Let's get the Boss filled in." Urden didn't like that Kayliss just up and appeared like a damned phantom, a reminder that, frankly, even if he slept with an eye open he would still probably wake up with a knife between his ribs should the order be given. Knowing her true profession didn't help either, it made him a loose end, something that very few people were fond of having just flapping about, waiting to be tugged on and cause a mass unraveling of the main fabric. But, that was for later concern, for now, with the griffon rider being back, that meant it was time for a brief. Surround the camp, set the horses free, and slaughter them all. If they surrender, spare them, and while he mentally disapproved, he didn't let it show. Didn't matter what he thought, Boss paid his bills, so Boss got to decide what his stance was in a fight. Granted, she couldn't pay him enough to surrender to slavers, but he suspected that wouldn't be a problem.
"I reckon Spooky will handle the sneaky bit of cutting loose the horses. Where do you want the rest of us Boss? I'd prefer to be in the thickest of it, slavers playing at mercenaries is bad for business. Justification by culture is a shit excuse, regardless of skill."
@Octo @The Otter
Urden had been picking through the dead well before Boss said they should take some time to look for clues or the like. Yeah, clues, coin was coin, could always have it melted down if being foreign coin ended up being a problem. It was quickly turning out the dead didn't have much more than a few coins that was probably theirs before the untimely ends. Lucky him, he was quick to pocket any coin that didn't stand out from usual fair, and his search carried him into the camp itself, making a beeline for the second largest tent. Any group worth their effort never kept the treasury in largest tent with the command, condensing that much importance in one spot was a fool's errand. No, you kept the treasury coin in a separate place from the command, and sure enough his suspicions had paid off, literally in this case. The tent was littered and had been lived in, sure, but he took pride in knowing where it was most likely the less reputable kept their coin. The reputable were predictable, so that wasn't terribly impressive in comparison if it came up.
The mercenary took one of the coins out of the pouch, tying the rest to his belt to be added to his personal stash once they returned to camp. Two things stood out to Urden as he turned the coin over in his hand, furrowing his brow as he tried to place the currency. It was absolutely foreign and he could at least tell who it wasn't from. It didn't match Asharaadi minting, beyond that he was at a loss. He hadn't sold his services abroad yet, so while he wasn't surprised that he didn't recognize the origin, it was annoying. He would have to compare to the Librans he was used to, make sure they were at least equivalent to what he was used to dealing in. If they happened to be worth more? All the better, but he wasn't about to go using coins that could be worth less than standard currency. He wasn't a fool, and he had a feeling if anyone present knew, besides the Boss he suspected, where these coins came from it would be the Nem merchant.
Tracking her down led him to find Cadmon was carrying the Nem after she apparently had a complete breakdown. Poor thing, not everyone was cut out to be in a fight with regular goons and soldiers, let alone the Doll Witch's creations. Not everyone was a soldier, or a warrior, but it didn't stop Urden from cracking a joke as he approached. Humor was a good way to cope, least as far as the mercenary was concerned, though he would turn to business soon enough.
"Already trying to adopt the merchant, are we now? I don't think that's going to get you any discounts anytime soon. Found a modest pouch of coins, though I don't recognize them, though I could tell you where they aren't from. Any chance either of you might recognize them?"
Urden would offer the foreign gold coin he had been holding for further investigation, though notably the pouch that contained the rest remained firmly tied to his belt. Better in his coffers than funding nefarious affairs like these cultists had been up to. Part of him was curious to see what either of them knew, though he was inclined to assume the merchant was the better odds for figuring out the origin of the coins. Though he wouldn't be making bets there, gambling was a damn stupid way to lose coin, and he would rather not waste hard earned coin on those kind of gambles.
Urden had been picking through the dead well before Boss said they should take some time to look for clues or the like. Yeah, clues, coin was coin, could always have it melted down if being foreign coin ended up being a problem. It was quickly turning out the dead didn't have much more than a few coins that was probably theirs before the untimely ends. Lucky him, he was quick to pocket any coin that didn't stand out from usual fair, and his search carried him into the camp itself, making a beeline for the second largest tent. Any group worth their effort never kept the treasury in largest tent with the command, condensing that much importance in one spot was a fool's errand. No, you kept the treasury coin in a separate place from the command, and sure enough his suspicions had paid off, literally in this case. The tent was littered and had been lived in, sure, but he took pride in knowing where it was most likely the less reputable kept their coin. The reputable were predictable, so that wasn't terribly impressive in comparison if it came up.
The mercenary took one of the coins out of the pouch, tying the rest to his belt to be added to his personal stash once they returned to camp. Two things stood out to Urden as he turned the coin over in his hand, furrowing his brow as he tried to place the currency. It was absolutely foreign and he could at least tell who it wasn't from. It didn't match Asharaadi minting, beyond that he was at a loss. He hadn't sold his services abroad yet, so while he wasn't surprised that he didn't recognize the origin, it was annoying. He would have to compare to the Librans he was used to, make sure they were at least equivalent to what he was used to dealing in. If they happened to be worth more? All the better, but he wasn't about to go using coins that could be worth less than standard currency. He wasn't a fool, and he had a feeling if anyone present knew, besides the Boss he suspected, where these coins came from it would be the Nem merchant.
Tracking her down led him to find Cadmon was carrying the Nem after she apparently had a complete breakdown. Poor thing, not everyone was cut out to be in a fight with regular goons and soldiers, let alone the Doll Witch's creations. Not everyone was a soldier, or a warrior, but it didn't stop Urden from cracking a joke as he approached. Humor was a good way to cope, least as far as the mercenary was concerned, though he would turn to business soon enough.
"Already trying to adopt the merchant, are we now? I don't think that's going to get you any discounts anytime soon. Found a modest pouch of coins, though I don't recognize them, though I could tell you where they aren't from. Any chance either of you might recognize them?"
Urden would offer the foreign gold coin he had been holding for further investigation, though notably the pouch that contained the rest remained firmly tied to his belt. Better in his coffers than funding nefarious affairs like these cultists had been up to. Part of him was curious to see what either of them knew, though he was inclined to assume the merchant was the better odds for figuring out the origin of the coins. Though he wouldn't be making bets there, gambling was a damn stupid way to lose coin, and he would rather not waste hard earned coin on those kind of gambles.
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