"Sir, I know I may have made a...less than stellar first impression." Zankas glances ruefully at the clerk. "But the Children of the Old Gods and I have a history together. There's nothing I wouldn't do for the sake of getting in their way and living to spit on the corpses. I learned their language just so I could insult them properly. Believe me, you don't have to worry about me dying before this town is clear of their ilk."
Zankas pauses for a moment.
"Do you want to know anything about them? I do have a bit of first-hand knowledge about them that most don't know about. Not exactly weaknesses but they might be useful in preparing the town."
"That...that would be good, yes. I would really appreciate it if you could help out in the fortification of Gravestone."
"Fortifications? My thinking was more along the lines of traps, but..."
Zankas bites on his finger as he thinks for a moment.
"I was raised by a mason, and I've inherited no small portion of his skill," he said, starting slowly but speeding up. "A simple city wall with battlements would be within my reach, along with Proper fortifications, well...once we sort out the Irregulars..." he begins debating different tactics under his breath.
Man is a most complex simple creature: see what he weaves, and how base his reasons for doing so.
"Alright, you've proven to me that while you certainly have the dedication, you don't have any concrete plans that I can entrust this money to. You'll receive the normal deputy's pay, at a rate of one gold piece a week."
Bastion writes a few receipts and presses it into your hands. "Here, go see the clerk for this week's salary."
Man is a most complex simple creature: see what he weaves, and how base his reasons for doing so.
You leave the office, and go to the clerk. Handing in your receipts, the clerk passes each of you a small bag. In each bag are a few coppers and silvers, adding up to exactly 1 gold piece. Each bag also contains something else.
In Ownka's bag is an alabaster mask.
In Sulfur's bag is a tiny mechanical crab or spider, you're not sure what.
In Amber's bag is a cloth doll skewered with needles.
In Zankas' bag is a small wooden statuette of a smug halfling.
Zankas examines the statuette. Wages were supposed to be one gold exactly, meaning that this new trinket should be worthless. Still, nobody would go through the effort if it was. Something from the aforementioned ex-patrolmen, perhaps?
"Is that so? Not picking anything off of this, and you get a decent sense for the stuff after working near wizards for that long." Zankas took another look at it. Might not be magical, but it has to have some importance.
Ownka, meanwhile, examines the mask with an inscrutable expression. Then, wordlessly, she puts the mask over her own face.
Man is a most complex simple creature: see what he weaves, and how base his reasons for doing so.
You make your way to the outskirts of town, where the regulars are camped. It's a typical army camp in the first few weeks of occupancy: discipline is still in check, soldiers are wearing their uniforms, the tents look new, and it's not too messy. As time passes, all of these things will change.
An unpleasant memory stirs itself in Amber Eyes' mind. A man crushed under the weight of a burning house, and a young boy running away from it, screaming for help...
Amber Eyes' mouth twitches a little. "It'd seem that way, yes."
Comments
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead