Private Tales The ends justify the means...

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
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"That's it, Cato. I swear it." He could sense a bead of frustration in his counterparts expression. "It would be an asinine mistake on their end to put this on paper. One I'd happily take, but its not reality." He shifted his seat to close the gap between the two. Lowering his voice, he reiterated. "We're getting paid handsomely to pervade and occupy a farm. Osren province, east of Taagi Baara, Newbrook Farms. They're a main distributor of resources to our benefactor, Baron Mowbray. His contender is named Baron Lawson. That's all I know. Some big dicks are in a pissing match. 1 week. 200g a fuckin day. Farmers, Cato. Farmers." He leaned back, pleased with himself. He knew it was never as easy as he played it out to be. Hell, if Cato didn't want to take this job he'd understand completely. But Bash was hoping he found a desperation pressure point.

Cato
 
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"Sounds like a fucking rat-shit trap, Bash," he snapped back with more than just a bead, it was the whole godsdamned necklace. "Even if it ain't, we're still like to do something that's going to have us sleeping with the worms." Cato chastised the other man and the mercenary captain still hadn't set his stirrups in the other directions.

Whoring and dicing had a way of getting even the smartest fellows in trouble. And Cato sure as hells wasn't counted among the Elbion elite. Though he'd heard bout their preferences and was still thinking he might be the better. Simple fact was that he owed coin, a fair bit of it at that. Normally he'd knife the fool and be done but that wasn't an option this go around. This sort was the type to cut his balls off and wrap it round his mouth as they gutted him.

"This farm's got a nice name and all, the people any different?" The mercenary would prefer to just scare folk away. He was a sellsword, killing was business. There was no denying that. He still preferred limiting that to bastards who mostly deserved it.

Harsh words and shined steel could possibly save his conscious a night's ache.


Sebastion Kane
 
Cato's aggravated cadence was his greatest tell. Bash knew he had the bloke on the more agreeable side of things. All he needed to do was wait out the spittle of profanity before they shook on what may be the easiest coin of their pitiful lives. A momentary hush fell over them as the pair sat with their thoughts. His eyes traveled along the grooves of the table awaiting Cato's answer.

The silence broken by a calmer tone from his counterpart,


"A quaint name, no? I doubt the people would mind our company considering we're there to keep their resources safe, Cato. Another attempt to reassure his fiery friend, "The people are paid handsomely by their lord and live quite a fruitful life from what I'm told." He bit his lip in pause. "Cato. We're hired muscle playing babysitter. Just the two of us. If it was dangerous do you think he'd hire me and another on my word?" He scoffed. "You have any business to attend to before we embark?" Part of him hoped the answer was a resounding yes. His silver forked tongue hungered for work.

Cato
 
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"Thinking maybe we should just see if this Baron needs another few farmhands," mused the mercenary. Cato couldn't remember the last time he'd heard of a noble paying decent wages. There were some that probably did right by their people but he'd yet to meet one. Well, he supposed that wasn't entirely true. A certain Alirian Councilor came to mind but the man had almost gotten him killed on a few occasions.

"Nobles have a way with being cheap on the things that actually matter. Rather spend their coin on a few extra yarns of silk to look better than the next cunt instead of putting it where it matters." The cynicism in his voice almost outweighed his greed, almost.

He looked at the other man bemusedly. "Unless there's another whorehouse 'round here I don't know about..."


Sebastion Kane