The strange mercenary

[Sholtan]

The tavern, one of the rare places where it was often that Sholtan could be seen. Sitting all alone, away from everyone, drinking his beer, he was looking aroud, waiting to see if his client was going to show up. He was wearing a black shirt, with gray pants and long leather boots and also a long black coat. His dark hair descending to his lower back was a little messed up and his blue eyes were showing that he had a long night. Most of the people that passed by him every here and then couldn't help but stare at his piecrings all over his face, but he just had to give them back that stare to make them go away.

*He's not gonna show up, just give up already!*

Sholtan had a little smyle when he heard his friend's voice. A friend who was actually his second personality.

*I was starting to think that you where getting patient for a second*, did he respond to him.

*Yea yea, let's just finish our beer and get out off here!*

*Just wait a little. We haven't had a contract for a while and the money wouldn't hurt. Plus, don't you wanna get a chance to kill something?*

*Fine, I'll let you wait, since you got control of the body most of the time. But we better not stay for nothing...*

The mercenary had a little laugh has he finished his beer's last drop and left the glass on the table to get himself in a more comfortable position. He pushed his chair backwards and lifted his feet on the table while in the same time putting his arms behind his head. Then he just closed his eyes, waiting for his client to show up, or at least for something interesting to happen.

(when I write between ** it means these are thoughts, just a little explanation because I don't want to confuse anyone)

[Liminal]

Taverns in Sunberth were dangerous places.

While it was true that essentially every place in Sunberth was dangerous, the taverns were, if possible, even worse than the rest of the city. Alcohol and anarchists were an explosive mix, and it was rare that more than a few days went by without someone being stabbed, clubbed, or otherwise killed. It was a fact of life, as routine as the weather.

Today was a relatively quiet one, however. There were a few grizzled men -- and women -- glaring suspiciously into their mugs, but no one was causing any trouble. For the moment, anyway.

Heads looked up as someone entered through the door. People must have recognized him, however, because they turned back to their drinks without comment. The newcomer was a wiry man with hair graying at the temples, dressed in a nondescript brown tunic. He looked around the room once, and then walked over to Sholtan.

Sliding onto the seat next to him, the man asked, quietly, "You the assassin?"

[Sholtan]

Sholtan finally openned his eyes when the man had adressed himself to him. He slowly turned his head and looked at him for a few seconds, making a detailled description of this stranger right by his side. Finally he had a little smyle and took his feet off the table to sit in a propper way.

- Well... it depends on what sort of services you require and the price for it, did he respond to the man quietly while scratching his chin.

The mercenary looked at his "client" with his piercing blue eyes, hoping he was worth his time. It was rare that the young man turned down a contract, but some jobs, while being most interesting, just weren't paid enough by the clients. Some greedy men just don't get that mercenaries take risks for every job they take and that the price needs to make it worth it.

*Well it was about time for him to show up!*, said the other Sholtan with excitement in his voice.

*I told you he would, now let's just hear what he has in store for us...*

And so, ready to listen to the man, Sholtan approached a little so that he wouldn't have to talk too loud, in case someone was listening. They needed to keep this conversation intemate, and in Sunberth, you just never knew what kind of people were around you...

[Liminal]

The man gave a sort of a grim chuckle. "Fair enough, fair enough. All right, here's the deal."

He leaned forward slightly. "There's two men. Steven and John Goldsmith, father and son. They're from Zeltiva originally, but living here in Sunberth. I've got a personal grievance with them, and I'd like them both dead. I'm willing to offer two hundred mizas, but I'll double it to four hundred if you can give me some kind of proof that their deaths were as prolonged and painful as possible."

These were not small sums of money that the man was throwing around. He seemed much more focused on the task, however, than on any possible monetary loss. Some things, it seemed, transcended money.

"Anyway, will you take the job?" The man glanced around the room, and then looked back to Sholtan. "I've heard of your work, and the job's yours if you want it."

[Sholtan]

Sholtan had a little laugh, the man wasn't joking around. The price was high and the "special demand" sure was most interesting, especially to the inner Sholtan, who was getting very excitted. Altough... the name Zeltiva felt like a little pinch. The mercenary hadn't really thought about the place since... that day... He slowly placed his hand on his father's hunting knife. For a few seconds, the events were relived by Sholtan. The farm, the bandits, his parents, the fire..

*Hey! Focus a little. They ARE DEAD, ain't nothing you can do about it! We got ourselves a nice job, now accept it, get the information and let's get ourselves some nice killing!*

The assassin came back from his thoughts and took his hand off the knife. The other one was right, there was nothing to do about it. He had to leave this old life behind. He was a killer now and killers don't have time to think about the good old days. So, Sholtan took out his best smyle and answered:

- Well, the money sure isn't a problem for ya, as I can see... I think we got ourselves a deal.

*Yea that's more like it, we are gonna have some fun on that one!*

- And... I have to say that the little bonus sure temptes me... I'll find a way to make my little visit to them, a most remindable one, did he add with a little wink.

Then the assassin looked around a little, just to make sure they were still alone in this conversation. He then turned is attention again to his new client. It was time for some information collecting...

- Now if you could provide me with anything usefull about the targets. Where they live, hang out, what they look like...

[Liminal]

The man smiled for the first time since he had entered the tavern. "That's what I like to hear. When you're finished, just come back here and ask for ol' Mick. They'll know how to find me."

There was no one else paying attention to the conversation. "Steven Goldsmith is a collector of stolen goods. Six feet tall, broad-shouldered, sandy hair, maybe thirty-five years old. I don't know where he lives, but I know that he's down at The Fence every time he's got enough stuff to offload. He's quick with a knife and quicker with his fists, but he's older than he used to be. His son, looks just like him, but shorter and more wiry. Fifteen or sixteen, maybe. Walks like he owns the world, can't talk to someone without sneering. Works with his dad, he does, and where you find one, you'll likely find the other."

Mick reached into his shirt pocket and took out a small bag. "I wouldn't expect you to take the job without part in advance. So here's a hundred Mizas now. When you come back, I'll give you another hundred or three hundred, depending."

[Sholtan]

(sorry for the time it took, had a lot to take care about, but i'm back a 100% ^^)

Sholtan took the small bag and openned it, just giving it a quick check. With a few seconds, he could tell that there where approximatly a hundred mizas, has Mick said there would be. He then closed the bag and attached it to his belt. The young mercenary finally got off his chair and started walking away.

- In less than two day, this affair will be delt with, did he say over his shoulder with eyes stripped of emotions.

The man in his long black coat got out of the tavern, just after giving the barman his tip for the drinks. Outside off the establishment, inner Sholtan was jumping in joy. Finally a contract, finally something to have fun with, finally some money...

*Alright! When do we start hunting!*

The assassin closed his eyes, with a little smyle.

*How about now? The day has yet but started, we will find the targets. Get them at our place and then wait... When the sun goes down, the nightmare will begin...*

*I love it when you start talking like me...*, did the inner being giggle.

The young man had a little laugh. After all those years with "this thing" inside him, he had started to look more and more like his friend. People say that friends thend to start looking like they share the same head sometimes, for them, it was litteraly the case... Sholtan finally openned his eyes and started walking, ignoring the people around staring at him. Mick said they where often at the Fence, so the search was starting there, and so the contract was on...

- I hope for them that they don't keep me waiting too long... did the mercenary wisper for himself, with his eyes looking straight forward, watching for it's targets, the first phase was starting, the hunt was beginning...

[Liminal]

Mick didn't leave the tavern when Sholtan did, electing to stay and have a drink. No one seemed to be paying any attention to Sholtan as he left.

On the long, dirt-covered street that ran through the direct center of town, there was a stone building that had been subdivided into several commercial establishments. At the very end of the building, there was a door with a sign on it that read, in small letters, THE FENCE

The door swung open easily at a touch. Inside, it was dark, and the front room was extremely small. Perhaps four feet from the door was a high counter, behind which sat a fat man with several scars running across his face. His hair was unkempt, and there appeared to be several decades' worth of grease underneath his fingernails. A patch sewn onto the shirt he was wearing declared his name to be "ZEKE" -- assuming he was the original owner of the shirt.

"Yeah, whaddaya lookin' fer?"

Zeke looked up as Sholtan approached. It appeared that the shop was otherwise empty -- at least at the moment...

[Sholtan]

Sholtan walked up to the man with his blue eyes looking around the room and then turning to "Zeke". He did not give him a straight answer, but the look on his face was enough to say it all. The mercenary didn't want to look too suspicious, so he started looking around, grabbing an item or two, looking at it, then putting it back to it's former place. The place sure didn't seem to be that much popular...

Time passed, and still no one at the store but him and... that... Sholtan knew he wasn't the best example for a fithing physic with all his piercings... but... all this... DIRT! The man just looked way too nasty...

*I don't like it when he looks at us... Those two Bozos better make it here right now!*

*And you think I like it, let's just prettend where just looking around, wait, and it will all go well...*

And so, Sholtan continued his fake search, waiting for his targets to arrive... waiting to get out of here...

[Liminal]

There was precious little to look at in the shop's interior. A couple of empty metal cans, suitable perhaps for holding water, a roll of twine, and a small pile of oddly-shaped rocks, and that was all. It wasn't enough to examine for more than a minute or two without the whole thing looking a little suspicious.

And sure enough, about a minute later, Zeke grunted with annoyance. "Look, feller, everyone knows the merchandise ain't out front, not in a place like this. Now what are you looking for, and I can tell you whether I've got it or not, or know how to get it. But this ain't a place for just standing around, so let me know what your business is."