joshuadim
the writer
Preface
In the year 1578 of the First Era, tensions brew throughout the known world as steel clashes and blood is spilled. The North bleeds with infighting and scheming as the lords and stewards fight for influence and dominance among the jarldoms, the Riverlands burn as two of its greatest kingdoms fight to the bitter end against one another, and the Vale in a standoff between the greatest realms of Men with one another, all the while wary eyes rest upon the new strongholds of demons established across Argos. And worse yet, whispers of a terrible threat emerge from legends of the lost lands of Pengiros…
Though it is in these times of conflict and war, for this in the market for it there is profit to be made through the profession of a sellsword. Mercenary work is not for the faint of heart and often breaks even the strongest of men but for those who desire coin then there is work to be done.
In the city-state of Gwell in the Riverlands, the capital of mercenary companies and brothels alike, a new regiment has arisen and is eager to hire help to fill its new ranks: Hughin’s Sellsword Company. It is here that the story of those that join this fated company will go from taking what seems to be a simple job, escorting an Utterlin barge, to an adventure that will shape the destiny of the world itself in the face of insurmountable odds and hardship.
In the year 1578 of the First Era, tensions brew throughout the known world as steel clashes and blood is spilled. The North bleeds with infighting and scheming as the lords and stewards fight for influence and dominance among the jarldoms, the Riverlands burn as two of its greatest kingdoms fight to the bitter end against one another, and the Vale in a standoff between the greatest realms of Men with one another, all the while wary eyes rest upon the new strongholds of demons established across Argos. And worse yet, whispers of a terrible threat emerge from legends of the lost lands of Pengiros…
Though it is in these times of conflict and war, for this in the market for it there is profit to be made through the profession of a sellsword. Mercenary work is not for the faint of heart and often breaks even the strongest of men but for those who desire coin then there is work to be done.
In the city-state of Gwell in the Riverlands, the capital of mercenary companies and brothels alike, a new regiment has arisen and is eager to hire help to fill its new ranks: Hughin’s Sellsword Company. It is here that the story of those that join this fated company will go from taking what seems to be a simple job, escorting an Utterlin barge, to an adventure that will shape the destiny of the world itself in the face of insurmountable odds and hardship.
12 Mir 1578 FE (First Era)
City of Gwell
City of Gwell
The early hours of the morn brought about an initial flurry of activity within the Port of Ports. Harbor bells chimed softly near the waters, artisans flocked to their shops, and workers scurried to their employers to start a day like any other that has been for centuries now. The taverns opened their doors and barkeeps cleaned up after the previous night’s messes, the hungover soldiery and sell-swords went about their business elsewhere to freshen up, and within the hour of first light the city was bustling full of life once more as a stark contrast to the empty streets at night.
All manner of races mingled and spoke among each other in this mixing pot of the world in an environment unlike any other. Yet unlike in the other realms of Men, here in the Serene City of Gwell this diversity was met with relative cooperation among the differing peoples as they all worked together to advance themselves within the bustling businesses and companies available. Today was to be a particularly busy day as the harbormaster counted dozens of ships on the horizon to enter port from his view, and the workers on the piers were required to double their efforts to meet such an influx.
While the city’s port was a point of pride for its owners with regards to its capacity, there was still a long while to wait as ships were signaled to come in with a set line. One such vessel simply anchored itself and awaited to be signaled to dock on one of the piers. It was likely that they would be waiting for hours on end, and so its furred crew simply idled or passed the time with games of some sort while their captain, a seasoned veteran of the saltwater routes, kept watch with his spyglass and waited as patiently as he could while his tail slapped the boards of the deck from time to time.
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
As the sun continued to rise throughout the day, a new posting appeared on the city square’s notice board among the various other contracts, job postings, and scribblings placed by citizens or businessmen. Some advertised employment opportunities for apprenticeships, others spoke about contracts to deal with a creature on someone’s property, and some even advertised individuals wanted by the law with a bounty for their kill or capture.
This particular posting however, one of numerous that had been placed around the city for maximum advertisement, showcased the newly formed “Hughin’s Sellsword Company” that was in need of bodies to fight and signups were within the Golden Talon Tavern. This caught the eye of two dockworkers who were already late for work because of their own hangovers. The first burly man looked at the posting and chuckled: “Oi, what do you reckon ‘bout this one?” he asked his friend, pointing to the logo of the posting. “I reckon we would make more coin being a sell-sword than if we kept working for that damnable dockmaster.”
“Come on now, you can’t even swing a sword, let alone wield one! You’re too fat!” the second man joked aloud as he looked at the posting himself, “Besides, it’s dangerous work this… lot of boys wind up dead within the first arn or so…”
“What? Are you saying I can’t handle meself?” the first man protested feebly, “I know how to throw a few good punches!”
“Right, and what good will punching do when you get a sword in your belly? Come on now, we’re already late as is… hopefully we don’t get pay docked.” His friend then replied as he ushered themselves along quickly to the docks for the day’s work, leaving behind the notice board for others to look upon.
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
The Golden Talon Tavern was a modest establishment amidst the various taverns and inns scattered throughout the city, offering all sorts of drink, food and rest for weary travelers and workers alike within the city. The barkeep, Robert, had plenty of work ahead of him as there was quite a mess due to the spontaneous festivities of the patrons last night. Mugs and plates were scattered about the many tables inside and the floor was littered with alcoholic stains and crumbs of meals.
Although it was the early morning, a few patrons did remain inside without much hurry to return to the outside world as they talked amongst themselves in their own cliques to pass the time. On the bar however, a single man sat on one of the stools while leaning onto the countertop and waited anxiously. Hughin was taking a rather big risk starting his own unit as he not only didn’t have much coin to spare, but also desperately needed the recruits to pull off whatever jobs came their way. Yet his upstart venture did not have the same name pull as some of the heavy hitters around here, including the Golden Company that he had just left. It was unlikely he was going to get anything more than a few drunkards and braggarts as he tapped his fingers onto the counter rhythmically.
“You worry too much.” Robert spoke aloud as he swept the floor nearby with a broom to get rid of what had accumulated over the night, “Fortune favors those who take risks.”
“Doesn’t hurt to worry *sometimes*,” Hughin retorted in a sarcastic manner “although I will take an ale to help calm my nerves down a little.” The barkeep obliged as he took one of the few remaining clean mugs and poured some of the brown liquid into the cup from a keg before handing it off to the mercenary. Hughin took a few greedy sips for his parched throat before sighing. “Though I will admit, I’m not optimistic about my chances.”
“So why’d ya leave the Golden Company then?” Robert asked, “There you got good pay-“
“Right, at the expense of the people we’d be helping enslave. I can’t be a part of that, I won’t be.” Hughin replied with a glare, “I just hope I won’t have to go crawling back to them and beg for my position back. I’m sure Jean-Loup would love that, that Kalpurnian prick…” he then spoke, muttering the last part under his breath.
“Well speaking of good fortune…” Robert then said, pointing to the door as it swung open as Hughin’s lieutenant, Zakala, walked in with a cloak draped over her body and head to hide some of her more prominent demonic features. “Welcome back madame. I trust your venture outside was fruitful?” the barkeep then asked with curiosity, hoping the answer would help lift the old captain’s spirits.
Zakala shrugged as she sat next to her commander and lowered the hood from her head, “The posters are up, I placed them on every notice board around town. Now we just have to wait and see what we get.”
“Did anyone give you trouble?” Hughin asked with concern as he moved his gaze over to her.
The demoness scoffed in response, “Trouble? A few hungover hooligans tried to intimidate me but ran away when I threatened to turn their bones into a stew… or whatever bullshit humans come up with nowadays about us.”
“Mhm…” Hughin muttered before realizing something, “Say, where’s Arnas? Wasn’t he with you?”
“He *was* until he told me he needed to take care of something. Didn’t say what exactly for though…”
The captain simply grunted and returned to his drink. “And Kahzel? Where’s he at?” Hughin then asked after finishing another gulp of ale which only prompted a shrug from Zakala again. “Probably just getting up and about? I wouldn’t worry about him.” The demoness then turned her attention to the door to observe who entered and who left, as well as to silently judge those that announced themselves for recruitment.
Almost immediately after a clearly still-drunk sailor walked into the bar holding one of the recruitment posters. He reeked over stale alcohol and brine as he began to walk over: “Is this for-“
“No.” Zakala stated aloud, waving the man off as he walked back outside in disappointment.
The sudden decision baffled Robert as he motioned at the door, “Now, why would you go and tell one of the few sods in this city that were willing to sign up to piss off like that?”
“I trust my lieutenant’s judgement.” Hughin replied, having not even turned around and continued to focus on his drink before setting his mug down and pinching the bridge of this nose. “Gods, this is going to be a long day today isn’t it?” he asked to himself under his breath.
Last edited: