Morris
A Hunter Must Hunt
Orleon Zinnski stared dimly on the various wanted posters laid out on the table before him, some droplets from his beer mug having dripped over them. He was a man of impressive stature, but not of fortune: the last few missions he tried to tackle went sour, though not necessarily out of his fault, just rotten bad luck.
That, however, hardly lightened his mood: his monetary savings were getting thinner by the day. Albeit the Ratcatcher guildhouse of bounty hunters provided a base payment to its outgoing members, it was barely enough to get by - a powerful motivator for any and all headhunters of the collective to actually move their hind quarters and actively take assignments.
Some veteran hunter suggested he should take a partner and try some more daring, hence more profitable undertakings. This was sound logic, except for the part that Orleon wasn't all that popular within the guild. He was bullheaded, and it was an open secret that he had a criminal past, only avoiding the billows because he was bailed out. Nonetheless, he hoped the laws of averages would be in his favour for once, and eventually find a fellow guild member who wouldn't be dissuaded by his past errands and threatening face.
Technically speaking... he was right. He managed to find someone who was likewise a bit down on luck: a wimpy female with a disdain of killing and a horrible sense of direction, named Aurelia. He couldn't help but think she was some disowned daughter of some gentry, because she certainly had the mannerism and a pretty face on top of it. She would had been a fine addition to many sections of the guild, no doubts... except as a field agent, which she happened to be.
He got all of these impressions only too late, and there was no going back now, especially since the financial issues were only mounting if he continued to linger about doing nothing. But looking for a challenge with *this* sort of companionship? A sure path to the grave.
Orleon slowly raised his gaze, looking about. The well-kept, homely inn was one of the guild's several local facilities in the town of Kirchfeld, and proudly had the Ratcatchers' insignia on display over the bartender's counter, hanging down from the wall:
A swarthy bloodhound holding a triggered spring trap in its jaw, from which miniscule figures of a huge rat, a human brigand and some impish fiend were dangling from, their heads caught within and bleeding from the neck.
It was uniquely straightforward as far as heraldry was concerned, and even when he was a target of the guild, Orleon held the imagery in begrudging respect. It spoke of dogged determination and clarity of purpose, wholly bereft of chivalrious idealism. They take out the world's trash - because they get paid for it.
And right now, it was up to *them* to continue this esteemed tradition.
A courier barged in, and consequently, everyone raised their attention. He was bringing forth new wanted posters and assignment requests, preparing to nail them one-by-one to a large wooden wallpost. Orleon turned to Aurelia: - "We better check the news out before everyone and their mothers will be tearing the papers off for themselves."
@heavenly
That, however, hardly lightened his mood: his monetary savings were getting thinner by the day. Albeit the Ratcatcher guildhouse of bounty hunters provided a base payment to its outgoing members, it was barely enough to get by - a powerful motivator for any and all headhunters of the collective to actually move their hind quarters and actively take assignments.
Some veteran hunter suggested he should take a partner and try some more daring, hence more profitable undertakings. This was sound logic, except for the part that Orleon wasn't all that popular within the guild. He was bullheaded, and it was an open secret that he had a criminal past, only avoiding the billows because he was bailed out. Nonetheless, he hoped the laws of averages would be in his favour for once, and eventually find a fellow guild member who wouldn't be dissuaded by his past errands and threatening face.
Technically speaking... he was right. He managed to find someone who was likewise a bit down on luck: a wimpy female with a disdain of killing and a horrible sense of direction, named Aurelia. He couldn't help but think she was some disowned daughter of some gentry, because she certainly had the mannerism and a pretty face on top of it. She would had been a fine addition to many sections of the guild, no doubts... except as a field agent, which she happened to be.
He got all of these impressions only too late, and there was no going back now, especially since the financial issues were only mounting if he continued to linger about doing nothing. But looking for a challenge with *this* sort of companionship? A sure path to the grave.
Orleon slowly raised his gaze, looking about. The well-kept, homely inn was one of the guild's several local facilities in the town of Kirchfeld, and proudly had the Ratcatchers' insignia on display over the bartender's counter, hanging down from the wall:
A swarthy bloodhound holding a triggered spring trap in its jaw, from which miniscule figures of a huge rat, a human brigand and some impish fiend were dangling from, their heads caught within and bleeding from the neck.
It was uniquely straightforward as far as heraldry was concerned, and even when he was a target of the guild, Orleon held the imagery in begrudging respect. It spoke of dogged determination and clarity of purpose, wholly bereft of chivalrious idealism. They take out the world's trash - because they get paid for it.
And right now, it was up to *them* to continue this esteemed tradition.
A courier barged in, and consequently, everyone raised their attention. He was bringing forth new wanted posters and assignment requests, preparing to nail them one-by-one to a large wooden wallpost. Orleon turned to Aurelia: - "We better check the news out before everyone and their mothers will be tearing the papers off for themselves."
@heavenly
