Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5583506-20170721035105/@comment-24736819-20170727070653

(Well, while I wait I'll write the adventures of Garred, the Saint o' Killers.)

"Hit me with another one, lassie.", by now his rude tone was something that the customers of the Cloudy Dregs Inn grew used to.

The bartender, an elven lady from Woodhearth, quickly rose to the occasion and brough the big brute his request, "You should slow down, Garred."

Aeren had known the Saint for a long time, long enough that she knew his actual name instead of his alias. They had a rocky relationship in the past, which ended up in an unexpected friendly manner.

"Oh, bite me, luv. I am quite alright...", the man shrugged, grabbing his near empty bottle and finishing it up in a gulp.

It was a lie. Garred had been drinking since the sun appeared... on the day before. Aeren shook her head, but decided that was a problem of his own and she had nothing to do with it. She placed another bottle on his table and left, back to the counter.

"So, you are the Saint o' Killers, huh?", a voice came from behind him as soon as he opened the new bottle of mead, "I was told you could solve my problem..."

The man was rich, clearly. His pompous garments and stiff posture gave him up as a highborn noble, yet only his jewelry indicated how wealthy the man actually was. Garred was used to that type of clientele, usually indicated by the only people whom he owed anything to, the Elder Council.

"Perhaps. What is the job?", he asked, uninterested.

"I want you to teach a lesson to one called The Greatman. This so called hero has been hitting on my wife daily, despite the fact that she asked him to stop...", the nobleman begun explaining.

Garred was only able to listen to the first few words before his mind drifted away. Those minor jobs that he was allowed to do while off the clock were starting to get repetitive up to the point that he knew exactly what the jealous husband would ask before he even asked.

"Fine. Here is my price for that. Half now, half when I finish the job.", he grabbed a piece of paper and wrote a number on it. Garred knew the man could afford much more, so it came as a surprise to him when the man widened his eyes to the number,

"That is...that is too much, mr. Saint. I don't know if I can afford it.", the man said, breathing heavily.

Garred's inebriated state dampened his senses and impeded him from noticing a few warning signs coming from his customer, such as how uncomfortable he was in those clothes.

After a few seconds, the nobleman nodded, "Alright. But you will have to give me a few minutes to grab the money and return as I am not currently carrying that much."

Garred nodded, waving the man away, "I'll be here."

<p style="font-weight:normal;">...

<p style="font-weight:normal;">It took way more than a few minutes for the nobleman to return with the gold, which would be an indicator for anyone under control of one's own mind, but not for Garred. Once the nobleman placed the large bag over the table, the Saint promptly got up.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"I'll take care of your little problem.", he slurred, tumbling towards the Inn's doors.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Last time I saw him, he was near Lion's Crown Outfitters!", the nobleman yelled, repeating the location a few times before Garred finally left.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">...

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Lying Crow...what was it again? Gods damn it!", Garred sighed, trying to balance himself.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Lion's Crown Outfitters, Saint. It is where you were supposed to find me.", a voice came from behind him.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"What is it with people and sneaking up on others from behind?", he turned around and almost immediately recognized the so called The Greatman, it was a 7ft tall muscular fellow who could grow even bigger. By his side, The Crow, Hotshot and Monolith stood with crossed arms.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Alright, who called the pantywaist squad?", Saint joked, getting ready to rumble.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">He remembered what happened almost immediately, the Greatman had fucked up a rescue mission and decided to make some money on the side and Garred was sent to make an example out of him. He had gone too far, as always, and put the Greatman out of comission for almost one whole year. His group obviously got pissed because they had lost their leader and the one who got them missions and now that the Greatman was back, they had grew balls to go after the one who made them scrape by the last year.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Unfortunately, for Saint, he was too wasted and the Greatman's group made short work of him. They beated him unconscious and left him goldless on the streets. The fact that Garred passed out mid fight helped them greatly on their task.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">...

<p style="font-weight:normal;">The next morning, Garred woke up with his body numb and his head nearly exploding with pain. He sniffed the air and caught scent of those wimps.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">"Oh, we'll meet again, chumps.", he growled as he slowly made his way back to the Inn.