@drachendive [ aranea + fang : aranea’s mercenary camp ]
“I’m looking for work.” The strange woman oozes confidence from every pore and follicle---and its probably why Aranea’s men let her into her tent without so much as a warning. She slams her hand down on Aranea’s desk so hard papers scatter. The stranger does not apologize. Nor will she. Aranea’s men look between each other, starting to think maybe it was a bad idea to escort her in here instead of escorting her out of their campsite.
“I hear you’re a mercenary. I’m a hunter. Officer ranking. But the work’s not always so steady--and I need to put food on the table. I hear you treat your company well and pay them fairly. You’re a good leader with a good head on ya shoulders. Good onya. That’s the kind of boss I want. I’m strong, fast, good with my hands, willing to do anything to get the kill and get the job done. Something tells me that’s the kind of company you wanna keep.”
Her accent is thick---she’s clearly foreign, as is her manner of dress. She doesn’t appear to be Lucian or Nif. Stranger and stranger.
“So let’s talk brass tax. What do I have to do to get the job?”
