nysalogs | mercenary jobs #3

Entry tags:

mercenary jobs #3 — open to all

Who: Anyone interested in taking some mercenary jobs via Aranea Highwind's offerings. This log is focused on Wyver and can be found on job boards across the city as well as personal handwaved texts.
What: Mercenary posting!
When: N/A
Where: N/A
Warning(s): Possible sex threads based off heat-event for this month. This was posted early for the holidays, btw. Happy Thanksgiving, etc!

Thank you for stopping by to check out this month's job postings for Highwind Hires — a freelance mercenary group!

Aranea Highwind will ICly be contacting characters and offering them jobs based off the assumption she will receive 30% of the cut.

JOB #1 — DOOR TO DOOR

With the abundance of new visitors, it seems there have been ample amounts of donations to the temple. Unfortunately, that is not enough. When you approach, you're stopped by a young woman named Igo who is requesting you help her: please pass out 100 pamphlets to refugees enlisting donations.

OUTCOMES:
- For all pamphlets passed out, the Shaman will pay you 100 Silver.

JOB #2 — DRAGON DERBY

In the West, you hear about this month's Wyver Derby, a small event where dragons are put to race on a track. It seems the fan favorite is Fangface but the newcomer Wingslash ranked high in their first few races. You're hired for body guard duty, keeping the peace and ensuring no riots occur. Enjoy drinks as you watch the show, try to bet for the right one.

OUTCOMES:
- Wingslash wins by a nose, so anyone who votes for that dragon will win double their bet.
- Those who bet on Fangface or any other participant will lose their bet.

JOB #3 — AFTERMATH

Tied to Job #2, the Derby went relatively smoothly... You're enjoying discounted drinks at the bar. It wasn't until you notice one of the ticketers cashing out a suspicious amount of extra money to a small group of people who very vocally complained about losing. As the small group leaves, you can either: report the ticketer or two, track them down.

OUTCOMES:
- If you simply report the ticketer, you'll be rewarded with an additional 125 Silver.
- If you track down the group, you'll find they're all in a small gambling ring, petty crooks that drank too much and most certainly had an inside connection. You must be ready for a fight — all 4 will attack you with fists and small pocket knives.

JOB #4 — VILE LITTLE THINGS

You were contracted directly from Aranea Highwind for a monster hunt. A Vileling that was once kept as a pet grew hostile in the past few weeks before finally escaping its owner in Old City and reeking havoc on pet-owners. Your job is to track it down before more pets are killed. Aranea instructed you to 'take care of it', but upon your journey, the Vileling owner (Bekins) has insisted you save it and bring it back to Murkhollow alive. Of course, they offer a good price.

OUTCOMES:
- Aranea is offering a flat 400 silver to wipe it out.
- You can lie or oppose Aranea's order, you which will gain negative CR from the mercenary leader. Bekins will reward you with 140 silver and you must find a way to return it to Murkhollow.

JOB #5 — RED NIGHT LIGHT

Bodyguard duty seems a bit more... mature tonight. With the week waning on and people acting on lust and emotions, there has been a bit more call for those looking to patrol the more savory areas of Wyver. You'll be paid a flat fee of 450 Silver for a night's worth of work.

There are three areas to watch over: a bordello, a herb shop, and a gang's rumored hide-out.

OUTCOMES:
- If you choose the bordello, you will find yourself playing body guard for one of the establishment's ... best worker and favorite client. You can peek in on the woman and her partner at the risk of being caught or you can escort them out afterwards. The woman offers a tip of 100 Silver and also the chance to have drinks with her...
- If you choose the herb shop, you will find yourself sensitive to the mix of aromas. A contact high ensures your inhibitions are loosened and with the lust in the air? Who knows what that means...
- If you choose the gang's rumored hideout, you will find illegal tusk and scale trading. You'll have to contend with 4 possible gang members all armed with weapons. Fight them or flee to report, you'll earn an additional 150 Silver.

Have fun! If you have any questions, feel free to PM me! These are all loosely based on your choices, so feel free to go wild with them. The outcomes only are indication of what the jobs would offer. If you're interested in having your character offer a job in the future, please let me know!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Mm. 'Least there's a name for this guy you keep talking about.

[ he's not even going to Go There with Rosalind, because from the way she talks of him, it doesn't take much imagining to realize there is plenty of baggage. Bigby knows a thing or two about feeling connected to someone, for better or worse or even if it wasn't something they may have wanted. neither of those "halves", in a sense, were here for the time being. they were up in space, asleep and hopefully safe. it does him more good to think about it as little as possible, so he doesn't.

he instead listens to her story as it continues. ]

Have you looked to see if he's one of the people that made it? This Fink, I mean. In the pods.

[ his finger runs along the little ridges formed by the stitches in his wound, knowing his hands were already stained with blood as is. he could probably do with a shower and some fresh clothes, but Bigby wasn't prepared to make a stop at Rosalind's. too bad his outfit from the last time he was here wasn't available. slowly but surely, he nudges his pants back up his legs, tightening his belt along his waist with a few grunts. Big Bad Wolf or not, shit still hurts to move after a fight like the one he had gotten in. ]

I'd be worried if you haven't. Like you said, you're not a ghost anymore. You're just as touchable as me now.

Two pods down from Robert.

[Yes, she's checked. She checks on them twice a week, frankly, going up both to stare longingly at her other half and to ensure the others stay where they are. Or, well, no, that's not entirely right: Elizabeth would be welcome, but beyond her . . . no. The rest can stay on ice for eternity for all Rosalind cares.

She shifts back on the couch, giving him room to tug up his trousers. It's for the best Bigby doesn't ask after Robert; she isn't certain she could contain her emotions if they were to talk of him, and she's no desire to burst into tears like some kind of child.

She's always painfully aware of their separation, though. They've never been apart for so long. Even when they were teenagers, they'd had the atom. Slow, yes, but he'd been there. Twenty years of having him at her side, always a word away, and now it's been three months . . . god, she misses him. Her fingers clench in her lap as she thinks of it. She misses him so badly; there's not a conversation that goes by that she doesn't think of him and what he might say, or do, or feel. Her beloved, her guiding light, torn away from their paradise and trapped in some bloody space station--

Enough. Rosalind glances back up at Bigby, inhaling and exhaling slowly. Enough. She won't let her thoughts linger on Robert. Instead, she offers a slight smile. It's teasing and almost genuine.]

You'd be worried?

[ first of all: rude. Booker totally deserves to wake up, too. way to forget the human gerbil. :( :( :(

anyway.

he is happy to avoid any unnecessary tears right now. he's just broken several limbs and left wounds on people that would take weeks, if not months, to fully heal. Bigby doesn't believe he is in a position to be supportive on an emotional level on a good day, let alone one where his clothes are tattered and he's still trying to remain calm. let's not linger on the fact that the moon is still a pain in his ass for completely different reasons. to say he needs a cigarette or five is an understatement. ]

Yeah. You don't remind me of someone that learns to let go of grudges very easily.

[ Bigby lets out a groan of defeat as he leans back, tilting his head onto the back of the couch to look up at the ceiling before closing his eyes. it'd be easy to fall asleep here if it wasn't for the scent of uneasiness coming from Rosalind. his nose scrunches up as he tries to ignore it to the best of his ability, but there's one more groan for the road when he resides himself to accepting something: he likes Rosalind, and it's no longer easy to ignore when she appears to grow upset. ]

I'm worried that you have some bottled up feelings you need to get out there and you're about to use me as your emotional punching bag. You haven't forgotten I can smell much more than just normal scents, right.

You can smell emotions?

[For just a moment, curiosity overtakes anything else. Rosalind straightens up, her gaze sharper.]

I'm not about to use you for an emotional anything, thank you. I was attempting to change the subject, nothing more. What else can you smell? I've never heard stories of a werewolf who could do that.

[(And it's so much easier to ignore her grief and loss when she's got this to focus on. Never mind she's bottling up her feelings; of course she is. She's always done that. She'd never have gotten anywhere if she went around feeling things all the time; she'll repress this until it goes away, just like she does with everything).]

I wouldn't go that far. I'm not fucking omniscient.

[ of course she's still intrigued by what makes him tick. Bigby shouldn't give her curiosity more ammo, but he supposes it's too late now. he lets out a low sigh, rolling his head back to look up at the ceiling as if he is accepting defeat. ]

It's all chemistry. You of all people should be able to appreciate that, little miss scientist. I've just lived long enough to figure out which scent means what.

[ most of the time, anyway. his powers aren't foolproof, and it's more successful picking up on someone's lies than simple discomfort. it just so happens to be that he has gotten to know Rosalind somewhat since they've met, and it isn't all too difficult to pair body language with her scent. ]

There's plenty of things you didn't know a werewolf could do. I think I showed you a few of them already.

[ yes, you can assume he seems quite satisfied with that comment. the half-smile on his face as he continues staring up at her roof indicates that. ]

[He's right, at least, in that she does appreciate the scientific method used here. And it's really quite fascinating (though he needn't act as though she's putting him on the rack; answering a few questions is hardly the worst thing he's faced).

As for that last remark . . . she rolls her eyes, but there's nothing but good humor in the way she shoves his leg with her foot (careful not to jab the place she'd just stitched up).]

You know, I just had a conversation about how every man I know over two thousand thinks he's cleverest when he's patronizing me or trying to fluster me, and here you are, proving me right.

[But hey, give him this: she's not thinking about Robert anymore.]

[ he grunts when she pushes at his bad leg, giving her a good glare for deciding that assaulting the limb holding a fresh wound would be a good idea. big tough guy or not, so long as the damn thing hasn't healed, it hurts. so much as tensing up his leg shoots discomfort through his nerves, and he wants to describe her with some colorful words for a second or three there. ]

Oh, shut the hell up. Don't even pretend I didn't give you a night worth remembering.

[ not implying it wasn't one for him to remember as well, of course, but he isn't talking about himself right now. he just figures it's nice to... remind her every now and again. yeah. ]

Besides, what's wrong with flustering? Who would have thought a redhead blushing would look cute.

[ he called you cute, Ros. sort of. take it or leave it. ]

[Know how much guilt she feels about kicking him? None. Absolutely none. She's rude like that.

But he does manage to, if not fluster her, at least throw her off a little. Sarcasm she can take and spit right back at him; even lewdness is easily dealt with. But she isn't entirely certain how to respond to a compliment like that, because she certainly doesn't want to do something so stupid as smile or laugh, but nor does she want to disparage the compliment entirely (because it was sweet, kind of, in that special Bigby way).

So yes, her cheeks are a bit red now, and she wrinkles her nose again.]

You're ridiculous. No one's called me that since I was sixteen, and for good reason.

And? You might as well be sixteen if you compare ages with me.

[ okay that probably sounds a little wrong when considering the filthy things they have done, but. look. he has a point. Bigby is an old man, so if he wants to call someone cute, however rare that might possibly be, he's going to call them cute. besides, at least he now knows that it gets her going. ]

Oh, is that how you look at me?

[Far better to focus on that than his compliment (which, again, is appreciated, but she really has no idea how to handle it).]

I dread to think what that might mean for any future sexual endeavors we might indulge in.

Maybe I do.

[ as if playing coy on purpose, he's going to choose now of all opportunities to pull out a his cigarettes. the packaging is slightly bloodied, but it doesn't stop him from bringing one to his lips. before proceeding to light it, he tips the box towards her. he hasn't seen her smoke in the past, but he figures he might as well be courteous since she's patched him up. ]

Everyone is young to me, so don't think too much on it. I won't be asking you to wear short skirts and ask you to sit in my lap.

[Hell yes she's going to be taking one, thank you, though she's enough courtesy to do it gracefully instead of snatching. Resting it between her lips, she leans forward, waiting for him to light it.]

Is that what constitutes youth where you're from? And here I thought you might ask me to pretend it was my first time.

[Drawled, then:]

Oh, Bigby, you're ever so large, are you certain you'll fit? Only you're bigger than anything I've ever taken before, oh, I just don't know . . .

[ huh. now it makes sense as to why she's never complained about him smoking in front of her face or in her home. Bigby is pleasantly surprised to see that she partakes in bad habits just like him. he lights his own first (because he is still Bigby, ok) before leaning in to do the same for her own, appreciating for a moment or two how it looks to see a cigarette secured between her lips. ]

I'd be happy to call you an old lady if that suits you better.

[ he just has to hear what she comes up with now. Bigby allows himself to grow relaxed, taking a long drag of his cig before blowing the smoke up towards the ceiling. the man nearly chokes on it when she starts roleplaying, and he waves a hand at her in an attempt to make Rosalind stop. ]

Reserve your best lines for the bedroom. Please. Kind of frightening how quick you come up with material.

Oh, please. As if that required any great wit to come up with.

[Though she looks quite pleased at how alarmed he looks. Rosalind smirks around her cigarette, settling back once more (and it's a sign of how comfortable she is around him that she isn't sitting up perfectly straight, but rather relaxing back).]

Any other preferences I ought to know about, beyond the fact you apparently don't get off on a virginity kink?

[She assumes they're going to tumble into bed again, but really, it's not much of an assumption.]

No? Must mean you have experience delivering that. Lucky guy.

[ or not-so-lucky, depending on if her tone had been dripping with sarcasm like it is currently. Bigby gives her a flat stare when she talks of virginity kinks. it might be hard to tell if he's serious or giving a poker face. ]

Who said I didn't? I'm a wolf, you know. Maybe it's in my genes to go after innocent, supple little virgins.

[ and then another inhale of smoke follows, not budging for a moment. do you believe him or not, Ros. ]

You're about twenty-odd years late, then. I got rid of that the moment I could.

[She says it to buy herself an extra moment or two of study. It's really very hard to tell with him sometimes, with that blank expression and flat gaze. Rosalind narrows her eyes, not so much worried about whether or not they'll indulge in this as simply eager to know the truth of the matter, one way or another. It's the scientist in her.

She suspects whichever way she guesses, he'll either scoff or insinuate, depending on what might get her to fluster. He's irritating like that. So she shrugs and reaches for her cigarette again, pulling it from her lips.]

But if you want that, Bigby, all you have to do is ask. I'm more than amenable to requests.

Wow. You're so eager to please.

[ there's a fleeting smirk from him as his gaze towards her is broken and he's back to looking up at the ceiling, taking yet another drag of his cigarette. Bigby hasn't really thought or considered something so specific as a turn-on in the past, partially because even vanilla sex was a rarity for him. now he's visualizing Rosalind in specific attire and it... well. it isn't unpleasant to think about, that is for sure. ]

Funny thing about all of this bullshit is that I own a paddle. It was brought with me here, for some fucking reason.

[ a paddle that he hadn't been too keen to talk about, but Aranea's already found it on accident once. might as well let Ms. Lutece know before she finds out through her own means somehow. ]

[Now it's her turn to fluster and sputter. She doesn't choke on her cigarette, at least, but there's a good chance he'll catch the way she stares at him with wide eyes for just a moment before remembering herself.]

A paddle.

[Good grief. Why a-- well, she knows why, actually, she's not stupid and she's hardly virginal, but of all the things to come with him . . . honestly, she's a bit surprised he owns it at all. He doesn't seem the sort to buy that kind of thing, but she supposes the world is odd like that, and it would be boring if our first assumptions were always correct, so on and so forth.

Good grief. A paddle!]

Let's start with your hands and work our way up from there, shall we?

Yeah. A paddle.

[ he's laughing internally, if only because he realizes how bad it sounds to say he "owns" one. he only owns it in a literal sense, because it had been decided he would retain that above all else in his transition to Thesa. what's funniest is that she's truly thinking he owns one for the purpose he had alluded to. ]

Don't be such a fucking pervert. Never said anything about using it on someone before. [ just something. like a bar. ] Took it from a guy that didn't deserve to own it. Just thought you'd be humored by the irony is all.

[ he's gotten a confession out of her regarding wanting to be spanked somehow, though. that's a win. maybe. ]

[She stares at him for a moment, her ears turning red-- and then, tired and fed up and above all embarrassed, scowls fiercely at him. It's a good scowl. There's men who have broken down under less.]

Don't act as though you weren't bloody well alluding to that! For crissake, Bigby--

[He is the worst and she, if not actually hates him, at least regrets stitching him up.]

Why the h-- why on earth were you going around shanghaiing paddles from men?

Rosalind, please. I wouldn't want to use a goddamned paddle on you. Takes the fun out of feeling my hands sting.

[ #smug. can you blame him? getting her to react so strongly is an accomplishment, because he is sure that she makes an active effort to avoid doing exactly that. Bigby doesn't linger on it for long, though. he's nice like that. ]

Like I said, he didn't need it anymore. Used it on him — [ his bar, technically speaking, but he's enjoying the act of wording things to torture Rosalind further. ] — to get something I needed. It was on the job, don't worry.

As if you're going to use either after tonight!

[That's probably a threat with no teeth, but on the other hand, right now Rosalind is in a mood to refuse him anything and everything purely out of spite.

At least that anger means she doesn't fluster when he continues. Truthfully, though her mind is fixated on one thing right now, she imagines he used it in a far more violent way. She can certainly picture him swinging a paddle that way, god knows. And it would perfectly fit in with how she caught him earlier this evening, blood on his hands and a groaning pile of bodies before him.]

What did you need?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

mercenary jobs #3 — open to all

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