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 Word spreads... The Fighter's Academy hungers for steel

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Number of posts : 8
Points : 22
Registration date : 2012-07-16

PostSubject: Word spreads... The Fighter's Academy hungers for steel   Fri Aug 03, 2012 12:25 pm

*Papers go out to mostly every innkeep in Abanasinia and the word is spread.*

The Fighter’s Academy is hungry for steel, we are still here and still ready to do your work. Send word to Longridge of your job and the details.

The steel’s good? The job is done.

*Stamped with a seal of Fighter’s Academy. Papers are written in various hands*

(Story behind the Letter)

Longridge was a small town; not quite the most insignificant dump, but certainly small in comparison to other locations in the mercenary’s career. It was a unique place with it’s own flavor and character. The population was an interblend of savages accustomed to the plains and the more cultural settled folk; hell even, the occasional miners made Longridge their home from time to time. The sellsword had no opinions. Typically, thoughts about employers tended to be bad for business and steel from a skin-wearing wild man was just as good from some pig-smelling farmer.

Joining the Academy was logical and sensible. Easy contracts, exclusive contracts, free lodgings, free arms… if the worst was having to compete for contracts against mostly green recruits than it was almost foolish to not accept. A quick instillation as Captain was an unexpected delight that was accepted with a shrug and an arse-scratch just like everything else. There was pay aside from simply finishing contracts and that was well enough. The adjustment from wandering to settled was quite a change however. From bedrolls to a mattress that certainly would not roll, the comforts felt… endless. It felt impossible for Dael to even dirty his armor, and when he did he found that was tackled by one of the few maids employed by the academy. It was certainly different.

Points of interest in the town that kept the anchored drifter occupied were its exotic dancers as well as the inn’s decent ale. Nothing could beat Solace ale, but the Magic Lantern didn’t attempt to pass off pig swill as quality drink and the dancers kept your interest away from the occasional bad round.

This outfit in Longridge was a strange one. Typically, the membership were strewn about on their own various agendas (as mercenaries should!) but the lack of demand to contract the guild from sources outside of Longridge were startling. Local contracts to keep bandits and various man-beasts peaceful were dandy enough to keep the company a float, but it was disappointing at best. This was not some local militia. This was a headquarters of mercenaries, and the amount of outside contracts floating in was non-existent.

Was this what this outfit was? Some ghosts home, forgotten by the world and left to the Abyss of low coffers?

Dropping a coin on the bar, the sellsword picked himself up and headed for the caravans. The Academy was still here, still eager for coin, and the word was waiting to be spread.

Dael Leonson - Sellsword, Associate of the Fighter's Academy
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