Dogs of War

he stuck to the shadows for the time being, watching the goings on by his corner table. he peered out from below the hood of his stolen cloak, and every few seconds would grip the hilt of his stolen sword. he'd come to buy loyalty with stolen money, but for now, he just needed to blend in. it wasnt his way, truth be told. he'd never been the skulking type, but he'd gotten the basic idea from watching three other rogues, each now occupying their own shadowy corner.

Jernar took account of the tavern from his table. sell swords and soldiers stumbled about the place as if they'd just won a great victory. the all knew each other, though no one wore any semblance of a uniform. they played at their games and held contests of drinking, and at the end of each competition, a massive brawl would start, run for a handful of minutes, then peter out into a massive laugh shared by all. Mercenaries. how he loved them.

among the four dozen in the pub, only two were treated with any sort of respect. the barkeep, who looked like he could wrestle the whole room at once, and a man at the center of the festivities. he was older than the rest, and scarred severely. his hair had fallen out, or rather moved to the great mustache he wore down to his chest. combined with his considerable paunch, he had the overall look of a ginger walrus.

when at last the walrus took a seat by a mug of ale, Jernar moved toward him. no one stopped him, no body guards intervened. he sat at the table, across from the leader, and pulled his hood down. the walrus didnt seem to mind.

"you lead these men?" Jernar asked.

the walrus nodded into his mug, wiping the foam from his mustache before adding "some of them."

"tell me about them."

the walrus cocked a bushy eyebrow before shrugging. "well," he began, " that's Sam, scrawny little thing, but he can handle a spear. that's Bret. his pa was a noble here for a while, 'fore he got his army wiped out of course. decent folk. that there is --"

"i meant as a whole," Jernar interupted, "i'm looking to hire you, what experiance do your men have."

"oh," the man shook his head and drained the contents of his mug. "been around. i fought men, beasts, lizards, and elves. each of these boys've fought at least half that and lived. bret's the oldest of them, and he's been going at this for five years or so. hasnt died yet. what type of work you lookin' ta hire us for anyway?"