Post by joegt123 on Dec 21, 2010 2:14:16 GMT -5
"So... Why, exactly, am I going to be killing these bastards?" Gun stood hunched over a large table in some fancy hideaway for some big shot criminal asshole in what was probably the single furthest north city that Alagaësia had to offer. On that table was a map of Ceunon, said stupidly-north city, den of shit-eaters and general underworld scum. Elves, humans, otherwise. Half the city seemed to be corrupt in some manner or another. Lawlessness abound. Perfect place for this psycho, no? Gun glanced up with eyes that had such a mix of boredom, awareness, and I'm-gonna-fuckin'-kill-you attitude that the man-- Elf-- that was sitting in the high-chair on the other side of the table actually squirmed in his seat a little.
"I was under the impression that you weren't in the business of 'why', Mercenary...." The Elven half-a-crime lord spoke in a greasy tone, his hands folded up in front of his face in some sort of defense mechanism, trying to distance himself from a man he refused to admit that he was actually afraid of.
Gun just glared at him through draped hair that hung down over those bizarre eyes. Eye to eye, making the Elf squirm in his seat more and more until thethugs guards at the entrances of the room reached for their weapons. At that precise moment, Gun inhaled and pushed up off of the table, trailing it's edge with the first two fingers of his right, gloved hand slightly before standing straight and shrugging slightly. ...It's like he knows, the bastard. "Call it vain curiosity."
"You know what they say about curiosity, Mercenary."
The glare returned, this time carrying much more of that I'm-gonna-fuckin'-kill-you-ness that made the guards reach for their weapons again. "You gonna try to kill this cat, mother fucker? I wouldn't advise cornering a tiger, elf." He spat the name of the criminal's race like it was a curse, just to piss this guy and his entourage off.
After a moment of silence and much brow-twitching, the Elf relented, waving down his dogs, who released their weapons not for only the second time in the past few minutes. "The usual, mercenary...."
"Please, call me Gun." The attitude and the glare was gone, and he motioned lightly as if nothing had happened. There was even a small smile on his face.
"...Gun?"
"It's my name, fucker."
"...Indeed. Anyway, Gun... Frankly, they're in our way. Turf wars, and all that. You know how it is."
"Mmm.. Indeed I do." Gun was silent for a moment, his eyes trailing up to the ceiling, arms crossing lightly across his torso, padded sleeves pressing into his chest plate. "Three thousand, no more, no less."
"Three thousand!? That is exorbitant." The elf sputtered.
"Hey, you want the job done.... Do it yourself, for all I care." He started to walk away lightly, his eyes half closed. The guards at the entrance he was heading towards started unsheathing their elven made blades. Gun stopped in his sauntering walk and sighed slightly. His left, un-gloved hand floated over to his left hip, where it rested blatantly on the pommel and guard-base of his hand-made longsword.
"...Fine. Three thousand. No more... No less." The Elf-criminal growled through gritted teeth before reaching to a smaller table at his side and picking up a hefty bag of gold. "Down payment, merc." And hurled it directly at Gunlase's head with the strength of an Elf.
Strength which Gun could almost match, now-a-days.... His head flicked to the side and the bag of coins whizzed past his ear. Instead of the back of his head, it pelted one of the guards in front of the psychotic human in the face, knocking him flat. Sauntering over to the downed man, Gun crouched and plucked up the bag. "Thanks, very much." He said in a light, but blatantly sarcastic tone, and wandered out of the complex.
Now then. I feel I should tell you that none of that happened just now. It happened about four hours ago. Where good ol' Gunlase Maicaleus was now... Well....
The last screams had reduced to a gurgling sputter of a slashed throat and a human thug drowning in his own blood. The spray that had issued from his neck mingled lightly on Gun's left cheek with the blood of no less than a dozen other men dotted around a small warehouse on... basically the exact opposite side of the city from that of his current employer. "Mmm... That was boring." The six-some foot tall Gunlase commented idly, glancing around the area to make sure he didn't miss anyone. "Ah, well. Time to go collect my payday..." He was in perfect health. He had taken the first to men by surprise and devoured their energy. That had given him more than enough strength to obliterate the others without gleaning so much as a scratch. They were only thugs, after all.
Flicking both of his weapons out to the side, he literally whipped the blood from their nearly pristine blades and, whipping his own sword around into a reverse grip in his left hand, sheathed them both in an extremely practiced, simultaneous motion. With the energy of about eight men plus his own coursing through his veins, containing himself was rather difficult, but he meandered towards the same door he'd entered calmly enough.
Stopping short after about ten paces, however, he glanced down past slightly blood soaked bangs. An arm, severed just below the elbow, lay at his feet. Bending down, he picked it up in his right as though he were shaking the poor sotts hand. "Hmm...." He intoned to himself before scrunching up his nose- "Nah." -and chucked the thing back over his shoulder. He had, for a brief moment, been contemplating cannibalism, but decided against it. While it may or may not have been a worth-while pursuit, certainly feasting on such vermin would make him sick.
With a simple stride, Gun resumed his vacation of the premises and, nonchalantly, meandered out into the street, half covered in the blood of the thugs he had just thoroughly owned, a very... very slight smile on his face.
"I was under the impression that you weren't in the business of 'why', Mercenary...." The Elven half-a-crime lord spoke in a greasy tone, his hands folded up in front of his face in some sort of defense mechanism, trying to distance himself from a man he refused to admit that he was actually afraid of.
Gun just glared at him through draped hair that hung down over those bizarre eyes. Eye to eye, making the Elf squirm in his seat more and more until the
"You know what they say about curiosity, Mercenary."
The glare returned, this time carrying much more of that I'm-gonna-fuckin'-kill-you-ness that made the guards reach for their weapons again. "You gonna try to kill this cat, mother fucker? I wouldn't advise cornering a tiger, elf." He spat the name of the criminal's race like it was a curse, just to piss this guy and his entourage off.
After a moment of silence and much brow-twitching, the Elf relented, waving down his dogs, who released their weapons not for only the second time in the past few minutes. "The usual, mercenary...."
"Please, call me Gun." The attitude and the glare was gone, and he motioned lightly as if nothing had happened. There was even a small smile on his face.
"...Gun?"
"It's my name, fucker."
"...Indeed. Anyway, Gun... Frankly, they're in our way. Turf wars, and all that. You know how it is."
"Mmm.. Indeed I do." Gun was silent for a moment, his eyes trailing up to the ceiling, arms crossing lightly across his torso, padded sleeves pressing into his chest plate. "Three thousand, no more, no less."
"Three thousand!? That is exorbitant." The elf sputtered.
"Hey, you want the job done.... Do it yourself, for all I care." He started to walk away lightly, his eyes half closed. The guards at the entrance he was heading towards started unsheathing their elven made blades. Gun stopped in his sauntering walk and sighed slightly. His left, un-gloved hand floated over to his left hip, where it rested blatantly on the pommel and guard-base of his hand-made longsword.
"...Fine. Three thousand. No more... No less." The Elf-criminal growled through gritted teeth before reaching to a smaller table at his side and picking up a hefty bag of gold. "Down payment, merc." And hurled it directly at Gunlase's head with the strength of an Elf.
Strength which Gun could almost match, now-a-days.... His head flicked to the side and the bag of coins whizzed past his ear. Instead of the back of his head, it pelted one of the guards in front of the psychotic human in the face, knocking him flat. Sauntering over to the downed man, Gun crouched and plucked up the bag. "Thanks, very much." He said in a light, but blatantly sarcastic tone, and wandered out of the complex.
Now then. I feel I should tell you that none of that happened just now. It happened about four hours ago. Where good ol' Gunlase Maicaleus was now... Well....
The last screams had reduced to a gurgling sputter of a slashed throat and a human thug drowning in his own blood. The spray that had issued from his neck mingled lightly on Gun's left cheek with the blood of no less than a dozen other men dotted around a small warehouse on... basically the exact opposite side of the city from that of his current employer. "Mmm... That was boring." The six-some foot tall Gunlase commented idly, glancing around the area to make sure he didn't miss anyone. "Ah, well. Time to go collect my payday..." He was in perfect health. He had taken the first to men by surprise and devoured their energy. That had given him more than enough strength to obliterate the others without gleaning so much as a scratch. They were only thugs, after all.
Flicking both of his weapons out to the side, he literally whipped the blood from their nearly pristine blades and, whipping his own sword around into a reverse grip in his left hand, sheathed them both in an extremely practiced, simultaneous motion. With the energy of about eight men plus his own coursing through his veins, containing himself was rather difficult, but he meandered towards the same door he'd entered calmly enough.
Stopping short after about ten paces, however, he glanced down past slightly blood soaked bangs. An arm, severed just below the elbow, lay at his feet. Bending down, he picked it up in his right as though he were shaking the poor sotts hand. "Hmm...." He intoned to himself before scrunching up his nose- "Nah." -and chucked the thing back over his shoulder. He had, for a brief moment, been contemplating cannibalism, but decided against it. While it may or may not have been a worth-while pursuit, certainly feasting on such vermin would make him sick.
With a simple stride, Gun resumed his vacation of the premises and, nonchalantly, meandered out into the street, half covered in the blood of the thugs he had just thoroughly owned, a very... very slight smile on his face.
