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He Mercs Hard for the Money [Closed]

Ferren Bairston

Guard-Captain of Highever
Staff member
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
139
#1
(( 10 Firstfall, South Wall "market", Early evening -- @Magnus ))

By this point, Ferren had gotten real used to the sprawl that stretched past the South Wall.

The people had been there so long that there was a little bit of everything. Homes (sort of), shops (sort of), an apothecary (sort of), and even a couple taverns (sort of). Mostly he went as Guard Captain, checking in on the patrols when something was reported, or going down there himself after he was technically off duty, just to make sure things were as okay as they could be.

They hadn't been okay lately, though, and Ferren had to figure out something to do about it. Ser Grim was breathing down his neck, hounding him about getting more of a guard presence, but Ferren was still firm about the fact that it would only make things worse. Of course, lack of guards hadn't exactly made things better. He'd gotten word that a few people--most of them not seeming all that affiliated with Highever--were causing trouble for trouble's sake. Making things harder for everybody and making it seem a lot less safe.

Guards posted at every corner wasn't going to help that. Ferren wasn't even sure if he could help it, but he was determined to try. In this case, that meant approaching things just as himself. Outside of some chainmail worn under his shirt--because he didn't much care for the idea of getting stabbed--he'd left his uniform at home. His hammer, too. He still had the dagger tucked into his belt, and if things got hairy he always had his fists. For now, though, the trouble he was looking for wasn't Guard Captain trouble. Not yet, anyway.

One of his men had a hunch about somebody who'd been involved with the most recent stir-up. A big brute of a man with one hell of a powerful punch, and the style and form to suggest he'd been trained by somebody, instead of just scraping by on the streets with only his bared knuckles to keep him safe. Ferren had asked around--pretty easy, considering the guy was tall, well-built, and had a lot of tattoos--and found out the man's name was Magnus.

That was all he'd really needed to know. Well, that and which of the (sort of) taverns he was most likely to be at. Ferren headed there with a plan that wasn't exactly half-baked, but that definitely wouldn't pass Cavagh's muster. He could've maybe gotten away with arresting the man and learning more about who he was working with that way, but there wasn't any reason for it. That and Ferren wasn't going to set a precedent for arresting people he hadn't actually seen commit a crime.

Walking into the tavern, he tried not to notice the fact that it was shoddily built. Maybe it wasn't in danger of coming down any time soon, but if a bad storm whipped up the coast... Well. He'd have to get some supplies out here, sooner rather than later. Since that wasn't where his focus needed to be, though, he scanned the area, spotting the man in question at the bar.

Tall, tattooed, and built like a scrappier brawler, he was hard to miss. Ferren took the empty space a few seats down from the man, not wanting to crowd him, and hailed the woman tending bar. She gave him a look that said she definitely knew who he was, but Ferren just flashed her a grin and handed over some copper in exchange for an ale. He took a sip before saying anything to the man sitting near him.

"It's Magnus, right? What I've been told, anyway. Which, y'know, might not count for a lot."
 
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Magnus

aka Caethan Farkas Thornecroft
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
8
#2
Magnus made eyes at the woman behind the bar, but not exactly in the way one might expect. He watched as she procured for the other man his mug of ale. She watched him, watch her in turn, and finally told him, “You should’ve thought of that before you went and spent all your money at the competition’s hovel.”

“Yours is the superior hovel. I love your hovel,” Magnus implored, briefly pointing offsides, “You’ve even got one more crate than that other hovel.” Sort of. It was broken. Better used for scrap than holding anything of value.

She made it a point to add, “And stools.” Sort of. They were poorly crafted, some with legs longer than others. Magnus was surprised the one he was sitting on even held his weight, but he wasn’t about to complain about such a thing in the midst of trying to convince the woman to pour him a pint free of charge.

“And stools. I love this stool,” the seat upon which Magnus sat was particularly uneven, noticeably so as any time he made a gesture it prompted the subpar piece of furniture to creak and rock to one side.

She shook her head at the freeloading mercenary, and turned to Ferren with an expression that said, can you believe this guy? Magnus, disappointed by his turn in fortune as of late and his inability - rather, unwillingness - to woo the less-than-fair maiden behind the bar, hung his own head in turn and groaned out of frustration.

The other patron addressed him, “It's Magnus, right? What I've been told, anyway. Which, y'know, might not count for a lot."

Reluctantly, Magnus half-raised his head to peak up at the other man. “Do I owe you money?”

Before the other man could answer, Magnus continued, “Did I sleep with your wife? Because, Maker, if I owe you money or I slept with your wife you need to know right now that I’m in no condition to fight today.” Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t though, and the edge in his tone said as much without Magnus needing to have said the words aloud. His bruises from the week prior had already begun to fade to yellow, and the sewn cut upon his left brow was in the process of slowly healing as well. Mementos of the fracas from a little over a week ago.

Magnus’ guard lowered, however, in rubbing his face with his hands. Finally straightening his posture and lifting his gaze, he turned in his stool to directly regard the man who’d addressed him—taking better stock of the other man in question, and noting there was something not quite right with his being in Highever’s burgeoning shantytown of luckless souls. “You bathe recently?” Magnus asked, though it was more of an observation on his part. He added, “What’s someone like you doing here, down amongst the dog-eared and dirty? Bored noble? Looking for a bit of rough? Flattered.” Magnus winked.

The woman behind the bar rolled her eyes.

[OOC: Less-Than-Fair Barmaid Text: 95B9C7]
 

Ferren Bairston

Guard-Captain of Highever
Staff member
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
139
#3
Lin had already told him Magnus shouldn't be much of a problem; that he'd already been hard up for coin and was probably more so now. He just needed a little persuading, and Ferren was pretty good at that. Especially since he had a job--and a good amount of coin--to offer.

Before he did that, though, he wanted to get an idea of the man's character. Lin had told him her impressions, but it never hurt to see things for himself. Right now what he saw was somebody who'd pissed away any chance he had with a barmaid already and probably wasn't having much luck anyplace else. And while Ferren was a strong believer that most people didn't end up at a place like this by choice, he also knew there were long strings of bad decisions that could lead to sitting in a tavern that was falling apart, carrying on about the quality of the stools.

He'd been there himself, and stayed there for longer than he wanted to admit. So to say he was willing to help Magnus out a bit--so long as he wasn't a massive asshole--was an understatement.

“Do I owe you money?” he asked. The way he spoke didn't put him as a native to Highever, but that much was obvious. “Did I sleep with your wife? Because, Maker, if I owe you money or I slept with your wife you need to know right now that I’m in no condition to fight today.”

Ferren just snorted, casting an amused glance to the barmaid before he looked back at Magnus. "Y' don't owe me money, no. And I haven't got a wife, so no chance of y'having a go at her. Unless y've slept with somebody I might shack up with one day--Maker has a pretty fucked up sense o' humor about things like that. Either way, can't hold that against you," he concluded with a shrug.

Magnus looked him over; sized him up. As much as he said he wasn't looking for a fight, it sure seemed like he was prepared for one at any moment. Ferren just flashed him a grin and took another drink of his ale. Not as bad as the Musty Mug--though nothing else could be--but it was definitely watered down to make it stretch a little more.

“You bathe recently?” Ferren's brow furrowed, and he lifted the collar of his shirt to his nose. Seemed fine. “What’s someone like you doing here, down amongst the dog-eared and dirty? Bored noble? Looking for a bit of rough? Flattered.”

"Sorry, what?" he couldn't help the laugh that overtook him. "Somebody like me? What am I like, do y'think? Cause aside from a little bet I've got going with a friend, closest I've come to being a noble is working for them."

Lin would probably laugh for a good five minutes straight when he told her about this. Even Ferren was still giggling a little. Sure, he was a lot more put together now than he'd ever been, but a noble? Maker's flaming asshole, that was rich.

Once he got ahold of himself, Ferren gave the man a once-over. Not the slowest he'd ever given anybody, but enough to get a decent look. He smirked then and said, "And I've had rougher. Lots o' men built like you who're a whole lot of talk, but don't have the first clue about what they're doing." He turned a grin to the barmaid. "Y'know I'm right."

She didn't comment on that, which was probably the smart and mature choice. It was a good sign that Ferren needed to maybe get to the point, too, since he wasn't just here to taunt men who were bigger than him into making good on claims of being "rough."

"Name's Ferren," he said, holding out one hand, "I'm the Guard-Captain for the teyrn. Been hearing some interesting things about what you've been up to. And before y'get all twitchy," he got the words out as quickly as he could, having no idea if this man would run or take a swing, "I'm not here asking y'to account for that. People have t'make ends meet however they can. Far as I'm concerned, it's in the past."
 

Magnus

aka Caethan Farkas Thornecroft
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
8
#4
"Y' don't owe me money, no. And I haven't got a wife, so no chance of y'having a go at her," the other man told him, prompting a long exhale of mildly amused relief from Magnus. “Unless y've slept with somebody I might shack up with one day--Maker has a pretty fucked up sense o' humor about things like that. Either way, can't hold that against you."

It didn’t take long for the curly-haired fellow to find some amusement in their interaction as well, "Sorry, what? Somebody like me? What am I like, do y'think? Cause aside from a little bet I've got going with a friend, closest I've come to being a noble is working for them." He discerned Magnus in turn, "And I've had rougher. Lots o' men built like you who're a whole lot of talk, but don't have the first clue about what they're doing." When the shorter but no less compact man smiled at the uncomely woman behind the bar, stating to her, "Y'know I'm right." Magnus cringed at the familiar exchange more than he did the wry slight afforded to him. Unfortunately for Magnus, the barmaid caught his expression and an ‘hmphed’ in his general direction before going back to her task of catering to a spattering of other patrons in the ramshackle establishment. Though a charmer in his own right, there were occasions when Magnus just couldn’t fake it—and those occasions often aligned with his stone cold sobriety.

"Name's Ferren," the other fellow introduced himself, offering his hand. Magnus wasn’t one to forget his manners when manners were offered to him in kind. He leaned forward and grasped Ferren’s hand with his own, firmly, in greeting. "I'm the Guard-Captain for the teyrn. Been hearing some interesting things about what you've been up to. And before y'get all twitchy, I'm not here asking y'to account for that. People have t'make ends meet however they can. Far as I'm concerned, it's in the past."

“Ah, a salaried man,” Magnus acknowledged, and still with Ferren’s grasp in his own he motioned to the barmaid with his free hand—wasting no time to seize the opportunity to do so, “I’m on his tab.” The barmaid rolled her eyes at him. Magnus released Ferren’s grasp and shrugged, stating, “Was worth a shot.”

“So, Guard-Captain, is it?” he said, giving Ferren a second once over albeit far less suspicious than he’d done prior. Instead there seemed to be an appraisal of sorts going on in Magnus’ mind, ending in some kind of affirmative if not explicitly approving opinion about Ferren. Magnus scratched at the scruff of his neck, just below his beard, adding, “Mighty generous of you to turn the other cheek. Truth be told, I wouldn’t be here had I known people were already strugglin’ this bad. I’m not one for kickin’ folk while they’re already down. Poor form, that is.”

He let his meaty hand drop to the shabby bar, stating, “Needless to say, this difference in personal ethics led to a falling out between myself and my employer.” He pointed to his stitched brow with his thumb, “An’ the other louts he hired. Good news is, don’t imagine their lot will be seen much around here in the future.” The hand upon the bar reflexively clenched and unclenched, a habitual practice for Magnus, but it often drew attention to his scarred and scabby knuckles and his battered hands. Magnus sighed, “Bad news is, I’m out of a job—though were I a betting man, I’d wager you’re about to offer me one.”

Magnus leaned back upon his stool, crossing his arms and grinning. “How am I doing so far, Guard-Captain—where these interesting things you’ve heard are concerned? Exceeding expectations? Or about what you’d expect to find in a barely standing taphouse?” That being a stubborn mercenary who despite being broke and down on his luck still wouldn't put any real effort into charming the skirt off the homely barmaid even if it meant he might get a few free drinks out of doing so. He'd need the drinks to get him to that point firstly. Magnus was a very visual man, and even in the filth and squalor of a shantytown he'd hold out for something shiny. "Look," he said, "Whatever it is. I'll do it. My terms are simple. Threefold, even. Drinking coin, roof over my head that won't, uh—" Magnus paused for a moment to cast his gaze upward at the unreliable roof currently over their heads, adding, "Blow off with a light breeze. And last but not least—" He sniffed himself, "Access to a hot bath. Granted, for that last term, I'll settle for a bar of soap in a pinch. Just gotta point me to the closest river, is all."
 

Ferren Bairston

Guard-Captain of Highever
Staff member
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
139
#5
Ferren wasn't sure "manners" was on the list of words with "man" in them that Lin had used to describe this... man, but he had them just the same. A good, strong handshake, too. That had to count for something.

“Ah, a salaried man,” he waved to the barmaid with his free hand, “I’m on his tab.” Ferren watched as the woman just barely acknowledged Magnus with an eyeroll. He let out a soft snort. “Was worth a shot.”

"I'll cover it," he said anyway, pulling out some more coin as a show of good faith.

“So, Guard-Captain, is it?” Ferren got a once-over this time, so he sat a little straighter and moved his stool a bit further away from the bar. No sense getting once-overed if you weren't seen. “Mighty generous of you to turn the other cheek. Truth be told, I wouldn’t be here had I known people were already strugglin’ this bad. I’m not one for kickin’ folk while they’re already down. Poor form, that is.”

"Aye, and I wouldn't be here if y'were that type."

“Needless to say," Magnus continued, "this difference in personal ethics led to a falling out between myself and my employer.” The man pointed to a sewed up brow and Ferren winced. “An’ the other louts he hired. Good news is, don’t imagine their lot will be seen much around here in the future. Bad news is, I’m out of a job—though were I a betting man, I’d wager you’re about to offer me one.”

He didn't say anything to that. Magnus was a talker, it seemed like, and that was just fine. Usually Ferren was the one who had to do most of the talking. It was nice to just take things in for once--even with as much as he liked talking. But since he wasn't running his mouth, he could see Magnus' knuckles were pretty busted up. The cuts were scabbed over, but they looked recent. How many times had his own hands looked like that?

“How am I doing so far, Guard-Captain—where these interesting things you’ve heard are concerned? Exceeding expectations? Or about what you’d expect to find in a barely standing taphouse?”

Ferren smirked, leaning back against the bar again. "Pretty good. I mean, you're an awful smug bastard, considering. But I already knew that. Don't think Lin would've talked t'you very long if you weren't."

"Look, whatever it is. I'll do it. My terms are simple. Threefold, even. Drinking coin, roof over my head that won't, uh—" Ferren looked up when Magnus did. Yeah, he really needed to get some supplies down here, "Blow off with a light breeze. And last but not least—Access to a hot bath. Granted, for that last term, I'll settle for a bar of soap in a pinch. Just gotta point me to the closest river, is all."

"Okay, well. First off, y' don't even know what the job is. Just gonna assume cause I'm Guard-Captain it's something decent, huh? I mean it is, but that's not the point. Y'need to be a little pickier about where your coin comes from." Ferren waved off any protests--real or imagined. "I know, when everythin's going t'hell you don't have much of a choice, but I'm giving you one right now."

Ferren untied the coinpurse from his belt and dumped a healthy amount of coins into his hand. It would've been enough for him to be drunk and miserable for a month, back when he'd been doing mercenary work. He thunked all of it on the bar in front of Magnus.

"That's yours, no matter how this goes. Y'took care of a problem for me, so it's earned. But now you're gonna sit here and I'm gonna tell you what I need y'for. And then you're gonna make your own choice about whether or not y'want to do it." He took a healthy drink of ale, then continued, "This place isn't what it should be. I mean, it's a fucking mess. Don't need to mince words about that--everybody knows it. I'm trying t'make it better, but that means getting rid of people like your old buddies, along with anybody else who's trying t' take advantage of the people down here."

He looked around, not just at the tavern, but at the area as a whole, and sighed. "Wasn't ever meant t'be like this. We wanted this t'be a part of Highever. Instead it's just a place people end up that they can't get out of; a place where they like they're less important than everybody else. I'm not asking y'to fix that," he said with a frown, "I'm not sure anybody really can. But I need people t'help me make this place safer."

He turned to Magnus then, wearing his most serious Guard-Captain expression. "You'd be paid a salary. Same as a guard, though y' wouldn't have t'wear the uniform. I mean, y'can. If you want. You'd be reporting t'me anyway." Ferren waved all of that off. "Far as the other two things are concerned... I've got a place with empty rooms. Might not be the nicest thing ever, but I've been working on making it better. And, y'know. It has a working roof, so that's something."
 
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