Mercenary Sensibilities

"Swords Wanted." That's what the sign read.  Marian had arrived in Lork a day previous, she had found shelter at one of the few religious buildings in Lork (the Followers of the Fire God were here amongst the gambling and debauchery, I guess to test their metal in more ways than one). She wasn't looking to join their religion despite it pretty much being how she was raised anyway.  Marian felt that following a god was a lot like following a leader who wasn't there, pretty foolish. Their stone pews weren't the easiest to sleep on, but it was warm and dry and that's all she needed.  In the morning she set out to find work, if she was going to start a new life she'd need money and the rich were always looking for sellswords, especially in a place like Lork where fortunes were won every minute and not all thievery involved gambling at a table.

There were a line of men outside next to the sign, supringly Marian wasn't the worst dressed amongst the soldiers.  Tought times had The Red Hand, especially following the failed campaigns against the savages.  Lot of people lost money in that war, and more so lot of soldiers lost contracts following the losses, in the lands of the Red Hand mercenaries were almost on par with the standing army in strength. The man in front of the sign was not rich, he looked like bathing was something that was an annual affair and he only had teeth on the right side of his face, the left looked like someone had grinded a shield into it. A dull lazy eye appraised each perspective canidate, most were waved off.

"Next!" Marian stepped forward at his bark.  She had hung the swords in her overly big belt, it was a poor method for keeping them in place and with each step she worried they'd clatter to the ground.

"Marian Ribiachi."

"Did I ask for your name? No I did not. And when we say swords we mean sell swords, not sword swallowers, I think you're looking for the whores up the street." His voice and breath matched the rest of him, ugly.

"I know you're probably an expert at whores with a face like yours..." Marian did not get to finish her rebuke the ugly barker drew his own blade, a strange curved sword like a snake only a lot sharper. Marian while not exactly prepared to throw down, was never truely at rest especially since she'd arrived. Both her own swords, more standard broad sword types came off her belt and parried the curved sword of her adversary. He may have looked like crap and smelled like he bathed in it, but his swordsmanship was spot on.  The rest of the wannabe sellswords formed a sort of circle around Marian and the curved swordsman as they did their dance, exchanging blows and steel neither one getting the upperhand over the other.

"So what's your plan girl kill me and hope they hire you?" His voice was all confidence but Marian could see the exhaustion in it.  He may have been a capable swordsman, but she had youth on her side as she was easily half her age.

"I figure if I can kill you, then they should be able to recognize my abilities and know they've hired the right woman for the job." Marian herself was tired, she hadn't really had a duel like this since her father had passed, and she never beat him even when they did fight. The curved swordsman managed to disarm her left hand blade, he wrapped in a hutch on his own and sent it spinning away, when Marian looked to see where it fell she caught the hilt of his sword to her head and she hit the ground, his sword was at her throat, but only briefly. He withdrew it and sheathed the blade and offered her a hand up.

"You're tough for a woman that looks like a whore and smells like a barn after the animals have left it.  Tell you what, take some coin, get some clothes that fit and a shower and come back and we'll discuss what you can do next." He was one to talk, but Marian had already chanced fate enough with her mouth as is.  She accepted his coin pouch and shook his outstretched hand.  "Welcome aboard Ribiachi."