Half Dead

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by TragicTrees, Jun 16, 2016.

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  1. Half Dead
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    Nightington Bar
    6:00 P.M, June 16th, 2016
    Weather: Thunderstorm

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    Mercator Osinski
    Mercator Osinski was sick. It was sort of funny how that worked. The healer got sick and he can't heal himself. He didn't even know what he had at first. It started out like a cold, and it continued like a cold, to the point he thought it was just a really bad one. So, he had just tried to wait it out. It didn't work. It got better in some ways, worse in others. He could still function, and so he sought out what the hell this was.

    Turns out it was something he couldn't heal right away. He had no clue how he managed to get this, but it was there. Symptoms included being generally weak, insomnia, being generally uncomfortable, shaking, fever, and a few other things he really, really, r e a l l y didn't want to think over. At the end, apparently, it all ends in death. Which isn't good. He'd be freaking out if it weren't for the fact that he could most likely take care of this himself. He was a healer, after all.

    Alright, maybe that was a lie. He was still freaking out, because apparently he needed a magical ingredient for this. Which sucked, because, unfortunately for him, he didn't have it, nor did he have the capability to get it. In the terms of getting things for himself efficiently, he was no good. He couldn't fight, he had little to no self preservation skills, and his street smarts were small compared to his book smarts.

    So that's why he was here, at the front of a bar, clothes dripping from the downpour currently going on. He was looking for someone for hire. Merc had money, and money got people, so he was sure it wouldn't be too difficult to find someone willing. The tough part would be trying to tell them what he needed without telling them why. He wasn't eager to share his problems with other people, so he didn't plan to. Instead, he would just say what he needed, and they could get going.

    He entered the bar, glancing around and trying to find someone suitable. Then, he spotted them, and grinned widely. He walked over to the man, waving "Hi! Hi. Are you for hire? For a job? Because I have a job to hire you for. And I have money!" He said. This probably wasn't the proper way to do it, and there was a possibility this man WASN'T for hire, but he had to try either way, right?​
     
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    Nightington Bar
    6:00 P.M, June 16th, 2016
    Weather: Thunderstorm


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    It had been a fairly long day for Ares. He had spent the most of his day on work, but his job had finally ended, and now he was taking himself a break with a little drink. He wasn't planning to get drunk at all, but just sitting around with his thoughts was kind of comforting. The bartender at this place wasn't the loud, talkative type and it was just the kind of service Ares enjoyed. Comfortable silence, but a bartender willing to talk if approached.

    He sat at the bar when the bartender approached him with a calm smile. He was a man in his late forties with black hair and warm, hazel eyes. He bore the air of a caretaker, of sorts. The bartender takes pride in making sure that his customers are safe, and the safety level at the bar was quite high. The man's face lit up in recognition when he saw Ares, and Ares gave a small smile back.

    "Will it be whiskey on the rocks as usual, young Sir?" The bartender asked, and Ares gave a small smile. "Yeah, that'll be just fine, Joshua. Is it going well with the kids?" A few months ago, Joshua's family had been in trouble. Some customer had gotten pretty angry at him, to the point where he started harrassing poor Joshua. In fear that his kids and wife would eventually be targeted as well, he turned to Ares, one of the few capable fighters he knew of, to find a bodyguard. Ares was to make sure the kids got safely to school and that his wife got safely to work, as well as to make sure they got home safely, and to watch the house at night.

    In the end, he'd managed to beat the guy down when he tried a confrontation, and the police had arrived to take care of the rest. So, back to the bar. As he recieved his drink, and had managed to take a sip, someone sat down in the chair beside him, obviously to talk to him. He turned his head in the direction of the person speaking, catching himself thinking that this guy was pretty adorable.

    He was a bit tired, but he managed to register the question. Hire, huh? I guess I am. But this guy didn't even state what he wants me to do. "I suppose I'm for hire... if the job's something I can do. You didn't even state what you want, y'know. I'm Ares, by the way." He was pretty convinced that this guy wasn't going to back down, and besides Ares' line of work was obvious from all of the weapons he was carrying on his person at all times.
     
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    Nightington Bar
    6:00 P.M, June 16th, 2016
    Weather: Thunderstorm

    [​IMG]

    Mercator Osinski
    "Huh? Oh! I'm Mercator." He said, relaxing a bit, as this was going better than he had originally expected "Nice to meet you. Anyway, uh, it's just....don't let me fall off a cliff while I go get something, basically?"

    Maybe that wasn't the best was to say the idea. Actually, it was probably the worst way to state it. He wouldn't just run off a cliff, first off, so that really projected a bad image of himself. Secondly, it was hard not to mention what the item was FOR. He almost had just gone with it, as he had a huge mouth, but then remembered that THAT would scare the gentleman he was talking to off. Well, maybe. He wasn't sure, but he also wasn't about to take any chances with it.

    He pulled back a chair and got up into it, and straightened out his sweater. He was aware that he didn't look entirely presentable, but he hoped the guy looked past that. After all, Merc had money. This guy wanted money, right? Right. So Merc basically had this in the bag! Hopefully. His own appearance surely wouldn't drive the man off, though. Maybe his personality, but his looks? If that drove off the for-hire, then it was obviously a bullet dodged.​
     
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