Mercenaries of the Gods: Chronicle One - Stories

Frisky Dragon Fun

It was a day like many others. I just back from walking the Sphinx for Ra and I was sitting at my favorite bar on this coil, The Frisky Dragon. It's a rather unremarkable bar tucked into a corner of the Dwarf city of Rolminor. After a little thing with me, Thrack and Irithor a while back, the mercenaries started going there a lot. Sitting beside me was Rina, complaining as she often does with line of expensive shots before her that she put on my tab. 

"How the fuck did your mortal ass get twenty-eight hundred for walking the Gaia damned Sphinx?!" Rina slams one of the remaining shots in front of her like it's a reflex. "I had to fucking take Mani's stupid, womanizing, arrogant, inconsiderate, douche of a nephew to Bastet so he could fucking apologize for being a stupid, womanizing, arrogant, inconsiderate douche and I only got paid nine hundred." Rina takes the final two shots sitting before her in rapid succession and slams the last glass on the counter. 

 "Learn how to pet a Sphinx." I retort as I rub my sore side and wince. "And don't mind if he uses you as a chew toy. Besides, you know Ra and I go way back." 

 She gives me a smart ass smile. "I'm surprised he let your ass come back after that fucking shitstorm you caused last time." 

"Hey now!" I say very defensively. "I just told him that Ares and Set were throwing down in desert. I had no idea Ra would rally his grand army, Ares would be killed and a minor war would start!" 

"Who you trying to fucking convince, my amazing or yourself?" Rina laughs and looks to Z, the amorphous ball of gray energy and the bartender. "Four shots of Wallace Gold Brew." She glances at me. "Do you want one? Better fucking make that five and his bitch ass is paying!" 

I take another gulp of my hazelnut beer and smirk. "First time in almost two years we've hung out and you're already back to spending all my money." 

A hand of grass forms from her shoulder and gives me the finger. "Shut up ass hat!" 

After letting out a small chuckle, I glance around the bar just to see who's around. Not surprisingly, it's about half full of mercenaries. The top tier of the Guild came here for drink and relaxation and many thought of it as the second HQ, especially after they put in the teleporter. The table of trolls were being polite like always as they enjoy a quiet game of cards. A cyclops and a frost giant were having a drinking contest in the vaulted area of the bar and I wasn't convinced either was winning. Or losing for that matter. Sir Puff and Fluff, my favorite of the guild administrators, was busy taking updates about contracts from several mercenaries who were very, very eager to get paid. From the corner of my eye, I see Z puts the five shots in front of Rina and I tell him to put it on my tab. After a bit more bitching, Rina takes the first shot and calms down. Calms down by her standard that is. 

Just after she downs shot number two, the door opens and, of all things, a Seraph walks in. Though he looks like he is trying to be stealthy, his two wings, folded and poorly hidden under his hooded cloak, give away what he is. Golden strands escape from his hood as he slowly finds his way toa table in the corner. I watch close and see his white eyes constantly movie, obviously weary of his surroundings. The entire bar goes quiet and the attention of most turns to the Seraph. Finding a table in the corner, he sits with his back against a wall and tries to ignore the eyes upon him. 

"Did you piss off any winged fuckers lately ass hat?" Rina says to me quietly before she takes another shot. 

I ponder the question longer than most would. "Not this month." I think a little harder. "At least not that I can remember." 

Rina takes shot number four. "Well, you're the ranking bad ass in here mister ninety-five so it's your fucking job to check to see if this is some fucking dragon shit or not."