OPEN | you ain't a beauty, but hey, you're alright.

[poleaxed]

WHO: Jone & u
WHAT: Jone's intro log.
WHEN: Nowish.
WHERE: Kirkwall.
NOTES: Violence and strong language. Will update if things get w...orse.....

a. LOWTOWN.

Whenever you show up anyplace, you have to make some coin. If you've no contract, there are ways to do it, but they're messy methods.

Jone, standing at a few inches over six feet, long hair a muddy tangle in the middle of a fighting ring walled by bodies yelling for their bet, does not seem to mind messy.

Her opponent is a human of similar stature, moves to punch her square in the stomach, and Jone takes it. Hurts like fuckall, but that never matters much to a Reaver. Anyway, she needs it to grab him, her hands a vicegrip on his arm. He can't pull away, and ends up dragging Jone a few feet in either direction, attempting to dislodge her. She's too close, now, and it's too easy to knee him in the bollocks, adding to the gesture with a solid bite at his neck. She doesn't break the skin enough to really hurt him, but it's a scary thing to see, and she wants the reputation as much as the coin.

Her opponent goes down, and the crowd cheers. Blood in her mouth, she cheers back: "Next!"

b. HIGHTOWN.

Jone knows where her money comes from, so she knows how to look. She's not pristine, walking the streets of Hightown, but her hair is clean enough to see it's red, pulled back and way from a face no longer covered in blood and muck. Wearing a worn but workable enough suit of armor, she's holding a piece of parchment, reading it while moving her lips. She looks up, looks down, reading it again.

The door she goes to knock on-- maybe you know it? Maybe you're familiar enough with Kirkwall to know this is a prank? Maybe you're also thinking about taking a mercenary contract? Maybe the noble within is someone to be avoided? Help a girl out-- or don't.

c. THE GALLOWS.

She's only been here a day, but she's a little bored. No real reputation yet, but you gotta start small. Little things first. Late night arm wrestling. She's one two out of three so far, and the pot is growing.

She reaches forward for her next opponent, and her sleeve falls down to reveal the glowing green just above her elbow.

She shrugs. "Believe me, mate, this made me stronger, I wouldn't be fighting you with it."

d. WILDCARD.

go 4 it i believe in u.

Comments

[poleaxed]

So Noon the Huge moves himself from the Fuckable category to Useful. You can't be in both. Her days with that shit are done.

"Really, huh. You done merc work, or just know the type?"

[noonrodeon]

"Did a little work. Took a couple scouting jobs when I was younger and more of a dumbass." A grimace for the memory of them. "Shitshows from start to finish."

He is entierly unaware of the label shift, of course, having not paid much mind to the idea of sex with this violent stranger to start off with.

[poleaxed]

Look, he's huge and shaped like a real bad idea. She had to at least consider it. But ultimately, he seems far too nice.

"Bad jobs talked out outta it, or something else?"

[noonrodeon]

"Don't have much taste for fightin' anymore. And listening to screaming rich puffs gets old after awhile."

[poleaxed]

"Huh. Retiring always sounded like a raw deal; I wanna die on my feet."

[noonrodeon]

Noon nods, "Always seemed the way. Just figured with the rest of the world gone strange, might as well choose a strange path and see where it goes." He toasts her, "Still, on the off chance our fates match, may we die on our feet in a battle of our choosing."