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rone(looks like i've hit my first bout of writer's block — i still know where the story's going, but i can't make the words come out. so beware everything after the first paragraph, and please, please, judge this and the previous parts harshly. i don't care how nitpicky you get, or if it's just an off-the-cuff feeling. if i think you're on crack, i'll just ignore you, no harm, no foul.)
It sounds ridiculous, but after being gone for a few weeks, it felt like i'd forgotten how large this city is. Once i found a map, it took us several more hours of walking to reach the blue-grey stone building where the mercenary recruiting firm of Grandbowyer, Brizzik, and Hopsfield was housed. I rubbed Kohasadi's head and said, "I'll be a while. Give me a good screech if you need me, eh?" He chirped and lay down by the entrance. I walked up the steps and entered.
The decoration had changed slightly from the last time i was here; they'd added a couple of paintings and a small wooden statue of some sort of demon. Either one of their merc parties had one hell of a negotiator or they were absolutely strapped of coin and had to cough up their share in art. GB&H didn't screw around when it came to what was rightfully theirs; i'd heard of parties that came back with nearly nothing who were forced to turn around immediately and go take down another target to try to make up the deficit. And now here i was, alone and almost empty-handed.
"Oh, hello, Mwaylee!" Oh, gods, it was Tinita, the receptionist. I could not understand how a woman with traces of elven blood could have a slight mustache, but she proved that there was a way. I'd given up months ago on correcting her mangling of my name.
"Hi, Tinita. Here to see Mister B." I tried to put on a calm face.
"Master Brizzik is out, dear, but Master Hopsfield is in." I groaned inside. Brizzik was the only one of the three with actual field experience; the other two were contemptible greedheads— excuse me, they were financiers. Grandbowyer was pompous but tolerable; Hopsfield, on the other hand, was cool and moved slowly. Like a snake.
"He is available right now," Tinita said, "but first things first." She waved at a rack in the corner. "You know the rules, dear. Weapons stay here."
I smiled thinly. "Yes, ma'am." I put my axe in the rack and took my backpack off. "May i leave this here, too?"
"Certainly, dear." I removed a jeweled goblet from it and headed towards the offices.
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no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 09:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-25 12:48 am (UTC)There's genuine tension and uncertainty about what'll happen next here.
Para 2 is the heart of it. Experience shows I'm no writer but I wonder if losing the last sentence of that paragraph mightn't be an idea - he wouldn't be thinking about what hard bastards GB&H were if he wasn't worried about it going badly, so let his worries speak for themselves rather than spelling them out? Then think about whether what's left is too little, enough, or too much (I'm not going to venture an opinion either way right now).
no subject
Date: 2005-09-25 01:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-25 10:37 am (UTC)