(no subject)

[nestingdevil]

Open PSLs | Just throw up a subject line and GO FOR IT! All's green!

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[courage_and_claws]

"Theophrastus is still recovering from injuries sustained during our last mission, and Paracelsus is embroiled in yet another one of her ungodly experiments..." The Crusader rumbled deep in his throat, giving voice to his displeasure. It was no secret he disdained the sort of research that bordered on heresy. "Which leaves you the only remaining mercenary with an intimate understanding of toxicology. Furthermore, your skills at lock-picking and disarming traps are rivaled only by Dismas, but he was... less agreeable to my proposal."

Dismas was, after all, Jackdaw's right hand man, which meant that he bore little love toward Julien and their hirelings. The feeling was certainly mutual on Rosch's part—he personally felt that Lord Beaumont was the rightful Heir to the Darkest Estate, and he was loathe to work with anyone aligned with the impostor Heir.

But desperate times call for desperate measures. And Greed could easily see the desperation in the clench of Rosch's jaw, the armored fingers curled into a tense fist at his side. He already anticipated the hungry grin full of pointed teeth, but that didn't lessen the feeling of disgust toward the obvious delight Greed felt at the prospect of easy pickings.

No matter. Let the charnel man reap his reward of glittering gold, trinkets and baubles. Such earthly treasures paled in comparison to holy relics imbued with divine power.

Rosch bristled at the mocking term of endearment. "I can assure you that Lord Beaumont is well aware of the cost of your services and is prepared to pay a premium to ensure this mission is successful." He watched as the Grave Robber made an unnecessarily theatrical show of retrieving his trusted shovel. "He's already enlisted the aid of the Vestal, and the final member of our party will be determined shortly."

Even now, Julien was negotiating with the Antiquarian, who was the leading expert on priceless artifacts and rare antiquities. Though his prowess in combat was subpar, what he lacked in raw strength he made up for in cunning. His keen eyes would surely make their search for the holy relics far easier.

The Crusader's eyes narrowed. Lionheart—it was the epithet he earned after completing his tour of duty to reclaim the Holy Land. But somehow, when Greed spoke, his viper's tongue poisoned the word, causing it to ring false within Rosch's ears. His mocking tone made the title sound false and hollow.

You think yourself brave, little lion man? Have you forgotten the taste of fear, like bitter bile in the back of your throat?

Rosch shook his head, banishing those thoughts to the back of his mind. He pivoted on one heel and marched toward the door, his golden spurs clinking with each heavy footfall.

The barkeep spared Rosch a curious look before glancing toward Greed in acknowledgement. Whenever the Grave Robber went "down town," he always returned with plenty of gold to grease dirty palms.

Hopefully, this mission would be as fruitful as the others.

[nestingdevil]

While Rosch rambled on, the 'Robber kept his quiet. A pinch of tobacco squeezed between his fingers into the open bowl of his pipe, his nails scurried about aimlessly in his coat like a thousand, baby spiders searching the world for the first time. Greed closed his eyes and a festering sneer spread across his face under the brim of his hat.

"What you're saying is that no one else is going to take the job, so come to the source. Is that right?" He puckered his lips around the button of his pipe, making his teeth chitter briskly across the reed. "They know I don't belong to either of them - ha! That's pretty bold, I'll give 'em that." A match appeared, clenched between his middle and fore-knuckles as rigid as a cross. Greed swept it across the metal guards clasping his wrist and as the tip ignited, a wicked glow erupted under his chin.

He wasn't stupid to the goings-on inside the Estate: everyone knew it. Two heirs, two figureheads, fighting for the rightful title. But the rightful title of what. Decay? Blasphemy? Destruction? Death? There wasn't much to gain from owning a place already damned.

But, then again -

The Sinnerman inhaled, dragging a deep cloud of tobacco down into his lungs. "Another one, then. Got someone in mind?" A perk of interest twitched on his face and one of his eyes lazily opened, revealing a point-pricked inclination. There were numerous names, faces, and all else throughout the Estate. From the highest of the mighty to the lowest of the low, the masses stuck in the proverbial tar pit were a variety pack and he didn't know all of them. The excursion could be worth it, if not to find more. More to have, to claim, to enjoy in every sense of the word.

"You could show me numbers, I'll show you more -"

The Graverobber shrugged off a silent weight and followed after the Crusader as low and shallow as a shadow, following a wall. He kept his head bent at a particular angle, so that the brim of his hat crested over his face in a looming, hard-cut swoop. "Don't take it so personally, friend. This is just business, after all. What, are you still upset about before?" Another curtain of smoke disappeared between his teeth - the look of it, as pale and fleeting as a ghost evaporating under the coming sun. "Whatever you're thinking, you've got the wrong idea. What I want - " He trailed off, forcing the pipe do to the rest of the talking. What he wanted, what he needed, what he craved: no one could possibly know how deep it went. It was a disease; a disease for him and him alone to bear.

And he relished every moment of it.

Greed pocketed his hands. "Let's change the subject, then. Why are you so loyal to Their Highness, anyway? What makes them better than the other choice? Feels like the two of 'em are the same to me. Right, wrong. Good, bad. I've never believed in that." He tilted his head back and the bump of his throat exposed, showing the barest hint of something black underneath the choke of his collar. "Your kind - you put so much into believing your cause is the righteous one, but have you ever stopped to think if it is?"

The corner of his lip turned up. "Eh, never mind. I don't really feel like pissing you off even more. Would be a pain in the ass for you to go berserk down there." Greed swayed and his head turned on the axis of his neck like a vulture, scoping out a meal. "Mind giving me the name of the others you've got in mind? Or is that off limits?"