Mercenary Company Recruitment

[piousheretic]

A notice is posted beside Kale's bar in the Regal Griffon. A note has been pasted, with most of the writing on the upper half of the piece of vellum, the lower half left blank. It reads:

"Hello there, fledgling adventurers!

Are you sick and tired of finding your coinpurse empty, save for the moths? Desire that rapier that one merchant has for sale, yet find yourself breaking even after the healers and their draughts mend your broken bones? You are not alone!

A mercenary company is forming, and we are looking for new members! Our only purpose? To earn you the gold and glory you so sought when you first arrived in Cormyr!

We call ourselves the Three of Spades, and we wear the colors of black and violet - easily identifiable. We welcome all sorts, and so long as you're not currently charged with a crime by the Crown or its constituent municipal governments, you can participate in what we do.

Those who are interested in hiring us are welcome to do so! Contracts of questionable legality will be likely thrown into the trashbin, and we reserve the right to accept or decline a particular job contract offered to us. Nevertheless, in most cases, we will accept whatever's given and try to perform what the contract commands of us to the best of our abilities.

If interested in either our services or in joining up, speak to Effelin, a halfling already clad in black and violet - either that, or leave your name here and he'll seek you out. Cheers.

~ ♠"

[soulfien]

*Glenduil reads the notice and shakes his head*

Shar's colors? This cannot be good.

[ChrilWavingdark]

Jord walk's up to the poster and writes his name down with a suggestion on changing the colors.

[cambo]

The gnome known as Fizzerazen Dibbledab shuffles by the note posted in the Regal Griffon, his face covered in soot and his newest concoction held carefully in both hands.

He stops, squinting his eyes from under his bushy white eyebrows in an effort to read the small lettering. Those giant brows raise impossibly high as an idea begins to form in his inventive little brain.

He throws his hands into the air with an excited cry, his short attention span effectively erasing his memory of the potion he had held dear just moments ago. It falls with a resounding shatter but Fizz pays it no heed, breaking out his ridiculously large quill and furiously signing his name onto the sheet.

"More subjects to test my potions on, I'll have! Eager to assist me on my research excursions in the wild, they'll be! Heeheeheee..."

With a cackle of glee he shuffles off, back to his temporary research set-up to find something new to create.