Estolad was not a big town, if it could even be called one. The roads were dirt, houses were placed in irregular, spread-out positions, and many of the local shops were simple general stores, carrying goods for the local farmers or needy travelers. It was spring at the moment, and the roads were muddy due to the constant travel of water through them, sloshing through tracks made by townsfolk and passing caravans. One such group of wagons was traveling through the town that very moment. It was comprised of three rickety wooden wagons with shoddy wheels and older gentleman guiding the horses pulling them. The procession stopped for a moment, and a man stepped out of the back of the first wagon, stepping into a dryer portion of the road underneath, leaning on a black cane.

“Thank you.” He said, without looking at the caravan driver, in a voice that was lacking in any real emotion. The driver seemed satisfied, though, and nodded even though the man wasn't looking at him. He whipped the reigns forward and the horse starting moving again, with the other two wagons following his lead a second later. Soon, the group rounded a street corner out of town, and was gone. The man who had stepped off the wagon didn't move, or turn his head, or say anything for that matter. He merely stood where he was on the ground. A few passing townspeople stopped and watched at him. He was rather strange looking.

The man was dressed in faded, blue-collared shirt. It was made out of some strange material that seemed to attract the light around it, glowing slightly in the afternoon sun, but leaving no reflection on the smooth cloth. It was dull, and seemed to be woven with in an incredibly thin weave. His pants were made of the same material, but thicker and darker. The man himself seemed to be in his forties or fifties, having brown hair streaked with white and gray, and wrinkles stretching over his face. The man's eyes were strange. They were a grayish blue. What made them strange was the motion of them. The iris seemed to move about his pupil, swirling in a clockwise direction. That, and his eyes seemed to glide slowly from object to object, instead of the quick focusing motion a regular person's eyes would use.

An older woman walking in front of him stopped, and tilted her head, looking up at his face, seemingly mesmerized by it. The man, previously stiff and unmoving, came alive, tilting his head down to look at her. The woman jumped, and shuffled away. The man merely grinned, and took an awkward step forward, resting most of his weight on the cane at his side. There was a run-down looking building in front of him. Reaching it, he removed a paper from his side, and hung it on a spike hanging off the side of the door. He looked at it for a moment, with the same awkward grin he had flashed earlier, and stepped inside the building. The faded white sign said, in small, dark red letters, “Legion Contracting and Mercenary Employers.”

Inside the building it was dark and musty, with small streams of light pouring in through the windows, and a heavy layer of dust on the surface of the furniture. There was a desk at the far side of the room, with chairs scattered around the room. The man slowly pushed the chairs evenly to the sides of the long room, lining them up at the walls, and walked slowly to the back desk, where he sat down. He removed a small plaque from his side, and placed it on the front of the desk. It read, “Information and Contract Management.”

It was a gloomy day, only the brave and the necessary were out traveling on this particular morning. An adventurer and lone traveler scuffed his worm moccasins through the soft grass and quickly over patched of sticky mud. He had just spent the night cramped up in a small crevice under a cliff face in the Alulanta Falls region, escaping the recent downpour that had raged the lands. A good days travels had warmed up his muscles and gave him a new breath for the lands ahead. He had passed through the Alulanta forests with a breeze, stopped by a variety of rivers or streams for a quick break, and kept traveling until he could find a nice place to rest for the night. Almost about to stop to rest he spotted a welcoming landmark in the distant grasslands. Peaking out from the plains a village called him over.

The half-dragon trudged forward, determined to find a nice place to rest for the night. The gentle smoke rising from the chimneys reminded him how comforting the warmth of a fire felt, to sooth his ravished body from his journey. Finally the half-dragon made it into town, straddling the various tracks formed by heavy wagons that passed through the area. Feet later he was passing a small tent in the town square. Here, he glanced around for a moment looking for an Inn. He noticed a local pub, a strange building with a faded white sign, and a few other dilapidated houses. After a moment he picked a road and took it until he ended up finding the inn.

Inside there seemed to be some sort of panic. An older woman was preaching to the Innkeeper about a strange fellow she had seen on the road. The innkeeper looked bored while continuing to make marks down in a book hidden on his desk. Then, while continuing to write, he soothed her anxiety by responding,
“Don’t worry. He’s running a mercenary business in the square he’ll do no harm to us.” The older woman sighed. To Vaud it seemed as if she wanted to start some trouble, or at least some gossip. Yet the innkeeper wasn’t taking her bait. The thief thought about what he heard for a moment. A mercenary business might be a good place to get some gold. He was running low due to expenditures for provisions in a market a few towns over. Even so, he would need money to pay for his visit in the inn. Plus the experience would be a good chance for him to sharpen his combat abilities once more.

As quickly as he had entered Jupiter dashed back out the door, the only imprint of him ever being in the inn signified by the door slamming in his wake. He marched back across town to the square and looked around for the building of interest. Playing an eliminating game with the buildings he was finally able to narrow it down to the old structure with the faded out white sign. The half-dragon took a step forward and was able to read the sign, Legion Contracting and Mercenary Employers. It would be strange to be employed, so it was outside the building that he hesitated. Something inside of him told him to walk away, go steal some money instead, but just to be defiant his hand plunged towards the knob and turned.

Vaudeux Jupiter almost stumbled inside the shadowy establishment as he entered. But, with help from the knob, he was able to balance himself out and held a straightened posture as he slowly took a step forward and shut the door behind him. He noticed a couple lines of chairs, a desk in the back, and an older man sitting behind the desk. For a moment he regretted stepping through the door in order to find some type of employment. What the hell am I doing here? Thought the thief, now taking a look around at the walls to take in every detail of the new room. He was somewhat reluctant to approach the desk just yet, for he had no idea what was to come if he joined the cause.

"So you see," said Devin, smirking and leaning back in his chair nonchalantly, "with your contract come fully to term, and my own funds running low, there is simply no way for me to keep you on."
"So long as I get paid," said Eclipse, shrugging. On the outside, her demeanor was totally placid. On the inside, she was seething. This always happened! This was why she hated bodyguard assignments. Especially when the person she had to guard was some young irresponsible second son of a noble. The first-borns weren't half so bad. They, at least, had to learn to be responsible enough to look after the family domain. But the second and third borns...Eclipse would be thrice damned if she spent more time around them than she had to. Devin had supposedly been on a diplomatic mission from his rural country estate to Lomedor, where he was to meet with some contact or other. Eclipse didn't really care. It was Devin's father that had assigned her to guard the brat.
He had stopped at so many out of the way villages to drink the night away and while away the evening with whatever wenches he found that he was nearly broke. It was here in Estolad that Eclipse had taken the initiative to demand for her pay so far on the spot, or the man would spend it all. She had no intention of traveling any further than she had to with Devin anymore. The fact that his father would probably never hire her again didn't really bother her. There were better customers elsewhere.

But maybe she hadn't thought this through properly. Now she was stuck - even though she had her pay - in Estolad, of all places. Perhaps one of the dullest towns on the entire continent. The young woman didn't relish the thought of the long trudge back to Lomedor on her own. Sadly, it seemed to happen a lot.
"Very well then," she said to Devin. She took the purse, testing its weight in her hand. She wouldn't bother counting it. She could say one thing for Devin's father: he certainly paid well. This was more than Eclipse would have normally demanded for the time spent guiding Devin, and spent resuscitating him every morning after he'd drunk himself into a comatose stupor.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you," she said coldly. She stood up and flung her cloak over her shoulder, hefting up her backpack in one hand, and left the inn.

Eclipse paced the streets of Estolad for awhile, trying to blow off steam. The day outside was as gloomy as she was, and there were even fewer people than usual on the streets, which suited her just fine. She had had about all she could stand of people. As she wandered in and out of the sparsely arranged and dilapidated old buildings of this run-down village, she considered just beginning the trek out now. She certainly didn't mind camping out in the evenings, if she had to. But for the time being, she was content simply to remain in the village, moving very much like a caged animal. The few people that did pass her wisely kept their distance and didn't bother trying a friendly greeting on her.

Eclipse became aware of something other than herself causing disturbance on the street. Looking up, she saw that a strangely dressed man faced an old woman. The encounter between the two was brief and silent, but it resulted in the woman shuffling away as fast as she could. Eclipse wondered what about the man had caused this to happen. She saw him affix a small paper sign to a nail on one of the nearby buildings and go in. She stayed where she was, considering the scene, wondering whether it was worth it to go take a glance at the paper.
As she was considering this, she became aware of movement behind her. A quick glance told her that a man was making his way down the street, inspecting each building. She quickly darted out of sight behind one of the more run-down and obviously abandoned buildings.
When the man reached the building with the white paper, he examined it and went in.

Her curiosity completely aroused, Eclipse went to see what all this was about. She wasn't very literate, so it took her awhile to sound out what the words on the paper meant. Eventually, she deciphered it.
Legion Contracting and Mercenary Employers.
That sounded promising. She reached for the handle and entered the building at her own turn. The sinister-looking one who had scared the old woman was sitting behind a desk in the musty space of the dust-covered room. The second man who had entered stood in the center of the room, looking somewhat confused and ill at ease.
The door softly fell shut behind her.

Stepping closer to the desk, Eclipse saw the plaque sitting in front of the man. She didn't bother trying to read it; doing so could only make her appear foolish. Besides, it was quite obvious that he was the one in charge here.
Examining the man behind the desk, she noticed something strange about his eyes. In the gloom, she couldn't immediately place what it was. Then she realized that his irises were shifting. She wondered what kind of person's eyes did that. A quick glance at the other man revealed that he had fiery eyes. The kind that she had heard belonged to dragons.

Not for the first time in her life, Eclipse began to wonder if she should maybe have thought this out more beforehand.
Either way, she would soon find out whether or not this contract was a good idea. She said nothing and stood calmly in the dusty old room, slightly behind and to the left of the fiery-eyed man so that she could keep track of his movements. She would let one of them begin the events that would take place here.

The dark man sat in the room for a moment before removing a book from his side, and opening it font of him on the dusty desk. The book was something strange to behold. It was bound in a leather that gleamed in the dark, and was a dark purple, with metal straps connected to much of its binding and sides. The form of the book was wrapped in a faint white light that pulsed and lit up the man's face. He had an impassive expression, devoid of any real emotion, and eyes that slid over the text in the book with passing interest. If one were to look in the book, they may notice the words were written in a dark purple, and in the Demonic language, though a very strange variant of it.

The door creaked open, and a being walked in, but the dark man behind the desk made no move to greet him. He didn't even look up. His full attention seemed to be on the book in front of him, and he flipped a page with his left hand in a slow, steady motion. Not but a moment later, the door opened again, and a young woman walked in. Again, the man didn't move. He slipped another page over, his hand placed lightly on his lap after he moved it. What seemed like several minutes later, he looked up at the two. From either person's perspective it would look like he was staring directly into their eyes, though he was really looking at neither, merely at the door in front of them.

“Come forward if you are looking for work.” His voice was that of any mans, but contained a metallic undertone that rung through the ends of his words, and worked through his letters like a snake through grass. He didn't blink as he watched them. “You must submit a form for our records before working with us.” He said, his words biting through the air once again. A ripping of paper could be heard from behind the desk, as he tore two sheets from his book, though his eye never left them. He placed two papers on top of the desk, and two pencils. Strangely enough, the sides of the papers were not torn. The man lowered his head, and went back to reading.

The papers that he had removed were neat, and had several small questions, such as name, age, and race, not to mention prior fighting experiences, and any run-ins with local law. After each question was a small space to answer.

It was the first time Jupiter actually looked at the man, as he approached him from the middle of the room once beckoned. It was the strangest normal-appearing man he had ever laid eyes on. Perhaps it wasn’t the fact that he seemed normal, at first glace, but the fact that one just sensed that there was something different about him. The voice had chilled him slightly, just because it was something he had never heard before. Speaking with perfect diction, yet possession a natural echo was something of darkness. Then there was the man’s eyes. A set of pupils, that bored into one when looked at, with a pair of orbiting irises that were the farthest thing from ordinary. He adverted his own eyes and tried not to stare.

Not only did he regret stepping in the room with a strange character such as this, he regretted the fact that he was in dire need of pay. Nevertheless he scuffled over to the desk and reached for the paper the man had indicated earlier. He carefully slid it out neatly from the pile while grabbing one of the writing utensils. He took the new items over to a chair that would allow him to be far from the desk and allow him to turn away from the others. Mainly to avoid the strange pair of eyes of the employer. It wasn’t the ideal applicant behavior, but he had to concentrate. A hard feat while a pair of electric blue orbits occupied the room.

Vaudeux took his spot in one of the many chairs and began filling out the form below. He started off quickly, filling out the first few questions with ease and nimbleness on the quadriceps of his thigh. But then came the essay-type questions that he had to sit to think about for a while. He looked up in thought and stole a glance at the other in the room. A dark-haired maiden whom had snuck in behind him at the start of the meeting. Before she could catch him he returned, thoughtfully back to his paper. He skipped to the easier question about law run-ins. Vaud thought back to his childhood. There were a few instances where he had come close, but enforcement had only passed his acts off as adolescence.

With a grin he wrote, None, in the spot and continued back to fighting experience. Here he scripted, Quick hands and with power. Combat skills with short and long swords, staff, and fire-hardened sticks. All of which were necessary to grow up on in his household, and on the streets in his later years. Anything else necessary for that section Jupiter figured his employer could figure out with his half-dragon remark written above in “race”. There were certain things that would be implied with dragons, such as flight and immense strength. What he failed to mention was his intolerance with the Wyrm. He was here to get hired and not psychological criticism.

Once he had inserted all of his input in the proper forms, he then double checked them and made sure they were to his exact liking in wording. Then Jupiter stood, form his chair and approached the desk. Placing the pencil down first then calmly displaying the filled form back to the man sitting behind the counter. He hoped that he would look up from his reading and take it, for Vaud was itching to get something done.

Words, words, words. Eloquent and informative, they made up the essence of communication, in any race or language. But why, by all the gods above, did they ever have to be written down?
Inwardly and for about the hundred thousandth time in her life, Eclipse cursed herself for her insatiable curiosity and her knack of getting herself into difficult positions. Then, perhaps for the thousandth time in her life, she cursed her parents for being such classic criminals that they'd never thought to educate her. Then it occurred to her that the proportion of how much she cursed herself versus how much she cursed her parents should have been reversed.

The man at the desk was reading a book. Eclipse couldn't read whatever was on the cover, but that in itself was far from unusual, so it didn't occur to her to ask what language he was reading in. The problem lay in the fact that the book was glowing, or seemed to be. In her experience, any book that behaved abnormally - in fact, any book that was capable of behaving in any fashion - was bad news.
She stood uncomfortably in the dark and musty room, feeling somewhat like a fidgety child who had been caught in the act of transgressing a household rule and was now awaiting punishment.
Then: “Come forward if you are looking for work.” It was the emotionless command of one who expected his orders to be carried out without question, and was used to having it as such. It was also an ominous voice. Eclipse couldn't quite put her finger on what about the way the man spoke bothered her, but it was there.
“You must submit a form for our records before working with us," he continued. He ripped two pages from his book and placed them on the desk, along with two pencils. Eclipse's stomach turned. Forms. Again.
More and more employers demanded that some form or other be filled out. Or maybe it was standard practice among honest employers, and Eclipse wasn't used to the practice yet. Why they demanded everything down on paper would be an eternal mystery to Eclipse.

The other man in the room was quick enough to grab a sheet and sat down on one of the chairs farthest from the desk and began to write quickly, using his leg as the closest thing to a desk available to him. Eclipse sighed, and took a hesitant step closer to the desk, eyeing the remaining sheet of paper and pencil. She debated taking it and trying to write out her responses.
No. She could barely maneuver a pencil long enough to write her own name, not to mention it would probably take her an obscene amount of time to decipher whatever the questions were.
She debated just leaving, and then rejected that idea out of pride. She had nothing to hide from this man...except the fact that she was illiterate. Would that be held against her?

"You know" she said, breaking the near-silence of the room, where previously only the scratching of the other man's pencil could be heard, "it would be more appropriate if you could first inform me of exactly what I'm signing up for before I tell you anything about myself."
She eyed the man behind the desk, a gleam of defiance in her gaze. "I'm not the type of person to work for the first person who offers to pay me. Others in my trade laugh at me for being picky but I, for one, have certain standards and a personal code which hasn't allowed me to work for everybody that's asked me, no matter how well they offer to pay."

She turned her gaze away briefly and ran a hand through her short hair, a gesture that was typical of her when she was frustrated, and faced with a barrier she couldn't overcome. A barrier such as the written word.
"One thing you may as well know about me though," she said to the man behind the desk. She had gone this far, she may as well finish what she'd started. "I can barely read, and I can write even less than that. As such I can't exactly be filling out this form you have prepared. Now, if I can know more about you, I'm willing to answer your questions, and I'll trust you or this other man here," she gestured towards the man in the corner, who had been filling out his own application, "to write it down for me."
She stood just a bit straighter and gazed at the man behind the desk levelly. "Although my qualities as a scholar are lacking, I can assure you that my skills as a fighter are as good as anybody else you'll find in this village. I'm not claiming to be the best you'll ever find, because I'm not in the habit of making claims I won't always be able to live up to. But I'll tell you this; I'm damn good at what I do, whether or not I can fill out your sheet of paper."