Enters Gretchen

Retch Vvitch made his way to Helder's Grotto, a hollow cliff side on the beach. He walks across the shore around the rocks and is met with the smell of gutted fish. Dozens of ships line the docks, likely filled with pirates and criminals. The place was small and compact compared to towns, yet Retch could see from the edge that the place was busy.

"Hey, you!" Two women in crude armor walked up from the path, spears in hand. "Who the hell are you?"

"Do we need to ask? Lets just kill him, I have a poker game."

"Shut the hell up!" She scolds her companion. "What business do you have here, stranger?"

He reaches his hand in his pouch, which puts the sentries on guard, and holds a paper. They snatch it with a sneer and read through it. "Oh, another mercenary to go die." she pulls up her helmet for a second, showing her scared face to snort and spit. "We already have enough of you hired help; we barely have the food for ourselves so why dont you scram while you have the chance."

"Come on lets just let him go for now, its time for guard change." The other guard interjected

"Ah, shut up, green thumb!" She eyes him up and down, scoffs, then walks away.

Retch was annoyed by the unnecessary obstruction. It took him over a month to get here, and it wasn't through the most pleasant places. After all that travel, he just wanted something to drink that wasn't dirty or diseased.

He moved from the checkpoint to the market and was immediately met with dozens of people trying to sell him any number of things. The selection was large, but he didn't see any good or trustworthy potions or gear. He could swear the weapons that were called blessed didn't have a hint of magic. Though He wasn't a mage, he could tell most of the weapons on sale were not hard enough to be blessed.

Retch reaches the local tavern, the sign reading the Hog's Vagina. He doesn't care for any food or drink; rather, the tavern is where mercenaries gather. He passes the notice board backlogged with pirate guard shifts and sits in the back. It was poorly lit, which was fine for him since his eyes were already tired from traveling. He put his sword to the side and pulled out multiple marked coin purses and a small black book. Dropping them on his table, he began counting through them.

"Hey there!" With a bright smile, a woman leaned against the table sly from a table of three more. She wore brigandine, likely with steel scales and a hood covering her right eye. "Looky here, we got ourselves a hard worker. How much money ya got here?"

"What do you want?" Retch asked, ignoring her question.

Another person from the same table got up. Clad in crude iron armor, the balding man with scars shaped at both ends of his mouth like a smile. "Sorry I am Daren and this little rat is Cassandra." His friend scowled at the comment. "We're from Alabaster group, we're mercenaries that fought with house Vespuda down west of Maubrud. Now, I'm just wondering if you could buy a round of beers for your fellow compatriots? After all, we're about to go into battle together. So we might as well have a drink with each other," He said with a grin that looked as wide as his mangled mouth physically could.

"Is that all?" Retch asked,

"Yeah."

"No," Retch responded immediately.

"Come on."

"Tell the woman to give me the ninety kempt she took from the table and walk away." Everyone looked stunned.

"Hah! Theirson's Cock!" Cassandra laughed, knocking against the table. "You're a keener eye than I thought." She throws the coins back with the rest.

"I haven't seen someone spot her thieving ways for a long while, color me impressed. Where ya coming from, friend?" Daren asks way more politely than expected of a mercenary of slavers.

Retch relaxed his composure like Daren. "I came from Yokic."

"Oh really, were you caught up in those workers breaking out?"

"Yes, I worked with their masters. When the slaves escaped their farms, I was sent to look for them in the cities. It paid well." Retch said nonchalantly. "What exactly does Gretchen want, do you know?" He was told on the notice that it would have a fair bounty and required strong mercenaries but little else. The two mercenaries sat with him as he gathered the kempt back in his bag. They waved more drinks over from the barmaid.

"Well, as far as we can tell, she doesn't want us to know," Cassandra said. She wonders for a bit, then continues. "Ya know what, I think it's a good old manhunt. Some dumb shit slinking around the outer towns."

Retch thought through the notion. "Wouldn't some guards and a skilled hunter be enough? Ten strong men is enough to kill anyone and they couldn't get far in a month." He smelled his mug and winced, then moved it to the side.

"They aren't men and as much as they would like it to be otherwise they are much weaker than any of the mercenaries in this room now." Cassandra said coldly, staring down her unscrubbed mug in contemplation. Her one eye almost seemed to disappear under her overhung hood.

The door of the bar swings open, silencing the room. A soldier of Gretchen, "All hail, mercenaries of..."

"Get on with it, woman!" Someone shouted.

"Fuck you!" She shouted in response. "Fuck all of you! Report to the square! We'll see if you don't shit yourself when ya find how y'all die!" The crowd before her got up, cheering and screaming curses out the door. The bartender seems to let them go.

It takes a while for them to clear through the one-person door. Retch and Alabaster group look at the guard who had been shoved out the way into some barrels. She was writhing with rage and pride when she got up and looked menacingly at Retch. "You pieces of shit better have some damn spine. I won't let you ruin Gretchen's plan with your incompetence."

"What does that mean?" Retch asked

"It means you'll do what I say."

"How would I ruin Gretchen's plan by doing what you say?"

"You'll fuck it up, by not doing what I say."

"Then what does incompetence mean?"

"Were you talking about what that word means!" A vein bulged in the middle of her forehead. "Don't fuck this up or I'll slit your throat do you understand me?" Retch was silent at the comment staring emotionlessly at the guard, looking her up and down.

Damon patted the pale-skinned mercenary on the shoulder, taking his gaze from the woman in front of him. "Let's go see what Gretchen wants." They walked away from the guard and towards the square.

They joined a deafening crowd of hundreds of warriors. The rowdy crowds applaud, betting on a few fights that broke out. Unlike Gretchen's sentries, these soldiers of fortune had specialized equipment. Blessed blades, pricey steel, and quality armor from noble plate to thick bear hides.

The square, surrounded by shops and a large stone keep, was standing before them. It was taller than wide and had few windows to let light from the open caverns above. It was built into the rock formations and stood at least 3 floors tall. The balcony was covered in shadow on the top floor, and a few keen eyes caught a figure overhead hunched over the rail.

"Morning boys!" The figure yelled. "After a long night of planing with my advisors and a hard fuck with my whores! Good old lady Gretchen's going to war!" She said with a crooked smile of crumbled teeth.