Taking on a job [solo]

[Roma]

I answer the door, I clean up the estate, and I take out the trash.
And I also kill self-entitled little twats like yourself.

Roma’s days were all bleeding together, a difficult challenge awaiting that which was a terrible instance one could say. It was something of which brought to mind the many challenges and ignorance that made this kind of day a rather difficult and yet also deliberate fault of celebration. He merely had room for one faulty memory, there was no need for more than that yet they were far and wide around the world. It was a challenge and for that he merely had to realize that such a timely manner was of high importance of omnipotent forces within him.

The corruption that struggled to get stronger and free from him, the ever growing desire for blood for being a hitman, and then also the many apothecary delights of being a man of the brew. It was the number of offenses that came to mind immediately and made him question much morality and normalcy to such an extent that was normal for him to take part with. So it was a subtle thing but he had to find a job and that was the first thing that came to mind almost immediately. Jobs were how one makes money after all.

Making money is a necessary thing sadly, because without it one can simply find themselves going about with a rather relative life. So he resolved himself into making as much money as possible in hopefully in as little time as it was needed. It was the resolute circumstance for himself and well, as it was he had to take it by the reigns and understand it that much more. With a slow wave of his hand for his display he looked at the heretic symbol that always appeared first in his vision and sighed. Looking past it he clicked upon the sub-class “hitman” to read up.

For a proper hitman, one had PVP bouts, it was rather normal for that so one could get the best aptitude of what they were to do. However there was always more to it than that as he looked through it further for a deeper insight of what he may be missing in his work. The idealism of what it was, what to expect, and more so to speak all rivaling and pinging through his head. The hitman was more than a player killer, sure it is the certain way for making money but there was far more to it than that, he understood that and only smiled when reading through it in detail.

The hitman can be employed as bodyguards, rougher uppers for adversaries, or bounty hunters. The many of these things all in total were what made up exactly what one was to expect as he understood. With the heretic as his main class, the hitman was more so the rough up type but he wanted to do more good than that, appear less like the heretic he was. Pondering in thought, letting its magnitude wash over and through himself before looking back at his overhead, he knew exactly what to do for a certain amount of time. Something of which held more aid than what could be preordained perhaps.

Word Count: 527/527

MADE BY MINNIE OF FTS & GANGNAM STYLE

[Roma]

I answer the door, I clean up the estate, and I take out the trash.
And I also kill self-entitled little twats like yourself.

Continue onwards, it was the resolute way to partake of the banquet so to speak and so with a hop out of the inn’s bed he looked down at himself and what he wore. The military blues, the white shirt under this, and the brown canvas belt that held his grimoire and sword upon it. He already knew the two items were delicate in some respect, quite weak and were going to be the hardest to handle for such a dutiful quest but he had to make do with what he has. There was no time to be cherry picking, rather to be picky, for the instance at hand was here.

The prickly notion at the back of his neck warned him the road ahead was going to be dangerous but this had to be done, had to be performed in such a way that it made sense. It wouldn’t make sense to go in with guns blazing since he was of a mage and race type that had much lower health points. Even with miasma for himself, it was highly likeable that he was a targetable kill for even low mob monsters. It made him angry to admit this to himself but eventually he’ll be stronger and strong enough not to be full of self-doubt for this to work itself out.

After having his little once over the issue now was the billboard outside, finding and extracting information for whatever job he wanted to do and how to do it was the key to the entire thing. More so than what could be considered normalcy here. His body moving briskly through the foyer, through the inn and leaving it behind, and finally get to the billboard that awaited him with jobs. There were a number of jobs available, each one having a different classification of skill and advisory to getting a different job done in allotted time as well.

However, it was then that he noticed something for himself, the jobs listed here were for adventurers that did their deeds out in the open. Nothing of the sort that would accompany to allow a heretic, let alone a hitman to do their work. Even moreover given the fact he was in a place that despised his chosen class so that made it a tad harder but work had a fun way of showing its ugly head whenever least expected for whatever it mattered. His piercing gaze penetrating upon the alleyways that lined the streets and provided decent cover.

Each alleyway was identical, if there was any variation between them it would be too miniscule for him to really care so he continued. The alleys were brick, slabs of stone being the lining of the walls while there was a more than lovely spot of information that held secrets all to its own. However, he was not much of a crafter so he cared very little about this part and rather was more so interested in the figure standing in the alley with a single visible hand from the black cloak beckoning his interest. The black cloaked figured walking with deadly slow steps which were easier to not be lost upon.

He continued following after, having a delightful time doing what he had to and once following was done he spoke, “You going to tell me what this is about?” The people of the land were always weird, sure the relationship between the two kinds were of a mutual kind, but sometimes the people of the land were just creepy. He waited however for the hooded figure to reveal themselves before he did anything more, because like any professional patience was a virtue. Patience was what made being a hitman worth it.

Word Count: 622/1149

MADE BY MINNIE OF FTS & GANGNAM STYLE