Rise of the Underdark

Slade Wilson, Deathroke Journal
Entry 1

The Wilsons, Mercenaries for Hire is officially open. It is especially nice to be open for business after our ridiculous training at that monk monastery. They are call themselves the Zealots of the Written Word. Well, I for one could care less about reading and writing on parchment when all I care about is ending a fight. Mission comes first. Reading someone’s so called wisdom comes second. Those monks don’t know what it is like to fight a real battle. half of them didn’t like to take a punch. So many people don’t care about winning anymore. Guess what they are called? Losers. Whoever reads this can have them.

My brother Wade, the crazy son of a bitch he is, is now talking about professional hits. I never really imagined that. I mean, we have ‘accidentally’ a few people on some jobs we have done. But we are soldiers. We are mercenaries. Only time will tell. Depends on how much money is involved I guess. As long as we have a proper contract. I don’t like second guesses, changes of minds, loop holes, and fine print. That is something my brother just doesn’t give a shit about. He thinks he will live forever.


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