Snippet #2741965

The group that Telekhus encountered had all pushed forward into the Guild building. The sellsword trailed after them slowly, not really enjoying where the conversation was going. He didn’t really want to become a hero. At the same time, if he could see the children of the Porter’s in action, that would be amazing. The Porter’s were legendary, and he had heard of them during his travels. It wasn’t hero worship or Hero Worship that Telekhus felt about them. He could barely care less about the good deeds they had accomplished.

They were strong though. Some of the strongest. Telekhus had always wanted to test his metal against the duo. Sometimes a self-deprecating thought crossed his mind, wanting to be able to be cut, or to be hurt. Telekhus frowned, before remembering the only person who had ever truly defeated him. He still didn’t bleed during that fight. Outclassed, was what Telekhus was, and it frightened him at the time.

“Before anyone else continues,” the Last Kastor called out, focusing his attention on the Guildmaster, “is there any chance that I could be hired as as a private contractor? I would rather not become a hero.”

Hero’s were good people, driven by good ideals and goals. They were selfless.

Telekhus was a bad, bad man, with selfish goals.

But if it meant that he could find a way to control the magic inside of him, then The Significant would forego his current selfishness for a short time.

“Anyway, if I cannot be hired, and would have to actually become a hero, then I need to know: what’s the pay?”

Still though, money is money. It is the lifeblood of all the civilized world, and if it isn’t in Telekhus’ own hands, it’s really quite useless.