Feeling Thorny

Denerim was busy as always, especially now that the city was in mourning over the death of King Cailan. In the smoky air of the Pearl, at a corner booth by the bar sat a lovely redhaired woman, beautiful, but sturdily built. Upon closer inspection, one would see she was heavily scarred, no doubt from years of abuse and battle, but beneath the road map of scar tissue lay cold steel blue colored eyes, always watching her surroundings. She did not take part in the whores at the Pearl, nor was she one of them. She was dressed in a long grey doublet that was opened down the front to expose her cleavage, and partially the tattoo upon her left breast depicting the crown of thorns half of her family's heraldry- a bitter reminder that she was of the infamous Dragonis clan, a family with a history of producing bandits, psychopaths, and all other manner of degenerates moreso than the effective diplomats they produced occasionally. Her doublet was lined in silver, and embroidered in silver thread on the back was the entire insignia; a crown of thorns over two dueling dragons.

She rested her feet on the table, wearing sturdy boots that went up to her knees, and comfortable, form hugging trousers that helped to accent her figure. She smoked from a long pipe, enjoying the tobacco scent in the air that wasn't too strong so as to be unpleasant. Resting at her side was her trusty cavalry sabre, which she affectionately called Thorn. It was her weapon of choice as an assassin, and that, was what she was to be hired for on this particular day of mourning. A man entered the Pearl, ignoring the matron's greeting, and the half naked clientèle and merchandise, making his way directly towards the red haired woman. "Fremelda Dragonis?" He asked, removing the helmet he wore, revealing his face to be that of a youth, barely at manhood. His armor ill fitted him and his sword was a length too long for him. Either they were hand-me-downs or he was a thief. "I have a business proposition for you." He said, trying to sound important. 

Fremelda took a long time answering, but cleared her throat. "Depends on the job, kid. If you're looking for a hooker, look elsewhere, I don't do that." she said aloud, but finished with the thought Anymore anyway.[/i] she lifted Thorn so that the blade rested along her side. The boy shifted uncomfortably where he stood. The scarred woman had a lure despite her body being marred so much. Maybe it was her eyes. "N-no, not for that. I need..." He leaned in closer to whisper. "I need you to kill someone for me." She smiled in response, and barked a laugh. "Oh relax, kid. I knew what you wanted when you ignored all the whores and went right towards me. Who's the target? I'll name my price if I'm interested." she raised her hand up, stopping him from fixing a price before hearing what the target was. She always priced her own kills, never what the customer wanted to pay. He mumbled something, and she smacked him upside the head. "Are you daft!?" she snarled at him. "I despise the Chantry, but that's just suicide!" she hissed, and the boy panicked, trying to hold his hand over her mouth to silence her. "Not so loud, damn you!" He urged.

Thoughts buzzed through the assassin's head. Kill a Revered Mother? As titillating as the idea was, she knew it would be difficult to secure an escape without help. She needed to find someone to cover her while she did the deed, someone to distract the Templars and Chanters. She pondered. "No less than one thousand sovereigns. I will not ask why you want this person dead, but know that it will take a little time." She said cooly before puffing on her pipe.