The Strange Adventures Of A Broke Mercenary

So, you wanna be a mercenary? Picture this: explosions, daring rescues, and enough gold to swim in. The reality? Let's just say it's slightly less glamorous.

I'm talking about ramen noodle dinners. I'm talking about patching holes in your armor with duct tape. And I'm definitely talking about bartering for services with questionable trinkets.

The "Glory" Days (and Nights)

My first gig was supposed to be simple. Guarding a shipment of…cabbages. Cabbages! Turns out, giant mutated cabbage-eating rabbits are a real thing. Who knew?

I spent three days fighting off fluffy, green menaces. My reward? A lifetime supply of…you guessed it. Cabbages.

Let me tell you, cabbage stew gets old fast.

Equipment Issues: A Mercenary's Lament

Forget state-of-the-art weaponry. My sword's got a nick in it. My shield? Found it in a dumpster. Functional? Mostly.

I once tried to buy a new crossbow. The shopkeeper laughed in my face. He suggested I try "arrow-catching practice" with my bare hands. Charming.

Finding decent gear is like searching for a unicorn riding a skateboard. Rare and probably a myth.

Unpopular Opinion: Bards Are Overrated

Everyone loves a good tavern song. But a bard serenading you while you're bleeding out from a goblin attack? Not helpful.

I'd rather have a decent healer. Or maybe just a bandage. Seriously, priorities people!

And don't even get me started on the bards who write songs about your failures. Thanks for immortalizing my humiliation in verse, Bardolph the Bold.

The Clientele: A Mixed Bag

You meet all sorts as a mercenary. Desperate nobles. Shady merchants. Talking squirrels with surprisingly lucrative offers. (Don't ask.)

The best clients pay on time. The worst try to stiff you. I've learned to ask for half upfront. Lesson learned the hard way.

Once, I was hired to retrieve a stolen teacup. The thief? A grumpy badger. The payment? A slightly used badger brush.

Creature Comforts (or Lack Thereof)

Forget luxurious inns. I'm usually sleeping under the stars. Or in a damp cave. Occasionally, I get invited to sleep in a stable.

My bed? A pile of hay. My pillow? My backpack. My blanket? A prayer and a thin, threadbare cloak.

Hot baths are a distant memory. I'm pretty sure I've developed a symbiotic relationship with the local wildlife.

The Upside (Yes, There Is One!)

Despite the hardships, there's a certain freedom to this life. No boss breathing down your neck. No mandatory meetings. Just you, your wits, and your slightly damaged sword.

And sometimes, just sometimes, you get to do something truly heroic. Like rescuing a kitten from a burning building. Or stopping a runaway cart full of cheese.

Plus, the stories are great. And who knows? Maybe one day I'll actually get paid enough to afford that new crossbow. Until then, it's ramen and mutated cabbage rabbits for me.

So, next time you see a broke mercenary, maybe buy them a drink. They've probably earned it. And they've definitely got a story to tell. Probably involving cabbages.

Just… don't ask them to sing.