Stacy Brancomb hated her life. For the past few months she had been trapped in Vargbriton, a large free city about four hundred miles north of the dwarven stronghold of Gilbrath. Vargbriton was a decent place to live even for a down on her luck warrior such as herself, but her landlord was not to be kept waiting. So taking a deep breath she walked into the cantankerous man’s office. "Found steady employment yet?" inquired her landlord in his usual abrasive manner without even glancing up to see who it was. "You know Forwithe," Stacy began, "I am getting very tired of your verbal abuse." This caused Forwithe to look up at her and blink blankly at her before replying. "Then leave, but not before you pay your month’s rent. Good luck finding another landlord who will put up with your eccentric penchant toward unemployment." Stacy sighed for the man was right, unemployment in this town was like having leprosy, no one wanted to deal with you. Never mind the fact that in order to be employed one must be unemployed first, it just didn't make sense really. However, she only had to put up with this town’s backward morals till she found her ticket out, preferably with an adventuring party seeking glory and riches. "Fine," Stacy replied tossing a purse with her month's rent onto the his desk, "but I'll have you know that I have an interview for a job this afternoon." Again Forwithe looked up at her. "And what of the last job?" he asked with interest. "It-It didn't work out," she replied with discomfort in admitting her inadequacy. "Aah!" Forwithe replied summing up his thoughts on the matter with one syllable. "Go find a stick and sit on it slowly you goblin bait," Stacy said voicing her frustration at her circumstances. Forwithe didn’t even give her the dignity of replying in kind, he only looked back down at his work and pointed toward the door dismissing her. Fuming Stacy marched out the door. It wasn't her fault that she couldn’t hold a decent job in this town. Her only talents lay in her ability to wade into battle and wreak havoc amongst her opponents. This place was so law abiding that even the thieves guild worked for the town council, and paid its taxes; so the idea of joining the town guard had very little appeal, no action or blood shed. However, if she was stuck in this town she was not going to let people like Forwithe have the last laugh. She would show him that she could hold down a job even if it killed her. Well maybe not killed, more like make very uncomfortable. These thoughts carried Stacy out of the three-story apartment building that she lived in. The building was situated on the outskirts of Vargbriton and the scent of the manure used for fertilizer in the fields surrounding the city was an ever-present companion. Thanks to whatever god dictated the fates of battle the dagger that had taken right eye had also left her with the inability to smell anything. So taking a deep breath through her nose she then let the breath go, and with it all her thoughts of strangling Forwithe in gleeful indulgence. Reaching into her vest pocket she withdrew another flier she'd taken from the Hiring Hall. The last time she had taken the advice of one of the locals and gone to answer the add he had suggested, that turned out to be noting but playing nanny for three spoiled merchant brats. She had only stuck that job out long enough to earn enough for this month's rent and daily expenses. Though when all was said and done the children weren’t all that bad if you discounted their like for setting things on fire, or pushing her into a pack of wolves at the zoo, or even when they put a price on her head. However, she had much high hopes for the job on this flyer. The flyer read: Join the Adventure! Are you looking for a great job with excellent benefits? At Gladiator’s Arena we offer all who walk through our doors a chance to be thrilled and dazzled by feats of death defying leaps. Be the first to take part in our new action packed swashbuckling adventure show. Drop by for auditions, positions are filled on an as needed bases. That was where it stopped except to give the address for the Gladiator’s Arena. Combat theater was not the same as actual combat, but it was likely the closest she would get to it. So off she went full of hope that maybe this would be a job she could keep. Upon arrival Stacy saw many people walking and running around. In a sand arena men and woman practiced choreographed combat sequences, and to her it all look very promising. After asking around she found the hiring manager, a short thin woman with a very nasal voice. As Stacy introduced herself the woman looked her up and down screwing her lips back and forth in thought. “Follow me,” the woman said braking into Stacy introduction and began heading toward the building to the left. Upon arrival the hiring manager took a set of stairs to a second story landing. Here she knocked on a door, which was promptly open by a man holding the top part of a horse costume. “Hello Micheal,” the woman began, “I think I found that horse’s ass I’d been looking for.” Stacy could only clinch her fist crashing the flyer.