30th Ashan, Arc 721
There was something about today, something in the air maybe. Whether it was by fate or bad luck, Shl'drei staggered into bar and out of the cool Ashan winds. He had a habit of caring his cloak either way and to-trial was a good example of why.
Shl'Drei didn't remove his cloak when he stepped into the lit establishment, just pulled it tighter as he closed the door. He'd been couch surfing as he had business in Dabryton- he preferred to stay a few days if he traveled away from home just in case something came up. Still, the last person willing to house him and the wolf had no extras beds or cots, and their couch was occupied. So he'd slept, with a small blanket and his cloak, on the floor with the wolf beside him. Usually people were unwilling to let him in because of her, but she aided their sight in Cylus so some people were welcoming if only on the basis of use.
It wasn't too busy, but people looked at him and then looked away once they figured he was uninteresting. Leora curled around his feet once he found an empty table- he flagged a waiter and took a much of coffee with two sugar cubes. Shl'drei always requested a meat that went to the wolf. She was usually good about not making messes if the meet was good- she licked everything clean if it was especially juicy. She took her time though- she knew Shl'drei would only buy her one so she needed to make it last.
Shl'drei was served his coffee and handed over a few nels tip as thanks. He blew the warm cup, watching the steam from it bend and contort with his breath. He seemed vacantly aware of his surrounding-, things were still hard and he was still not as healthy as he could be. But he was starting to relieve himself of excess baggage- emotional baggage. He supposed it was a culmination of recent events that had helped, meeting Stan especially. The tunawa had been a great help, and even offered to listen to him when times got hard. He was a good friend that Shl'drei would cherish.
Taking a sip of the coffee, he sighed, eyes closed and sagged a bit in his chair, elbows supporting him on the table. It was nice and warm- and while the taste wasn't great, the subtle sweetness of its mixture was enough to make up for it. There was a hint of spice though- cinnamon maybe? He couldn't tell. But it added to the flavor a little, making it manageable. Three sips in, the door to the shoddy establishment slammed open, and a man walked in dragging something. Was that really necessary? He thought, annoyed by the loud noise. He gave the man a look he didn't see and leaned forward to reassure the lumen who had dimmed for the moment that all was well. She sniffed the air, and then as he slinked past Shl'drei smelled it too.
Blood.
He didn't have any injuries, but the animal carcass he dragged was heavily wounded. At first, Shl'drei went to ignore it. It was none of his buissness whatthis guy was doing. Darbyton was full of rangers, hunters too. It wasn't as common for them to dragg their catches, untanned, skinned and otherwise through the streets though. He flinched though, eyes wide and hurt, mouth ajar and throat dry. He grit his teeth though, turned away and scoffed. That was a caracal carcass. A dead caracal. He was disrespecting its body. It had multiple wounds, he'd tortured it. This man was sick. He needed to calm down. Another sip, but the man was bragging about the kill.
"Torg, you dog, get that thing outta my tavern!"
"Oi, I'm a payin' customer, yeah? Besides, I just came tat share tha news. There's some bloke paying good nel for these things. Jerri or something. I found this one around and decided to cash in, hahahah!" He laughed obnoxiously, and Shl'drei's veins turned to lava. Pure white hot anger flowed through him- he needed to know who would do such a thing! He needed to keep cool and listen.
"What? What kind of bloke issit?"
"Like I'd tell! I gave you a name, go huntin'. Plus there's a female with a litter in sweetwine whos looking for her mate gahahaha! She'll come with this bait, she will." Shl'drei had hear enough. Slamming his cup on the table and standing suddenly turned as few heads, so he glared daggers at Torg, collected his things and clicked his tongue.
"Must be real great to hunt for sport and not necessity, you overgrown hog," Shl'drei sneered, but slammed his fist on the table as Torg opened his mouth. "Save it, I don't want to know. You're a monster, plain and simple. Thar caracal has way to many stab wounds to be normal, you could have arrowed it or stabbed it once and ended it quickly. But no, you tortured that animal and now I'm sure of it. I pray the immortals won't save you and don't give you a new life."
And with that said he put a few nels on the tables as people gawked and clicked for Leora. He needed to find those caracals first, he needed to make sure this man didn't get to the litter. With fleeting glance at the carcass he apologized in his head and lead Leora outside as Torg hollered insults at the closing door. Outside, Shl'drei huffed, disgusted. He couldn't realistically stop Torg form hunting- but perhaps he could do something about the source? Torg had said Jerri? If he asked around maybe he could find something?
Shl'Drei didn't remove his cloak when he stepped into the lit establishment, just pulled it tighter as he closed the door. He'd been couch surfing as he had business in Dabryton- he preferred to stay a few days if he traveled away from home just in case something came up. Still, the last person willing to house him and the wolf had no extras beds or cots, and their couch was occupied. So he'd slept, with a small blanket and his cloak, on the floor with the wolf beside him. Usually people were unwilling to let him in because of her, but she aided their sight in Cylus so some people were welcoming if only on the basis of use.
It wasn't too busy, but people looked at him and then looked away once they figured he was uninteresting. Leora curled around his feet once he found an empty table- he flagged a waiter and took a much of coffee with two sugar cubes. Shl'drei always requested a meat that went to the wolf. She was usually good about not making messes if the meet was good- she licked everything clean if it was especially juicy. She took her time though- she knew Shl'drei would only buy her one so she needed to make it last.
Shl'drei was served his coffee and handed over a few nels tip as thanks. He blew the warm cup, watching the steam from it bend and contort with his breath. He seemed vacantly aware of his surrounding-, things were still hard and he was still not as healthy as he could be. But he was starting to relieve himself of excess baggage- emotional baggage. He supposed it was a culmination of recent events that had helped, meeting Stan especially. The tunawa had been a great help, and even offered to listen to him when times got hard. He was a good friend that Shl'drei would cherish.
Taking a sip of the coffee, he sighed, eyes closed and sagged a bit in his chair, elbows supporting him on the table. It was nice and warm- and while the taste wasn't great, the subtle sweetness of its mixture was enough to make up for it. There was a hint of spice though- cinnamon maybe? He couldn't tell. But it added to the flavor a little, making it manageable. Three sips in, the door to the shoddy establishment slammed open, and a man walked in dragging something. Was that really necessary? He thought, annoyed by the loud noise. He gave the man a look he didn't see and leaned forward to reassure the lumen who had dimmed for the moment that all was well. She sniffed the air, and then as he slinked past Shl'drei smelled it too.
Blood.
He didn't have any injuries, but the animal carcass he dragged was heavily wounded. At first, Shl'drei went to ignore it. It was none of his buissness whatthis guy was doing. Darbyton was full of rangers, hunters too. It wasn't as common for them to dragg their catches, untanned, skinned and otherwise through the streets though. He flinched though, eyes wide and hurt, mouth ajar and throat dry. He grit his teeth though, turned away and scoffed. That was a caracal carcass. A dead caracal. He was disrespecting its body. It had multiple wounds, he'd tortured it. This man was sick. He needed to calm down. Another sip, but the man was bragging about the kill.
"Torg, you dog, get that thing outta my tavern!"
"Oi, I'm a payin' customer, yeah? Besides, I just came tat share tha news. There's some bloke paying good nel for these things. Jerri or something. I found this one around and decided to cash in, hahahah!" He laughed obnoxiously, and Shl'drei's veins turned to lava. Pure white hot anger flowed through him- he needed to know who would do such a thing! He needed to keep cool and listen.
"What? What kind of bloke issit?"
"Like I'd tell! I gave you a name, go huntin'. Plus there's a female with a litter in sweetwine whos looking for her mate gahahaha! She'll come with this bait, she will." Shl'drei had hear enough. Slamming his cup on the table and standing suddenly turned as few heads, so he glared daggers at Torg, collected his things and clicked his tongue.
"Must be real great to hunt for sport and not necessity, you overgrown hog," Shl'drei sneered, but slammed his fist on the table as Torg opened his mouth. "Save it, I don't want to know. You're a monster, plain and simple. Thar caracal has way to many stab wounds to be normal, you could have arrowed it or stabbed it once and ended it quickly. But no, you tortured that animal and now I'm sure of it. I pray the immortals won't save you and don't give you a new life."
And with that said he put a few nels on the tables as people gawked and clicked for Leora. He needed to find those caracals first, he needed to make sure this man didn't get to the litter. With fleeting glance at the carcass he apologized in his head and lead Leora outside as Torg hollered insults at the closing door. Outside, Shl'drei huffed, disgusted. He couldn't realistically stop Torg form hunting- but perhaps he could do something about the source? Torg had said Jerri? If he asked around maybe he could find something?
