Private Tales A hunter in the streets

[Wren]

The rain had stopped well before the sun rose, leaving a streak of pink skies over a long and distant horizon of dark greens and grays. Wren drew herself slowly up into the saddle of her horse, facing the sunrise with a grimace and a shade of her own green-gray on her face. Throat burning, tongue ladened with the taste of sweet viez second round, she had no mind for talk or haste. With the world still spinning and her stomach still churning, she filled it with another gulp of water from her waterskin and pulled the hood of her traveling cloak over her head for good measure.

They were on the road out of that town by the time the farmers had left their own homes to tend to their morning routines. Wren was more than happy leaving that farmhouse, that evening, that sweet viez, and the smell of fucking apples far, far behind.

She left a bit more of the contents of her stomach on the side of the road, just beyond the town limits, too. Had to keep herself occupied while Rain took care of some quick errand.

Hungover, hungry, and in a particularly sour mood, she nudged her gelding to follow after Rain's mare as he lead the way to their next destination.

 

[Rainer]

He hadn't originally planned on making his way into town to pay off the court with the five pieces of silver. They weren't exactly part of the common populace, given their proclivities for general roaming. And in truth, it seemed like it was a matter of checking a box. And there was hardly any precedent for a town, even as well off as this specific region, in sending out bounty hunters to collect on such a meager fee. Rain even imagined that the alderman wouldn't recall the fine the next time the Vedymin strode through town. ​

​

Though he found himself in fond remembrance of a particular canvas of scarred skin. And the way it had flashed indifferently in front of half the town, peering through the doorway as if it were a key peep hole and only so much space was available. Oh, they'd remember the two Vedymin. Rain was sure of it. So he scratched a few palms in the interim between getting started on the day and really getting started.​

​

Tightening his grip on the reins and pulling back on the bridle, he brought the chest nut colored mare down from her enthusiasm to a lazy trot. The cloak hung over his head, covering most of his skin. His hands were shielded in leather riding gloves and he felt the beating sun like it were a whip and he was making his due payment in the town center for his acts of evil and unkempt ways.​

​

"Sodomy..." He shook his head, grinding his teeth and mourning the beginning of the end for that night. He was decidedly regretful on making that particular payment now that he had time to stew in the sun beneath that cloak. ​

​

We'll be eating rabbits tonight, he thought. More than a days ride from that town to the next. Last he rode along the Rou, he hadn't seen much for roadside inns or cathouses, brimming with dusty merchants and parcel carriers. Perhaps things had changed in his absence. "Once you're ready, we'll need to ride hard for a bit...we have some distance to travel today." He said, looking over his shoulder. Wren wasn't in a particular proper form. Maybe some fresh wind might help sooth her sour mood.​

 

[Wren]

A grunt sounded in reply to him. If they had both been in a better feeding-schedule situation she would have barked at him to fuck off. Even at only a few months of age into being a Vedymin, Wren had begun to learn the ins and outs of hunger and satiation. That pitfall of hunger was difficult to endure - she'd not fallen to it completely yet, for all Rain's misgivings he'd been good about sticking to a schedule and keeping them both well-fed. But that stinging need in her gut was there and it was only just the start.

Rain had a better mind for where they were going, where their next meal would be, so if he insisted on a hard day of riding to cover ground then there was good reason. Grimacing to herself she pulled the cap off her waterskin and took another deep gulp, using just enough to cleanse her mouth and spit the lingering taste of viez off to the side.

This day was going to suck no matter which way she looked at it, but she'd rather get the shittiest part of it out of the way early. "Go on then," grumbled after the half-elf got herself situated. Wouldn't be the first time she ran a hard charge after a night of overdrinking. Probably wouldn't be the last.

 

[Rainer]

He felt a small touch of guilt over the whole matter. There had been various reasons for why he might have been at fault for why she felt bad, though that wasn't the origin of his disposition. It was simply a matter of him not being hungover as well. He hadn't fallen asleep drunk and even more so, he was a sober as the day would be long by the time he hit the hay filled mattress. The matter with the mob, the transmission and removal from circumstance that was otherwise looking quite promising, and the time for thought and embers once she had fallen asleep with the sweet viez. He had time to recoup.​

She hadn't.​

He nodded wordlessly to her response, feeling the bristles even through his woolen cloak. Flicking the reins and whistling, he drove his heels against the mare and set her off into a brisk gallop. Time wasn't on their side but fortunately, the geography was.​

The travelers hadn't made it particularly far out of Elbion when Rain was struck by the heat. On a good and clear day, the spires of the town could be seen across the otherwise flat coastal span between Larkton and the college. A half a days ride so by that time frame and the inconsistent measurement of terrestrial distance between varying kingdoms, Rain imagined it was more or less 10 miles along the Cairou. That didn't put them particularly close to their next quarry but it didn't put it out of shot.​

To the South, the flow of the Cairou glistened like sparkling quartz as it moved eastward and eventually pushed out into the Gulf. Proper trade networks between the coast and Elbion, carved out when merchants couldn't afford the far safer transit along water, formed meandering and veritable paths along the landscape. On the northern reach of land, the slopes moved gently upwards in large valleys and verdant swaths. Even through the dusty gallop, Rain could sniff out the smell of salty foam crashing along the coast line: it was far out of eyesight by at least a days ride north. Admittedly, his olfactory senses were compromised by the brackish intermixing that happened somewhere along the half way point of the eastern flowing river and reaches. ​

The sun was at its zenith by the time the trails crested downward towards a bridge. It was stone and well kept, running over an impassible tributary that flowed from the north down into the Cairou. And as they neared, Rain realized that the men currently hassling a convoy of women and merchants for taxes were of an employment for a local lord or Fiefdom. They donned armor and vestments, though tattered and poorly maintained. A scruffy looking sort, they carried an insignia that Rain didn't recognize; a three headed lion above a poppy flower. And they were ripping at one of the women's clothing, much to the dispute raised by one of the merchants.​

"Uhhh..." One approached, paying his handsy companion no mind. "Gotta pay the taxes, Sir. 12 farthings to cross the bridge, on our orders. And that's...uhh... per person."​

"Stop it!" The woman squealed as the handsy soldier backhanded her, sending her falling towards the wagon and gripping at the wheel.​

"Hey!" The merchant yelled, pointing a mule rod toward the soldier. "Keep your hands off of her! Law still exists in this land, does it not?"​

"Aye, it does Sir!" The soldier responded, resting his forearm on the pommel of a waist slung sword. "And the laws says that should you not have the shine to pay for a crossing, than proper bartering can take place based on the Lords discretion. And seeing as how I is an envoy of sorts, it seems that discretion is on me. And as good as I am just, I declare that a spot of knickers is as good as any piece of metal I've ever seen. Ain't that right boys?"​

The one addressing Rain laughed and turned back towards the Vedymin. "As I said, my good Sir. It'll be 12 farthings per rider before you can cross."​

 

[Wren]

Click. Click. Click.

SFFFT - THUNK.

A crossbow arrow landed on the broad side of the wagon, having passed directly between the woman now clinging to her torn robes and the man accosting her. It got his attention and he jumped backward, looking around wildly, "Who shot that?!"

"Touch that woman again and the next one goes through your ear," words from Wren astride her horse, just off Rain's left. She'd picked up a crossbow about a month back and had yet a good chance to try it out. Given her desire to remain seated in the saddle and off her own two feet, now seemed as good a time as any. She casually pulled the lever back on the string and selected a second arrow to fit into the groove.

"12 Farthings each..." she narrowed her eyes in contemplation of the indicated fee, stepping her horse up along the opposite side of the guard who presently spoke to Rain, "that's just thievery, friend, and I can't fucking stand thieves."

CLICK. Crossbow loaded and ready, she sniffed and looked to Rain, "What do you wager is a proper and fair fee for crossing?"

 

[Rainer]

He groaned inwardly, having wished she hadn't done that. They were bounty hunters, even monsters hunters when the meal and currency made it worth it. They could prowl through the night, hide openly in the day, and slay all manner of beasts when the time called for it. But they weren't errant knights, swinging around armored horses and speaking of virtue and righteousness. Bidding goodness across the land wasn't their bailiwick.​

Having instinctively leaned over the horn of the saddle to inspect the shot from the distance, Rain leaned back against the cantle and cleared his throat. "Well, I don't really know how much a farthing is worth..."​

"Well it be like this, Sir..." The nearby soldier uttered, donning both his fearful cap and the imaginary feather that indicated his preferred accounting profession. Rain waved at him.​

"No, I actually don't care."​

"Well I fooking do!" A large heavy approached, crossing his arms over a oiled cuirass that was ridged across the breast bone and slanted down towards the ribs. A proper groundsman armor without any dents. Either he was good in a fight or good at picking his enemies, Rain thought. "We are ordained by the local lordship, Lord Cantonomere the Third. Also known as the Third Lions Head."​

That math adds up, Rain thought again. "Well good. Commerce is critical to a healthy way of being." Rain went on. "So hows about this? My friend here gathers back up her bolt out of that wagon. We take these fine people across the bridge." Assuming Wren wasn't still carrying her affliction. "And then you won't have to feel a quarrel right..." He pointed a gloved finger towards the mains waist and closed his eye. "Right there. That is...of course, if you've had your fill of trying to have at go at knickers for the day."​

The answer was long and drawn out. But it was clear. Rain had had enough of paying unnecessary taxes for the day.​

 

[Wren]

"Naw, nobody's going nowhere until we get that fee. An now it's 20 farthings per," the heavy uncrossed an arm and pointed a threatening finger upwards towards Rain, face twisted into a grimace.

SHHHK.

"HAAAAAAAA!" suddenly that hand had a crossbow arrow through it.

"There's your 20 farthings," Wren turned her horse about, nudging it forward towards the wagon, "get moving."

 

[Rainer]

The man recoiled like a wounded animal, clutching his hand and the shaft of the quarrel. He breathed in deeply, eyes nearly bulging from his sockets, as the wound oozed red and began to trail down his arm, soaking the white padded gambeson along his forearm.​

​

Rain imagined that if Wren were trying to make a joke about the farthings, it wasn't much appreciated by the heavy ground pounder.​

​

"You fooking wench!" The leader and professed knicker enthusiast screamed at her, though his expression was sheepish. A handheld crossbow was something that despite its obvious logic, was not entirely common. That was, of course, changing as the days went by. In fact, it couldn't have been more than a couple years passed that a peddler in the streets of Elbion was passing off his own version of the weapon. A means for defense was the slogan. It was advertised as a way for even the lowliest of fighters to fend off attackers and brigands when the time called for it. Wren wasn't the lowliest of fighters but Rain couldn't argue with the convenience of the item.​

​

"I'll fooking gut you!" He screamed again as he reached into his saddlebag, pulling out an arbalest. It was Imperial issue based on the ornamentation and golden decoration with trails of red down the foregrip and trigger guard. With it raised with surprising speed, the bolt was loosed in Wrens direction.​

​

The bolt never made it towards the intended target. Instead, it shot upwards into the sky and with some time, would eventually land on the hillocks that spanned northward towards the coast. The men likely hadn't caught the shimmer of the sword, gleaming in the sunlight, or even the extraction from the scabbard. Holding it low, Rain looked towards the soldier who was now fumbling with the crossbow.​

​

"If that cocking stirrup hits the ground, I'm not sure what'll happen to you." Rain admitted, twisting the blade and reflecting a harsh ray of light into the mans eye. "At best it'll take you 10 seconds to ratchet that line back into place. Shall we test it?" He wasn't inclined on killing these men. Not because they deserved to live, but because that was gossip. Gossip was all well and good until this cavalcade made it to their destination, bid fair well, and then spoke of the two travelers who slayed the men at the bridge. Word gets around and that surely would. Then they might as well paint their backs with a target as slayers of men of the Third Lions Head.

It was an inconvenience he'd prefer to avoid.​

 

[Wren]

Snap snap.

Wren was over by the wagon now and snapping her fingers at the bruised woman leaning against the wheel. Great, watery, wide brown eyes looked up at her from within a tangled mess of dark hair, "Th-thank you miss, truly."

"Save it," Wren pointed to her arrow lodged in the wooden panel of the wagon, "my arrow if you please."

Clek.

That was the sound of an arbalest going off. Wren wasn't especially familiar with them herself, but the sound was unmistakable. Hazel eyes snapped back to find the weapon draw and pointed toward the sky and the gleam of Rainer's sword (no, not that one) pitting the man with a vague threat of warning.

"You," she pointed to the man leading the donkey of the wagon and motioned for him to get a-movin. She turned her horse about watching the guards from within her hood to ensure they didn't take up pursuit. They looked like a hornets nest ready to explode, buzzing with bother about a arrow that landed too close to home. Wren had half a mind to collect a fee of her own, but she couldn't be bothered to make the effort.

The donkey brayed, wagon creaking as its wheels rolled over worn wooden boards. Backing her horse a few feet along with them, Wren shot a glance at Rain before turning again to herd them over the bridge. No such lingering pain of curse.

"My bolt," she insisted.
"I can't budge it miss, its proper in the board."
Should have known this waif wouldn't have the strength. Wren sighed deeply, "What's on the wagon?"
"Thems bushels of rootplants Miss."
"What else?"
"We not anythin' worth somethin, fraid. We just 'umble farmers."
"Water?" she'd emptied her skin about an hour back and her head was pouding.
"I think we a waterskin here. Fresh of the well."
"Give it here."

 

[Rainer]

Rain was surprised that had gone as well as it had. While he regretted the whole encounter of crossing the bridge atop a heavily swollen tributary, it could have gone much worse. Part of him wondered whether it was a blessing or a curse that Wren was dehydrated, hungover, and all around in a poor mood. Had she been in better spirits, the revitalization of her youthful pursuits might have found revelry in making those guards day a good deal worse.​

​

Small blessings, he thought.​

​

The bridge and the guards, swearing at the hooded figures and making promises and threats of harm to come, disappeared in the distance of rolling foot hills and cresting mounds of densely populated hay. ​

​

"Thank you sir, thank you kindly for your assistance." The one at the front of the cavalcade uttered, slinging his leather rod into a belt mounted frog. Seemed he didn't need it now that the stubborn mule was gleefully braying and putting muddy road behind them.​

​

Rain let a moment pass, filled with the sound wooden wheels clamoring, wagons thumping, and hooves knocking against dirt and random patches of gravel. "Where are you all heading?" He returned without offering a concession or acknowledging the thanks.​

​

"Uhhh..." The man seemed reluctant to respond, wincing in the high sun. "Well by our rights, prudence would dictate that strangers should stay strangers on the mercantile road. But...seeing as you did save us from a nasty affair..." He trailed off and Rain made no haste to jump ahead of him. "We are aimed for Bur'tyga, just at the mouth of the Rou. But we surely won't make it in a day or even 5 days times. Not many furlongs for a convoy of this sort, what with children and wenches and stubborn ass's."​

​

He laughed and Rain didn't. But he did nod, looking up the road. "But..." The merchant went on. "There's a crossroads Inn up the way, not long now that we will make for with the sun on our back. The family who owns it also runs a diary farm nearby so if cider and ale is not too your liking, cream will always do."​

​

"Sounds lovely..." Rain responded finally.​

"Aye. You all should stop with us. We'd love to have you for merry and mutton. The Inn knows us by name, they do. Our stops are of a common occurrence."​

​

The idea didn't sound too bad to Rain. A bit more comfort to evaporate off the unfortunate memory of this day. On top of that, he had a passing notion for making use of that dairy farm when the convoy had found a spot of sleep. Except Wren, of course. No doubt by the time they stopped, the hunger pangs and famine would keep her forever turning in her sleep.​

 

[Wren]

Wren had nothing to say or add to the exchange, giving Rain the opportunity to make the decision he saw fit. The pounding in her head and the simmer of her stomach were distraction enough to stay her ire and her mouth. She rode in silence, pushing off attempts of conversation from the assaulted woman and heeling her horse towards the front of the caravan.

They made it to the Inn at the crossroads after what felt to be a long stretch of only a few hours. Their route unimpeded aside from some minor mishap of the wagon getting caught in some deep mud, their timing seemed right. Wren pulled her horse up as the group dallied toward the stables, calling in merry to the Innkeeps as they arrived. With narrowed eyes an thinning lips, the woman gave a short and slow shake of her head.

"I can't," she said to Rain as he rode up alongside her.

Her hunger was getting painful and she didn't care to put otherwise good people at risk.

Rainer

 

[Rainer]

He nodded, seeming to understand, as he looked vacantly towards the Inn. The merchant approached just after putting the crop to good use against an unruly mule, threatening to kick over one of the stable posts.​

​

"So..." He gestured, sliding the crop into the frog on his belt. "Will you stay for the afternoon and evening, share a bit of mutton, make a bit of merry?" The merchant had lifted his arms to gesticulate towards the riders and now his eyebrows were lifting as well. Rain had decided that the man was a bit too excitable for his own preferences.​

​

"Apologies but no." Rain readjusted himself on the saddle and looked towards the flat of the coast pass, disappearing into the distance of green fields and a blue sky. "We have urgent business."​

​

"Oh?" The merchant went akimbo as he looked back and forth between Wren and Rain. "Are you for Bur'tyga as well?"​

"No." Rain responded.​

"No? Then what sends you North?"​

"Thank you for your offer."​

​

The merchant seemed to stop in his tracks, measuring the brassy gaze of the rider. Running his hand down the middle of his vest, the merchant nodded. "Ah yes, I did not mean to intrude good Sir. A-a-and Ma'am. Thank you again for your assistance. Safe travels." He nodded and performed an elegant, yet hasty, about face.​

​

Once he was gone and the rest of the folk had entered the Inn, Rain turned towards Wren. In the background, cows were grazing lazily on close cropped grass. "Could I interest you in a bit of...bovine?" He nodded towards the herd. "When desperate, I have survived off far worse."​

 

[Wren]

She maintained a narrow-eyed glare of biting hunger as the merchant made his conversation. His friendliness was both a blessing and a curse and she felt she might've liked to have joined him and his group for some mutton and merry had the circumstances and the status of her being been different. The half-elf blinked after the man as she departed from their presence, lips twitching over the points of her fangs.

"Could I interest you in a bit of ... bovine?"

Wren turned a grimace at him, "Wat," and then followed his nod to the milling group of cows. Brows furrowing, she chewed on the thought with the same amount of enthusiasm those beasts presently chewed their cud. After a moment she rolled her shoulders, gave a sniff of consideration, and nodded, "alright."

It was something, and surely that was better than nothing.

 

[Rainer]

He nodded once more, flicking the reins as the horse proceeded to circle around Wren. Looking over his shoulder, he glanced up towards the sun.​

"Two options. We lure one cow away, kill it and bleed it slowly in broad daylight...or..." He brought his horse in with a quick yank. It was almost curious the way the horse was picking up on the topic or, more importantly, the nature of the topic. They weren't quite desperate but it was getting close.​

"We wait until night. Maybe we change our mind, have dinner and drink. Once everyone is asleep, we bleed one or two of the cows. They can survive the blood loss and we don't deprive the farmer of commerce..." There were plenty of cultures that survived on slow harvesting of animals, using the blood for beverages, pudding, and medicaments. Clotting the wound with dirt clods, it was not uncommon for practices to occur on monthly intervals.​

 

[Wren]

Lips pressed together at the thought of bleeding the cow in broad daylight and what a stir that would cause. The last thing they needed was to draw attention and, Wren thought with the taste of hunger creeping at the back of her throat like persistent reflux, she wasn't sure she could continue to hold her temper the worse it got.

"Till dark, then," a bleary gaze turned back to him, looking over his skittish mare with a frown, "you can change your mind. I won't be. I'll make camp in the wood." A glare was given to his horse, pissy animal that it was, "Don't flatter yourself honey."

She wouldn't feed from that rangy beast unless it were the very last option. With a grunt she reined her horse about and made to take the road that followed the pasture, and the wood that sat at the far end.

 

[Rainer]

She didn't trust herself and as new as she was to this sort of thing, he could appreciate the sentiment. It had been decades since he had broken into a rage over the famine. It wasn't a mistake that was easy to live with. ​

​

Latching the reins to the stable post, he watched as Wren moved away from the Inn. Making a mental note of her general direction, he quickly found his way into the Inn.​

​

"Oy!" The merchant said, standing up from one of the many tables that was nestled within the bottom floor of the Inn. "You changed your mind! Where's the Ma'am, we have cider for the whole lot. Yours included."​

​

Rain looked at the man and slowly scanned the room, eventually finding the Inn owner behind the bar. He was actively cleaning a ceramic mug with a soiled cloth and a grim expression. The Vedymin was just grateful Wren wasn't here to hear mention of cider. Even not dealing with a hangover, the thought of cider entrenched vomit still rolled his stomach. "No, thank you." He said with a smile and a disarming expression. "I just realized we are without water and could use some additional resources for a trip."​

​

"Oh." The merchant shook his head and gestured towards the barkeep. "Orthon, please add whatever this man needs to my tab."​

​

The keep slapped the rag on the table. "That tab is two months pass due, muchant!"​

"I will make you whole, I swear it. This man saved our life. Him and his companion." He stopped. "Uhh, sir. Where is your companion?"​

​

Rain returned a similar expression as before. The sort of quiet expression that indicated a lack of desire to answer. Knowingly, the merchant nodded and gave the barkeep a glance before heading back to the table.​

​

"Water, three skins. A couple wedges of cheese, smoked meat, a loaf of bread."​

​

A maid walked behind the owner, scooting back into the alcove and shufflingabout. The barkeep leaned forward on the counter and looked towards the merchant before leveling a cold gaze back on Rain. "You headed for Bur'tyga?" He whispered. "I'm presently dissuading the muchant of his travels routes and I'll do the same for you. Bad tidings, gloom, and worse. That's all you'll find there."​

​

"I'm not for Bur'tyga."​

"Good." The barkeep nodded. "Best keep it that way if you plan to keep your head firmly planted on your shoulders."​

​

 

[Wren]

While Rainer busied himself with making friends of the mortal sort, Wren tended to a far less social distraction of finding a place to make camp. The woods just beyond the cow pasture were thick enough, a good place to find a private clearing to call home for the night. She did just that, dismounting her horse and leading it in through the thicket along a footpath, then stepping off into area untrodden to wind her way through old growth and brush.

Somewhere out in what felt to be a good middle, she settled on a clearing surrounded roughly on three sides by heavy briar and holly. The horse was tied off and unsaddled, firewood was gathered next. By the time the sun began sinking beyond any place in the sky it might pierce the forest to the floor, she had a small fire going. Wren took the time and the agreeable quiet to remove herself of unnecessary armor and found a stream nearby she could wash up in.

Despite her pangs of hunger, the night was turning out to be rather pleasant.

 

[Rainer]

As Rain waited for the maid to gather up the requested goods, he meandered through another conversation with the barkeep on the worries associated with Bur'tyga. Conversations that spiraled the philosophical drain, touching the powers of religion over desperate people, the use of magic and fear to control populations, and the other about face to export of cinnamon and how the booming incense economy in Elbion had over inflated the spices value. It was said, by the merchant, that the reasoning was strictly tied to the smell of sewers overflowing the general disdain for human excrement.​

​

As soon as Rain got what he needed from the maid, tied up in a canvas cloth and knotted, he bid thanked the barkeep for his hospitality and bid the merchant and his convoy a farewell. After he left the tavern, he mounted his horse and followed in Wren's tracks. The smell of firewood burning would give it away as well, if he didn't have the heightened senses to go off of.​

​

"They seem like a happy group. A bit naive, but happy." He commented, having tied off the horse next to Wren's. Setting the bundle of food down next to the fire, he pulled out a skin of water and took a deep drink. "But something seems off about Bur'tyga. The merchant is headed in that direction but the barkeep all but commanded me to stay far away."​

 

[Wren]

With not much else to do, Wren set about cleaning her blades. Elven make didn't wear or dull easily, but a clean blade would always cut better than one caked with blood and viscera - not that she let them get anywhere close to that point. The repetitive action had set her into something of a calm meditation, easing the sting of her hunger and the faint but noticeable pang of anxiety at the distance between herself and Rainer. It wasn't anywhere near the point of how she'd felt burying him, but now having gone through that ritual it made the sensation of their connection of the more apparent.

His emergence through the trees felt like a drink of cold water on a warm day. Hazel eyes glanced his was before returning to the task at hand.

"Bur'tyga wasn't our next destination was it," she replied, "maybe it should be."

From the sounds of it, where trouble brewed there was usually a meal to be had for them.

 

[Rainer]

Unclipping the sword belt, he set the weapon down and proceeded to remove the armor. With a few deft movements, he was unencumbered. "No, it wasn't. We were headed for a town a bit further to the East. Bur'tyga, by all estimations, is right around the narrow between the Liad and Rou...Stopping there would save us at least three days travel. Maybe more."

With his various equipment placed against a pine tree, he found his way to sitting down by the fire. Warming his hands, he watched with a bit of interest as Wren went about cleaning her blades. The sound of cloth and metal, mixed with the crackling of fire and spit of embers, was almost soothing. He was hungry, though likely not nearly as much as Wren.

Unfolding the cloth, he pulled out a portion of bread and broke a piece free.

"The barkeep spoke of a Monastery. All form of order regarding the religious establishment has been upended. Rumors of night time rituals, torchlit trials and executions, people going missing. It sounds like chaos." He paused, biting a piece of the hard bread and studying the fire pit. "It's odd. There was no mention of it on the bounty board."

 

[Wren]

Three days? Wren wasn't sure just how many days of travel they had ahead of them, but in her mind it hadn't been three days. She scrubbed a speck on the flat of her sword, lips thinning in both effort and unease at the prospect of riding another three days on empty. Wren didn't think she could do it without mishap. Brows furrowing as he continued on about the oddness of the situation in Bur'tyga.

"Probably because they don't want outside interference," she scrubbed some more but the blade was as clean as it could be, a fact of which she relented after a few more moments of consternation. A sigh billowed from her lips and she sunk back against the tree she sat against, eyes closed as her head hit rough bark.

"I'm not going to make it three days, Rainer."

 

[Rainer]

That answer, regarding interference, didn't sit well with him. And that fact did not hide well on his expression as he chewed another piece of bread, softly. Studying the fire for a moment, he nodded.​

​

"I know you're not." He confessed, not feeling particularly well himself. "Neither of us of would. The burial shifted our plan. And certain nocturnal activities didn't improve our outlook." He smirked, not one for feeling regret when it came to that activity. Though he certainly wished the circumstances would have been different. Say, a bit more blood on reserve to help balance out his enthusiasm.​

​

"But not all is lost. Even with such distances, we would be fine, given what's currently available and just waiting for slumber." He, of course, wasn't referring to the humans in the tavern. Rather, the cows that still upright in pasture outside. Looking up from the fire, he scooted back and pressed himself against a tree. His bronze gaze looked to Wren, who was clearly worse for wear.​

​

"Have I ever told you about the few days I spent in Kinallen? Three days in hiding, after going three days without feeding?"​

 

[Wren]

Always with a plan, at the very least. Even if he liked to keep those plans hidden in his breast pocket from time to time. The half-elf grimaced at the mention of nocturnal activities, "Do not speak to me of that. Just the thought of apple wine makes me want to wretch." That evening was forever stained by the taste of it coming back up, she swore she could still get a lingering note from time to time. He might not feel regret for it but she certainly did.

Never again.

Hazel eyes slivered open to give the man a considering look. She wasn't particularly looking forward to feeding from a cow, but certainly there were worse things. Strange to think of a bovine as not providing the right nourishment when in her former life they had been a source of meat and milk for a great many meals. No, what really made her mouth water now was her own kind. Damn.

"No, I don't think you have," anything to steer her away from that particular line of thought, "I'm listening."

 

[Rainer]

He was hoping, against hope, that she would have said the opposite. It wasn't a story he was fond of telling and despite his taciturnity, he hoped against hope. But as all stories went, it started out strongly.​

​

"It was a long time ago. Before you were born and when I was nothing more than a fledgling, still slick from the shallows." He tore another piece of bread from the loaf and inspected it, as if he had never seen such a shape before. Giving a thoughtful expression, he continued.​

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"I was caught in the open during a bounty. It was a standard older vampire. Not an elder or higher, but one that knew his way around battle. Cut me open before I put an end to him. Where we fought..." He shook his head. "An open field. Amateur hour for the both of us. Even after drinking his blood to the last drop, I was fairly certain that I was going to die. I didn't understand these powers as we do now."​

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He masticated on the bread for a bit, likening himself to the cows in the distance, chewing on cud. "A merchant convoy, like our friends over in the tavern, found me in a field of mud nearly dead. And they took me home. I didn't heal, not immediately. Fortunately for me, they were wine vendors and had a substantial barrel reserve beneath their house. And a substantial rat issue. They found it odd that during my stay, their issues seemed to disperse like a poor wind."​

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He sighed and nodded. "The wife found me feasting on a rat carcass and despite expectation, took me out to the dairy field and showed me the ways of her people. Not her husbands people, but her people. They were a tribal people that depended on cows for many things. Meat, milk, and blood for ritual. But their harvest of blood wasn't fatal. They used a mixture of dirt, water, moss, and witch hazel to stifle the bleeding after draining a cow for a moment. And...drinking from a cow, compared to a rat, well its like drinking from a sewer and chasing it with sugar and milk. Eventually the memory fades."​

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He smirked as he looked up from his bread, eyeing Wren. "I spotted a bit of witch hazel on the edge of the forest line."​

 

[Wren]

Somehow the whole 'long time ago, before you were born' never really got old. Wren had to actively remind herself he was speaking of her second birth, as opposed to her true birth which had also happened a long time ago. Long enough that most humans she'd known in her youth weren't even left alive. Still young, though, for an elf. Younger still for a Vedymin.

She sighed, sinking into her lounging repose against the tree to listen.

Curious tale and much as she lamented his winding ways of telling her anything, it was interesting to learn yet another page of his story. She often felt at war with these two things. Wren made a humored grunt and leaned to sheath her sword in its scabbard, "That's a lot of words for telling me you know how to bleed a cow without killing it."

A smirk, she sat up, elbows to knees, and casually tossed another log onto the campfire, "So, witch hazel huh?"