Open Chronicles On the path to Crobhear

[Irman Harefoot]

OOC: this is a sequel thread to Hellboars on the Highlands and broken noses at the Crooked Noose. Feel free to read those if you want additional context

It was morning in Quarry Hill. The trading town was quick to rise as there were hundreds of people with places to be and even more with things to do. Irman Harefoot was one of the former, currently waiting for someone he hoped was only just one of the latter.

“Who’d a thunk lazy ol Irman would be the first one up for once. I swear though if that miniature gorilla seriously spent the past six days prodding me awake only to sleep in the first chance she got at an actual bed, then…”

Irman huffed and smoked his pipe. He was feeling anxious, but didn’t want to get himself too worked up after the brawl he went through just the night before. At least he wasn’t particularly feeling hung over, so there was that.

Merchants and travelers began to swarm the town’s main road in greater numbers as Irman was forced to watch from the inn’s stables.

He must have looked particularly upset as Irman felt a nudge on his head from something just beside him.

It was a riding elk by the name of “Honey Pepper”. Most of the Hellboar money had gone to buying her since Irman had turned down the idea of him pulling the cart personally. She had proven to be a wise investment and took to her job as pack mule rather swimmingly. Regardless of how regrettable her name was.

“I know girl, you probably want to head out too since you’re already all hooked up to the cart. But we gotta wait for Sigrun, she actually knows where our destination is after all.”

 

[Sigrun Flintfeet]

Sigrun staggered unto the main road with a black eye and an even blacker temper.

This was why she avoided towns as much as possible. Mornings of pounding pains and cursed cretins. Every crunch of a cartwheel and every hollering worker grated on her patience further. She held a damp cloth she'd plunged into the nearest barrel of rainwater to her swollen face.

She found Irman by the elk and cart, puffing away at his pipe in a slightly agitated manner. She still had to reconcile his whiskers, brown fur and the slitted dark 'T' of his nose with the extremely human gesture of a pipe in his cleft lip.

The pause was short-lived, and after wiping her face with the cloth - as if to help wipe away her own perplexity - Sigrun strode up next to him. She gave Honey Pepper a fond clap and ruffle on her back. The beast grunted and turned its head, as if briefly acknowledging her presence.

"Morning."

Short and clipped, like her glance at the pipe. The smell scratched her nose.

"What're you fuming?"

Irman Harefoot