Open Chronicles Out for a Stroll

[Gerald Mercia]

Alliria

Outer City

​

It was quiet, so much so the knocking of his boots against the cobblestone almost echoed through the street. He could hear rustling down this alley, two men speaking outside an establishment, but he could see little more than vague blurrs of light and shadows in the thick of the fog. One might tread carefully through this part of town, especially on a night like this. But he strode forth with a casual confidence.

He knew these parts, quite well.

He was near to the slums, and criminality was far more frequent the closer there you drew. So when a distant shout rang out, still he proceeded with indifference. He'd come with a particular aim, and he'd come alone. He was no fool, and he would not involve himself in what was likely some nefarious gang activity.

That man who cried out? He'd likely only gotten what he'd long had coming to him.

 

[Gerald Mercia]

He carried on, keeping his eyes forward. It would do him little else than display whatever uneasiness he might have harboured to look around anyway. And there was none. Especially now as he drew closer to his destination, taking in a deep breath as a familiar arrangement of lights became discernable through the misty air.

The Lazy Lion, ​

a quaint little bar set just on the fringes of the Outer City, the wall looming overhead just there, darkening the surround even more. It even felt cooler here.

The sound of the wooden steps under him sent a sense of comfort through him. He'd traveled up and down them many times.

One. Two. Three. And four, onto the porch, and on to the door.

He swung it open, and entered in without pause. Within was quite busy, but relatively calm. A few raised voices here and there briefly, some laughter there, but nothing so harsh. He himself had often saw to it being kept that way, which was hardly ever difficult given the state of most men who sought to cause trouble.

He moved his way through the bar, finding an empty seat in the rear, where the light was a little dimmer and the smoke a little thicker. Nestling into his seat, he found a drink set down for him almost as promptly as he made himself comfortable. He tipped his hat to the waitress, who knew him well enough to know his drink. A bitter one at that, certainly a taste to be acquired.

He watched as she departed, and then pulled out a pipe. He carried out the ritual of preparing it before he lit it. He enjoyed the gentle heat on his throat as the smoke entered his lungs, and then he took a good swig from his cup before exhaling.

Slowly, he set the cup down on the table, and left his eyes staring into it as his mind began to wander.

 

[Gerald Mercia]

It had probably been a half hour or more by the time his attention returned to the here and now. Really it was his now empty cup that brought his eyes up, and with his pipe hung from his lip he watched as a few people came and went.

By the look of those coming in, it seemed it had began to rain outside. Of them, there were a particular few who he watched as they made their own way to a table just recently vacated. There wasn't much about them he found especially interesting, aside from their hushed words he could just barely make out.

"I've heard he lives out in the slums, and so far my informants are rarely wrong," said one of them.

"Rarely," another of them echoed.

"Listen... its been a long time in any case. We can trust this..."

"As long as we get paid, I don't really-"

Their conversation was cut by the approach of a waitress, smiling and awaiting their orders. They went about it quite cordially, obviously trying to avoid unwanted attention. Unfortunately, one of them caught his stare, and their conversation continued inaudibly from then on.

Curious.

He waved to the waitress as she passed, and she nodded, and she opted to bring the bottle along with her on the way back with the other mens' drinks.

Often if he asked for a second drink, he was apt to remain for quite some time.

 

[Gerald Mercia]

And indeed, he did remain. But the presence of the bottle on the table was a guise. He drank slowly, and rarely did he pour from it. His eyes remained low to his drink, but his attention was keenly focused on that curious group, just a few tables down. He could no longer hear their words, but through his peripheral he found their looks to him had quit some time ago.

Just another partron.

And he maintained his invisible vigil until another came and joined their number, and then they departed together. He waited a few moments, and then he placed a few coins on the table and casually made his leave.

Back into the street. The fog had dissipated, driven away by the gentle rain that now fell.

He descended the wooden steps, and he strode out and down the street. It was a bit busier now, surprisingly. But that served him just as well. With the wet road and added traffic it would be easier for him to follow his new friends unnoticed.

He was quite interested in just who it was they intended to... "convene" with.

 

[Tereth Adathar]

Tereth didn't generally enjoy taking jobs in the city, but, contrary to popular opinion, there were nearly as many dangers within city walls as on the outside. Most of the creatures that hunted in cities were more cunning and sly, which made them more dangerous than the creatures of brute force a hunter would find in the wild.

In this case, he had taken a contract to find and eliminate a creature that had been hunting within the city confines. It left its victims pale and cold, and most had disappeared near The Lazy Lion. Close enough to the slums that most didn't take a second look until the wrong young noble was snagged while she was out on her way to meet a young paramour. When her body was found, pale, cold, and bloodless, a contract was put out.

For Tereth's part, he took to the shadows now and watched the streets around The Lazy Lion and watched for either possible victims or a possible culprit. Mostly groups of people were passing by in this part of town, but finally a lone man emerged. He was alone and perhaps even following the group in front of him. Or perhaps it was all in Tereth's head. After all, the streets were busy enough that it might have been nothing, and were the hunter not specifically looking for something out of order, he likely never would have thought twice.

The rain was coming down harder now, and if he had to leave the cover of the awning overhead, he would certainly be drenched, but such was the job.

He set off down the steps and began walking at an even pace through the streets, following the follower.

Gerald