Private Tales With a Hunger Most Foul

[Garrod Arlette]

7 Years Ago
The Cat's Cradle Inn,
In the town of Lesilan,
Betwixt Alliria and the Falwood

It pounded in his head. The green flame and its long teeth. A feeling he felt mirrored in his right arm. A feeling he felt digging into the flesh beneath the bone white gauntlet he wore. Yet he dare not take it off.

Cloaked and hurried, Garrod moved through the sleepy streets of the town. Drawn to the comfort of warm lights, cheap drink, and whatever company would find him this evening. Whatever business he could pretend to care about to help him feel less... torn apart.

The black space behind his missing eye, still new. Still loud in his vision. Still painted by the flickers of green fire that had consumed his flesh when pact was made. Just a year ago now. Just a year ago, and still he lingered so close to the wretched place where it had all taken place.

Gods, he needed a drink.

The door to the Cat's Cradle came open too fast. Too hard. It slammed, and there beneath its frame stood the wide eyed monster hunter. His single green eye taking in all the faces that looked to him and his frantic disposition. To the fat bladed sword that rest upon his back. The chatter rippled back across the room, like warm rain. If they ignored him, he would probably settle down. Might leave.

"Can I help you?" the inn keep asked from behind his attendant's desk.

"Any job postings?" Garrod asked, voice tight before he strode over.

"Kiosk in the tavern," the keep said with an easy nod.

"Room?"

"Five silvers a night,"

Garrod slapped down five silver coins.

The keeper nod and took them. Put them in the requisite drawer.

Garrod blinked. Gave the man a nod. "Thank you,"

"Don't go startin no trouble,"

No, he never really aimed to do that. With his dark travel worn cloak trailing behind him, Garrod let down his hood, his white mop of hair stuck to his head with the oils and grit of long travel. He entered the tavern, the mood was warm, almost jovial. He sat at the bar.

"Mead please," He said, and the broad-shouldered bartender with the slicked back crop of black hair nod. A jagged scar run long down his face. Garrod looked around. On edge.

The pain was bad today.

​

 

[Sabrina Argent]

A haggard young woman staggered silently through the streets. She was searching for a place of succor and comfort after the last months of pain and trial, she was exhausted. The woman's face was gaunt and pale, and if anyone touched her skin inadvertently they might be forgiven for thinking she was dead, with how cold and dry her skin was. The clothing used to be elegant and well made, but months of hiding in the mountains, avoiding potential hunters had left her in a pitiful state.

At the gate into Lesilan she was very nearly turned away, before a quiet plea for the chance to earn coin and room and board was heard by one of the workers at the Cat's Cradle Inn. The older man looked at the young woman that could potentially be a younger sister or a cousin of some sort asked what skills she had. After discovering that Sabrina knew how to cook and clean he offered her a job serving, and busing tables and just tidying up around the Inn until she was on her feet again.

The first time Garrod and Sabrina met one another, it was with the woman passing him the ordered mead and saying. "Your drink sir." In a quiet, polite tone. Then she was turning, attempting to scamper off. She'd only been helping out for a day or two at this point, but already she'd learned that the evidence of her recent struggles only made the predators circle all the closer, rather than ignore her because of the lack of health and vigor to her countenance.

Provided Garrod didn't interfere, the young woman dressed simply in a dress that the Inn Keeper's wife had pulled out of a bin of old clothes vanished into the kitchen to fetch the next order. Throughout the night she'd be slipping and sliding rapidly and silently through the room serving up meals with barely a word to the patrons and then vanishing. Any tips that might have been offered to her would be found when she bussed the tables, or when the Inn Keep collected them from the patrons himself.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

The noise was nice. The rattle and clatter of plates. It. It took away from the noise in his head. Like smoke and fire and wet crunching. Like bones being gnawed.

When the tavern girl came by with drink, and laid it down upon the counter, his eye was wide and empty. It seemed to stare at something far away. Something not in that room.

Still, he said. "Thank you," in his own hollow voice. He took the drink and downed it thirstily.

He found himself chatting up some guy next to him. Then a woman. Not because he found either particularly interesting, but because it kept his mind off the sounds. Off the feeling like teeth scraping against his psyche.

"That's a fancy gauntlet you got there," one of the men that had turned drinking buddy for the night noted. Pointing a lazy finger down at the bone-white piece of armor. Strange and spikey as it was. "Almost... looks alive with that opal set into it,"

Garrod smiled. "Yeah, does, don't it?" he said absent mindedly. He was a few drinks in. His senses dulled. He didn't see the greed in their eyes. The want as they watched the candle light flicker and twist against the reflective surface of the relic. As they watched the flame dance against the milky eye of the jewel that seemed to look back at them. The hunter downed his drink.

"Oy, last call you lot," the barkeep warned them with a stern voice, then moved off to ready more drinks.

Bottoms up, Garrod drained the cup. Let it come down against the counter with a too-hard clack. He grinned stupidly, and saw the pale faced server from the corner of his eye. Wobbly, he pointed at her. "Hey, hey... one more please," he said with slurred speech.

The man with the greedy eyes grinned, and nudged his friend next to him. A upward tilt of his chin said all that needed saying. Easy mark.

 

[Sabrina Argent]

Sabrina noted the motion from the man at the counter. She moved closer to the man and then looked at her boss, he shook his head and motioned for her to help the man to his room. Meanwhile the Inn Keeper moved to engage with the two roguish fellows as he offered them one last round, on the house. It was the best way to keep things quiet, just the way he liked them. Meanwhile, Sabrina tapped Garrod's shoulder. "Which room did you have Sir?" She asked, while offering him a shoulder to lean on so he could make it across the room without face-planting. The woman's frame was chilled and though she looked thin, there was a wiry power to her that besoke times of harshness that had hardened and strengthened her. If he accepted her offer, she'd take a hand over her shoudlers and start to bear the man up the stairs, keeping her eyes downturned so the other patrons didn't try to demand similar 'aid' once she returned. The woman was mentally debating with herself on her boss' motives behind this. Maybe he wanted her out of the way if a fight started? It had seemed like a quiet night, but she still wasn't very skilled at reading the room so to speak.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Garrod blinked with his one green eye, watching as the young woman blurred at the edges and came back to being in focus. "What?" he asked dumbfounded.

Ah...a voice like steel against stone raked across his mind. Look here, Oh Bearer Mine. Look here and see.

The hunter's eye was wide with horror as he stared at the young woman. Her words bounced off the walls of his skull.

Which room...

The voice of the demon laughed in titters and flickers that sounded like logs cracking and breaking within a hungry flame.

Garrod blinked again. "Room 4, second... floor," he managed, and felt her try to help him up. He stood with her, and tried to walk under his own strength.

The two at the bar took up the drinks, but one watched as Garrod was pulled away by the young waitress.

A curious one. A curious one, Oh Bearer Mine. The demon snickered.

Up the stairs they went. "Shit," Garrod cursed. Felt his insides turn. Felt his last drink coming up. He held it down, but only just, stopping mid-stride up the stairs as his body tightened and shuddered with the effort to hold it back.

A cruel laughter rang in his mind, and slowly faded away.

 

[Sabrina Argent]

Sabrina nods slightly as the man answers her question, maybe he was really drunk, more so than she'd have expected, but.. oh well. The young woman just helped him up the stairs, unaware in the least about the demon's musings concerning her nature. Once they got to the door, she'd kick it open casually, The inn's furniture was quiet sturdy and she wasn't worried about damaging the door. Once it was opened, she started moving towards the bed in the corner of the room, carefully setting the man down on the mattress before backing up out of reach quiet adroitely. "Was there anything else? A wake up call in the morning perhaps Sir?" She offers politely, already starting to back away. Who knows what a drunk man would think was a good idea after all?

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"Waste-" he sat in the haze and the swirl. Let the heat and the flush of all the movement, of being laid down onto the bed, settle. "bin, please," he looked around the well appointed room. Dark with only the silver of moonlight pouring through the shuttered slits in the window. He felt sweat on his brow.

"And some water?" he asked with a croak, and laid back.

It was too dark. He could feel the room spinning, and felt something hiding in the shadows. Behind his missing eye. "What's your name?" he asked, desperate to make some connection outside his own mess. His eye wide as it stared up at the black ceiling, and saw the faint flickers of a green flame that was not there.

Teeth that were only in his head. Smiling.

 

[Sabrina Argent]

Sabrina looked startled and then said. "Sabrina." She moved into the bathroom and pulled out a metal waste-bin and then pushed it near the man. "Here you go Sir." She then poured some water into the wooden cup by the sink and set it on the nightstand beside him. "Are you new in town?" She questioned nervously, looking like she was ready to run off if he did anything threatening towards her. The woman smoothed hands against her gifted gown, obviously a bit uneasy about the circumstances she found herself in, even though Garrod himself hadn't done anything to make her to uneasy yet.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"Sabrina," he tested the name against his tongue. Worked on drawing out his breath, as he felt it had grown shorter and shorter as the room went on, tilt and turn. "That's a nice name," he said, if only to keep his mind on the present. On the now and out of the sinking feeling that drew him to the past. "Makes me think of star fire," he added, wide eyed still as he stared at the darkness. "Painted across the night sky,"

"Thank you," he said absently as she placed the bin and the cup beside him. He waited until she was away before he worked himself up. His gauntlet pressed heavy against the cot, its sharp claw-like fingers stabbed into the fabric. He looked down, and stared at it a moment. How the moon ran across its chitinous surface, that looked almost oil slick.

Some part of his mind remembered she had asked him a question. His hand stayed. He breathed in, and leaned his back against the wall, let his legs hang off the bed.

"I'm new, yes," he said, and seemed to let something work through him. His eye on the wastebin. He stopped, and took up the cup of water. Took a long drink. Let the cup back down on the countertop. Head still spinning, he blinked lazily as he began to fiddle with the straps of his gauntlet. Clumsy as his fingers tried to work free the straps that kept the relic on. "Garrod, by the way," he said, voice a touch steadier after the care. His hand slipped from the straps, and he clicked his teeth. Took a moment to breath. "You don't need to call me sir," he added.