((OOC: ) This roleplay is private, thus you should not respond to it unless you are either me, Icicle, or my partner, HiddenBeauty13. If you would like to join in, set up a new role play, or ask a question, feel free to send a pm to one of us.
“’It is not what you can do, but what you will do.’ Yeah, right.” A stalky man stood by the side of the worn dirt road, looking around as his voice echoed around the trees. He paused for a moment, his grey eyes settling on the face of a startled deer. A moment passed, then he grunted, continuing on his way. “There’s no benefit to suicide, ya’ idiot.”
With each step, the soggy dirt below engulfed the first inch of his dark leather boots, as if trying to consume him. The cuff of his armored leggings collected the filth as he continued on, weighing him down. The sounds of the forest around him echoed through his mind as he continued staring off at the road ahead, focusing on the furthest point possible. “The town shouldn’t be much further,” he mused, reaching into his pocket with his calloused hand. The man pulled out a rolled up parchment of paper, then unfurled it to read its contents.
The man beheld a bounty notice, a small, special document given to individuals at the thieves’ and assassins’ guilds. This particular bounty notice had a drawing of a grey-haired, blue-eyed girl with a dagger inscribed on the front, with the words: “Proof of Death – 1.000 Shingles” and the selected bounty hunter’s name, “Kenenniah Alphanso I.” After a second, the man paused and murmured, “It’s Flake, ya’ da-“
Before he could finish his sentence, a sharp rustle shot out from the bushes right beside him. In the time most would take to blink, the bounty hunter flicked out a thick 3’ 10” saber right at the bush. A moment later, more rustling sharply sounded from receding bushes as the deer he saw earlier hopped, terrified, away. An annoyed frown crossed the man’s face as he watched the creature, sheathing his sword carefully. “Most creatures have the sense to stay away.” He then grunted and continued walking on his way, squinting as he focused on trees in the distance, trees which seemed farther apart.
An hour of walking later, an hour til’ noon, the bounty hunter passed by the last few trees in the forest, and briskly walked into a broad field which encompassed a town. “Fionseburg, is it?” He paused to kick the mud off his boots, using a tree trunk much like a towel, then walked towards town, adjusting his rucksack as he did so. As he continued along, he thought, “Will they be suspicious towards my armor? I do look awfully like a thief in this” His leather armor covered all but his hands, head and neck, and below it was a layer of thin chainmail and cloth, an armor configuration copied from the archers of his father’s ranks.
The bounty hunter continued along the road, settling his thoughts, and soon was able to make out what appeared to be a market a few miles away. As he looked around, the bounty hunter noticed that the city before him consisted of a mass of people and structures in the middle and a great array of farms and homes. “More of a settlement,” he thought, grinning, “that makes this easier.” With this said, the man continued walking along the path, headed straight for that which appeared to be a market.
Minutes later, the bounty hunter arrived at the market, quietly walking by people as they raced along, minding their own business. He looked up at the sky to gauge the time and decided that it was right about noon. Immediately after this observation, Flake’s stomach roared in anger at being ignored. Flake looked down at his chest, noting the handle of his saber and his money pouch, then looked back up, searching for a food stand.
Men and women of all races and tans were wandering through the marketplace. Many of the people were shouting in an attempt to get business, taking advantage of the midday crowds. A few others casually chatted with business owners, clearly familiar with the men and women around town. Separate stands were arranged in rows along the diverging paths, some hosting jewelry, some clothing, and many other items of value. A few vendors even had signs up advertising money conversions, for a surprisingly steep fee.
Flake walked around, keeping his hand on his money pouch, and continued looking for a cheap loaf of bread. The chatter around him was not as loud as he was used too, having lived in the bazaars of the capital city, Talgot, all of his childhood. He spotted a group of signs advertising bread and cheese for six shekels each, then cursed the vendor saying, “he boosts the prices when the farms are but a mile away.”
Children ran around him in a group, separating around him much like water in a stream. The bounty hunter was moderately amused by their coordination, but continued along without a second thought. A large gust of fire suddenly erupted right before him, causing him to quickly look to his left, noting a fire-breather at the source. “Keep your hot spit to yourself, fool,” he shouted, causing the performer to flinch. “My apologies, sir,” the performer responded, trying and failing to catch the bounty hunter’s attention.
A minute of searching later, the bounty hunter chanced upon a cheap stand with a few fresh loaves of bread, a sign advertising the price of eight shekels for two loaves. “Good day,” the bounty hunter greeted the vendor, eyeing the merchandise, “I’ll take two loaves.” The vendor, a frail woman with a heavy cotton outfit, responded, “As you wish. The price is eight shekels for two.” Flake nodded and pulled out five shekels from his money pouch, then wiggled his fingers around to try fishing out the other three. “Sheesh, I’m nearly dry,” he commented, placing the remaining coins in the money bowl before collecting his loaves.
“Have a pleasant day,” the vendor said, smiling pleasantly at Flake as he started to walk away. At hearing this, he paused, then quickly turned around, gently moving a person out of his way as he walked back to the stand. “Miss,” he said, “I am searching for a friend of mine, a certain, ‘Raine Starling.’ Do you know where I might find her?” The frail lady frowned and scratched her chin in thought, looking up at the top of one of the other, more interesting stands. After a minute, she snapped her fingers, and with an inspired smile, looked back at the bounty hunter. “Well,” she mused, “I think I can point you in the right direction…”