Jere sat near the center of town square, pealing an apple with his only knife. He had been jostled from his sleep by the sounds of a massive migration of people toward this place. The beast whisperer had caught snippets of their excited and fearful chatter; people were in danger and they needed all the help they could get. To the wood elf this was all that needed to be said. The announcement the day before had caught his interest- he was so excited, in fact, that he had camped out at the meeting place all night. This, however, was not out of his routine- he had no other place to stay, being the penniless wanderer that he was.

Turns out he had overslept, though, because the square was packed when he awoke. No use in taking action on an empty stomach, he thought before pulling a bruised apple from his near empty belt pouch. As he ate and looked about at those gathering around him, the young traveler leaned back against the soft fur of [url=http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120608120622/finalfantasy/images/5/50/FFXIV-Monster-Fenrir.png]his mount[/url], a feathered snow wolf. The beast was slightly larger than a horse and all the more ravenous. The wolf had insisted on being referred to as Boreas upon meeting the man only a few days prior. To Jere, however, "Bo" sounded more "cute".

Bo's glossy red eyes peered out nervously from the shutters of his eyelids. Crowds made him uncomfortable. Sensing his companions discomfort Jere laced his fingers through Bo's fur. An affectionate snarl was his reply.

"I'm ready to sign up for this thing." Exclaimed the elf to no one in particular. He wondered where exactly he would need to go to do this. Apple finished but stomach still barely satisfied, he stood. On his hip was a whip which he barely ever used, preferring instead the magic of his glass flute, his most prized possession and only source of taming power. The flute, forever cold as ice, was tucked away in the breast pocket of his coat, just above his heart.

Bo rolled to his side and let out a deflated bagpipe sound that was supposed to pass for a canid whine. The beast tamer, grinning but refusing to look at his mount replied,

"Its barely nine, Bo, I'm sure we'll get our chance to 'bite these baddies', as you say."

A huff.

"Oh, you didn't say that? I still like it though."