[i]Something else got her, huh?[/i] Roless mused, rubbing the back of his neck. Three of the dog humans had also gone missing when he was doing his corpse-collection run, even though it should have been impossible for people to not notice that someone was dragging them away. He didn’t spend any time looking for signs that would indicate where those dead mutts disappeared off to, but…well, he was a Hunter, not a detective or whatever. Storing away his thoughts into the part of the brain reserved for superfluous information, the brunette nodded at the old man’s instructions.

[b]“Don’t catch a cold and die,”[/b] he said to the sack of bones. With brisk, ringing steps, he walked out of the Church of the Absolute, back into the dreary, dilapidated town of Iredele.  The temperature had dropped significantly, but it was a small mercy that no winds passed. Frost had already began to develop on the opaque windows of a few houses, and yet, most of the civilians chose to continue their routine as if nothing had happened. They shivered and sneezed, but like the perfectly disastrous marionettes they were, they followed the script to a t.

It sorta made Roless want to shoot them in the head and harvest their blood for usage in the near future…but that old man was busy enough as it was. No point in tossing more work in his direction, after all, even if Rotting Bone would have to deal with those deaths eventually.

His long, black coat wrapped tightly around him to ward off the wintery temperatures, Roless grit his teeth to stop them from chattering like a jackhammer, pushing his way into the lukewarm atmosphere of the Winter Wolf Tavern. Few looked in his direction as he arrived, too immersed in either their drinks or the barmaid, and it was only a single individual that stood out in that lifeless crowd.

Well, two individuals.

Maribel, the resident creepy little girl, and a new face that looked sorta like a zombie.

It was really clear who the Hunter was, but, despite that, Roless really couldn’t suppress the urge of kicking at least a little bit of shit up. Taking in a deep breath, he called out loudly, hands pressed to the sides of his mouth, [b]“Good morning meatsacks! Which one of you is a Hunter?!”[/b]

In retrospect, he realized that the Hunter the priest had been referring to was probably a new arrival, and that he’d probably have to do babysitting for the poor sod.

[i]Welp, probably just payment for the monster blood.[/i]