His steps were quick, they were soft and they were smooth. Despite being the size of a bear, he was as nimble as a rodent. His boots hit the ground with soft, gracious thuds, as he made his way through the tavern. He had a swagger in his step, a sense of urgency in his every movement, yet he seemed calm and composed. Goosebumps on his skin, what little of it wasn't covered by his dark red tattered cloak that hung over his side, he wore a short-sleeved shirt under the cloak and matching leather bracers and gloves to his cloak. His tunic was dark blue, almost black, his leggings were likewise. The leggings were padded for extra protection, and he wore a chainmail vest on top of his tunic, the chainmail clattered softly as he moved - his boots were armored with a thin layer of metal, as were the knuckles on his gloves. On his back hung a sword - a sword of a kind not often found in the Tullmusk Region, in fact, those who hadn't seen warriors from The East use them had never seen them at all.
And any soldier who had been foolish enough to cross the warriors from the east - for them, the curved blade was the last thing they ever saw. A dim light shone in the man's eyes as he made his way through the tavern, his eyes set on a man sitting at the table - playing cards with the other patrons, drinking and laughing. A light shone in the eyes of the warrior with the eastern blade - his darkened skin began shining with a dim glow, matching the one inside of his eyes, as he lunged at the man playing the cards, grabbing him by the throat, throwing him across the table. The other patrons inside of the tavern got up from their chairs, a hand on their weapons, yet, they decided not to attack, the beastly-strength of the man in the red cloak was enough to convince them that would be an unwise choice.
"W-What do you want?!" The man on the floor, shouted, his voice horse from the tight grip the warrior had held around his throat. "To do my job." He said, as the man on the floor hissed, his pupils turning into slits, his tongue splitting and he grew fangs and claws, his skin taking on a sickly green-color. He lunged at the warrior, hissing hexxxeeer. The warrior pulled his sword, the three red inscriptions inside of the blade began glowing - just as the inscriptions on his forearm and underarm did as he pulled the blade with inhuman speed. Spinning in a semi-circle, swinging as he did so and in a flash, the monster's head was rolling on the floor.
He hunched down and picked up the head, his fingers digging into the eyesockets of the head, crushing the eyes. His other hand grabbed a hold of the split-tongue of the monster, producing a dagger from his belt, he cut off the tongue, putting it in a pouch on his belt. "Young Gorgon's tongue last ingredient for the next batch of ink." He made a note to himself, the frightened people of the tavern looked at him. "W-who are you?!" They shouted - it was a small town, so a warrior like himself coming in and killing 'one of their own' was certainly scaring for most. The man smirked. "Varjas Wildling. I'm a Hexer - Monster Hunter Extraordinare." Varjas said. "And because I happened to need this one's tongue, I will not demand any payment for dealing with the monster - and for crushing it's eyes before it could turn you all into stone."
Now, he had to find his two pupils, probably off getting into trouble. He headed outside, much to his surprise, he found Fucking nerd and Silas standing there with their three horses, waiting for him. "Did you get new proviants? We need to find a new hunt. We're running low on funds, and I'd like to eat in the coming weeks." Varjas spoke, softly. Before looking at his pupils - one a scribe - like himself, and the other a hunter, like his brother had been, rest his soul.
"I got all the resources for the next set of inscriptions for you two. Your trials can begin. We'll make proper Hexers out of you two, yet." Varjas said, mounting his horse, as the three would ride out of the town of Nestshire, on towards the city of Dirkport. They were sure to find work outside of Dirkport, Varjas knew of no other Hexers who prowled there this season, so competition should be light and work should be plenty - a good chance for them to earn some coin, and a chance for the two junior-hexers to prove themselves.
And any soldier who had been foolish enough to cross the warriors from the east - for them, the curved blade was the last thing they ever saw. A dim light shone in the man's eyes as he made his way through the tavern, his eyes set on a man sitting at the table - playing cards with the other patrons, drinking and laughing. A light shone in the eyes of the warrior with the eastern blade - his darkened skin began shining with a dim glow, matching the one inside of his eyes, as he lunged at the man playing the cards, grabbing him by the throat, throwing him across the table. The other patrons inside of the tavern got up from their chairs, a hand on their weapons, yet, they decided not to attack, the beastly-strength of the man in the red cloak was enough to convince them that would be an unwise choice.
"W-What do you want?!" The man on the floor, shouted, his voice horse from the tight grip the warrior had held around his throat. "To do my job." He said, as the man on the floor hissed, his pupils turning into slits, his tongue splitting and he grew fangs and claws, his skin taking on a sickly green-color. He lunged at the warrior, hissing hexxxeeer. The warrior pulled his sword, the three red inscriptions inside of the blade began glowing - just as the inscriptions on his forearm and underarm did as he pulled the blade with inhuman speed. Spinning in a semi-circle, swinging as he did so and in a flash, the monster's head was rolling on the floor.
He hunched down and picked up the head, his fingers digging into the eyesockets of the head, crushing the eyes. His other hand grabbed a hold of the split-tongue of the monster, producing a dagger from his belt, he cut off the tongue, putting it in a pouch on his belt. "Young Gorgon's tongue last ingredient for the next batch of ink." He made a note to himself, the frightened people of the tavern looked at him. "W-who are you?!" They shouted - it was a small town, so a warrior like himself coming in and killing 'one of their own' was certainly scaring for most. The man smirked. "Varjas Wildling. I'm a Hexer - Monster Hunter Extraordinare." Varjas said. "And because I happened to need this one's tongue, I will not demand any payment for dealing with the monster - and for crushing it's eyes before it could turn you all into stone."
Now, he had to find his two pupils, probably off getting into trouble. He headed outside, much to his surprise, he found Fucking nerd and Silas standing there with their three horses, waiting for him. "Did you get new proviants? We need to find a new hunt. We're running low on funds, and I'd like to eat in the coming weeks." Varjas spoke, softly. Before looking at his pupils - one a scribe - like himself, and the other a hunter, like his brother had been, rest his soul.
"I got all the resources for the next set of inscriptions for you two. Your trials can begin. We'll make proper Hexers out of you two, yet." Varjas said, mounting his horse, as the three would ride out of the town of Nestshire, on towards the city of Dirkport. They were sure to find work outside of Dirkport, Varjas knew of no other Hexers who prowled there this season, so competition should be light and work should be plenty - a good chance for them to earn some coin, and a chance for the two junior-hexers to prove themselves.