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[i]Bayera--Koir--Olias--Outer City Market(city, town, landmark)[/i]
Early Morning

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The man who was peddling his wares from a mobile shop set up as a cart that unfolded into a series of tables, curving around him in a half circle, the man glanced about and through the crowd, sometimes calling out to those surrounding about his wares. Yet, there was a different look in his eyes mingled with a sort of greed when he looked at tourists--those who didn't belong. It was a slight glint in his eyes that might remind someone of distrust, disgust even. It was hard to pinpoint, but it hardly mattered, few noticed it as the shopkeeper made a point of hiding it when people looked his way. Something he had grown accustomed to identifying. His back to a wall as he faced outwards so he could watch his wares, he heard a young man call out to him.

Head turning slightly, the wrinkles at his neck stretching as his eyes narrowed while he searched the crowd for the one who had called him, the man finally saw the stranger. He smiled, genial and swept a hand out over his wares, "Perhaps I could offer you a compass that always points one in the right direction, mmm?" He pointed at a circular device with several arrows that whizzed about or laid at rest--inactive. Its face was covered with a set of numbers from one(1) to one hundred(100), each denoted by a thin line. "Ooor, perhaps a magical map, mmm?" He gestured to a long rolled up piece of parchment with a set of symbols visible even whilst it was rolled up. It was bound by cord and there were chalk markings on it. "Or I [i]suppose[/i] I could just tell you where the Libraries reside, but I assure you in this old city, you might find yourself getting lost despite my directions," he smiled at the young man, his crow's feet becoming more apparent. The man was old, but not terribly skinny, having enough meat to his frame that he could be assumed to make at least enough from his wares to live off of, though not so much to live lavishly as some merchants did.

The man reached up, brushing several strands of wispy black hair from his face, tucking it behind one ear where it was out of the way. The rest of his hair was held up by a a red and yellow turban, though the fabric was faded in color, as with the rest of his garments. "Your choice," the man shrugged, "Though, if you're of a mind to spend some coin, I'll perhaps give you a discount for entertaining an old man such as I." He winked at the stranger that Mato was as he said it, his smile one shared between two friends up to some mischief. The man thought that perhaps he could win the boy over. If not, no worries, he'd make money regardless, though an additional customer could never hurt.[hr][center][color=#121200][h3][u][b]Vasarius Aetearan[/b][/u][/h3][/color]
[i]Bayera--Koir--Olias--Outside a Bar in the Outskirts[/i]
Noon

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Back leaned against the wall, helm at his feet, hands without gauntlets, though the rest of him was clad in armor, a man with sharp angles to his face and a look in his eyes that could kill, Vasarius glared out at the world, watching tourists and residents of Olias go about their days. They were all disgusting, he noted, though every so often a woman caught his eye, though they didn't hold it long often losing it when they began [i]talking[/i] to someone. Scowling, Vasarius glanced at the door that was set several feet away to his right, then back to the street, impatience and tension rife in his body language.

Forcing his glare away from the door he turned his attention to one of his hands as his free hand extracted a thin knife from his belt. He brought it up and began using it, with impressive dexterity, to pick grit from beneath his nails. He noted several looks of disgust pass over him, but he ignored them. However, when he noticed a group of men staring at him their gaze not breaking even over the course of several minutes he took interest. Pushing himself from the wall and letting his knife wielding hand drop to his side, grip reversing, Vasarius stood, eyes piercing through the throng of bodies that passed between his position and the group's, and smiled. It was an arrogant smile, one filled with disdain for the group.

He noted that among them were what appeared a mage and a warrior of sorts, one clad in robes and light armor, materials at his belt, with the other in heavier equipment, a sword at his belt, and a helm beneath his arm. [i]Hunters[/i] he thought with a certain relish, more because it meant they were rivals, or wannabe rivals of the same trade--though clearly different caliber.

The men were glaring at him due to jealousy and disgust, and he [i]liked it[/i] as he was of the opinion that men were revealed for what they really were when the ugliest of their emotions took hold. Jealousy and anger were two such emotions.

Staying where he was and giving no sign that he intended to do anything further, Vasarius waited, his smile remaining, to see if they would break eye contact before he did. One of them clearly more upset than his comrades, Vasarius noticed, was being talked down, told not to approach. After several minutes, their arguments ceased to hold sway and the young hunter's anger took hold. The boy, for he was certainly not a man, began to make his way through the crowd.

However, before he got even half way, the door of the bar swung open and his own partner, a massive Dureva, joined him. The boy stopped in his tracks and Vasarius met his gaze, grinning. In no less than a moment, the boy turned on his heel and headed back to his teammates. Eye still on them, Vasarius spoke, addressing the Dureva, [color=#121200][b]"Just in time, I was beginning to think I'd have to kill someone to get your attention."[/b][/color] Vasarius tore his eyes from the group, as they gave him fleeting glances before retreating into a smithy's shop. He noticed several people glance his way, slightly alarmed or just curious as they heard him. Most continued walking, several stayed where they were, their expressions worried or wary.

Vasarius dropped his smile as the bit of adrenaline faded and boredom took over, his voice cutting through the noise of the crowd, [color=#121200][b]"I hope you didn't come out of that bar without a job for us to do, because otherwise I'm going to be very [i]displeased[/i] that you interrupted something."[/b][/color] The man gave no indication as to what Arieh had interrupted as he glanced back at Arieh, his expression again a cutting glare, as it was more often than not.

His eyes again went over the crowd while he waited for Arieh to respond. Impatience has returned to his stance, body tense. He was like a predator constantly on the prowl, poised to strike at any moment. Or, more fittingly, he was like a rabid beast, uncaring of who he hurt as long as [i]someone[/i] was hurt. He was possessed of a certain madness really, but it was something honed...controlled, even if only barely.

Hopefully he wouldn't be snapping anytime soon.