[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/JS8jLJq.png[/img][/center]
[b][color=000000]Time[/color][/b]
🌑 10:00 am.

[b][color=000000]Location[/color][/b]
🌑 Riverport - Seedy Tavern.

[b][color=000000]Interactions[/color][/b]
🌑 N/A.

[b][color=000000]Mentions[/color][/b]
🌑 N/A.

[b][color=000000]Equipment[/color][/b]
[hider=🌑 Blackguard's Casuals]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/sK6gTru.png[/img][/hider]
[hider=🌑 Ebony Thorn, Ebony Ward]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/v7YyneW.png[/img]
[/hider]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ToiIM6a.png[/img][/center]

Riverport, a hub of life and a nexus of trade. As obsidian claws absentmindedly found themselves clicking against a wooden surface, Ashari’s topaz gaze fell to the now empty plate before him. Bread, meat, and a cup of wine, all of which his remaining wealth could afford him. Out of coin and out of luck, yet again. Slowly, a crestfallen and evidently tired demon shifted his attention towards a bounty board effectively situated by the entrance. People, monsters, missing persons, all written onto parchment before nailed to planks in hopes of attention. He had read through what was on offer more than once, and it allowed for a sigh to escape the young infernal’s lips. He preferred to fight abominations, monsters both large and small, but people? Ashari showed little patience with people. They tended to overcomplicate the most simple of transactions, and in a fight between a demon and a beast, no words needed be shared. 

“Kid,” came a voice from across the table, an elf as confessed by a passing glance. Pointed ears, pale skin, hair of silk down to slender shoulders, and a grin bridging itself across his lips, “you’ve been staring at that board for a while. Something catch your fancy?” 

Ashari’s demonic tail flicked in response, the lad’s spectral eyes turning to meet his newly acquainted conversationalist. Though a moment’s consideration passed the boy, a response was soon to follow. It was true that Ashari had been eying the bounty board for an uncomfortable stretch of time, but the lack of actual monsters to slay dulled the sight something fierce. He did not want to hunt a orc with a price on their head, and neither did he find much interest in locating a lost demi-human who had wandered into the forest at night. Yet, the latter did speak to him on a level surprisingly empathetic. Lost and alone, someone was currently wandering a sea of trees, catching their breath, and looking over their shoulder. Afraid, vulnerable, and with a single desire; to return home. 

Home, yes, Ashari had never been ‘home’. The Abyss where demons were spawned, the realm of what some may have considered infinite layers. Indeed, the Blackguard had been told stories by his father, tales of grandeur and the fantastical. He was told of the layer where an infinite war ever raged, the birthplace of Blackguards. A question then begged to be uttered; why did he ever leave? Blackguards live for battle, it is in their blood, in their nature. It is their very being, something starkly contrasted by dainty shapes and pretty faces. An ironic combination, to be sure. [color=b18f71]”I might look for the guy who went missing,”[/color] a soft voice trickled past ashen lips, spindly arms crossing as Ashari leaned back against an old, wooden chair. 

“He’s probably been eaten, by now,” came a rather dismissive response, one accompanied by an equally nonchalant wave of the elf’s hand, “see that other one?” The elven man spoke, motioning towards that elusive board, “fat reward for a thief, I’d be willing to share it with you.” 

Sharing rewards wasn’t a concept Ashari was unused to. In fact, he had participated in several hunts, journeys, and expeditions where payment was but a shared fraction. The boy’s seeming inability to demand more did not help the matter. With the lad’s eyes falling shut, Ashari’s thoughts traveled back to that missing demi-human. He had been gone for three days. Surely he couldn’t be dead, yet? However, if one was to follow the description of a ‘city fellow unused to harsh terrain’, the meager payment was only challenged by an equally meager chance of survival. 

Rising to his feet, Ashari started towards the door, head shaking in weak refusal. [color=b18f71]”Happy hunting,”[/color] he offered, earning a faint chuckle in turn.

“Going to risk your life for that pathetic sum?” The elf raised a brow, “who said demons didn’t have hearts, huh?” 

Ashari’s father would certainly have disapproved, and yet, the young Blackguard was drawn to acts of empathy far more frequently than he would have wanted. With a sigh, barely noticeable, Ashari swiped that bulletin notice and pushed open the door. Slipping outside into the annoyingly bright sun, he leaned towards the protection of a hood and carried on. Perhaps, the demi-human truly was dead, and Ashari would be reminded that empathy was nothing but a waste of time.