Solyanik. What a dreadful town. The stench of men permeated this place. Filled its air. Mingled with the scorch-smell of burning. Wood, meat, gristle, bone, and beast alike burned in this place. It was dense and civilized. All things that Wander disdained. But he had work to do. Work he was, naturally, procrastinating on. His footfalls fell on the delicate taloned feet natural to his race, his instinctually light steps leaving hardly a footprint in his wake as he prowled through the West-side of the city. His dark attire, heavy and concealing, revealed only the deeper black of his feathers and the white glint of his eyes as his head swivelled side to side in his strange meandering. Contrasting this darkness of attire and demeanor was the heavy red scarf he wore; his only accomodation of the Red Wraith title. The scarf was thick and wound around his neck several times, before draping down over a shoulder and cascading down to his waist. Whilst well made, it wasn't expensive or gilded- merely a badge of occupation he chose to wear.

He wasn't watching the people- though their words always made it to his ears, forever searching for new phrases and words to pick up- but instead he was studying the buildings. Slinking between shadows and sunlight, into and out of the open, Wander delicately followed a scene. Touching a damaged section of stone foundation, his fingers traced the deep gouge-marks in the pattern of stone.

[i]The beast crashed against the building. Two javelins had already found their mark in its hide, but still it roared. Bearing down on the haft of another spear at its front, the quadruped creature smashed it in two and barrelled through the unarmored militiaman. Blood splattered across the ground, and sparks flew as claw met stone. A hail of slingstones slammed into the creature, its thick furs offering but moderate protection. It reared back..[/i]

Wander's head lifted, sighting the caved in thatch of the roof adjacent. He deftly set talon into broken wood, and scaled up to follow the trail.

[i]Then toppled back.The shouting cries of the militia roused further support, and soon the beast was trapped within the wooden walls of this building. It thrashed in a frenzy, smashing table, chairs, breaking through cabinets, scattering bottles from the shelves... But as it smashed into a wall, seeking escape, a wall of spearpoints met it. Twice, thrice, it sought to escape. At last, it displayed a tenacity belonging only to the vile and cunning. It dug its claws deep into the earth and...[/i]

Wander danced across the remnants of the rooftop, following the burrow-hill of the creature's tunneling path. Leaping from rooftop to earth, he tiptoed along the ridge of the tunnel as it lead...

[i]Tunneled out of the city. The warriors of Solyanik were hardened and had dealt with all manner of creature before, and even as it tunneled towards the city's edge the earth trembled as the people raced to collapse the tunnel where they could, hoping to crush the creature in its own escape. The tunnel collapsed behind it, spade and hammer going to work, and the beast surged upwards in an explosive display of fury out of the ground. An arrow took it in the eye in this instant.[/i]

Wander picked up the broken shaft of an arrow, flighted by red and blue feathers. Whomever the brave archer was, they were a keen shot and had taken the beast's eye. He ran his fingers over the arrow lightly, before secreting it away within the folds of his clothing. He stepped along the heavy ridge of the eruption point, and clacked his beak twice as he saw the footsteps leading away, the earth stained in the foul blood of the beast. It had lived, it had run off into the night, and it was still out there.

"...All's well that ends well." A woman's voice emerged from Wander's beak, coining the phrase freshly into the air; a chipper voice, with a hint of age and a smile in it. He lifted his gaze skyward...

Well. He was running late now.

[hr]

And so it was, a quarter hour past seven in the morning, that Wander strode into the Tipsy Tumbler.  He had actually slept here the night before. Er, rather, on its roof...It being a tavern and all. You never attended a meeting without having been to the place beforehand, even if the circumstances of said visit weren't legitimate. He'd never been one for full-scale co-ordination with his squad, and so when it came time for them to discern lodging he had simply faded into the city- his ability to escape unnoticed no less potent in civilization than it was in the wilderness.

Wander approached the bar, his gaze falling on the only other discernible being of note; the barman, cleaning a glass despite the early morning hour.

[color=c1cdcd]"Hail, Wraith."[/color] the Barman said as Wander approached. [color=c1cdcd]"Whatcha having this morning?"[/color]

Wander's beak parted; "Tis not wise to drink so early/" The voice changed suddenly, from that of an elderly man to that of the Barman's itself; [color=c1cdcd]"Water, but I warn ye it ain't so fresh."[/color]

Colored by brief surprise at hearing his own voice- a fragment Wander had picked up the night before- the Barman produced a mug of water, scooped from a rainbarrel by the bar. Wander took it, raised it in polite greeting and dismissal of the Barman, before he leapt up and perched/crouched atop the stool and awaited the coming meeting.