The posting wasn't like one he'd seen before. "Applicants must be generally unhappy?" What was that about? He didn't consider himself particularly happy or unhappy, but he was an arm for hire, and this was just another job. He exited the tavern he'd just met his last employer in, the new bounty magically delivered to him by a sprite that found him his jobs. He doubted this would prove much of a challenge. Nothing ever really was. That's what preparedness was for. Still he enjoyed the chase, the fight, but before that he needed to get cleaned up. He passed the cart that held the dragon head he'd just delivered. It wouldn't be eating anymore sheep. The creature had been tolerated in it's nearby forest den until it grabbed the prized horse of the local property lord. Not that that mattered to him. He patted Angel's flank, though she could hardly feel it through her full plate barding. He pulled a rag from his bag and wiped away at his armor again to be sure he wasn't getting any of the mildly corrosive dragon blood on Angel's barding as he mounted her.
Angel carried her rider swiftly out of town and the growing crowd that was gathering to "ooh" and "aah" at his trophy. He had laid claim to the nicest looking teeth, the intact eye, part of the tongue, a few fist sized horns, and parts of other innards from the beast, as well as many scales and leathery parts of the wings. A young red dragon's parts weren't as good as an elder black's but he tried to save those black dragon scales for critical times. He didn't have the proper implements to properly harvest it's hide, but he had done his best as quickly as he could, and would salvage what he could later. It's stomach had contained some wealth, it's den much more, but it wasn't an amount even his magical bag could carry so he took the most choice pieces. The wands could prove useful, but he'd have to pay an arcanist to identify them. Idle thoughts helped the time pass quickly as he rode to a small clearing in a nearby wooded area.
Moving toward the center of the clearing and quickly dismounting as he reached into his smaller bag, he produced a small pewter house. "Vihvoaur sieum" The magic whisked the house from his hand and it instantly became a little cottage, the front door only a step away. He went in and removed his black plate helm, setting it on an armor stand just inside the door. He moved across the landing and entryway through large double doors into a long trophy room. There were doors to either side leading off into the large house, and two staircases that led up to the next floor. The cottage was bigger on the inside, not uncommon for magical abodes. There were amazing things surrounding the room, a green wyvern head, a taxidermy troll, a giant spider head with intact mandibles, and other. Above the hearth was a mounted Elder black dragons horn, an adamantine spear with a twisted haft below it. Through the first door to the right he went, pulling off his bigger bag and dumping it's contents into a large chest, as long as a feed trough, full of his loot. An unseen magic servant began pulling things from the chest and organized it into various containers, divided by purpose, plain loot, useful components, and magical things. He didn't stand around heading back out to the landing where he removed the rest of his plate armor. On a weapon rack beside the armor dummy, he placed his arsenal. Next he led Angel around to the side of the cottage where it opened up to allow her entry into a stable. There he undid her barding and spent a good amount of time pampering his horse. After a wash, a good brushing, an apple a carrot and a peach, he filled her feed bin with some oats and clover.
Leaving his horse to munch, he went inside to find himself a bath. The water was always hot, the soap always ready, and he pulled off his gambison and other clothes, dropping them in a basket just inside the door to the washroom. His rippling muscles, covered in years of scars glistened with sweat, and soon steam as he stepped down into the stone bath. He wasted no time, scrubbing his shaggy black and and sun tanned skin quickly and roughly. A thorough rinse and a long soak to relax worked muscles, and then a meal. His food was simple, hardy, and filled with nutrition. He prepared it himself from his stores, and when he was finished, he went up to sleep in his comfortable bed. At first, he had disdained comfort, but he found the logic in being well rested before a fight, and so he invested in quality comfort without over indulgence. The same for the soft clothes he wore to sleep in. It was only as needed, nothing in excess.
After a full eight hours of sleep he went back down to have breakfast, then put on his armor, which had been cleaned and polished while he slept, and went to the stable to find Angel's barding just strapped on by the unseen magical assistant. He led her out of the stable side of the magic cottage and turned back to the small building. "Sieum vihvoaur" The cottage shrank back to its small pewter figurine and flew to his hand. He dropped it in his small pouch, checked the weapons strapped to Angel, then mounted the horse. The ride took him only a few days, Angel's enchanted shoes carrying them hundreds of miles each day. He stopped to rest as needed, there was no reason to push himself. He'd get there at his own pace, well rested and well prepared, and he'd slay the beast that needed slaying. It was as Tyler Brice entered the building that he dismounted Angel. Leaving her standing outside in her full barding she was in no danger. She could handle herself quite well. She was a magical warhorse after all.
The Bounty Hunter entered the room, drawing looks from around the room, the sounds settling for a moment at the sight of his gleaming dark metal armor. His black riding cloak did nothing to conceal the bearded axe and the sword on his back, and his hand rested on the hilt of another sword. Multiple daggers were visible on him, and a silver mace clinked, bouncing against his armored thigh as he crossed the room. His ring was tugging him toward the table where he'd meet his new employer, should he decide to take the job. As he approached he overheard the fierce looking little woman, most people looked small when you were as tall as him, say she was here for the job, and it looked to him that the other three would be participating as well. He stepped up to the table as Tyler Brice finished her introduction.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but I only work alone." And as was part of the contract with the sprite he flipped a silver coin toward the center of the table where it vanished with a little puff of pink sparkles. Then Geld turned and walked away, a new bounty being delivered to him by the magic of the sprite. It was probably for the best. Geld didn't play well with others. Not because he was difficult or a glory hound, but because they were sometimes too weak, or under skilled, or most often, they wanted to... talk. He didn't talk. As he exited he bumped into a small man he hadn't seen, knocking the hood from his horned head.
The nervous little man's nictitating membranes flitted across his eyes, his dark olive brown-green skin lightening to a pale olive tan-green. He laughed nervously as he regained his balance, his hands zipping around at lightning speed to check that his knives and pouches, and bow and quiver were all in place, and nothing had spilled out from his jostle. His eyes darted around the room, assessing threats, looking for all the ways he could escape quickly should he need to. He adjusted the straps on his dark leathers as he approached the table of bounty hunters without a sound to his steps. "Is this the right spot?" His stooped shoulders made his short slender frame seem even more slight as he placed the bounty sheet on the table. "I'm Hereward. You can call me Ward." he said, reaching up to rub one of his twisted little devil horns. His maroon eyes flicked back and forth as he sized up the others, feeling his poison needle case pressed inside his wrist. "I'm a tracker, and a trapper, sometimes take jobs as a scout. Thought I could help snare your beast."
