Lamantations of a Slaver [Pan!] [Reader Discretion is Adviced]

[Zane]

Oddmund walked towards the cabin he was using as a meeting point with his two lackeys. The three of them had split up when one of their valuable products somehow slipped out of their bonding and made a run for it. Jept and Sunder should have caught up with him by now, especially since he stopped to cook the rest of the groups provisions and ate every last bite. The bacon was greasy and delicious.

The Slaver was stepping onto the porch of the cabin when the arrow collided with his right shoulder, sending searing hot waves of pain racking through his body as the force of the arrow shattered the shoulder plate and knocked him off his feet. Oddmund crashed against the wall and fell hard to the ground, snapping off the arrow into his now useless shoulder. It was all the man could do to not black out from the pain.

Oddmund felt a firm hand pull him around to face the sky as a surprising pleasant voice called out, "What is your name, slaver?"

"Odd...mund.." he said with a breaking voice.

"Where were you taking those slaves?" the pleasant voice asked.

Oddmund laughed, "Go to hell."

"Listen here, they way I see it. I am not justicar, and you are a dying slaver with an arrow in your back. You have two options. You can tell me where to find more slavers like yourself after which I put you out of your misery. Or you can refuse, and I will leave you to the crows and wolves and other animals as you are eaten alive. That sound nice?"

Call it petty pride, but something bile rose in Oddmund's throat, something stubborn. "Piss off."

"As you wish." The voice said, with a note of finality. Just then, another arrow tore through the left shoulder and inbedded itself in the deck below.

Zane left the cabin behind, the Slaver's screams alerting all manner of wild life to a fresh meal.

----------

Two days later, Zane found himself in a nearby tavern, hood pulled over his head as to hide his vulpine ears, and the matching tail tucked under the cloak. Since that day, he had no luck with tracking the band of slaver group that he had been diligently hounding after.

[Pantheria]

A hooded figure swept into the tavern, weaving past the tables to take a seat at the bar. They were familiar with the barkeeper, having given them a nod of the head in greeting as they ordered a drink. The person pulled down their hood, revealing a head of cropped brown hair to any watchers.

Taking her drink with a word of thanks, Valerie's attention turned to those on either side of her.

"...And I'm tellin ya, this is robbery! These drinks aren't worth half their price," Someone was saying, waving his empty flagon around as he ranted to the barkeeper, the slur of the inebriated present in his voice.

"They're obviously good enough for you to get drunk on," Valerie cut in, halting the man's tirade. She flashed the barkeep a reassuring smile before turning to face the drunken man, his ginger handlebar moustache flopping as he stood up.

"Are ye lookin for a fight?" He growled, eyes narrowing as she stood up too. Valerie turned out to be shorter than the man, but not by much.

"Not from you, certainly," She responded, activating a strength rune on her arm with a touch of magic, before hitting him with a solid uppercut.

Valerie watched as he fell to the floor, halting the flow of magic to the rune before sitting back down, taking a sip of her drink calmly. That went better than expected.