Forgive Me For My Wrongs: I Have Just Begun (OPEN)

[InvitedPanda]

Dark hair was tied at the nape of his neck with a leather strip, strands falling over his cheeks. In his hands he held a rolled paper with a name and an address. The day was dark, the clouds had invaded the sky and shielded the earth from the sun's rays. It had just started to rain lightly as Thryore entered the city. He stopped, his tail swaying gently behind him. He was told that his target could be found at the tavern in Ketra. With a slight frown on his face he swung the tavern door open, the wood banging on the stone wall. A blond headed man turned, his face white, before he scrambled hastily over the table, knocking multiple dishes on the floor.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Thryore started over the threshold after the man, loosening the straps on his scabbard.

[quaggan]

Lanfearys Fellanell

Lanfearys watched his opponents gather their cards. He found it easier to deduce what kind of cards they got if he caught the exact moment they picked it up. It was easy to put on a game face later, once the bidding started and they decided on strategy, but could not control their response perfectly.

That was the reason why he hadn't bothered to look at his cards. They didn't really matter - the true thrill of gambling lay in the bluffing and the mind games. He cared little for victory or even the coin they were betting, just for the pleasure itself, although it started to grow a little dull recently. Hopefully there was some underground tournament in Ketra where participants bet their body parts, or something equally exciting. He'd want to join, if only because the nature of his condition would make him cheat by default.

The sound of the door hitting the wall interrupted his musing. Lanfearys didn't care for whoever entered, he didn't even raise his head to look; but the same couldn't be said about his companions. One of the humans gasped in horror, scrambling to his feet. His cards, forgotten, fell to the floor in a chaos of colours. The elf caught a glance of two aces - well, whatever it was to make the fool forget a good hand, it was probably more interesting than the rest of the tavern. As long as it wasn't the man's wife catching him gambling away their house budget.

What entered was not a housewife, but a creature Lanfearys has never seen before. He looked like some kind of a mix between a horse, a hawk and a person - this chimera's family tree must have been a hell of an adventure. His gaze was fixed on the fleeing man as one of his (only two, a rather boring number) hands reached out for the weapon. It didn't take a genius to realize that whatever he was after, the unfortunate Adelan did not want to surrender.

"Hey!" one the players protested. "Come back! You still owe me!"

His words fell on deaf eyes. Lanfearys didn't mind - he was slowly growing bored with this game anyway. He sauntered towards this strange creature. "Why hello there. I assume that you are after this poor sod - and it so just happens that he owes me a few. Since you don't look like the kind who brings people in functioning pieces, I suppose the only way for me to get my money is to take it from the corpse. Shall we pursue him, then?"

[InvitedPanda]

With a hand on the hilt of his sword, Thryore simply watched as the thug shoved past him and out onto the street. Thryore heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes before turning to follow the idiot when a short white haired elf interrupted him. He scowled down at the creature, his lip curling in mild disgust. He seemed to take pleasure in the misfortune of others. Oh well, may as well make the best of the situation.

"Sure." His voice was low and rough and he spoke without looking at the smug elf. He was only interested in getting this man to the town's jail holders and collect his coin. He recognised the similarities between himself and the white haired creature that barely made his belly button. "Functional pieces." He snorted quietly, turning and making his way onto the street.

The fellow had made it quite far but his panicked running was parting the sea of people that were braving the rain. He drew his sword at last, the spur near the guard glinted in the dim daylight as he lowered by his side. In his mind he formed an idea. He could take the elf on his shoulders and drop him in front of the thug, surprising him and therefore putting Thryore in a better position to take him in. He got more coin if they were alive, usually, but the dry prune of a man that had commissioned him hadn't mentioned more than 200 coin. Flat rate. Dead or alive. Thryore definitely had a preference. The quiet trips were definitely much more enjoyable than when the (usually human) target was left alive to complain about the ropes being too tight, or their tiny feet being tired.

"Get on my back." He growled at the small elf, offering a thick bronze hand out, his front legs bending to lower his shoulders. "Just don't fucking pull my feathers."

[quaggan]

 The centaur (was it the word? It might be) didn't look too impressed with the elf. Perhaps Lanfearys should follow him obnoxiously anyway. The bounty hunter looked like the kind not to tolerate irritating tagalongs. Perhaps he would even employ violence to get unwanted fools out of the way, but unfortunately for him, this sort of method would not work well on someone immortal.

But such a hypothesis would not be tested, as the chimeric creature chose to take him along anyway. Well, Lanfearys was never the one to refuse someone the pleasure of his company - especially after he offered. It would make him look too fickle - and while a reputation for whimsy and caprice was not always bad, it was a double edged sword. And the elf knew that pursuing the sinner would be more interesting than anything else this night had to offer.

He took the offered hand - his mounting skills left some room for improvement, especially when the size difference was so pronounced. His hand immediately went for the feathers, stopped only by the warning. Well, he did want to touch, but he saw enough people with serious injuries that got them falling off a horse, and a centaur was close enough to a horse to make him concerned. His injuries would heal in time, but not fast enugh to catch up.

He rested his hand comfortably on a knife by his belt and grinned. "The target lives in the northern district, judging by the company he keeps when staggering home."

[InvitedPanda]

The winged centaur waited until he felt the weight settle on his back. The elf seemed to find it a little difficult on the climb up. It wasn't his style, really, to accept the help of a stranger, especially those found in shady taverns like the one they had just left. But he thought, just maybe, this one might be wanted somewhere. Even if not he might get a little extra coin for a possible slave. Thryore smirked to himself, lowering his front legs in preparation to launch his thick muscled body into the skies.

"Hold on." He growled, thrusting his wings out and pushing down hard. His wingtips brushed the sides of the buildings, their mere size forcing the people walking the street to have to press themselves against walls to avoid being hit. In three strong strides he jumped into the air, skimming just over the top of a stout dwelling before soaring upwards and twisting himself northward.

Dark chestnut hair streamed behind him in the wind and he couldn't help but smile to himself. He felt at home in the sky, even if there was a pesky bug on his shoulders.
"Let me know when to land" He called over his shoulder before closing his eyes and gliding on an updraft, his wings extended to their full span feathers rippling in the breeze.

[quaggan]

 Lanfearys felt an urge to ask why is he bothering with trying not to trample people - the mysterious stranger seemed like someone who could handle any sort of idiotic consequences the weak might want to push on him. But perhaps there was some other aspect he was missing, maybe the centaur needed a truly free space to take flight.

Ah, the joys of flight. The elf kept silent - he could enjoy himself without the need of shouting, and he had a feeling that if he made noise, giving away their position and the advantage of surprise, the centaur would simply drop him. While the flesh and bones of his immortal body would heal fast enough for him, it would be quite an anticlimactic end to the chase. Now, if only he could acquire some kind of enchantment to keep his hair from tangling up...

He narrowed his eyes, bringing one arm to up to protect his face from the wind. He hasn't seen Ketra from this angle ever since he seduced this lovely dragonrider, and it was a completely different district, so he had to quickly reorient his perspective. "A little to the left..." he instructed the centaur, craning his neck to get a closer look.

He noticed their quarry only the second time his gaze fell on him. He waited a little to watch closer and make sure that he didn't make a stupid mistake. No wonder - a ground-bound prey had to make his way through the labyrinth of narrow alleys and push past crowds. The airspace over Ketra, while busier than in most cities, still provided them with a faster way to not only catch up, but also outpace the target. "The house he's heading to is the one with the ladder leaning next to recently patched roof, and here's our victim, running for his life." He tried to point to him, but couldn't say if the centaur saw it.