It's a Good Day for Living (FeindishIntentions)

[Anonymous]

It was a sunny, nondescript day in Ketra as Garth came proudly strolling into town on his smallest mare, Nimea.  The little palomino was prancing giddily as she was directed through the weaving streets of the busy city.  Perched atop her, her master sat with a broad grin, nodding and waving at passersby that he may or may not have known.  He was a local celebrity celebrating a successful job; he had the right to be jovial.

Across the horse's whithers in front of the saddle, and wrapped around the saddle horn a bit, was a massive silver boa constrictor.  It'd taken a week of patient searching and stalking to finally capture, then kill, the massive snake.  The additional weight that the snake added, equivalent to another man roughly Garth's size, didn't seem to phase his little mare, though.  She was pleased to be returning to the city stable, which would eventually mean she'd be put back out to pasture outside of town until the next time she was needed.

Garth hopped off at the Inn, the one his father owned.  The goings-on here were always that of a busy hub.  It was the most popular one in Ketra, aside from the brothel.  The main difference was that the Stag and Dragon offered spirits and cheer, whereas Peaches n' Cream offered women.  The massive, metallic-silver snake was slowly unwound from its place and draped around Garth's shoulders.  He gently grasped Nimea's reins and turned her towards the corner.  Behind the Inn, his father's stables waited.  He handed his little mare off to one of the grooms and gave special requests to have her washed, combed, and given some extra treats tonight.  She'd be given the night to relax here, and taken back to the country pastures tomorrow.

The massive snake still hung around his neck, Garth turned back to the main street.  He caught a few awe-struck looks as he manhandled the huge dead snake easily.  He was figuring numbers in his head; he was hired to find the largest of this kind, bring it back, and take the skin to the castle.  It'd then be handed off to the tailors and seamstresses that handled the royal clothing.  He'd get paid when it was delivered to them.  The meat and others leftovers were his for the taking.  He'd sell most of the meat, since it was an exotic fare.  The head, he'd keep, and the entrails would be turned into bait products for other hunts.

It would be a very, very rewarding hunt, after all was said and done.

Kicking open the door to his father's Inn, the patrons looked over at him in surprise.  The old regulars smiled and greeted him warmly, while foreigners whispered to each other in confusion and curiosity.  Going straight up to the bar, he dropped the long, muscular carcass on it.  The force of the dump made several mugs of mead sitting on its surface jump, even causing a few minor spills and splashes.  Grinning widely, Garth looked up at his father and said, "Another good hunt.  I'll be needing your help with this one later."

Snakes were tough to skin.  A 210-pound snake with priceless skin was even harder to handle.

Some would consider Garth's actions a form of boasting.  Those who knew him, though, simply attributed the door-kicking and snake-dumping to his enthusiastic, rough, wild nature.  Garth was an exuberant, outgoing person.  His actions were loud, and his booming, cheerful voice was louder.

[Anonymous]

She wasn't exactly a regular yet, but Tarka had managed to make herself well recognized here in the past two days.  Waning business at the old tavern she hung out at had made it far less attractive a place to meet clients.  The bounty hunter sat up a little straighter, sipping at her drink and curling her tail around the leg of the barstool she sat on.

When the door slammed open, the half dragon turned on her chair to glance back at the newcomer.  Tarka rolled her eyes at the way he'd draped the snake around his shoulders, though she had the foresight to lift her mug before he dropped the snake on the bar.  Glaring at the monster's head, which had landed perilously close to where her drink had been sitting, she resettled on her stool, the talons of one foot clicking against the floor softly as she moved.  Pity her cloak was still being repaired.

"If all I'd managed to bag on a hunt was one skinny serpent, I wouldn't be so boastful."  Yes, there was definitely a hint of disdain in her voice.  Animals weren't such a challenge.  A thinking, reasoning opponent was where the challenge was.  And the money.  The little cottage her adopted father had raised her in wasn't so little anymore.  Nor was the woodsman denied the luxury of growing old in comfort.

((OOC:  Sorry about the wait.))

[Anonymous]

(TERRIBLY sorry for making you wait!  Really, really, veryveryvery sorry >.<  Been super-busy!)

Garth glanced up at the individual sitting at the bar, the one giving him a dirty look.  He grinned apologetically before saying, "Sorry, miss, for the invasion of personal space."  He pulled the snake inwards, almost as though he was reeling in a rope or fishing line.  In a matter of seconds, it was neatly coiled on the bar as if it were sleeping, the head neatly tucked under the massive lengths of body.  As he said that, the lady...yes, he'd call her a lady...sitting nearby let slip a disdainful comment.  Garth looked up at her, gauging her statement and demeanor before shrugging and saying, "This skinny serpent is going to my highest-paying customer.  And there are but a handful of these skinny serpents left.  The killing isn't hard; it's the finding."  The words 'skinny serpent' were said with emphasis.  A snake of this size was hardly skinny.  It could have easily eaten Garth, if he hadn't been so efficient in the kill.  The only mark he'd left was a quick stab-wound on the underside, just behind the head.  It wouldn't mar the beauty of the skin and was easily cleaned.

Glancing up above the fireplace, where the stuffed bust of a female gryphon was mounted, he smiled a more subdued smile.  He could feel a sort of quiet, judgmental resentment radiating off of the other.  He made a mental note to steady himself.  Getting mad would do no good.  Garth nodded his head towards the gryphon's bust and said, "A skinny serpent, however, is a nice break from crafty, dangerous animals like those.  And worse."  He'd faced plenty of fiends.  A quick glance around the Inn easily bespoke that.  A candelabra festooned with the scales of a dragon, a rug made from the glimmering, almost-glowing coat of a white unicorn's pelt, mugs and decorations made from the horns of such creatures as minotaurs, unicorns, satyrs, and gargoyles.  In fact, nearly every decorative factor of the Inn (beyond the basic furniture of tables, booths, stools, beds, dressers, and chairs) were somehow thanks to the adventurous exploits of the owner's only child.  Yes, Garth greatly enjoyed bringing home new and interesting things for his father to display proudly about the Inn.

Let this stranger judge him.  Garth had a niche, and a very prosperous one.  Giving her an incredibly friendly, almost-annoyingly-kind grin, Garth took the seat next to her, leaving his prize on the bar just feet away.  No one would mind a dead, over-sized, luminescent snake, right?  He looked over at her, sizing her up and said for a silent moment before saying, "Another round, father, my dear!  I'll treat the lady to whatever it is she wants."  He sent her a sidelong glance.  She'd either be insulted by his offer, take it up without enthusiasm (free drink is always a perk) or be flattered.  Whether she found his offer offensive or complimentary, she'd play a part in keeping him entertained, at least for the time being.