Fourteenth of Summer 514
Thirty chimes into the tenth bell
The sun glared harshly as it neared the zenith of its travel in the sky, though the heat was diffused by the thick and grimy window panes of the tavern. If it could be called that; it was really just a large house that had been refitted with a bar and a sign out front, which read 'The Bilgerat's Brew' in thick green paint. The owner of the establishment had run across a large store of alcohol; how, no one knew, although a recent raid on a passing caravan seemed dubiously coincidental. But why ask questions? It wasn't as if there was an authority to report to anyways, besides the savage gangs that divvied up chunks of the stinking city. Besides, the ale was sold under the standard price, which meant that The Bilgerat's Brew was a hotspot in the Sunset Quarter.
As the sun shone through and into the building, the morning crew began the arduous task of cleaning up from last night's revelries. Tables were uprighted, vomit was scrubbed, broken glass swept away. The patrons from the previous evening were woken up, rather unceremoniously, and forced out into the beaming light of day. One particularly large man, flat on his back, groaned and tried to shield his eyes against the ray of light that assaulted his face. Suddenly, he experienced an exploding sensation of frigid cold and flooding water, a loud crash startling him into consciousness.
Raenetyr Verogane coughed and spluttered, his face drenched, his mouth ajar as he panted. One of the helpers, a small and stringy boy, stood over him with a now-empty pail, a small smirk on his young face. The large man let out a snarling curse as his senses began to return, and he pushed dripping strands of hair out of his eyes before aiming a clumsy kick at his aggressor. The lad yelped, and stumbled back, nearly falling over a fat and snoring drunkard who was missing his shirt (and probably his coin purse as well). Raenetyr rolled and pushed himself up to his feet, his head filled with a dull ache. Same old, same old, he supposed. He patted himself down, checking to make sure that he had not been robbed. A miracle, perhaps, but all that he had brought with him was still on his person. Now, what was he supposed to be doing again?
The bounty hunter's head swam as he fought to recall what was on today's list. Ah, right, the next job. His thoughts were momentarily interrupted as he stepped outside, the blaring white light searing his mind. He let loose a string of vehement and crass words, directed mostly at Syna, though a few were meant for himself. You just had to finish off that bottle, didn't you? As his sight adjusted, he was able to get a good look about. Just the usual; a dirty and winding street, packed with all sorts of folk. Where was he, anyway? What had he been thinking- Oh, that was right. This time, it was a job from some people who had employed him previously. Unsavory types, certainly; but when it came to pay they were honest enough, and in Sunberth it was all about the pay.
They had warned him that it would be a difficult one, he mused, as he stepped over a body that lay facedown in the muck. The nearby mud was stained a deep red, the corpse's skin pale and graying. It was still a bit early, but the oppressive heat of the season meant that these sort of... inconveniences could get rather unpleasant, before they were dumped in the sea or burned. Raenetyr frowned as a foul smell wafted past on the dry air, the buzzing of flies making him twitch. He continued on, through the packed roadways and past the various merchants, deeper into the Sunset Quarter. Normally he would hire help for anything that had elicited such a warning; most clients tended to understate things as it was, and so if his customers were worried about the odds then the bounty hunter would take their word for it. In this line of work, it was always better to be safe than sorry. Not that taking risks was frowned upon; in fact, it was what he was doing right now.
Unfortunately, he didn't have the coin to spare for a handful of the many bruisers that occupied the Berth. There would always be someone who would work for less, he knew, but this wasn't a job that he wanted botched up. Raenetyr liked keeping his head on his shoulders; the type of people that were often his targets didn't take kindly to the men who hunted them. Even if he escaped a failed encounter with his hide intact, it would be a severe blow to his credibility as a man-tracker. And that was why he was taking a risk now, as he leaned against a dilapidated wall and stretched out his back. He stared at the building across the way, the windows thrown open to allow for circulation in the sweltering heat. You don't know that he'll help you, he thought, as he took a deep draft of the waterskin that he had been holding. And if he doesn't, he could well spread word of what you're doing. That would almost certainly get Raenetyr a tail or two; opportunists hoping to jump in and get some easy coin, or even try and finish him after he completed the job to collect the entirety of the bounty. But he didn't have much choice; and so he waited, sweating under the blistering sun and hoping that the dwelling's inhabitant hadn't left yet.
