16th Winter, 514 AV
He stepped lightly on the wooden pavement. With every footstep he gave, his boots thumped to the floor. He wore a simple white coat that flowed to his legs, like a long cape. It never touched the ground, never became a tripping hazard, and always kept him warm on the coldest of days. His normal wear consisted of a white shirt with tan colored pants. To his waste, a black scimitar blade he had named Ghost. He normally carried a dagger with him, somewhere on his body. He never kept it out in the open, hiding it well for unexpected enemies. He came prepared today, fully geared for something dangerous, a fight maybe?
He stepped into a bar and stood at its entrance, his eyes scanning everyone within the room. It was a full house today, people of every kind filling their stomachs with drinks and delicious meals. He considered this bar to be heaven, a great escape for everyone who's lives were horridly crappy. One could come and speak with new friendly faces, drink with buddies, pick up one night stands, or just enjoy the festivities of others. It was a great place to be, but it did have its occasional jerk offs. The type of people who did what ever they wanted just to show that they could do what ever they wanted. The strong who fed on the weak. But the bartender did a good job of handling them, so there were very little worries.
Sadly for him, now wasn't the time to enjoy the bar of his dreams. He had a job to take care of, money to earn for his hard work and service. After his scan he found the very man he needed to see. A human by the name of Hunter. He was lean, mean, and a fighting machine. His dark black skin was covered with red scars and his build was close to that of a body builder. Where his dark brown eyes rested was in a sea of confidence. This guy could do what ever he wanted and wherever he wanted. The biggest of the jerk offs, the jerk off king. The sad thing, he was a slave; meaning that he knew his boundaries and knew how to not pass them.
Hunter sat in the back with his goons, shirtless and muscles flexing. It wasn't hard to admit that the man was similar to a god. His goons consisted of one skinny male that rested to his left side. This male had a hairstyle that shouldn't even be counted as a hairstyle, an unintentional messy Mohawk. To the right of hunter was a tan and muscular man, another jerk off. This male was bald but had a full beard that stemmed all the way towards his fat stomach. This one was also shirtless, as though the cold weather outside had little effect on them. Maybe they couldn't afford a shirt.
The last of the goons was a female that stood at Hunters back. She was dressed to impress, and have every man look at her breast. The way she moved and even spoke was sensual, like she was made for pleasuring men. She felt on Hunters raw abs, brushing against him every once in a while and nibbling on his ear. Whether she was a professional girlfriend or a simple whore was unknown, but she was an enjoyable sight.
He continued to stand at the door, searching for weapons or signs of hidden ones. One carried a sword, the one with the large beard, but no other weapon could be found. He began to move, the sound of his boots drowned under the sounds of conversations. Everywhere one turned there was at least someone smiling. An expression of joy and entertainment.
He stopped in front of Hunters booth and allowed them to scan him as he did them. They gave a good glance at him and never took their eyes away since. It became a stare down, four against one, but that one was not intimidated. He pulled a chair from another table after asking politely, then sat at their booth. The chair was turned in the opposite direction, his stomach rested on its back.
"I don't remember telling you to sit," Hunter said with a threatening tone. He knew that was Hunters nice way of saying 'leave before I beat you down' but he wouldn't move. "I have a deal I want to make with you. It involves money." Those where his words. And with just those words he attracted their attention. He was no longer unwelcome and hopefully, he would no longer be beaten down.
