55th of Winter, 515 A.V.----
It proved funny, in a sick sort of way, how little control people had over their lives. Sure, they can try to assert dominance in their existence, create monuments which rivaled the god's ingenuity and leave legacies which defied the turn of centuries. But in the end? Everyone was subject to nature's chaotic musings. One day was all it took. One, frightful, impossible day, and you suddenly realize how truly small you are.
Thoughts such as this swarmed the surface of Rhov's mind as the winter chill bit through his woolen clothes. Flurries of white snow swirled in front of his endless black eyes; an eternal dance of cold which hid the world around him from his sight. Normally, Rhov would have been rapt in wonder at such natural beauty. The sweeping blanket of white stark against the backdrop of Mithryn, it called for poetry. For songs and stories devoted to its visage. Not for the unnecessary death the frigid storm left in its wake.
Rhov had known people who had perished in the wake of the sudden snow storm. Granted, not well, but still known in passing. The little boy who always asked for stories of his hunts. The stolid knight who always shot him venomous glares from across the bar. The old woman who always tried to set him up with her granddaughter. All of them, gone in a a calamitous instant. It could have been Rhov, he lived in Mithryn after all. Whether it was by chance or providence, Rhov was still alive. And those others were not. The Chaktawe found little in the way of comfort in that.
Where's the justice in all of this? Who weighs those scales? Who casts the die that determines their fates?
With a growl, the youth silenced his unquiet mind. He had agreed to help those the fallen had left behind in the best way he knew how. Mourning their loss did nothing to change the situation the citizens of Mithryn were placed in. Now, he had to focus on what he could do, not what purpose or plans the gods had in this.
His heavy footsteps beat onward into the frost, moving him forward the small collection of warm bodies that stood out amidst the ruins of a once proud cottage near the Mithryn Market. Torches flared brightly despite the winter wind, and Rhov joined the men and woman in the wreckage which littered the ground around them. A few of them, mostly knights, shot the bounty hunter surprised looks as he passed by, but soon fell back into line after a beat. Rhov approached the tall, bear of a man who seemed to be dishing out assignments to various squires. With a tap, the knight turned to face the Chaktawe, taking him in for a moment before handing him some papers.
"Aye, I think I've heard of you. Done some bounties for the Order, caused a bit of ruckus haven't yah?" The knight cocked a brown eyebrow at him before pointing down back at the papers. "Don't have much call for bounty hunters most days, but I'm glad to have you today. Name's Sir Harris, and I watch over these fields. Each of those papers has the name, description, and last known location of a missing person. Do the best you can to find them with the rest of the volunteers."
Rhov nodded slowly in response, surprisingly submissive in light of recent events. He wasn't used to taking orders, much less from a knight, but the youth would make an exception for today. He was one of the best trackers in Syliras, and there were people that needed finding. Didn't matter who gave the order or who was in command, as long as no one else died. Slow steps leading him back into the mass of bodies, Rhov skimmed through the list of missing people. One stuck out to him in particular.
Mila Porter. She's the barmaid at the Fool's Errand. Nice girl. Last seen heading west from the Mithryn Market to an unknown location.
Dark lips pulled into a stern frown as the Chaktawe read the report. It wasn't much to go off of, but Rhov would see what he could find at the Market. With any luck, Mila might have just gotten lost in the storm and had managed to find her way to safety.
Then again, luck was something Rhov was in short supply of.
Whistling loudly, he drew the attention of a few members of the crowd."I am going to find Mila Porter. Help would be appreciated."
