RP:Putting The Hunter To Work

Part of the The White Hunt Arc

Frostmaw Tavern

Orikahn snorts a misty breath, adding another micrometer of frost to the slots of his visor. Draped in wolfskins and dusted with snow, the armored beast seems to have been adapting to the cold. He lifts his visor and scans the tavern, soon spotting the fire; towards it he eagerly trudges. The same icy frost that shines on his visor also clings to his whiskers, his fur, and every other bit of him that might have had half a chance to melt and refreeze a droplet of water. Settling happily at the tavern's center, he sets about cheerily warming himself.

Hildegarde, unlike Orikahn and most visitors to Frostmaw, does not have an issue with the cold. In fact, she deeply loves the bitter chill and bite of Frostmaw for it suits her kind well. The knight had been in the tavern for some time now, standing near the board as she chats to a giant and elf alike: “If I were not so busy arranging this tournament, I would be out there hunting the beast myself,” she remarked to her companions, who only shook their heads. “I need a capable hunter. Someone who can get the beast, identify it for what it is and then… well… help us decide what to do about it. It is causing problems, that’s true enough, but I am reluctant to have it killed purely because of that. If it is one that has gone rogue, fine. But… if it is the only one? I do not know,” she sighed.

Orikahn pulls off his gauntlets and drops them with a clatter so he can rub his hands before the crackling flames. The moisture in the (comparatively) warm tavern air is rapidly condensing on Kahn's frozen armor, soon coating the metal plates in their own quickly expanding layer of frost. Kahn looks down and snorts in surprise and disgust; it's as if he's freezing faster than he's thawing. With a series of grunts, tugs, rattles, and clangs, Kahn is soon sitting in a loincloth next to a pile of discarded, frigid metal that now sits in a slowly growing puddle of condensate. "There." He half-growls, half-snorts the word, and he at last can focus on the task of warming himself--or so Kahn had imagined, for his focus is short-lived. Talk of a great beast and great hunters floats across the tavern to catch his keen, attentive ears, and they perk. His bright green gaze snaps to follow, landing on Hildegarde with a burning intensity (an effect amplified by the reflection of the hearth in his eyes). "I know it's rude," Kahn interejects, "but I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. Did you say you have a beast problem?" He raises both furry brows.

Hildegarde only looks over at Orikahn when he interrupts her conversation. She recognises this one. He tried to kill her not so long ago. “Yes,” she confirmed, “there have been reports of a mysterious creature out west… it’s large and dangerous. Destroying precious parts of Frostmaw’s history and rarely venturing east towards the elven settlement,” she explained concisely but politely. “There is a great reward to whomsoever identifies the beast and reports back to me with what they recommend as a plan of action. I do not want someone to so rashly kill it without first speaking to me and deliberating on options,” she elaborated.

Orikahn looks rather different without his armor; a lot more fluff and a lot less steel and gore and spikes and such. Hildegarde can easily see that the rest of his body is striped like his tail, auburn with black stripes (or was it black with auburn stripes?). Whiskers perk, and his pupils involuntarily widen at the beast's description. "Oh, well that should be no trouble." Kahn boasts, donning a false air of casual interest as he looks back to the fire and resumes rubbing his hands. "I'm sure such a place as Frostmaw is already teeming with great hunters; you must be drowning in volunteers."

Hildegarde smiled broadly as he boasted, “Well… We have scouts and many warriors begging to hunt it to claim its pelt, but our First Ranger is no longer amongst us. I seek to replace him. I want someone with the skill of the hunter to identify what the beast is,” she said, “not just kill it.” She paused for a moment, letting that information sink in. “If that is no trouble to you, perhaps you might step forward to the task. There are many rewards to be reaped.”

Orikahn hums, nodding along as Hildegarde explains. The cat is no fool. Here dangles an opportunity to be swatted! "Many rewards, you say?" He sits back and lifts his foot to rub it in his now-warm hands, thawing his toes just as he had thawed his fingers. "I'll keep an eye out." A smile bends his thin black lips, and his saber teeth gleam in the orange firelight. Mirth lights in his expression, but the cat quickly catches himself, and he clears his throat, reassuming his demure expression. "So, before I hurl myself into the waiting jaws of death, is there anything I should know about this beast?"

Hildegarde offered a nod of her head, “Oh, many rewards. A title, gold, status within the city and a decent wage for decent work,” she explained, “and if you do a particularly good job, there’ll be more rewards to come.” Quite an incentive. The Silver paused as he asked for a little more information regarding the beast. She had so little information to give, unfortunately. “It’s massive, apparently. Like a mammoth but… pale. So pale that it seems to blend in quite well with the environment and is lost amongst the snow. But there is a shadow on its head, something like horns I think. That’s all we’ve been able to glean from reports and witness reports, however.”

And so the hunt begins...