RP:The Hunters

Kelay Tavern at night while the full moon blazes outside

Built and rebuilt, torn apart and set like stubborn bone, this tavern is the pinnacle of Hollow's entirety, wrought around the premise of peace, equality, and consummate amity. And of course, the old place had seen all of the three, but so much more. Dire markings of claw and steel cut deep into wall panels and floorboards. Set against the land's usual motif of destruction are signs of comfort. Twisting shadows and smoothing out a careful blanket of light with soft, quaint fires, a candelabra dangles down by thick cords, gripping the circular holder. Each twists up, converging upon the center, where they snake about one another and form a thick, secure anchor to Kelay Tavern's high, accommodating ceiling. The candelabra rattle now and again from the inn patrons overhead, pouring down globs of wax to the center of the room, which is wide and unobstructed. Cheaply carpentered tables and chairs grow outward around the bare dancing area, keeping to the rounded theme, and also keeping to a dwarven barkeep's avariciously born taste for 'economical' furniture. Hardly any expense has been wasted on the actual upkeep of the public center though, as can be garnered from the smell of deep pine, rich tobacco, and even richer spirits. Stairs twist away dimly near the high bar. And atop that side rests the inn logs, quill, and ink. This establishment's fine keeper, Mesthak, can be seen smiling out from his post at the bar, straight across to the room's always crackling stone-wrought hearth. Behind him, atop lofty shelves, sits an array of dark, amber, and clear liquids. Food smells waft from somewhere near at hand. A carefully printed and hung sign details the purchasable items here in the place of merriment, loss, laughter, and life. Also, tucked into a corner near one of two windows closest to the tavern doorway is a thickly papered bulletin board. A sign has been added next to the board that reads, 'The management requires patrons be fully inebriated at all times and that no curing spells be performed in this tavern-Thank you'.

---

Trevalyn enters the tavern for the second time this evening, hints of fatigue in his walk but a smile upon his face. The human-form lycan's rummages a moment in his pack, finding he still has several drinks, before shaking his head 'no' to the bartender who'd already begun to get ready for his order. He pulls a small flask of rum out and takes a sip, frowning as it runs out. Looking about then, he sees the red-headed woman and he offers her a small salute with his fore and middlefingers put together on his right hand. "Care for some company?"

Kris was alone, her son cared for elsewhere. She was leaning the chair she was in back on two legs, her own propped on the table before her, crossed at the ankles. She was still wearing her coat, a glass in hand, bottle by her foot. She gives Trevalyn a hard, stoic look, studying him. "You're going to insist on sticking around even if I say no, aren't you?"

Trevalyn lets out a laugh at her answer, clearly amused, canid-like teeth showing briefly. "Well, when you put it that way, it truly depends." He muses on. "If it seems it would be more fun to linger in spite of your annoyance, I likely would. Or perhaps I wouldn't, depending on how you said no. Life is filled with so many little variables that I find it impossible to plan ahead for every little situation."

Kris sighs heavily, closing her eyes a moment. She tips her head back, downing what was left of her glass in that quick motion. She leans forward, placing her feet on the floor and righting her chair at the same time. "Do you always talk this much?"

Trevalyn nods. "Quite often. I get asked that a lot, actually. I'm sure you're shocked and amazed." He walks closer, standing behind one of the chairs at her table across from her. Resting his hands atop the back of it and with a mischievous grin he asks, "Do you always talk so little?"

Kris grabbed that bottle sitting before her, holding it over her glass as she watched him. She thought hard on her decision, almost refilling her glass before deciding she would need more than that. She brings the bottle to her mouth instead, taking a long, deep swig from it. She leans back in her seat, slender hand still wrapped around the bottle as she sets it on her lap. "It's what has kept me alive so far, so I like to stick by those policies."

Trevalyn pulls the chair back and slides into it, resting one arm atop the table as he slouches his pack off onto the ground. His other arm reaches down and grasps something inside, pulling up a waterskin when it comes back into view. "Hard to argue with results." Trevalyn pops the cap off and the faint odor of beer fills the immediate air moreso than what leaks out from the bar. He inhales the scent, along with hers and the areas, before taking a gulp. "Blech, this thing does not store beer well. Anyways, I'm Trevalyn. One-time general, stalker of the forest, sacred guardian of the beer-filled waterskin, and a host of other suitably impressive titles. Feel free to be so now."

Kris rolls her eyes, taking another swig from her bottle, to hide that smirk threatening to make it's way onto her face. "It'll take more than some fancy titles to impress me." She didn't offer her name, and wouldn't unless asked. Names were a source of power and it was not something she gave up easily.

Trevalyn only seems even more amused, enjoying their banter thus far. "Hmm, I also do magic tricks?" Despite complaining about the beer a moment ago he takes another swig, grimaces, then swallows it down. Licking his teeth behind his lips, he regards her attentively. The lycan doesn't ask her name. "Considering my greatest fears involve broken legs and a blind, love-sick Minotaur I believe I can cope with you being less than suitably impressed. All good things in time! So what brings you to the bar in the middle of the night, alone, and in such a charmingly surly mood?"

Kris arched a brow, leaning forward ever so slightly, brushing her short, orange locks from her face as she spoke. "Had problems with blind, love-sick Minotaurs before?" She could only imagine why this man would be afraid of such a thing. She then shrugs, leaning back again, an almost devious smirk on her face. "This is the best time for me to work." No other information on the matter is offered.

Trevalyn shakes his head 'no'. "Not yet and I'd like to keep it that way, as would any sane individual I know. It seems a rather healthy fear to possess in my not-so-humble opinion. Why take chances?" He lets out a laugh, takes another swig, grimaces, but keeps the waterskin on the table. The comment about 'work' brings a curious look to his eyes. "Well you can't just leave it at -that-. Come, come. Out with it. I'm horrible at guessing what people do for a living. Right now I'm seeing you more as…" He looks to the whip. "… lion tamer?"

Kris nodded slightly, carrying her own level of paranoia and fears. Truth was she was afraid of what she did for a living. She shakes her head, smirking. "No, no. You're gonna stay and bother me, you have to guess. I'll give a hint, I don't tame anything." She also had a crossbow on her hip, an obviously cared for and special crossbow.

Trevalyn leans back in his chair, stroking his chin in thought and scratching at the underside of his jaw where a five o'clock shadow has been growing over the course of the day. "A game, hmm? Why not! Let's see… a whip but you don't tame anything. And a crossbow which, by my looks, is well cared for." A mirthful smile splits his mouth revealing sharp teeth again. "Tax collector? No, no. You'd do that during the day. Hmm, daring vigilante?"

Kris chuckles softly, taking a swig from her bottle. "The vigilante is the closest, but still not right." Frowning, she glances around the room, gesturing at the emptiness of it, and then at her bottle. "But clearly I don't get much work doing what I do in these lands."

Trevalyn steeples his fingers atop his chest like a posing villain while he continues his deductions with that same, amused gleam in his eye. "Close but not entirely accurate. Works at night, carries a whip and crossbow, and comments that you don't get much work here in an empty tavern. You're a hunter, hunting something quite specific since you don't simply slaughter everyone here. Something which only comes out at night?"

Kris grins, nodding slightly. "Good, good. Now, tell me, what do I hunt?"

Trevalyn un-steeples his fingers and sits upright once more, picking up his tainted waterskin for another swig. There's hardly any grimace this time, perhaps one gets used to the taste. "I would say that you hunt the undead. A special breed, perhaps, one which might be inclined to frequent a tavern in search of its prey? Vampire hunter."

Kris leans forward, pressing against the table slightly, grin lingering on her pale lips. "Very good. You may talk an awful lot, but you're by no means dumb."

Trevalyn chuckles and winks. "Huzzah for me then!" He does seem quite pleased by himself and the lycan treats himself to a victory drink without even blanching. Licking his lips, he gives a sage nod then looks back to her. "So what's my prize? Most games have one. Hmm… well, in light of that knowledge perhaps I should clarify my teeth. I'm not a vampire so I'd rather not be shot by your magnificent-looking crossbow. Or whipped. Both would be quite unpleasant."

Kris shakes her head. "I knew you weren't. Heart-beats and body heat are dead give aways, rather the lack of." She then shrugs, taking another swig from an increasing lighter bottle. "What would be a suitable prize in your not-so-humble opinion?"

Trevalyn blinks, impressed. "You can hear my heart beat and feel my body heat from there? I feel quite cheated, normally one must be much closer." Teasing her even as he finishes off the last of the waterskin beer. "Ugh, never put beer in one of those. Anyways, reward! Provided you don't have a better idea I'll settle for a name or at least an alias to call you by. If you don't provide one I'll just end up making one up for you and it probably wouldn't be as flattering as you might otherwise prefer."

Kris shrugs slightly, settling the bottle on the table before her. "Been in the business too long. But I don't know anything else." Motherhood was still new to her, and though her boy was a few years old now there were still days she was clueless. She tilts her head in mock thought, holding back a grin. "I suppose that's a fair prize. Kris."

Trevalyn makes a small bow at the waist but stops shy of plunking his head into the top of the table. "A pleasure and charmed. I was going to call you the 'Fire Bolt' after your hair and what your weapon fires but I do believe 'Kris' is far better." A sage nod and look as if he just made a proclaimation which could have started a war or ended one, maybe even founded a religion, before he cracks into a sharp-toothed grin again. "If you've been at it for a while then you must either be good or very bad at finding your prey. I'll vote for the first given you have that sort of 'edge' to you. You could always learn something new though if you ever got bored. Sail-making, interpretive dancing, full-moon rager, novelist… options abound."

Kris arches a brow. "Yes, Kris is better." It still wasn't her full name, but it was the best she was willing to give for the moment. She then shrugs, taking a long swig from her bottle. "Hard to tell if I'm good or bad anymore. Nobody wants a vampire hunter here. Can't understand it...Unnatural, undead bastards..." She mumbled that last bit, turning her gaze to the table. "I'm good at drinking, fighting, and killing vampires. It's what I've always done. What am I supposed to do now?"

Trevalyn nods. "I'm not from around here but I've noticed a rather odd level of acceptance for things which go bump in the night. I suppose I could even count in that category but when there's dragons and odder wandering about openly perhaps people are jaded to the unusual?" He truly doesn't know. "The undead unnerve me some as well. I suppose you could still drink and fight; a bit of a hollow life, however. Hmm… any causes you believe in? Werewolf Independence Movement, United Elf Coalition, Minotaur-Love Therapy Center?"

Kris shrugs. "I believe in a vampire-free existence?" She sighs, frowning now. "See?" She kicks the empty chair next to her in frustration, taking another long swig from her nearly empty bottle.

Trevalyn watches her kick the chair and smiles at the outburst. Oh yes, he knows that restrained rage well and would be much more antsy if he hadn't spent the first hours of the night running wild in his other skin. "You could always hunt them anyways, apparently there's one on the boards whose been making people angry. Might even get paid for his head! Or hell, if you believe in the righteousness of your cause then do them in anyways but don't get caught." He grins. "Some nights there isn't enough alcohol in the world, eh? I can only guess that if there isn't a public outcry against the leeches that they're not sticking their oral pokers into every Tom, Dick, and Jane's jugular. Could always, oh I dunno, fabricate evidence to justify offing them to the masses?"

Kris shakes her head quickly. "I wouldn't set them up. And there's no outcry against them because half of the population here are undead, unholy bastards." She sighs, shrugging. "I'll just hunt animals I guess. Sell their fur and meat and such. Think that'll work?"

Trevalyn makes a faux sad face. "But setting them up would be such delightfully random fun! Ah well, be noble then." He gives another wink and then thinks about what she said a moment. It's a fine enough plan if she'd actually find it fulfilling. "Life as a hunter wouldn't be bad. I'm no ranger but I find myself in the woods often enough as is and I could show you a few tricks to stalking animal prey if you like. Of course, that involves you trusting me alone in the woods with you so perhaps we'd need to establish more of a repoire first? I could always take a nibble out of you and let you experience life from a whole new point of view if you were so inclined?"

Kris frowned deeply at that offer, the look in her sky-blue eyes spelling out violence. "Human. Staying that way, got it?" She sets down her empty bottle and pushes her seat back in the same fluid motion, rising in the process. "I don't mind that offer really, but like you said, after I've come to trust you a bit more." She was moving towards the bar as she spoke; she needed another bottle. Perhaps it was a bad idea to drink so much, she would talk more the more she consumed, but she felt the need to drink.

Trevalyn smiles sweetly. "I do so love when people threaten to kill me with their eyes." He doesn't contradict her however, allowing her the freedom of choice. Unlike some in his former pack the lycan wasn't malicious so much as capricious and whimsical. "After we trust one another more then. After all, it wouldn't take much for you to switch from your former prey to me." Saying this as she's walking towards the bar. He waits for her to return with an ear over his shoulder.

Kris grinned as she came back towards the table. "True, I could decide it's unnatural for people to be anything other than human." She chuckles as she sits back down, settling her bottle on the table. "And if this is how you are on a daily basis, get used to me killing you with my eyes."

Trevalyn smiles sweetly again. "Yes, but if you did, then wouldn't it be in my own best safety to act now before you developed something specifically designed to harm me? As is, you're under-prepared and it's a full moon." But he's still sitting comfortably in his chair as if they were debating what to have for dinner rather than a matter of life and death. No indication of a preperation to act. "I suppose you'll have to hang out with me on a daily basis to know if I'm like this all the time. Feh, can't be that bad if you're still sitting here but I could always switch to 'brooding and silent, harboring a dark secret' mode if you'd like to give that a go too."

Kris leans back, her brows raised. "Oh? You think I'm under-prepared to kill you?" She then shakes her head, taking a swig from her bottle. "The broody bit is my thing. Broody men are too common, and usually end up being undead bastards."

Trevalyn chuckles when she asks if he thinks she's unprepared. "Likely you'd have a good chance. But it makes me feel more secure to imagine you aren't ready to do it either because you lack the tools or because I'm such a charming companion that it would break your heart to harm me." His eyes glow with mischief and he gives a nod of consent. "Alright then, you brood and I'll be the comic relief to your straight man, woman, whatever is dramatically appropriate in an acting field. At least you know I could never become an undead bastard. A bastard, perhaps, just a living one. Thank the gods for small miracles?"

Kris laughs, tipping her head back and all. It was quite pleasant, the sound of her laughter, but it was clear she didn't knew enough of it, if you didn't count those moments with her son. She takes a swig from the bottle, before leaning forward against the table, folding her arms beneath her bosom on top of the table. "How do you know I don't enjoy being violent towards those I like?" Hadn't those three words started as three very different words with her late husband? The grin faultered slightly as she thought of him, another, longer swig taken from her bottle.

Trevalyn grins and hits her right back with, "What makes you think I don't like it violent?" The lycan is very amused and clearly enjoying the back and forth. He breathes in the once-vampire hunter's scent anew, committing it to memory, the information being filtered across the back of his tongue and into his predator's brain. "But I'm pleased you like me. I like you too. I think we've made great progress in our relationship, don't you?" Another laugh. "And if you -don't- like me, and enjoy being violent to those you do, then I suppose I'm safe."

Kris shrugs, snickering slightly. "How do you I don't just like being violent, no matter what?" She then points, arching a brow. "And when did I ever say I like you?" Of course, if she didn't at least tolerate him she wouldn't still be sitting here drinking. In fact at some point she took her coat off and put it on the back of her chair, revealing her white t-shirt and that snake tattoo wrapped around her right arm.

Trevalyn gives an innocent smile. "When did you ever say you -didn't- like me?" He can't help but laugh then, finding the whole situation incredibly amusing. She's fun to play with! His good humor persists through everything he says. "And if you like being violent in general you'll find me a willing enough partner-in-crime. Either way? I'm quite set. Easy to get along with that way. Very little gets me down. Well, a drow pushing me off a cliff into the underdark might but that's more a matter of physics than emotional state of mind. I'd giggle quite maniacally in that situation because I'd have grabbed him to come for the ride and serve as a pillow on landing. We'd both die, surely, but he'd go first and I'd pass with a smile on my face. Anyways, I'm getting off topic."

Kris simply stares at him a long moment. "Holy hell, you do talk a lot." She laughs again, hand resting on her stomach, the expression lighting up her face. She takes another swig from her bottle, finding herself in a better mood then she's been in some time.

Trevalyn notes that when the woman bothers to smile and laugh she actually looks quite radiant rather than the brooding anti-hero. But, alas, that's part of -being- the brooding anti-hero. "I do. I truly do. At least when I speak I don't summon fire like a wizard? Ahahahaha, the last wizard I met talked too much too but in a bad way. I broke his neck and crushed his windpipe but this was before I came to Kelay. Either way, quite hypocritical of me. I'm ashamed." His head lowers for all of two seconds. "And it's passed. But if you're to be the brooding, quiet one then I need to compensate and thus make you seem all the more mysterious for it. Well, moreso than women are naturally anyways. Besides, language is a lot of fun."

Kris arches a brow, grinning while she listens. "I'm not so sure how much I believe that story." It was hard to tell if that was a joke or if she was serious. She takes another swig from her bottle, her cheeks flushed ever so slightly. She was drinking an awful lot awfully quickly. She leans against the table again, propping one elbow on the surface, resting her chin in her hand. "What makes you think you're the one who needs to compensate for me?"

Trevalyn observes how much alcohol the woman's drinking but doesn't comment. "It's quite alright, I don't know how much I believe that story either." Flippant and irreverent, but well-humored, as always. "Of course I need to compensate for you if you hardly talk. You're quiet, I talk too much, between us we even it out on whomever has to listen to us." He nods as if this all makes some sort of universal sense. "Besides, if and when we trust one another, you'll get to see me in my less-than-bipedal shapes. And then I can't talk at all. Enjoy it now for I know you shall surely be sad in my silence." A wink.

Kris rolls her eyes. "Please, we all know I would probably rejoice such a thing." She was grinning regardless. She sighs heavily, glancing out the window a moment. "Hell, I should probably head home. My boy will be getting up soon and wondering where his mom has gone off to." The most she's revealed of her life the whole night, in that simple sentence. She stands, slipping her coat back on. "Well, oddly enough, it was a pleasure to meet you Trevalyn. Don't irritate the wrong person and get yourself killed before we run into each other again, alright?"

Trevalyn smiles and nods. "I shall certainly endeavor not to but no promises. My natural charisma has made me a gifted sprinter. If it's any consolation I'm a hardy individual and, if I do die, you can have all my world belongings. Right about now that would be the clothes on my back and a few stale biscuits in my pack but it's an inheritance, eh?" He doesn't rise nor does he follow the woman. Family he respects. If she has a son then there's no need to hassle her and risk getting one of those crossbow bolts through the eye. "A pleasure likewise, Kris. Don't get mauled by a wild boar or anything."

Kris scoffs as she heads towards the door. "I'd kick that boar's ass."