"You'd think with a war going on you could find some work around here."  A low, boyish timbre reflected into the pale surface of bubbling ale.  Work these days had been... uneventful, to say the least.  Nagesh Salvator's connections were dryer than the red queen's cunt and the stores of his coin purse were starting to ache.  One of his last coins was placed on the run-down countertop for the keeper of this quaint tavern who - in turn - began pouring yet another glass of fizzy drink.  Naga tossed back the remainder of his ale until only foam remained and watched his surroundings from keen peripherals.  The way the tavern keeper moved, the way his broad thumb pointed towards a board with tattered bits of paper.  "Try there." "And that's how we ended up here!"  He spoke elaborately to the shopkeeper as if they'd been longtime friends.  Naturally, the woman stared at him bemusedly while pretending to focus on her work.  "Reduced to becoming,"  Naga shuddered.  "bounty hunters."  Her lovely features changed when the blade at his hip soon pointed at her throat. Crimson gaze regarded her through narrowed slits while charm magic sparked through the air between them, glittering upon gossamer strings privy to his eye alone.  "What do you know of Besentaent Lon?"  Any hint of boyish naivete was lost, abandoned to the grim nature of this work.  He hated charming humans.  Dulcet fingers pointed to a faded blue rug with ivory scrawling's randomly strewn throughout its fibres.  A trap door.  The perfect place for a fugitive to hide.  Tipping the blade at his brow, Naga thanked the woman before crawling into the dark, cob-web-laden hole.  Each step was cautious and guarded, seeing that the creaking stairs alerted his arrival.  If the murderer was here, Naga anticipated that he wouldn't just give his life without a fight.

Besentaent Lon, catching wind of bounty hunters, has since fled this location. There is a letter, however, in the basement that alludes to his next destination. Shanton.

You've Got the Heart of a Leo
The Boy Who Swallowed the Sun
It'd been a bit since he'd had a drink worth taking. The piss poor quality of the bootlegged goods produced at the camp was like drinking spiked water. Disgusting, and even lacking the potency to inebriate. Needless to say, he would call the gang's attempt at hooch a failure. Sobriety lead to sharper senses, yes, but even those of late he wished to have buried and forgotten. That smoldering burn at the back of his throat grew in intensity until it felt as if he'd swallowed hot coals. Certainty followed the thought that his mouth was split like dried earth after a merciless drought, no matter how much water he downed it wouldn't slake this hellish thirst. He swore he could drown and still be ablaze.

Regardless, he had found himself drawing the short straw. It was his turn to bring supplies in exchange for goods his... comrades were in need of. None of them intended to answer this demanding draft - others a far cry from his own reason. He'd once attempted to join their ranks. To be a good and honorable man, yet they'd nearly spit in his face. They may as well have. He was a young homeless whelp. Starving, fit for a militia, but not the main force of a military, not something that would put coin in his pocket and warm clothes on his back for the grueling winter. If they wouldn't accept him then, the bastards were daft to think he would give them the time of day now.

His thoughts were scattered, his stare cutting sharply to the door of his destination. It was like a sixth sense, this intuitive feeling of magic. He could nearly hear it, like a nail sharply filing down the strings of a harp. The woman's shop often served as a safe house, and it was she he had intended to do business with. Pushing open the door, he found her, still standing behind the counter, her arm outstretched in gesture as her eyes seemed hazy and unfocused. His sights would follow, already knowing what she pointed to, and yet, it was not the guard of Vufrien she had sold the secret bunker out to, but rather a trespasser as well.

Because no one who belonged in this side of the continent could use such magic.

His gaze hardened, soft, attentive blues reflecting not the ocean, but the cruelty of the ice that sealed it. The pommel of his father's blade was beyond comfortable in his hand, the chosen of his two weapons for this particular encounter. For only it was well equipped to dispatch of parasites. Measured footsteps lead him to the top of the stairs, ruthless attention fixated upon the stranger that graced them. The eager point of the sword's tip would attempt to hover in the vacinity of the man's throat should he turn. "Well, friend, you're a long way from home."

Perhaps it had been the prior night's libations that had made Naga careless or it was as simple as arrogance.  He had been reckless enough to leave the door unlocked, to let another being slip into the shop and stand at the top of the stairs.  A being that wasn't either the shop owner or the damned target that was supposed to be here.  The basement was empty save for the thick webs of dust and the spiders that thrived within it and a slip of paper that detailed an address.  In Shanton.  Where he had come from days ago. "You're kidding, right?"  Naga snarled out while crumbling the paper and tucked it into his pocket unceremoniously.  Just his luck. That's when Naga heard the wood whine behind him, the faint chime of metal and the voice of a stranger echo throughout the basement.  "Well, friend, you're a long way from home." "I'm well aware!"  Boyish drawl growled out in a huff of vexation, arms flying up for emphasis on his frustrations.  "I came all the way here to the middle of... what is this place again?"  When Naga turned to address the man, the tip of a sterling blade hovered at his throat.  Scarlet gaze narrowed on its point, the flat of it searing his finger as Naga attempted to push it away.  "Mind where you point that thing.  Might hurt someone, y'know."  The scent of smouldering flesh momentarily replaced the musty smell of the basement, the hole of his disappointments.  The vampire sped past the human to sit on the shop keepers counter, watching the stranger with a guarded eye.  "As I was saying,"  Naga cleared his throat as if he were about to give some grand performance.  "I was trying to find this bastard that killed a bunch of people.  Nice bounty on him, by the way."  He leaned back on his single palm that lay flat on the countertop.  "Turns out he's fled to Shanton.  Shanton!  Just came from that shit hole.  I'll be damned though if I return empty-handed."  He toyed with the hilt of the dagger, tossing it in the air before catching it again.  "Know of a place with good booze?"

You've Got the Heart of a Leo
The Boy Who Swallowed the Sun

"I'm well aware!" Auburn brow would quirk upwards as the stranger flung his arms upwards before whirling, seeming not to register the obvious threat of the blade at his throat, pressing it aside with the tip of his finger despite the sear. Lif's expression would turn droll as the vampire would further dismiss his action, "Mind where you point that thing.  Might hurt someone, y'know." The edges of his mouth would slightly turn down though his stare remained in a deadpan issue of disbelief, lowering the sword but not sheathing it. "Well, hoss, that was kinda the point." The intonation within his vocals was just another echo of what his flat eyes already relayed.

In spite of the circumstances, he found the stranger brushing by him, frustrated, flustered, but not seething violence. He clicked his tongue as the other fixed him with ruby, fire and water clashing easily as Lif met his attention. "As I was saying," as if the hunter had interrupted some granduer speech, or as if they had been mid conversation to begin with, he picked up the torch of his gripes. "I was trying to find this bastard that killed a bunch of people.  Nice bounty on him, by the way." His face darkened in immediate regard. His spine stiffened minutely as his fingers slowly flexed around the pommel of the blade, the leather feeling red hot within his grasp.

People? Or parasites, he had to wonder. In a way, he supposed he could fit either bill, and he was certain that by now those of Lavalles were sore for his head or for him to be in chains, whichever came to them on a platter first. Before he could respond, however, the reason for his unsavory companion being so put out was revealed: "Turns out he's fled to Shanton.  Shanton!  Just came from that shit hole.  I'll be damned though if I return empty-handed." Well, he certainly wasn't searching for him then, and Lif had no intention of spilling blood here unless his hand was forced to retaliate. He was also a wanted face in Vufrien now as well, much to his dismay, and despite the fact he would be trying to dispose of one of the nation's enemies, he doubted that the bloodhounds the scent would bring would be so keen as to allow him to walk away from the ordeal. The dagger would whistle through the air once more before being snatched within what seemed to be a very familiar hand, briefly reflecting Lif's impassive, wary stare back at himself. Fitting, he almost loved the irony of the words from his mother's new husband. A worthless low-life that would amount to nothing, just like his father. He supposed despite wanting to prove the asshole wrong, all he'd done was reaffirm his sentiments after all. "Know of a place with good booze?"

He blinked, eyes retracing to the stranger sharply as he swallowed hard. Was it guilt? This ugly writhing like maggots in his gut? No, his hands were always so steady, his thoughts sharp and clear. It wasn't regret, at least he didn't think so. Again, the corners of his lips would slope downward as he shrugged briefly, allowing the sword to rest within its home once more. However, the superficial expression was quickly replaced by a boyish smirk with an accent of teeth. "In Shanton?" He inquired, leaning against the doorway into the basement and crossing his arms. "I know a place, bout to leave town myself." Almost as if on queue, there would rise a commotion out in the main street outside the store front. "Come out, Lif! We know you're in there!" The familiar voice of an old friend rang with the accent of armor. A man of the city guard now, honestly, he almost sounded sorry. Perhaps all the favors and letting his pal 'slip' between his fingers had caught up with him - after all, his superior wasn't completely stupid.

Attention cut between the stranger and the shop keep. He had been careful, immaculate, even. No one had seen him. Glower would settle wholly upon the woman, still dazed and teetering idly with vacant expression. She'd set him up. She had mentioned last time that she had wanted a bigger cut of their profits as she was no longer satisfied, but he'd never thought of her actually turning them in. A sharp sound of disapproval left him as he cleared the distance in a few quick strides, hooded gaze peering out the window to find a hefty number of soldiers outside. A tick worked in his jaw before his tongue ran over his teeth in brief contemplation. His hands were still steady after all. "Alright, friend, looks like we have some unwanted company, and I've gotta leave a little sooner than planned. Escape on your own, or follow me for that drink." His tone was matter of fact, his features nullifying as he drew the sword and the edge bit cleanly through the harlot's throat. It was the first sign of life he'd seen from her on this visit as heavy lids widened to reveal shrinking pupils. A liability he couldn't chance now as he had turned back towards the basement, taking the steps two at a time as he made way towards the secret tunnel that only she and his ilk knew of.

Clearing the last step and reaching the door, regardless if the vampire was on his heels or not, he would place a hand on the wooden beam that stood as support, allowing the manifesting flames to greedily lick at the timbers until it was wholly engulfed, shutting the door behind him as he made his escape into the secret tunnel.

His hands were still steady, but gods were they filthy.

The tightening threads of tension began to ease, loosen, at the mention of that blessed swill, the searing liquid that chased away nightmares and troubles alike.  Or created them, in some cases.  Alright, in most cases where the vampire was concerned.  Naga's astute gaze wouldn't leave the leaning stranger and he watched the coil of shadowed lips and the subtle show of mortal teeth.  A much better expression than that sour-puss scowl.  "In Shanton?"  The vampire shrugged after catching the falling dagger again.  He didn't care where the drink came from - as long as it was effective and didn't taste like hog piss.  "I know a place, 'bout to leave town myself."  "Great!"  Naga snatched the dagger with a burst of enthusiasm, one that was short-lived when the walls around them rattled with an abrupt clamour.  His first thought was natural for a being in his line of work; he'd been discovered.  The name shouted, however, would tell him otherwise. "Supposing you're Lif then?"  Crimson eyes watched the burly stranger glance first at the glamoured woman, then make his way towards the window.  All the while, Naga remained poised on the counter until the flash of silver flew from its sheath and bit into the woman's throat faster than he'd anticipated from a mortal's swing and stride.  A spray of blood speckled the counter, his coat, droplets splayed across his cheek despite the attempt to jump away from it quickly enough lest he found himself on the pointy end of it again.  Furious gaze narrowed on this 'Lif'.  "Woah man!  She couldn't even defend herself!"  He bit out with a flicker of disdain, one that was short-lived when flames began to lick at the timber and his silhouette began to slip away into a previously hidden tunnel. Is that how his target had escaped?  Naga's jaw tensed.  He should have known. Despite his flurry of emotions, a range of confusion and anger, doubt and confusion that nipped in the back of his mind, Naga followed.  He'd been promised a drink, after all.  "So, uh, Lif.  Mind telling me what all that's about?"  He murmured as they made their way through the dark tunnel.  "Where's this lead anyways?"